He blinked them open and looked at the woman in his arms. Her kiss-swollen, heart-shaped lips were parted slightly, her warm, sweet breath spreading over his chest as she exhaled, her leg flung over top of his, and her arm draped across his stomach. She sighed contentedly in her sleep, and Bridgette disappeared.
He already knew he was looking at a woman worth staying in bed all day for. A woman who easily could—and quite possibly had—become more than just a good distraction. A woman who could fuck him up something bad.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Fallon was sitting in her office filing—or, actually, attempting to file—some of her disorganized paperwork that seemed to accumulate at warp speed. Procrastinating was not one of her finer attributes. She needed to put in the liquor order Simone had given her, but also needed to go home and pack. She was flying to New York City at an extremely unfortunate time the next morning, which meant she actually needed to crawl into bed before three a.m.
She’d been so busy getting everything worked out before she left, between juggling things for the club and finishing up the chair routine so the girls could practice it while she was gone, that she barely had enough time to choreograph an audition number for the New York City girls.
Camille had already cut eighty women down to a whopping thirty-two, and after the group audition number Fallon was teaching them this weekend, hopefully they could get it narrowed down to fourteen. The club was opening in only a few short months, which meant that Fallon needed to help her hire not only dancers, but also a new choreographer. Camille was a stunning dancer, but she didn’t have the vision for choreography.
Knock-knock.
Fallon set the liquor order paperwork down on her desk and swiveled her chair toward the door as Jade stepped inside.
“Well, don’t you look fancy,” Fallon praised, looking at Jade’s curve-hugging black dress and stunning aqua stilettos. “Where are you heading off to?”
Fallon had given Jade the week off to just wallow. Eat ice cream and chocolate and indulge in Sex and the City reruns. She needed to mope in usual female breakup fashion. They both knew that Jade needed new methods of coping, and Fallon happily gave her the week to figure it out. But come next Tuesday, her skinny butt would be back in the lineup. Jade was too good a dancer to keep her out.
Fallon never told Jade about the run-in with the evil bitch Claire. She should have; she knew that. But she couldn’t see the point in hurting Jade for no apparent reason. There was nothing beneficial to her knowing. She knew Dex was a cheating piece of shit, and the details about how horrible the woman was he cheated on her with were irrelevant.
“Graham is driving down. We’re gonna go eat and maybe have a drink or two.”
“Graham?”
“He’s been a really good friend.” She fidgeted with her hands and looked down at her shoes. “Anyway, just wanted to tell you bye. Have a safe flight.”
“Thanks.” Fallon’s phone vibrated on her desk as the heavy metal door shut behind Jade.
Hey gorgeous
Hey sergeant
Can I see you?
She smiled. That was quick and to the point.
Sorry. I’ll be out of town this weekend.
Damn, I forgot. NYC right?
You’re telling me. I hate to fly. HATE it. And yes, NYC. My flight leaves at seven a.m.
Noticing that she was staring at the screen on her phone, waiting for a tiny little message box to pop up, she quickly shoved her phone into her purse and stood. Since when did Fallon turn into that woman? She’d never been that woman. The one to get excited over text message conversations.
She hadn’t seen Rafe since he’d dropped her back off at her house Monday morning after the cookout, and she missed him. It was an unfamiliar and uncomfortable truth, but she missed him. After admitting to him, and to herself, that she was scared of the way he made her feel, she couldn’t stop feeling. Excitement, disappointment, fear, lust, longing . . . she felt them all.
But it was still so new, and so overwhelming. Other than a bunch of text messages, they hadn’t talked. She refused to admit that she was disappointed by the lack of conversation. But realizing that she was refusing to admit it was almost the same as admitting it. So she’d accepted it: she was disappointed.
Twice. She’d participated in sleepovers twice now. Both times with Rafe. Both times amazing. Mornings and Fallon usually weren’t on the best of terms. She didn’t particularly care for them, and they surely didn’t care for her. But mornings with Rafe—that was an entirely different category.
She enjoyed watching him stretch when he first woke up. He’d make a small grunting noise, deep and raspy, as he raised his arms above his pillow and rolled onto his back. And his hard body in the mornings, warm and inviting as he would untangle the covers from around her and pull her against him—perfect. She’d never imagined enjoying those small things. But then again, she’d never experienced those small things.