Okay, I need a little more time, too.
Once she felt secure in her leggings and comfy, heather-gray off-the-shoulder sweatshirt, she grabbed Petey to take her out back. Carson was waiting in his rental sports car as she exited the rear door, her arm looped around the bouncer’s arm. It didn’t mean anything, and she let go as soon as she hit the night air and walked briskly toward the little black coupe.
In the short time she knew him, she’d learned Carson liked speed. It occurred to her that he probably liked everything fast in life, not just his cars.
She took a deep breath as the man in question came around the car to help her into the passenger seat. Petey simply gave him a nod and turned to go back inside the club, which allowed Carson to slip his hand underneath Sienna’s hair, his warmth tingling the nape of her neck.
He pulled her in for a kiss, sucking on her lower lip, then moved his other hand around her waist and took his time with her, letting her feel his erection against her when he pulled her closer.
Just when she couldn’t breathe anymore, Carson stepped back the tiniest bit and said, “Sorry I didn’t let you up for air, but I’ve been waiting all night to have you to myself. It’s not easy watching all those other men feast their eyes on you.”
He landed another tiny kiss to the spot on her neck underneath her ear, took a deep breath, pulling in her scent, and whispered, “Let’s go.”
Sienna let out a little sigh, glad that her long sweatshirt covered up where she was undoubtedly soaking through her yoga pants with want and desire.
Carson took her tote, helped her slide in the car, jumped in the driver’s seat, and sped out of the lot.
Sienna’s head whipped back from the acceleration and she immediately gripped her seat. Although she wasn’t sure if it was because of the speed Carson was driving, or what they were speeding toward. The air in the car was thick with want.
She wasn’t a virgin; she really needed to calm herself. She was a stripper, for goodness’ sake. She should be able to at least fake some sexual knowledge.
“You tired?” Carson asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“A little, but it usually takes me a while to settle down when I get home. I’m used to it by now. I go to bed late, but sleep a little later in the morning.”
Changing gears and subjects, Carson said, “Just about there. May I come in for a drink? Help you unwind a little?”
I should’ve gotten that dog. Then I would’ve had someone to come home to.
“That would be nice,” Sienna answered as they pulled up to her house, nervous from the tingles running through her entire body.
Carson carried Sienna’s tote to the door, and turned on the lights when she opened the door. “Sit, I know what to make you and where to get it,” he ordered.
She did as he asked, sinking into the couch to wait for him as if they were a longtime couple who did this every evening. The truth was that she was flat-out exhausted with all the emotions from the week. Her head was like a roller coaster. Up and down, and down and up, worrying over Sam Charles, catching Natalie over at Asher’s, Carson, and what was about to happen.
Before she could get carried away in her head again, Carson sat down next to her with her club soda and cranberry. He had poured himself one finger of something stronger. Having drinks together at the end of the night was beginning to feel as comfortable as a worn-in old sweater.
“Thanks,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I had anyone take care of me.”
“Is that so? I like it. It’s nice seeing you at the club and knowing that I’m taking you home, if not for anything other than to have a drink with you.”
They sat staring at each other, the silence building as thick as the sexually charged air.
Despite his words, his eyes said he wanted much more than a drink. Their usual light brown had darkened with lust. Sienna tried not to stare into their depths, but she couldn’t help herself any more than the way she was damp down below.
“Well, I don’t know how great company I am at this time of night.” She leaned her head back against the cushions of the soft overstuffed couch, and closed her eyes for a second.
“Perfect, you’re just perfect. Did you have a good week?” he asked as he leaned in and brushed a wisp of hair from her brow. His hand started lightly touching her face, rounding her cheek, moving down and massaging her neck, finally landing on her tiny tattoo peeking out from her tank top.
His finger traced the shape delicately, as if he was trying to interpret the meaning. Her flower, trying to survive while being choked by its very own stem, was anything but delicate. It was strong and hearty like she was. Or at least, how she tried to be.