Driving up to the building, he bypasses the brightly lit main lobby where we’d have to pass Manny. I hadn’t even considered that we might have to waltz past the sweet old door man together, and I exhale a soft sigh of relief to be avoiding that awkwardness.
Instead, Nick drives around to an underground parking garage below the tower high-rise. He parks the BMW in an empty space closest to the secured glass doors leading into the building. The only one marked Reserved.
I dimly register that fact and what it likely signifies, but there’s no room for logic or questions when Nick cuts the engine and pivots toward me. The soft gray leather rasps with his movement. He’s so gorgeous, so intensely masculine yet beautiful at the same time, I have to remind myself to breathe when he looks at me. I am far out of my depth with this man. I sensed that from the instant I saw him. He’s powerful, sophisticated. Obviously wealthy, based on the exclusiveness of his address and the price tag of his car. I have no doubt he could take his pick of any woman who lays eyes on him, and yet he’s sitting here with me now. Touching me. Staring at me as if he wants to devour me.
I lick my lips, an involuntary movement that draws his gaze to my darting tongue. As he watches me, that sinfully sculpted mouth of his compresses into grim line.
“Last chance to change your mind.” His deep voice is thick and rough in the silence of the car. As he speaks, his hand slides higher on my thigh, trailing fire in the wake of his touch. For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything, just teases me with the sensual slide of his palm on my leg, his roving fingers coming closer and closer to my sex. “If you say the word, Avery, this goes no further. If you’re not sure, it can end here and now.”
No. I’m not having a single doubt, even if I have many reasons that I should. I don’t do casual sex. Then again, I’m not very good at relationships either. What’s happening here has no future—I recognize that. I accept it. Hell, I’m counting on the fact that it can’t possibly last past tonight.
But I can’t call this casual either. Nothing about what Nick Baine stirs inside me feels fleeting or insignificant.
His desire-drenched gaze is locked on me. His touch is possessive and bold, as if he understands exactly what my body needs and knows how to deliver.
Would he want me like this if he knew I was at the gallery party by coincidence rather than invitation? Would he treat me differently if I told him I was a failing artist and struggling bartender? That I had no money and nowhere to go before I’d suddenly gotten the chance to live in his fancy building for a little while?
What would he think if he knew all of my other secrets? The ugly ones. The dangerous ones. The ones I’ve never let see the light of day.
He doesn’t know any of that. And he won’t.
One night of this scorching desire—that’s the only thing I’m sure of right now. It’s enough for me, but I can’t find my voice to answer his question. The words won’t come. Not when he’s caressing the tender inside of my thigh, turning the throbbing ache of my clit into an agonizing need for release.
“I can feel your heat,” he says, his words inflaming me even more. “My fingers are on fire and I haven’t even touched you the way I really want to. Christ, woman. You’ll burn me up when I get inside you.”
I let out a strangled moan, and he seems to take that for his cue to kiss me again. His free hand cups my nape as he draws me to him and our mouths come together. Twice already tonight he’s given me a taste of his kiss—the first one explosive and consuming, the second swift and carnal.
But this kiss is something new. It’s unrushed and deep, a languorous melding of his lips over mine. This slow, masterful kiss seduces me even more than the ones that came before it. He’s tasting, testing . . . and it nearly unravels me right where I sit.
On a low curse, he pulls back only far enough to separate our mouths. We’re both breathing erratically now. I can feel the drum of his heartbeat beneath the hand I have pressed against his chest. He lowers his head to mine, resting our foreheads lightly together. His blue eyes are dark but smoldering as they hold my gaze. “Are you ready, Avery?”
I swallow and try to find my voice. “Yes.”
God, yes. I’m on the verge of combusting.
He gets out of the car in fluid motion, then walks around to open my door before I have the chance to do it for myself. It’s gentlemanly and proper, and I feel a blush creep into my cheeks in response. Which is ridiculous considering where this night began and where we both know it will end.
“Thanks,” I murmur, accepting his hand as he helps me climb out.