“I like this one,” I said as I sat down, hoping it was comfortable. It was long enough that I could lie full length on it and Grace would look beautiful lying next to me, her blonde hair a delicious contrast to the black.
Grace came and sat next to me, her eyes facing forward.
“Using is the wrong word,” I said. “But you have to get something out of a situation, otherwise why would you bother?” I didn’t say that I thought it sounded like she had a habit of dating losers, or that there was likely a whole host of reasons why she needed that. “You have a type of guy you normally date. That’s because you get something out of dating that guy—just like he gets something out of dating you.” If she liked artistic types, I was definitely not the kind of man she usually slept with.
“Okay,” she said, “And I had sex with you because?”
“My big cock?” I replied.
She laughed and I found myself grinning not at my joke but at the sound of her belly laugh.
“You like it?” I asked, patting the couch.
“I do. It’s masculine and pretty at the same time.”
“Okay, well if this is the one, let’s find a sales clerk.”
“What, just like that?”
I shrugged as I leaned forward, then glanced over my shoulder at her. I was right; she looked beautiful on this couch. “We’ve found something we like. What’s the point in continuing to look?”
“You’ve resisted buying furniture for what looks like your whole life, but now, all of a sudden, you’re ready to pick the first thing we see?”#p#分页标题#e#
I stood and held out my hand to help her up. “I told you I’d get a couch. We found one. I like it. I’m going to buy it. It’s really not that complicated.”
She ignored my offer of help and stood. “Okay. Well that was easy. What about a coffee table?”
I chuckled. Why was she taking such an interest in my interior decorating? “Oh of course,” I said. I wasn’t so different to the other men she’d been with—the artist boyfriend, the musician before that.
“What?” she asked, looking at me from where she was crouched over a glass table.
I nodded. “You’re a fixer.” I’d met people like her before. No doubt she over invested in the people around her, coaching them to be the best they could be before they turned around and dropped her.
“And you’re a know-it-all,” she retorted. “Do you like this table?”
Well at least she didn’t pretend to be something she wasn’t. “I’m not going to make it that easy for you, Grace Astor. If you want to push at my boundaries, I get to peer over your Park Avenue princess walls, too.”
She shrugged and stood up, catching the attention of a sales clerk. “Excuse me, Mr. Shaw would like to take this couch,” she said. “And this coffee table.”
Jesus, this woman had some balls on her. But I took that as game on. How could I pull her out of her comfort zone? Before I could think too hard about the implications, I grabbed her around her waist and pulled her toward me.
“What are you doing?” she pushed her hands against my chest as I drew her closer.
“I’m peering over your walls,” I replied. “I bet you’ve never, ever kissed someone in public. If you want me to buy that table, press your lips against mine in front of everyone in this store.”
She glanced around. “You’re blackmailing me?” she asked.
“Hardly. We’re talking about a kiss and a table.” Truth be told, I wasn’t one for public displays of affection; seeing other couples embracing always made me feel a little uncomfortable. But having Grace in my arms, her warmth began to seep into me. Holding her felt as if I were in some kind of secret club, just her and me.
I didn’t give a shit about who was looking.
“Okay,” she whispered, then put her hand to the back of my neck, her thumb stroking up my jaw. If I hadn’t known better, I would believe that was real affection in her fingers. I bent and she reached up on her tiptoes and very chastely touched her lips to mine. Her mouth was so soft, vulnerable.
“More,” I muttered against her mouth, dipping my head lower. She linked her hands around my head and smiled against my lips. I couldn’t help but grin back before snaking my tongue inside and kissing her as if it were my last moment on earth.
Without the whiskey, every sense was heightened, and in a matter of seconds I was hard. I pressed my hand against her ass, pulling her toward me, wanting her to feel my cock. Jesus. Being in public and knowing this couldn’t be any more than a kiss made it all the more fun. I couldn’t remember ever kissing a woman without the expectation that it would turn into something more. This was new. And I liked it.