Wound Up(13)

                She could only hope.





                                      3

                NAVIGATING FIRST THE parking garage’s hairpin turns and then Seattle’s waterfront traffic, Justin’s mind wandered over the woman in the borrowed Camaro’s passenger seat. The fact that she had let him take the lead had been appealing at first. It only became an issue when she didn’t offer to drive or take him to her place. What was he going to do? He couldn’t take her to his apartment. A hotel he could afford would seem sleazy. A hotel he couldn’t afford was irresponsible. He could ask her if she was interested in taking this to her place, but that seemed overtly presumptuous, even in the face of their conversation. There was always the chance Levi would let Justin use his pad, but that felt worse than a cheap hotel. He supposed he might—

                “What sounds appealing?”

                He couldn’t stop the tightening of his hands on the steering wheel any more than he could change his immediate response. “You.”

                Her sultry laugh nearly undid him. “I was thinking more along the lines of food, like drive-through versus restaurant.”

                Heart pounding out a tribal rhythm in his brain, he chanced a glance at her. He nearly blew a vein. Her eyes were radiant in the streetlights, her skin nearly translucent. She nibbled her lower lip. Her palms were rubbing up and down her thighs, and he doubted she even realized it.

                “I’m going to wreck this car if you don’t stop looking at me like that,” he murmured, returning his attention to the road.

                “Like what?”

                He grinned and shook his head. “Same way you used to look at me in class, making me forget what I was lecturing on.” Reaching across the console, he fished for her hand, found it and brought it to his lips. Her skin was soft and smelled of shea butter and vanilla. “You used to make me wonder how you’d taste if I said ‘to hell with it all’ and kissed you in class.”

                Her hand tightened slightly around his. “Why didn’t you?”

                “Mostly? I needed the job. But there was also the other part of me, the curious part that wondered what might happen if we ever crossed paths outside of the university, where we had a chance to let things play out without being worried about the rules.”

                “I suppose now’s the time to satisfy your curiosity. And mine.”

                He glanced at her, and all the blood in his brain dove south. “You’ve eaten dinner, but did you have dessert?”

                “No.”

                “There’s this great little dessert place in the market district. It might be crowded, but it’s worth the wait if you’re game.”

                “Sounds wonderful.” She shifted toward him, resting on her hip. “How long have you danced at Beaux Hommes?”

                He shrugged. “I started when I was twenty, so ten years.”

                “Wow.”

                “Why?” He chanced a quick glance at her as he wove through traffic.

                “I just wondered how long I have to do penance for not realizing you danced there—and for not coming into the club and watching you sooner. Looks like I’ve got a decade to beat myself about the head and shoulders.”