The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,90

alimony?”

“Do you really want his money?” I ask. “You’ve come this far. You run a successful business.”

“I want the money because he does.”

“Is it about that or about hurting him?” I ask. “If it’s the money, that’s fine, but you need to figure that out before you go any further in the process.”

She readjusts the sheet under her arms and then shakes her head. “No, it’s not about the money.”

I blow out an exhale. I can offer Amelia stability, but I’ll never hit Park-Avenue-apartment status, nor do I want to. “So,” I continue, “imagine his face when his lawyer tells him you’re willing to give up everything—including his money—just to get away from him once and for all.”

“Oh, God.” She curls her fingers into the edge of the sheet. “He’d have a coronary right there. In his world, there isn’t a person who can’t be bought. It’s just about finding the right number.”

I nod slowly. I shouldn’t be surprised she gets it—she’s a smart woman. But I’ve seen other smart women blinded by whatever it is she feels—or felt—toward Reggie. “You can’t be bought, Amelia. Teach him a lesson.”

She straightens a little, as if she needed to hear that, but why? I shouldn’t have to remind someone of her caliber of that. It lights a fire in me that after everything I’ve been trying to teach Bell, one misogynistic, entitled asshole could potentially destroy her with enough time and skill.

“I—where would I even start?” she asks.

“It’s New York City. You could have a new apartment squared away by the end of the weekend if you wanted. Pick out some new furniture. I’ll get the guys to move it in. Done.”

“I can’t,” she says as she shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re making it sound too easy. There’s more to it than just picking up and moving.”

I hold up my hand and count off the steps on my fingers. “One—choose a neighborhood. Two—see some places in the neighborhood. Three—pay first and last month’s rent, security, whatever. Four—I move you in.”

She opens and closes her mouth. “What would I tell Reggie?”

My jaw tenses just hearing his name. It isn’t like me to react this strongly to someone unless it involves Bell, but as we go, I’m disliking Reggie more and more. Whether or not Amelia and I move forward, I’m ready for her to be done with him. “Why do you have to tell him anything?”

“I guess I . . . don’t?” she says. “I guess I can just . . . tell my lawyer?”

“Good.” I look her over. I’m surprised it took me this long to react to the red tint of her cheeks, her hair tangled from my hands, the thin white sheet hugging her breasts. Sex. I can’t not think of it seeing her this way. I adjust myself in my underwear. “So, uh, let’s get going,” I suggest. “Because I have to pick up—”

She smiles coyly at me, beckoning me with one finger. “Come here.”

I raise an eyebrow. Even though I know I could be hard and between her legs in moments, I tease her. “Real estate talk does it for you?” I ask. “Good to know.”

“You. You do it for me.”

“If I get on this bed,” I say, “we’ll never get out of here.” I hold out my hand, and she sticks out her bottom lip. I’m more than eager to snatch that bottom lip between my teeth. We fell asleep quickly last night. I feel a little like I should’ve made love to her after our bath, showed her I can be more than hard and demanding in bed, but we were exhausted. “Come on. I promise to do you good next chance we get.”

“Fine.” She gets up and stretches. Immediately, I regret my decision, her long, white arms reaching for the sky, her tits high and full. I shake it all out of my head. I want it. But with someone like her, it’s a long-term game. It always was, I just didn’t know I wanted to play. Helping her detangle from Reggie is the way to prove to Amelia I meant what I said last night. That despite all my efforts not to—I care about her.

TWENTY-TWO

“It had a fireplace,” Amelia says, waving the open-house flyer at me. “A real, working, wood-burning fireplace.”

“I heard you the first ten times,” I say and put my arm around her shoulders so she knows I’m teasing.

“Why are you not more excited about a fireplace? DeBlasio banned them in