Inappropriate - Vi Keeland Page 0,47

showed a hint of cleavage, which was sexy as hell, but something about that collarbone made me salivate. I’d teased her on the phone about picking her up early because I intended to get round two of the kiss, but I hadn’t planned on mauling her the minute she opened the door.

Though you know the old saying about the best laid plans...

Ireland smiled and said hello, stepping aside for me to enter, though I only made it halfway through. Backing her up against the open apartment door, I wrapped my hands around her cheeks and planted my lips over hers. She hadn’t been expecting it, but it didn’t take long for her to join in. She dug her hands into my hair and yanked, and I sucked on her sweet tongue. Reaching down, I cupped the back of her thigh and lifted so I could move closer. Before I knew it, her legs were wrapped around my waist, and I was grinding a growing erection between her legs. If I’d liked her a little less, I would have dropped to my knees and buried my face between her legs for a taste right there against the door. But Ireland deserved more respect than that. So, begrudgingly, I pulled back from the kiss.

She blinked a few times, and it made me smile that she seemed as lost in the moment as I had been. “Jeez. That was as good as the first time.”

I lifted my thumb to her mouth and wiped some of her smeared lipstick from beneath her bottom lip. “I haven’t been able to focus on anything but this mouth since you pulled out of the parking lot last night.”

She smiled. “I love how honest you are.”

I brushed my lips against hers again and spoke with them touching. “If you like my honesty, there’re plenty of things I’d be happy to tell you about—things I’d like to do to you.”

She giggled and gave me a playful shove. “Why don’t you come in so I can shut the door? I’ve already been fired for indecent exposure once. I wouldn’t want it to happen a second time.”

“Trust me. If you’d like to prance around naked right now, you most certainly won’t be fired.”

The inside of her apartment was filled with boxes. She pointed to an empty spot on the couch and said, “Take a seat wherever you can find one. I just need to grab my purse and freshen up my lipstick now that you’re wearing half of it.”

I wiped my lips with my thumb. “Take your time.”

While Ireland disappeared down the hall, I looked around the apartment a bit. There were a few framed photos on the bookshelf, two of her and another woman—who I assumed might be her roommate—one of Ireland, who looked to be about seven or eight with what I guessed was her mother, and another one of her taken recently with an older woman.

Ireland came up behind me while I had that one in my hand. “That’s my Aunt Opal. My mom’s sister. She raised me after my mother died. She’s like a mother to me. Three months ago she moved down to Florida. It’s odd not having her close by anymore.”

“You two remained close?”

She nodded. “She has macular degeneration, so she’s slowly losing her eyesight. She went to live with her daughter in Sanibel Island. Carly is twelve years older than me. She’d already moved out when her mom took me in when I was ten. But we’re close. We text every few days. I’m going down to visit next month.”

“I was five when I moved in with my mother.”

“Do you mind if I ask what happened that you wound up in foster care?”

It wasn’t something I spoke about often, but Ireland had been so open about her family history. “My mother was fifteen when I was born. My father isn’t named on my birth certificate and was never in the picture. She had a tough home life of her own, and we bounced around from place to place. Eventually, she got into drugs, and we were living in shelters. One night she snuck out and never came back. Haven’t seen her since.”

Ireland’s hand covered her heart. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

I put down the framed photo. “Don’t be. I was lucky. The first family I was placed with was my parents. I was never bounced around like a lot of kids. I had a good childhood. Pia was the best mom in the world.