Love on Lexington Avenue - Lauren Layne Page 0,59
moving again, back to cleaning, but whether it was the wine or something else bringing out uncharacteristic boldness, Claire set her glass on the counter and kept talking.
“I hope that cheating wench knows that she lost out on a man who cooks, cleans, shares his dog, donates to charity, and loves the Eiffel Tower. I hope she knows that you look just as good with scruff as you do freshly shaven, that you make sure that a lonely widow not only has a place to stay, but that she has her favorite coffee creamer. I hope she knows that I’ve never felt like I do when you look at me, and—”
Scott tossed the sponge in the sink and turned toward her. Wet hands tunneled through her hair as his lips collided with hers.
Claire gasped a little in surprise and went still, letting herself register the moment, then she sighed, eyes fluttering closed. He caught the sigh with his lips, his mouth moving gently over hers in a searching, searing kiss. His hands in her hair were probably still soapy, but she didn’t care. The kiss was perfect. It was everything she’d needed for so long.
A moan escaped her throat, and Scott started to pull back. Claire grabbed a handful of his shirt, pulling him closer. He groaned in gratification, one of his hands leaving her hair to wrap around her waist, pulling her all the way against him.
It wasn’t just a kiss. It was the kiss. The one she’d been craving for months now, even if she hadn’t realized it until recently. Until him. For the first time in a long time, she felt alive. She felt wanted. In this moment, in Scott Turner’s arms, she wasn’t some sad, pathetic widow. She wasn’t Brayden’s fool wife. She was a desirable woman who wanted to act on that desire, consequences be damned.
Her hands slid to his waist as she poured every unidentifiable emotion into the kiss, tentatively at first, then meeting his urgency, trying to convey with her kiss that she’d meant every word of what she’d been trying to tell him. Scott Turner was so much better than some woman’s castaway, he was—
Special. Important. To her.
Overwhelmed by her sheer lack of control over what she was feeling, Claire pulled back slightly.
He searched her face, then started to slowly pull back, but she held him close, trying to sort her thoughts. “Do you remember,” she asked quietly, “that first day when you came to my house? You told me that figuring things out later was half the fun?”
He frowned in confusion. “Sure?”
She fiddled with the button on his shirt, not quite able to meet his eyes for what she was about to say. “I want it to be you. I know it’ll be complicated. I know we said we wouldn’t complicate things, what with us having mutual friends, with you leaving as soon as the house is done, but . . . we can figure all that out later. I want it to be you,” she repeated, more firmly this time.
He touched her face softly. “You want what to be me?”
She lifted her gaze to his, then she went to her toes, pressing her lips to his. He hesitated for a moment, then his arms slid down, wrapping around her as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, and Claire gave in with a soft sigh. His arms tightened even further the second she did, until there was no distance between them, until everything drifted away, from the still-running water, to Bob scratching against the counter searching for steak scraps, to the consequences of tomorrow. There was only him, and the realization that she didn’t want to be with any random guy, she didn’t want meaningless sex with someone she barely knew.
She wanted this. She wanted Scott.
With a soft curse he pulled back, fumbling blindly behind him for the faucet handle, and turned the water off.
“You want me to be what, Claire? I need you to be real clear because I really don’t want to misunderstand here,” he said, his voice rough.
Claire contemplated reaching for her wine for a sip of liquid courage. But the strength she needed wouldn’t come from a glass. And what she craved wouldn’t come from wine. This was the moment she’d been waiting for—the man she needed to help pull her out of the shadows.
She took a deep breath. “I haven’t seen the master bedroom yet. Show me?”
Chapter Twenty
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4
Claire woke up to the