One Night Stand-In (Boyfriend Material #3) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,30

an email to let him know we’re on track to meet his deadline.”

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear it. Seems like such a delightful guy.” Lucas flashes a crooked grin. “But we’re kind of brilliant, if you think about it. We can definitely crack the code on . . . tango lessons.” Those last two words roll off his tongue with a Latin flavor. He came to the US so young that he never speaks with an accent. But he can slip into a Brazilian one when he needs to, and the sound thrums through me, igniting another wave of sparks.

“Tango sounds hot,” I offer.

His lips twitch into a sexy smirk. “Very hot.”

I let go of his shoulder, and we resume our pace. My apartment is one hundred feet away.

Fifty.

Twenty-five.

And I ask myself again what I want.

To look up tango clubs?

Or do I want to tango with this man?

Both. All. I want it all. I want this chemistry, and I want the chance at friendship too.

But first, this.

When I reach my apartment, I turn to him. “I have the answer to your earlier question.”

“I’m all ears,” he says, knowing exactly which one I mean.

I’m not sure where this night is going. But I know where we’re going right now.

Inside.

“The answer is—it depends how ungentlemanly you can be,” I say, leaving a brand-new opportunity wide open.

“I can be incredibly ungentlemanly,” he says.

When the door falls shut behind us, I find out exactly how much.

10

Lucas

Friendship is awesome.

Letting go of the past is great.

Helping my brother is in my DNA.

But kissing Lola? Yeah, I’d sell half my soul for that.

Only, I don’t need to. I don’t need to text my brother either. Because this landlord quest is the last thing on my mind right now.

The second the door closes to her apartment, I set down the guitars and bags, back her up to the wall, and run my fingers down her bare arm. Gooseflesh rises on her skin. Her breath hitches. She flicks on a light. And she arches toward me.

Yes.

I’d like a little something just for me right now.

Not for work. Not for family. And not for any other reason than the simplest.

Want.

I wanted her a decade ago. I want her even more now.

I lift my hand and run my thumb along her jaw. “Just so you know, if I took you on a date tonight, I’d take you out to dinner. I’d walk you home. But I’d also definitely fuck you.”

Her eyes widen invitingly, and her hand darts out, grabbing my belt, yanking me toward her. “How do you know I’d let you?”

I wiggle a brow. “I can be very convincing.”

“Convince me.” Her fingers play with the waistband of my jeans.

“Let’s see if this convinces you.” I brush my thumb over her bottom lip, and she shivers. Inching closer, I whisper, “I still remember how your lips taste.”

“How do they taste?”

“Incredible,” I say, as a rumble works its way up my chest. “So fucking incredible. But I keep wondering . . .”

I let my other hand travel down her side, along the edge of her breast to her waist. Her sexy stomach. My God, I could not keep my eyes off her whenever she showed a sliver of this fantastic stomach. I wrap my hand around her trim body, as she asks, “What are you wondering?”

I don’t tell her the whole truth. That I’ve thought about her over the years, remembered our kiss with both desire and regret. That I’ve wondered what would have happened between us—not only on our first date, but after that.

Now isn’t the time to share those truths, so I stick to a simpler one. “I was wondering how much better you’d taste tonight. Especially since I’ve been wanting to kiss these lips since I first saw you outside my brother’s place.”

“Don’t wait,” she says.

“I won’t.” I seal my lips to hers, groaning the second we make contact. Sweet and fiery. That’s how she tastes.

I slide my hand along her jaw, cupping her cheek, holding her gorgeous face.

Taking my time, I kiss her slowly, teasing her, taunting her.

Wanting to hear her gasp, to feel her squirm against me.

And she does. Oh hell, does she ever writhe and grind.

And touch too.

Her fingers have a mind of their own, tap-dancing all along my jeans, playing with my belt, exploring.

It’s such a turn-on, her eagerness.

My skin sparks with lust. Desire speeds inside me, racing along as I deepen the kiss.

And she welcomes it, welcomes me, kissing me back so