The Trouble With Quarterbacks - R.S. Grey Page 0,75
It’s private property, so they won’t get any more photos of you coming and going from my place.”
Pat waves us off after we step out of the SUV. Logan grabs my hand and heads toward the back entrance of the building that leads straight into the lift, where he retrieves his wallet from his tuxedo pocket and swipes it along the panel underneath the buttons. We start to glide up toward the penthouse, and my mind immediately starts to wander toward nefarious goals.
“Do you reckon there are cameras in here?” I ask, glancing up at the corners of the rectangular box.
“I’m sure. This whole building is pretty secure. There are a lot of people who live here who value their privacy.”
“So if we kissed…someone could be watching?”
He turns to look down at me, and I don’t smile. I don’t want him to think I’m kidding. I’m definitely not. He glances up at the ceiling for a moment as if thinking it over for himself, then he looks back down at me. There’s a heat in his eyes now, this hunger that’s plain as day.
He turns his body so he’s facing me, and he takes a step forward.
I take a step back. It’s instinct, and I keep doing it as he advances on me.
I’m the one who put this idea in his head, but now suddenly, I’m tempted to shout, Chicken! Ha ha. What a lark, am I right?
It’s only because he can look so intimidating sometimes, especially when he hovers over me like this, his hand coming up to cradle the bottom of my face so he can tip my head up.
“What do you think they’ll see?” he asks, letting his gaze drop to my mouth. “Me kissing you?”
Are we still going up? How many floors do we have to ascend?! Surely, we’re in the clouds by now.
“Maybe they’re waiting for it,” he says, bending low so his lips hover right over my mouth. “Maybe they’re wondering why I haven’t done it already.”
But he doesn’t do it. That’s just it! We aren’t kissing. We’re suffocating to death. There’s no air in this lift and maybe I’ve sucked it all in with my big heaping nervous breaths. We’ll die here, I think, right as the lift dings! and we’re on Logan’s floor.
He smiles like a deviant then steps back to walk out before me. I’m trailing after him, thinking of ways to do his head in like he’s just done to me. He opens his door and reaches back to take my hand, and then we’re inside. Alone. His place is dark and quiet, a backdrop to all the things I think we should do together. Let’s have sex in this foyer, right on this cold tile. And there, against that wall. My head might hit that lovely picture, but who cares? It’s probably only worth, oh, a couple thousand.
“Well, strip down then,” I tease as he kicks off his shoes.
He looks back at me with a smile. “We aren’t going to have sex, Candace.”
My jaw drops. “Why wouldn’t we?”
“Oh, I don’t know—maybe because the last time we were intimate, you freaked out and ran off on me.”
“Well that was bloody complicated! Or have you forgotten about your psycho ex-lover cornering me in the loo?”
“I haven’t forgotten, which is why I think we should take things slow.”
“SLOW?”
Oh now he’s done it. This is going to be the end of me. I haven’t had a proper lay in months—more than that, probably, if I actually tallied the days. I’ve been careful not to so I could preserve some sort of facade that I am, in fact, a sexual creature unable to be tamed. In reality, I might just be Ms. Candace the preschool teacher, good for making a bunch of slimy goo for children but not much else.
“What a sad turn of events! I suppose you’re going to suggest we watch a movie or something?”
He shrugs. “We could.”
I toss my hands up. “Oh bore! Well why don’t you just get me a nun’s habit and I’ll slip that on. Have you got a chastity belt lying around here anywhere? Might as well put that on too.”
He laughs and comes toward me, taking my purse from my shoulder and dropping it on the little table in his foyer. Then he comes back over and kneels down in front of me so he can help me take my shoes off. Meanwhile, I’m moaning on and on about how he’s ruining my life.