She moved her head, sliding her lips from his, down his cheek to his jaw and finally his ear.
Once they were there, she murmured, “Give me wow.”
With his mouth at her neck, he trailed it down to her collarbone then engaged his tongue and, after, taking his time and a lot of it, he gave her wow five and six.
Hop came out of the bathroom to see Lanie on her feet on the other side of the bed, panties on, hands twisted behind her back putting her bra on. Again.
He didn’t say a word. He prowled to her, reached out an arm the second he was close, yanked her to him and fell to his back in the bed, taking her down with him.
“Hop—” she started, pushing her weight against his arms, but he slid her off him then wasted no time rolling over her and pinning her to his bed.
“Sleep,” he ordered when he caught her eyes in the weak dawn. “After rest, I’ll get coffee, we’ll juice up, then round four.”
She blinked and breathed, “Four?”
“Got lots more I want to do to you,” he informed her and watched her eyes go soft, sexier, then her teeth came out to graze her lush lower lip, also fucking sexy, and her arms slid around him.
But she asked, “What about Tack and Ty-Ty?”
“I’ll make sure the coast is clear,” he told her.
“But they’ll see my car,” she told him.
“I’ll move it,” he offered.
Her hand slid up his back, around his shoulder and then to his neck where her thumb moved to stroke him. Her touch was light but fuck, it felt good. He’d never had a woman touch him in an unconscious way like that, just a touch, a stroke, giving something that meant nothing at the same time doing it without thinking about it meant everything.
Shit.
Complicated.
“This is just supposed to be one night,” she reminded him quietly but he saw it in her eyes. She didn’t even try to hide it. She’d bitten off more than she could chew.
He had too and he was nowhere near done eating.
She was cute. She was sweet. She was hot. She was better than he expected and he’d expected her to be pretty fucking good. All that wrapped in a package that gorgeous?
Yeah.
He was nowhere near done eating.
“Change of plans. A night and a morning and, maybe, an afternoon and, possibly, another night,” he amended and her eyes got softer as her hand slid up to cup his jaw.
“I have to work,” she told him.
“Call off,” he told her.
“I can’t. I own the joint.” She explained something he knew, that she ran her own advertising agency. “And things are a bit crazy.”
Things were always crazy for Lanie. The woman lived crazy. She thrived on it. If there wasn’t crazy, she stirred it up because she couldn’t breathe without it.
“Babe,” he pressed his body into hers, “told you, got more I want to do to you.”
He felt her shiver but her lips whispered, “Hop, I don’t—”
He cut her off with a quick kiss then lifted his head and asked, “Where are your keys?”
“We shouldn’t sleep together. Sleeping is bad. Sex is good, sleeping together is something else,” she stated and she was right.
He just didn’t care.
“Where are your keys?” he asked.
“Hop—”
“Lady, we’re not sleeping, we’re resting then we’re fucking some more. Last time I’ll say it. Not done with you, got things I want to do to you and I’m doin’ them. Now, where… are… your… keys?”
She stared up at him, her gaze hot, her body bothered, shifting under his, and she whispered, “Jeans pocket.”
Stretching out to reach a hand to the floor, he grabbed her jeans, got in the pocket and yanked out her keys. Once he had them in hand, he went back to her and kissed her. He took his time, and it was wet, deep, and fucking brilliant.
When she was holding on tight and kissing him back like she never wanted it to end, he ended it. Lifting his lips to her forehead, he touched them there then dipped his chin and looked into her eyes.
“Rest, honey. I’ll move your car and be back.”
“Okay,” she agreed quietly.
He touched his mouth to hers, rolled off, grabbed his jeans, a tee, pulled on socks and his boots and made his way to the door. He turned back before he slid through the still mostly closed door.
She was curled in an “S” in his bed, pillow to her chest, cheek resting on it, arms around it, hair everywhere. Her bare back was exposed and he could see one leg and her ass in red lace panties. Eyes on him.
Fucking gorgeous, every inch, and she tasted and felt as good as she looked.
She grinned.
Gorgeous.
He returned her grin, slid through the door and went after her car.
When he got back, she was dead to the world.
He took off his clothes, dropped them to the floor and slid into bed beside her. Carefully, he turned her into his arms.
She didn’t wake. She just cuddled closer, her arm snaking across his stomach then holding tight, her torso pressing into his, her knee cocked and resting on his thigh.
This felt good, too.
She was right. They shouldn’t sleep together. Sleeping suggested something more. A kind of togetherness neither of them wanted. Sleeping like this with her, it feeling so good; it was, with everything else, enough to make you want a fuckuva lot more.
So it was good, Hop thought, that they weren’t sleeping, they were just resting.
On that thought, he fell asleep, Lanie curved close and held tight in his arm, her perfume all over his sheets.
Three hours later, Hop woke.
Lanie’s perfume was still all over his sheets.
Lanie just wasn’t in them.
That night Hop was stretched out on the fluffy cushion on the lounge chair in her courtyard, feet crossed at the ankles, eyes trained to the back door of the garage.
He had no idea how late it was. He just knew it was dark and he’d been there a really fucking long time.
Too long.
Long enough for him to get pissed.
Or more pissed.
He heard her garage door go up and didn’t move when he heard its grind or when he heard the purr of her sweet ride moving into it. A pearl red Lexus LFA. According to word on Chaos, her father had bought it for her.
High class ran in the family. So did money.
He only moved off the chair when he heard the garage door going down.
He was on his feet when the outside lights to the courtyard that separated her brownstone from the garage came on but he didn’t move from his spot even as the door to the courtyard opened.
She strode out, sex on stilettos; tight skirt, tailored blazer that was unbelievably feminine, hair out to there; slim, shiny, expensive briefcase in her hand; trim, small designer purse over her shoulder.
A Cosmo girl tricked out in business gear.
“Yo,” he called when she shut the door. He watched her jump and swing around to him, face pale, eyes huge.
“Oh my God, Hop. You scared me half to death.”
He didn’t reply.
When he remained silent, her face lost its pallor. Her head tipped to the side and her brows knitted as she asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Told you, I wasn’t done with you,” he answered and her head immediately righted with a snap.
“Hop—” she started.
“Told you that,” he cut her off. “Still, you snuck outta my bed and slunk away.”
She took one step toward him, her body moving like she was going to take more but she suddenly stopped.
“I said just one night,” she reminded him.