While I got Boo his treats, Vance pul ed out his phone, flipped it open and said, “Yeah?”
Boo came with me into the bathroom and watched while I brushed my teeth, washed my face, slathered on my night cream that smel ed of oranges and changed into my blue nightgown. I wrapped my fleecy, dove gray robe around me, walked into the living room, lit some candles and a soft lamp and lay on my side on my lilac couch, Boo tucked into the crook of my lap.
I stroked him, he purred and I thought about what a funny world it was.
I may not have saved Park but I saved Tye and with him I may have helped to save Darius and maybe even Shirleen.
I listened vaguely to Vance talking on the phone in the kitchen and then listened when he stopped talking. Without him making a sound al of a sudden he was there, his thighs in my line of vision. I fol owed them up and just when my eyes hit his face he leaned over, gently gathered up Boo, dropped him in the armchair and turned back around.
Then he gathered me.
Picking me up, Vance turned, sat, twisted then settled back, lying ful -length on the couch with me on top of him. I put my elbow into the seat cushion between him and the back of the couch, lifted up my torso and looked down at him.
“Anything important on the phone?” I asked.
“It’l wait,” he said, eyes on my face, the fingers of one hand spreading open my robe then sliding from my hip and up my side.
“I like Shirleen. She’s funny,” I told Vance, ignoring his movements even as his hand went from my side to move forward across my ribcage.
“Everyone likes Shirleen,” he replied.
“Are they going to be able to get out of the business without getting hurt?” I asked and his fingers curled, his knuckles stroked feather light against the underside of my breast and my bel y fluttered in what I was classifying as a Grade Three flutter (yes, I could classify them now, Grade Ten was an orgasm).
“Don’t know,” he answered.
I swal owed. “We need to talk,” I informed him, deciding it was time. Definitely time. Way passed time. My emotional Rottweiler was growling warningly tel ing me if I didn’t do something soon, it would be too late.
“Al right,” Vance agreed, his hand moving away from my body but it came up then pul ed my robe down my shoulder.
“Crowe, seriously,” I shrugged my shoulder to try to keep the robe in place but he already had it down my arm and then it was off on one side.
His hand slid around my waist to my back and he pul ed me to him, his mouth going to my neck. “Talk,” he said there and I admitted to myself that I liked it when he spoke against my neck, it felt good.
“You have to listen,” I said to him, feeling Grade Three rise to Grade Four and being unable to do anything about it when his lips hit my ear and he traced the outer edges with his tongue.
“I’m listening,” he murmured in my ear when he was done.
A shiver went through me.
Okay, whatever. I had to move on before I lost the wil to move on.
He wanted it this way, fine.
“We have to stop seeing each other,” I announced.
I’d lost track of his hand, what with his mouth at my ear, but now I felt it pul my nightgown to my waist and then his hand slid down inside my underwear and cupped my ass.
Oh crap.
That felt good too.
“How about we stop seein’ each other tomorrow?” Vance suggested.
“Crowe…” I started, getting the distinct impression he wasn’t taking me seriously but he stopped me speaking by kissing me. He pul ed out my ponytail holder and my hair fel around us.
When his mouth disengaged from mine, I was breathing heavily and his lips slid back to my neck.
“How’re you feelin’?” he asked quietly.
I nodded. At that point, with his hand at my ass and his lips at my neck, I was feeling fine.
His head came back and he looked at me. His eyes were warm, his face soft and sexy and his hand at my behind moved to the smal of my back. He started stroking me lightly there with his fingertips and tingles were sliding across my skin.
“Are you tender?” he went on and I realized what he was asking.
I shook my head.
One of his hands pul ed back my hair and wrapped it around his fist, the other hand went from the smal of my back, sliding across my side to cup my breast.
When his thumb stroked my nipple I shot to Grade Five.
He kissed me again, deep and lots of tongue then soft, sweet, light, quick kisses then lots of tongue again, the whole time his thumb stroked my nipple and his hand was fisted in my hair.
By the time he stopped kissing me, I was firmly established at Grade Six.