“Yes. Yes, I am.”
West put his mug down and turned. The kitchen was big, but not so big that it took him more than four or five steps to get across it to where I was at the table. He flattened one hand on it and leaned forward, shutting my laptop with the other. My lips pursed as he pulled the computer away from me and kept his hand on top of it.
“It’s something we might have to figure out as we go. We both have flexible jobs and set our own schedules for the most part—it doesn’t have to be a weekend.”
“But what if—”
He silenced me by putting a finger to my lips. His gaze met mine in earnest, and in it, I saw a strong determination I wished I’d had the conviction to keep myself. “This can and will work, Mia. Making us work is my number-one priority, no matter how hard it is or how long it takes or how many times I have to calm your fears.”
“Okay.” I nodded.
Satisfied, he pulled back.
“But just one more thing,” I said to his abs. What? They were distracting.
“There always is.” His half smile was both annoying and amusing.
“What happens if we plan time together and”—I paused, swallowed, and then forced myself to continue—“and someone requests you. In Rock Solid. For a dance.”
His smile slowly disappeared from his face. His eyes, bright and raw, searched mine. “It’s no longer an option.”
I felt as though time froze. “No longer—you’re stopping?”
He walked around the table and tugged me up. He lifted me with ease and set me on the kitchen table. Then he eased his way between my knees. His shirt, the one I was wearing, fell to the sides, exposing my black bra and panties, which looked so dark against my lighter skin.
He trailed one fingertip down the curve of my jaw, ghosting it over my neck until it reached my chest. He continued its journey over the swell of my breasts, each touch tender and caring, right down my stomach to where it stopped at my hip. My skin buzzed as he spread his hand, grasping my hip, and then held the other.
“West?” I said, my voice quiet. “You can’t stop. You love what you do. Not just for me.”
“True. I do love it, but I am almost thirty. I can’t keep doing it forever, and even now is a bit questionable, isn’t it?” His smile was genuine. “I mean it though, angel. No more private shows. I know the bachelorette party was why you left on Monday night.”
I nodded, finally admitting it. “I didn’t know what to do. I hated, and I mean hated, seeing her touch you like that, but I knew I shouldn’t. It wasn’t my place to hate it. So...I left.”
He touched his lips to my forehead then pushed my hair from my face. He let his fingers run all the way to the ends, and I decided I liked this West. A lot. This tender, loving West was just as great as the dirty, sexy West.
“Then it stops.” He lightly squeezed my hip and stepped away, his eyes lingering on my body for a second too long.
No, that was ridiculous. When a man like him was checking you out, it could never be for too long.
“As much as I hate to say this, you need to go and get dressed.”
“I do? But it’s so early.”
“Yes. I know.” His eyes sparkled. “We have a plane to catch.”
“We have a what? Why? What did you do?” I grabbed the waistband of his boxers and tugged him right back against me. “West!”
He grinned down at me, mischief bright in his eyes. “We’re going to San Diego. Today. Our flight is in four hours.”
My throat closed up as an emotional lump formed. “We’re not supposed to be going until Friday. It’s Wednesday.”
“I know.” He leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose. “But time decided to give us some spare. How about that?”
There was one giant obstacle I hadn’t anticipated when I got home. I hadn’t cleaned up before I’d left on Sunday.
That meant, unfortunately, I had a pair of dirty underwear in a crumpled ball in the middle of my bedroom floor, a bra dumped on the coffee table, and a box of tampons on my kitchen island.
Not that I needed the tampons right then. They’d just happened to be on sale, and hey, I was a woman, and those suckers were expensive. Fifteen percent off things that would go up my lady bits and ultimately be flushed? Yes, please.
Basically, entering my apartment with West in tow had made me blush ten times before I’d even put my suitcase down.
The man was smarter than I’d given him credit for. Coming to San Diego before we were completely done with the marketing overhaul meant I had to go back to Vegas—and so did the fact that half the things I’d originally taken were still in the apartment I was staying in.
Of course, San Diego was where it all was likely to implode. Between my mother, my crazy friends, and having to spend the entire day on Saturday with my ex, I knew one thing for sure: If we got through these few days and the man still wanted me, we’d be just fine.