The shy girl was just under the surface, clearing the fog of lust, and I knew she’d much rather succumb to it in the privacy of my room or the shower than have to live through it in front of me.
I pressed a soft peck to the corner of her lips and inhaled the smell of the skin of her cheek with my nose. Subtly sweet like a rose surrounded by apples.
“I’ll finish making breakfast,” I said into her skin before pulling away. “You’re not allergic to anything other than lime juice, are you?”
She smiled slightly before shaking her head.
“Good. I’ll turn the bacon and eggs into omelets, then.”
“Kline?” she asked, ignoring my rundown and sliding her hand up my neck to the juncture of my jaw. My throat tightened and my pulse beat double time as her thumb brushed the line of it.
“Yeah, Benny?”
“Thanks.” One soft kiss to my lips later, she turned and retreated to my bedroom and all I could do was watch as she went, my boxer briefs still twisted around my ankles.
I was fucked—really and truly fucked—when it came to Georgia Cummings.
“Omelet’s ready,” I called through the closed bathroom door after making a quick stop in my closet to put on a pair of jersey shorts until I showered. I was still sticky with the evidence of Georgia’s performance, so I opted to go commando underneath them until I could rectify it—this billionaire’s apartment only had one bathroom.
I expected her to call something back through the door, but she opened it instead, stepping into the doorway and nearly into me with wet hair, a towel around her body.
With a mind of its own, my hand reached out to wipe away the lingering drop of water on the top swell of her breast. She shivered.
I felt downright needy for more contact. Hugs, hand holding—I didn’t give a fuck. I just wanted to touch her, and I wanted to do it all day.
“Spend the day with me,” I blurted.
“Kline—”
“No,” I interrupted. “Don’t say no.”
She smiled, a tiny laugh coating my skin as she tilted her head to the side just slightly. “I wasn’t going to.”
“Good,” I breathed in relief.
“But I do need to go home first. I need clothes. Preferably ones that fit and don’t smell like you.” She held up a hand before I got defensive, admitting softly, “It’s distracting.”
“Fine,” I agreed easily, countering, “But I’m going with you. Last time I let you arrive separately, you were forty-five minutes late.”
Her face pinched in annoyance.
I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers, smoothing it away just as fast. Without moving back, I spoke my parting words right against her lips. “Any other time I’d be patient, baby, but today, when it comes to spending time with you, I find I’m a little less willing to wait.”
“Cokes from a vending machine? Hot dogs from a vendor? What’s next, Mr. Spontaneity?” I nudged him with my shoulder.
He shrugged, taking the last bite of his mustard and relish-covered dog. “I didn’t really have a plan. I just wanted to make sure you spent the day with me.”
Night was settling over the city, streetlights glittering the pavement with their soft glow. We had spent the day riding the subway and making stops at random. Kline would ask me a question and my answer was what decided our next stop.
Favorite place to relax? A stroll through Central Park.
Favorite childhood memory? Feeding ducks at the Brooklyn zoo.
Dinner was outside of MoMA, after we had spent most of the evening browsing Picasso’s sculptures and Jackson Pollock’s beautiful landscapes. He had kissed me slow and deep, fogging my brain with memories of this morning. Kline waited until he had me good and turned on, then pulled away, nonchalantly asking what sounded good for dinner.
The horny side of me quickly responded, “Well, I really enjoyed breakfast this morning.”
“You want bacon and eggs again?”
“No,” I answered, standing on my tiptoes and kissing a sensual path along his jaw. Using my teeth to tug at his earlobe, I whispered, “That wasn’t my favorite part of breakfast.”
And that’s how we ended up at a street vendor outside of MoMA, ordering hot dogs. The cheeky bastard had made sure to order us footlongs, adding, “Just trying to get the size right.”
He found a bench, pulling me down into his lap. “Let’s eat, Benny girl,” he said, kissing my forehead and setting dinner in my hands.
I ate my footlong, enjoying every second of being in his company. Pedestrians meandered past us. Taxis sped by in their usual hurry. But the world didn’t exist in that moment. I was too busy savoring every soft kiss to my cheek and handsome smile flashed in my direction.
“This might have been better than breakfast.” I took my last bite, moaning.
He tickled my ribs with his free hand. “I never pegged you as a liar, Ms. Cummings.”
“Who said I was lying?” I winked.
“You got a little something, right here.” He wiped a drop of ketchup from the corner of my mouth, sucking it off his finger and waggling his brows. “Always so fucking good.”