Home > Night After Night (Seductive Nights #1)(9)

Night After Night (Seductive Nights #1)(9)
Author: Lauren Blakely

“Not anymore.” She smiled, and leaned her head back to look up at him. He brushed his lips against her forehead, and her heart fluttered. Actually fluttered, like a damn bird trying to escape. She was ready to swat it, but she decided to enjoy the moment instead. “I like your arms around me,” she whispered, stripping away her usual sarcasm.

“The feeling is completely mutual,” he said, reaching for her hand and sliding his fingers through hers.

“And I also like this view. It’s amazing.”

“It’s not too bad,” he said.

She elbowed him playfully. “Not too bad? This is magnificent, and I don’t care if that makes me seem all wide-eyed. But it’s true. Your apartment is gorgeous,” she said. She was a sucker for all the exposed red brick, and the warmth it brought to his place. “It’s funny, because I’d have pegged you as having some leather and chrome and steel furniture, all black and white and sleek.”

“You are confusing me for someone who has issues with his masculinity,” he said, holding her tighter, bending his head to her neck to plant a quick kiss.

“You’re saying a man who has black leather and chrome in his apartment is compensating for his small size?”

He laughed, a deep rumbly chuckle. “Don’t you think?”

She nodded. She liked that his home was warm and lived in. Yes, it was a man’s home, but it wasn’t the home of a man who was trying too hard. He even had a few plants on the balcony, and Julia didn’t have a green thumb herself, but still, there was something nice about this New York lawyer taking the time to have plants. “I can’t stand that whole I’m a man, I need my place to scream mannish. It’s sort of like driving a red Corvette.”

“You might notice I don’t have a red Corvette. Nor do I need one.”

“You definitely do not need one,” she said, trailing her fingers down his chest, between his pecs, and across the hard planes of his abs. “And your plants are adorable.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe if you’re behaved all night I’ll tell you their names.”

“You do not name your plants,” she said, giving him a serious look.

“You’re right.” He laced his fingers through hers, guiding her back through the sliding glass doors. “I don’t name my plants.”

They returned to the living room, with its dark brown sofa and a sturdy coffee table that boasted a couple of books, some magazines, and a few framed photos. There was a picture of Clay in a tux, standing next to another man, a handsome one too.

“Where was that taken?”

“Tony awards a few ago. That’s Davis. He’s a friend and a client. That was taken the night he won his first Tony. Bastard has a lot of them. Three now,” he said, shaking his head, but clearly proud of the accomplishment.

“And this?” She pointed to a shot of him next to a man who had similar features – square jaw, deep brown eyes, broad sturdy shoulders.

“Younger brother Brent.”

“Where’s he?” Before he could answer she held up a hand. “Wait. Don’t tell me more.”

He furrowed his brows. “Why?”

“Because I’m famished.”

“And that means you can’t talk?”

“It means I am saving that conversation so we can have it over food,” she said playfully, as she started to unbutton his shirt.

“You’re afraid we’re going to run out of things to talk about so you want to make sure to hoard a topic for food?”

She wagged a finger at him. “No. I simply want to eat. Now are you going to cook for me or take me out?”

“There’s this thing called takeout. Want Chinese?”

She flinched inside at the mention. The last thing in the world she wanted was Chinese food. She hated that Charlie and his games had ruined Chinese food for her. Sometimes, she just wanted a carton of cold sesame noodles, but they’d remind her of all the bullshit she still had to deal with til she was even with Charlie. If she’d ever be even with that f**ker. Somedays, freedom felt a lifetime away. Charlie had her in chains, and even though she hadn’t asked for his permission to go away for the weekend, she was keenly aware that this was only a temporary leave from the jail she was in back home.

The jail no one knew about. She refused to tell a soul – it was too shameful what had happened to her made Charlie turn her into his property. But she also kept her mouth shut because she didn’t want those men to sink their claws into people she loved. She protected her sister, her friends, even her hairdresser with her silence. But she didn’t want Charlie infecting her time away. She shoved all thoughts of debts and guns and knives back into a dark corner of her mind.

“Clay,” she said, in a chiding tone. “I can get good Chinese like that –” she snapped her fingers “– in San Francisco. I want something that tastes like New York.” The lie rolled off her tongue seamlessly, but he didn’t need to know why she wasn’t taking him up on his offer for Chinese. “I want to go out. To some place filled with brooding New Yorkers rather than San Francisco hipsters. Something that makes me feel like I’m in the West Village.”

“My mistake. I assumed you getting naked meant you wanted to eat inside,” he said, eyeing her up and down as she unbuttoned the shirt.

“I’m not getting naked,” she said. “I’m changing into my clothes.”

   
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