“Yep. And he even moved into my dorm complex.”
“Whoa. We just took a sharp left into Stalkerville, Luce.”
“No, it’s not like that. It’s more like he’s a jealous kid at recess. If I have a toy, then he wants it.”
“So you’ve got to work with this asshat all semester? Your internship starts soon, right?”
“Right on both counts. And Derek just tweeted how grateful he was to receive this opportunity, and the firm president tweeted back!”
“Bastards, both of them. You should post something.”
“I already did! An hour earlier. Then Derek the Asshole basically plagiarizes my tweet and gets praised for it. Meanwhile mine’s just sitting in cyberspace, lonely and pathetic.”
He blows on my toes again, and I momentarily forget my rage.
“Nothing about you is lonely or pathetic, Lucy Colette. You’re a badass, always have been. You’re fierce, smart as hell, and you’ll spend the spring semester impressing everyone at this firm.”
“Thanks,” I say sincerely. “That’s my plan. So, it’s a good thing I’m leaving in the morning. I need to get all my ducks in a row to be as prepared as possible.”
“Good for you, Luce,” Whit says, opening the bottle of topcoat. He lifts my left foot and cradles it gently in one hand while applying the clear coat with the other. I can feel his breath on my skin. My knees are bent, and he’s scooted himself closer. Thank God my flannel nightshirt is just long enough to cover me. Topcoat might speed up the drying process, but it’s also making me wet.
I lean forward a smidge to reach my wine glass, but he braces his hand on my leg.
“Not so fast, Luce. This pedicure is a work of art, but it’s not dry yet. What do you need?”
It’s such a loaded question, but I take the easy way out. “More wine.” He fills my glass, and I take a sip. I’m about to take another when he swipes the glass from my hand and takes a drink of his own. There’s something erotic about Whit putting his lips right where mine have been, but I’m not dwelling on that.
I nab my glass from his grip and take a drink. “This whole situation makes me nuts. I’m under enough pressure as it is, plus the stress of the internship, and now the added stress of Derek the Douche. Ugh. It just sucks. And you do, too. Whit, you suck most of all.”
He turns his head, clearly as surprised by my statement as I am.
“What was that? I suck? Me? As in, the man who just gave youa pedicure?”
“Yes. You. Because you're funny and kind and fucking gorgeous and nice and everyone loves you and you're impossible to ignore. I had a crappy day and things should be super awkward between us, but here you are being super sweet. Why are you so damn nice?” I haven’t had but two sips of wine in the last hour, but I’m still blaming alcohol for my rant.
“Yeah...sorry about that,” he smirks, not sorry at all.
It’s the smirk that does it. That cheeky smile, dimple and all, erases my inhibitions, and I put my wine glass down and lean forward, pressing my lips to his.
He’s sitting cross-legged between my thighs, and he drapes my legs over his so my feet are on either side of his hips.
“Don’t want to smudge my work of art,” he says, gripping my waist and pulling me close. I should protest. Or get up and go upstairs to bed. Afterall, my flight leaves in the morning, and I still need to pack. That’s so unlike me, which seems to be the theme of the night.
Whit traces my lips with his tongue, and I open for him. He tastes like wine, or maybe I do? I can feel the heat of him only inches away from my center, and I’m dying for more contact. He presses long, wet kisses along my jawline, and I toss my head back in ecstasy.
“Whoa, careful there,” he holds my head in the palm of his hand, and I realize I narrowly avoided crashing into the coffee table.
He rocks his hips forward and I moan. “We need more room,” he tells me and I just nod.
Whit scooches me to the side, then he presses a button, and the sofa folds out. Before I can think better of it, he scoops me up and plants my ass on the couch-turned-bed.
Pressing a kiss to my lips, he says, “Be right back, Lucy. I’m gonna grab some blankets.”
Again, I should get up. I should put a stop to all of this. But as I curl into the soft couch cushions, all I can do is hope that I don’t fall asleep before he comes back.
Chapter 11
Lucy
