I blamed it on the house. I didn’t know why I’d brought her here. But when I’d climbed on my bike, wanting to get her as far away from Tassel as I could before the cops showed up, and she’d have to give a statement as a witness, this was the only place I could think to bring her.
My apartment above Voodoo would have been more convenient, and a hell of a lot smarter, but I didn’t want to bring her back there. She deserved… better.
Which was ironic considering I hadn’t had a problem bringing her there before. Or maybe I had had a problem with it. I didn’t know, because I didn’t fucking remember.
I strode up the stairs at the back of the house and dug the keys out of my pocket. I didn’t turn to see if she followed. If she wasn’t following now, she would eventually. Or she’d call the cops and have me dragged away in cuffs for planning a murder. I left the door open and made my way to the liquor cabinet.
Spying Andre’s favorite Irish whiskey, I poured three fingers into a glass. Tossing it back in one long swig, I lowered the glass and filled it again.
Shit. I’m driving. I can’t get hammered.
Normally I’d just crash here for the night, but I couldn’t imagine Vanessa would be cool with a sleepover. Besides, spending the night in a house empty of people except for her and me? No way I’d be able to keep myself from climbing into her bed.
A hand on my arm ripped me out of my ricocheting thoughts. “Con, I’m not going to say anything. I can only imagine that if someone had murdered my parents, I wouldn’t stop until I’d gotten justice either.”
I glanced down at the manicured fingernails resting on the ink-covered skin of my forearm.
“You say that now.”
“I mean it. Your business is your business. I won’t pry, and I won’t try to track you down again.” She gestured to the full glass on the bar. “Can I have one? Or are you the only one drinking tonight?”
Wanting to lock away all of the bad shit for just one night, which was damn near impossible while sitting in Joy and Andre’s dream house, I forced a smile. Her fingers curled around my glass, and when she held it to her lips, I wanted to snatch it away. I wanted to keep her stone cold sober, because I promised myself that we both would be the next time we were together. I watched as she tipped it back and the amber liquid disappeared.
It was for the best. I was too raw tonight. In this kind of mood, I just wanted to fuck and fuck hard. And I still wondered if Vanessa was just getting this out of her system. Her little field trip to the strip club might’ve just been a rich girl’s walk on the wild side.
I was saved from coming up with a new topic when she asked, “How long has it been since your last one-night stand? Although I guess I shouldn’t assume it was a one-night stand. But you know what I mean.” The words tumbled out, as if she was unable to stop them.
Her cheeks flared bright red, telegraphing her embarrassment. “I don’t know why I just asked that. It’s none of my business.”
As a rule, I didn’t talk about my conquests with anyone. Ever. But I think I got what she was getting at. “Before you walked into Voodoo that first night.”
“So, if we… take this further, are you going to be… seeing other women at the same time?”
I arched a brow. I’d give just about anything to know what was going through her head right now. Suffice it to say that all the heavy shit going through mine had faded away once she’d started on the topic of sex. Don’t look so surprised. I’m a guy, and my dick is in full working order.
“You want to know if we fuck, whether I’m still going to be fucking other women?”
She dropped her gaze to the floor. “Yeah.”
“What makes you think I’d want to?” I was truly interested in her response—although, let’s not kid ourselves, I was pretty much interested in anything that came out of this woman’s mouth.
“You’re used to… variety, and I’m only one person.”
I reached a hand up to cup her cheek. Her skin was porcelain smooth. “Why would I need variety if I had you?”
“I’m just asking the question. I’d like to know where I stand before…” As if losing her nerve to finish the sentence, she turned away. I thought I heard her whisper, “Jesus. I don’t know if I can do this.”
I snagged the whiskey and poured another glass as though I wasn’t affected by the conversation. Years of training kept my movements steady and my expression neutral.
I recapped the bottle and set it on the shelf. Before I could take a drink, Vanessa snatched up the glass and downed it.
My laugh was strangled and harsh. “It ain’t too late to back out, princess. I’m not forcing you into shit.”
She replaced the empty glass on the granite bar with a clunk and reached up, wrapping both hands around my neck and dragging my face down to hers. Our lips connected, and her hot little tongue slipped inside my mouth.
What the hell?
Breaking out of my momentary paralysis, I buried one hand in her hair and slid the other around her back. I slanted my mouth along hers and took control of the kiss. She tasted of whiskey spiked with something sweet.
Whiskey she’d had to drink to find the courage to kiss me.
If I were a better man, I’d have stopped the kiss. But I wasn’t. And I didn’t.
I slid my hand lower, cupping her ass and lifting her off her feet. Her legs twined around my waist as she pulled her head back. “You need to stop carrying me everywhere. I’m too heavy.”