A shiver took hold at the thought. But it wasn’t stronger than the desire to go.
COOP DIDN’T GET HOME until 2:00 a.m. Exhausted, he climbed the stairs to his building, fully expecting Lexie to be sound asleep in his bed. He couldn’t think of a sweeter thing to come home to at night, and the thought pulled him up short.
He grabbed on to the handrail and paused, wondering how he’d gotten to this point so fast. He breathed in deep to calm his rapidly beating heart and reminded himself not to get used to having her around. Looking forward to coming home to Lexie was a sure path to heartache.
Enjoy the here and now. With that thought firmly in mind, he let himself into his apartment.
“Hey!” he said, surprised to find the light in the living room still on and Lexie curled up on the couch reading his book.
She barely glanced up as he walked into the room.
“It’s late.”
“I know. But I’m almost finished.” She waved him away.
She’d changed into one of his V-neck T-shirts. It hung low on her smaller frame and her cle**age was visible. He wished she’d give him the attention she was focusing on his damn book, but a part of him was pleased that she was so engrossed in his story.
He turned into bed with the light still glowing in the other room, knowing she was drawn in but curious how she really felt about his abilities. Because in the one area of his life that meant the most to him, Coop was petrified of failing.
COOP WOKE UP to find Lexie, hands cupped behind her head, staring at the ceiling. Morning was one of the few times he could look at her without her glasses and he savored the sight before she realized he was awake, too. She didn’t spend much time in the sun and she had fair, porcelain-like skin with a hint of freckles over her nose and cheeks.
He reached out and ran his fingertip over the small bridge of her nose. “Been up long?”
“Not really.” She smiled and rolled onto her side, propping herself up with one hand.
“What time did you finally turn in last night?”
“Not long after you, but you were already out cold.”
He nodded. He’d crashed like a dead man, exhausted from the hours on his feet and from inhaling the smoke from the deliberately set fire.
He was still feeling the effects this morning. “Why are you up so early?”
“I don’t need more than six hours’ sleep.”
In his line of work, his hours were unpredictable so he’d learned to operate on less sleep, too. “So, are you going to tell me what you thought of the book?” He asked the question weighing on his mind since his eyes opened and his brain cleared.
A slow smile crossed her lips. “I couldn’t put it down.”
That much he knew. “And?”
“You write a really compelling story, Coop. The mystery kept me hooked, the characters were true to life, the tension incredible. It was a real page-turner!”
She said all the right things, but he sensed more going on behind those intelligent eyes. “What are you not saying?” he asked, wondering when he’d become a glutton for punishment.
He had a beautiful woman in his bed, complimenting his work, yet he was pushing for more.
She scooted into a sitting position facing him. “Okay, here’s the thing.”
He eased himself against the headboard and braced for criticism he probably wouldn’t like. Never mind that he’d asked for it.
“I had problems with the setting,” she said hesitantly, clearly unsure of whether to go on.
“It’s okay. I can take it,” he motioned with his hands. “Give it to me.”
She ran her tongue over her lips. His brain cautioned not to be distracted by the sight. His body didn’t listen and a morning hard-on took hold.
“It’s just that… Okay, well take that scene in East Harlem where the cop is looking for his prime suspect. We’re in his head, we know how raw and emotional his feelings are and why. But what does he see on the street?” She waved her hands animatedly in the air as she spoke. “It could have taken place anywhere. It needs the color and the flavor of the place itself. The words need to jump off the page. Have you ever been there?” she asked.
“Of course.” East Harlem was in his backyard. He was writing from firsthand experience.
“Well? Then you need to show the ethnic mix, the smells of all the nationalities of food wafting out from the various restaurants. The musical beat of salsa seeping onto the street from open windows.” She snapped her fingers to an imaginary tune. “The chatter of words in a variety of languages and the differing ages of people mingling on the streets.” Her eyes flashed with fire and excitement, dragging him into the world she created with her words and her energy.
Without even being there, he viewed East Harlem through her eyes, felt as if he were walking the steamy streets at night, experiencing the picture she painted.
Adrenaline rushed through his body and his brain in a way he’d never felt before. Just like the first night he’d spent with her at her grandmother’s, she’d pumped him up to write once more.
He leaned close, sealing his lips over hers in a too-brief kiss.
“What was that for?” she asked, her pupils dilated, her voice husky. “Didn’t I just insult your work?”
“You brought awareness to my work. And you know all that color and flavor you just had me experiencing?”
“Yes?” She cocked her head to one side and a lock of hair fell endearingly over her cheek.
“I’m going to return the favor for you now.” He brushed her hair away with one hand.
Lexie smiled, more than eager to put aside critique for his hands-on experience. Whatever obstacles stood between them couldn’t compete with the heat they generated under the covers. He reached for her, but she’d already decided that she wanted more control this time. Just to put them on equal footing.
She hooked her leg around his ankle and using him for leverage, she pulled herself on top of him.
“Check you out,” he said, approval in his husky voice.
His pupils dilated, desire darkening his eyes.
“I think you’ve got this all wrong. I want to check you out.”
“Please do.” He spread his arms and legs, giving her his glorious body.
Starting with his mouth, she placed her lips over his, taking her time while she explored with her tongue, tasting, twirling, teasing and hopefully arousing him as much as she was arousing herself.
He wrapped one arm around her back and pulled her more tightly against him. She allowed him to direct that call only because it thrust her pelvis against his rock-hard erection, separated from her body by nothing but her thin silk panties and his cotton boxer briefs. And if he thought those were going to last long, she intended to teach him otherwise.