Wicked Burn

Christ . . . Niall’s eyes. Distilled soul fire. Two and a half days, and he’d forgotten just how explosive an impact they had on him.

He forced himself to look away and examine the space where they stood, sure that if he kept staring at Niall, he’d have her flat on her back on the dusty, unfinished wood floor in two seconds flat.

“Sounds like you’ve done some research into the matter,” he conceded as he walked around slowly, examining the space. The interior wasn’t finished, of course, and the floor was cluttered with lumber, sheets of drywall, and crates of various building supplies. But what he saw, he liked. Eleven-foot ceilings and plenty of windows. The far wall opened onto an enormous outdoor terrace. It would be a bitch to heat in a Chicago winter, but the east-facing view of the skyline was completely unhindered by a single obstacle.

“It’s going to be entirely open on this level?” he asked.

“Yes, except for the powder room and closets,” Niall replied from behind him, her voice warming at what obviously was a favorite topic. “It’s a soft loft design. I’ve got twelve hundred feet downstairs and another thousand upstairs for the bedrooms.” She raised an elegantly arched eyebrow at him in a subtle challenge when he turned to face her. “That’s another reason why buying into this ‘dodgy’ neighborhood was such a good idea. I never could have have afforded all of this wide-open living space if I bought a place in the Loop.”

Vic just smiled and headed up the stairs. “If you think this is wide-open space, then you should visit my ranch in Montana or my farm downstate.”

“Is that an invitation?”

When he heard the tone of her low, husky voice Vic gave up all pretense of being the friendly neighbor. He spun around on the stairs, hands on the railing, and leaned down over her upturned face.

“Was that?” he countered.

He watched as his innuendo registered in her consciousness and sexual awareness followed quickly on its heels. The tip of her tongue traced her lower lip in an anxious gesture, making him tighten with lust. The fact that she wanted him was just as obvious as ever, although not nearly as blatant as the stiff ridge of his cock as it pressed against the suddenly constraining fly of his jeans.

“Why did you tell me not to call you the other day?”

Her lips fell open in surprise at the harshness of his question. “I just didn’t want you to worry about me. Not that you would or anything,” she backpedaled quickly.

“What happened? Why were your parents so upset?”

“A . . . a family member had been hospitalized.”

Vic straightened from his predatory stance when he noticed her pallor. “Is she . . . he”—Vic paused, eyebrows raised until Niall nodded at his second guess—“going to be okay?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure that was all that was wrong, Niall?”

“Isn’t it enough?” she asked. For a few seconds she just stared at him silently.

“Why don’t you show me the wide-open space of your bedrooms?” Vic suggested eventually. He held out his hand to her. A measure of relief swept through him when the solemn expression on her face disappeared and she laughed.

“There isn’t much to see,” she teased as she moved past him down the hallway.

Vic smiled, his eyes lowering to the sexy sway of the shapeliest little ass he’d ever seen. He begged to differ. In his opinion, there were plenty of prime views around here. His cock surged uncomfortably when he thought about spanking that butt several days ago.

Niall proudly gave him the tour of her condo. He listened silently while she enthusiastically detailed what the finishes would look like in each room. Vic was glad to see that the construction so far looked like quality work. So many of the firms that put up condos in downtown Chicago utilized cheap materials and shoddy labor and got away with it easily because of the high demand in the market.

Niall exclaimed in surprised pleasure when they entered the master suite a few minutes later and she saw that the walls had been freshly painted and carpeting installed.

“Give me your keys for a few minutes,” Vic requested once they’d examined the half-finished, luxurious master bath.

“What for?”

“You’ll see. Just give them to me and I’ll be right back.”

He grinned when she gave him a suspicious look and the keys at the same time. On the way back a few minutes later he peered into the main entryway of her building, gratified to see a doorman’s security desk in what promised to be a luxurious lobby. At least she had some protection, although he still wished she’d picked a place that was just a little more populated. Funny, he admitted with grim amusement, coming from a guy who preferred to travel miles before he ever saw another human face.

When he returned a few minutes later, carrying a paper bag, Niall was still in the master bedroom, sitting in the middle of the floor, a dreamy look glazing her pretty face. He sat down next to her on the soft carpeting without a word and drew a bottle from the bag.

“Where’d you get that?” she asked, clearly amused.

“I beat up the gangbanger who was trying to steal it from the wino on the corner.” He laughed outright when he saw her eyes narrow in irritation. “I bought it from that store across the street, what’d ya think? It’s not our favorite brand, but it’ll do.”

Niall laughed. “Vic, it’s four o’clock in the afternoon.”

“So? How else were we going to make a toast?” he challenged as he poured some of the Scotch into the paper cups he’d also purchased. He handed her one of them and held up his own. “To your new home, Niall. I hope it gives you all the wide-open space you need.”