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Ian rises to his knees as I prop up with my hands braced behind me, the heaviness of the moment Jack just interrupted making itself known as we both stare at each other.
Ian’s jaw works. “To be continued?”
“Yeah?” I ask, beaming.
“You better fucking believe it.” He scowls. “Maybe just…not while your brother is home.”
I sit up properly to pull him to me, capturing his mouth in a long, slow kiss that feels as dirty as it is sweet, and packed full of promise. “Deal,” I say after, a little breathless.
“Deal,” he echoes. “Now let’s sneak you out of here before Jack tries to whoop my ass one-handed.”
“I might actually like to see that,” I tease.
Ian snorts. “I’d hate to hurt your brother. I kind of like him.”
“What about me?”
We’re both standing after I put my shoes back on, and he pauses from straightening his clothes to peer at me, his mouth forming a grin that’s almost boyish, one that makes my chest feel tight. He grabs my hand to pull it to his mouth, letting his lips brush along the back. “I kind of like you too.”
“Ditto,” I answer dazedly, feeling very much like my crush—my first crush—just made out with me on his bed.
He tugs my hand, moving toward the door. He peeks into the hall to check and make sure that it’s still empty before pulling me through the living room to the front door, pausing with it open to haul me against him for another kiss that has me pressing up on my toes, toes that are now curling in my shoes.
“Text me when you get home,” he murmurs when I finally break away.
I grin up at him. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Telling,” he answers firmly, reaching around to give one sharp slap to the side of my ass. “Brat.”
He shuts the door then, leaving me half-shocked and whole-horny, rubbing lightly at the denim covering the skin he just spanked in the hallway outside my brother’s apartment. Honestly, that part isn’t really even registering in my mind.
It’s far too occupied wondering when I can get him to do it again.
Fourteen
IAN
I didn’t think there was anything in the world that could dampen my excitement for today. I haven’t stopped thinking about Lila in days; her warm mouth, her soft curves, her quick wit and her kind heart and all the things that make her inherently her have been at the forefront of my brain since she snuck out of the apartment the other day, mostly because it feels surreal that I’ve gotten to experience it all. That I still can, because for whatever reason, this woman who is out of my league in a dozen different ways wants me. Has for a long time, to hear her tell it.
That’s a heady thing, for someone who’s not even sure if they’re worth wanting that much.
So needless to say, I’ve been in a great mood on the way to the studio this morning. With her flirty texts to keep me sated in the days since I’ve seen her—we’ve both been busy between my practices and her meetings—there hasn’t been a thing to bring me down.
Of course, one phone call would change that.
I’m walking into the studio when I answer the call, on purpose this time, if only because I’m curious why he would be calling, given that things are going exactly the way he wants them to, and as far as I know, there’s no reason to criticize me.
“Hello?”
“What is this shit with you and the Baker kid’s show?”
I bristle immediately. “Excuse me?”
“Once was one thing,” he says. “I get good publicity, but you don’t need to become some cheap commodity. It sends the wrong message.”
I pause my steps, my mouth parting in surprise.
Really? The wrong message?
