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Breathlessly, she shakes her head. “You have an addiction.”
“Do you have a complaint?”
“Oh, hell no.” She laughs, looking dazed.
Grinning, I take her hand and lead her farther inside. She pulls on her panties but ignores her jeans, which remain in a puddle on the floor. Fuck, she’s so gorgeous like this, comfortable and uninhibited in my space. That thought hits me hard, and it’s all I can do not to throw her back up against that door.
After settling her down on the couch, I head over to my liquor cabinet to select a whiskey, finally settling on the Bowmore. It’s become our thing—she’s here most nights, and when she is, I often choose a new whiskey for her to try.
I love giving her new ones, trying to test her to see if she can distinguish each one from the last. I want to keep her on her toes. And she’s sharp too. She has a discerning palette, and very good taste.
I grab my ice tray out of the freezer and pop two large spheres of ice into our rocks glasses, then pour the Bowmore over them. I carry the glasses over to Sophie, setting one down in front of her. She picks it up and swirls it under her nose, just like I taught her. The ice clinks in the glass. There’s a look of concentration on her face.
“Is this a new one?” she says.
I nod, raising an eyebrow and lifting my own glass to her in a toast.
She takes a slow sip. “I like this one.”
“So do I,” I tell her. The scent of the whiskey mingles with the scent of her pussy, still lingering on my lips and tongue. Perfect. Sublime.
“You know,” she says, “when you called me, I’d actually just gotten off the phone with your grandmother.”
“Really?” I settle down beside her on the couch, pulling her bare legs over my lap. “What did she want?”
“She wants to take me out to lunch.”
I smile, huffing a quick laugh. “Oh, I’ll bet. Do me a favor, all right? Don’t believe anything she says about me when I was young.”
“Oh, come on,” Sophie teases, a wicked gleam in her eye. “That’s the whole reason I’m going! I need all the gory details.”
Affectionately, I roll my eyes. It’s good that my grandmother is taking Sophie out to lunch. She must have been able to intuit how serious I am about this relationship, and I know that she’s excited. It’s been a while since my grandmother saw me with someone, and she’s never seen me this committed.
My fingertips run across the top of Sophie’s thigh, and the ice in her glass tinkles as another shiver runs through her, like my touch is electric and there’s a live current running through her body. Even as we’re just making small talk, I can’t keep my hands off her, and she can’t help but respond to me.
Before the talk can get larger or the touches firmer, my cell phone rings on the coffee table. I growl at it, as if I could give it a warning to shut up.
“It’s fine,” Sophie says with a chuckle. “Go ahead, pick it up.”
I reach for the phone, tipping it up to illuminate the screen. My father’s name and phone number flash before my eyes.
I grit my teeth, a sudden tension in my jaw that wasn’t there before. My father has called several times in the past few days—that bastard can’t seem to take a hint. I don’t know what has him convinced that I want to talk to him, but it’s the last thing I feel like doing right now.
I reject the call, tossing my phone onto the empty couch across from us, and lean back onto the cushions.
Sophie notices. Of course she notices. There’s a cute little frown on her face, a crease between her eyebrows, as she glances from me to my face-down phone and back again.
For a few seconds, I’m concerned that she’s going to speak up, to voice her obvious worries even though I really, really don’t want to talk about it.
Instead, she touches my cheek and leans in for a kiss.
Chapter 41
Sophie
It takes Nora less than a day to work out the reservations and text me the details of our lunch together, and the following Saturday, I head downtown to meet her at a nice, airy bistro on Park Avenue.
The place is on the second floor, and when I arrive, Nora has already been seated. The waiter leads me over to join her, and she gives me a sunny smile.
