Six

ANDREW

Lilah Tucker is driving me insane and she doesn’t even know it.

It’s been three days since I found that damn leaflet in my mail and two since she pulled that little stunt at the bar. I hadn’t intended to lose my cool and touch her, but damn it she was practically begging for it.

As soon as my lips touched her, those enchanting eyes nearly slid closed, letting me know I had her right where I wanted her. My mind hasn’t stopped racing with thoughts of her since, but I’ve been good and kept my distance.

That ends tonight.

Lilah isn’t aware of it yet, but she’s coming to an art show with me tonight. A friend of mine is hosting the event. I’d normally pass on bringing a date for fear of them getting up their hopes. But something about Lilah won’t allow me to keep her at arm’s length.

Besides, this date will bring me closer to my ultimate goal. There’s no doubt in my mind that we’ll both be satisfied and smiling by the end of the night.

Before exiting my room, I decide to switch it up and take my Aston Martin for a spin tonight. Snatching the keys, I head for the garage more determined than ever to check Ms. Tucker off my list.

***

Finding her place is easy enough based on the information sent to me earlier today.

Parking, I rest my eyes on the building in front of me and frown. Given her career, the place seems a little rundown. It’s visibly old and my guess is that it’s falling apart inside.

The interior is just as dated as I expected. There’s no piss in the stairway but the paint is chipped and the reeking smell of cigarette smoke is thick. The walls are as thin as paper. I hear snippets from her neighbors’ conversations as I walk through the halls trying to find the unit number I memorized earlier.

At her door, loud music seeps into the hallway. It sounds like Carlos Santana. With a lazy smile, I picture her dancing to the Latin beats. My knuckles rap firmly against the door twice. Then I wait.

Seconds pass before the music lowers and I hear footsteps coming to the door.

“Who is it?” She calls through the wooden barrier.

“Andrew,” I say simply.

Silence greets me on the other side of the door before the sound of locks being turned follows.

The door is pulled open slowly to reveal my current obsession. Ms. Lilah Tucker in the flesh.

And fuck, she looks edible. Covered in a thin layer of sweat, she looks good enough to lick.

Only a sports bra covers her full tits. The thin, gray cotton material is filled to overflowing because the round globes are pushed together so enticingly. It’s only when I finally pull my eyes away from her chest I notice she’s wearing a pair of yoga capris that leave little to the imagination. Womanly hips flare out right after the curve of her tiny waist and my hands are itching to grab a hold of her and devour every inch.

Clearing the lump in my throat, I speak first, “Hey, Cupcake.”

She doesn’t react to the nickname but instead fists her hands at her narrow waist.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asks, frowning at the way my eyes linger on her scantily covered curves.

“Have you been working out?” I ask trying to get to the root of her appearance.

Disregarding my question, she reaches behind her and takes a cup of ice cubes from a nearby table. I watch enviously as a few slide onto her tongue as she tilts the cup to her beautiful mouth.

My cock stirs awake at the sight.

For fuck’s sake.

“How did you manage to get my address?” she asks, jostling the ice as she shakes the cup. “First, you show up at my favorite bar. Now you’re on my doorstep. Are you stalking me, Andrew?”

Her insinuation does nothing to quench my growing lust.

Those full lips are calling me, but I stay rooted at the spot. I won’t cross that boundary again until she’s begging me.

And not a second before.

“Not that I’m above it, Cupcake, but your info was pretty easy to come by.” There’s no way in hell I’m going to rat out Louisa from the firm as my source for her address. Being at the same bar as her that night was just a happy, very happy, coincidence. I might need Louisa in the future and I don’t want Lilah shutting that down.

“Don’t call me that,” she bristles, her free hand reaching into the cup and retrieving a frozen cube. Holding it against her neck, she sighs as it melts, liquid running down her cleavage.

Is she fucking kidding me right now?

This little seductress is fucking erotic and the tightness against my zipper is becoming uncomfortable.

She’s the definition of sex. Plain and simple. Fiery and stunning. One hell of a combination.

“Now’s not a good time,” she tells me. Her eyes find mine and I catch a glimmer of defiance staring back at me.

“Why?” I want to know.

When she realizes I’m not budging, Lilah opens the door wider and gives a subtle nod for me to come inside.

“See for yourself,” she says in that breathy voice I love.

Stepping into her apartment is like stepping into a sauna. Holy hell. The air conditioner is broken and I swear even the walls are sweating from the humidity.

“Where the fuck is your superintendent?” I growl, harsher than I intended.

“Who knows?” she says, moving her shoulders up and down noncommittally. “He tends to get around to things on his own time. This is only the second day. He’ll probably contact me tomorrow.”

“What’s his name?” I demand, incensed that anyone would be subjected to these living conditions.

I’m not so privileged that I can’t understand right from dead ass wrong and this is infuriating. Don’t ask me why my protective instincts are fighting to come out. I’m well aware that my main goal should be getting between her legs, but something about Lilah tugs at me in a way I don’t want to examine at the moment.

She’s crazy if she thinks I’m leaving her alone to roast in here all night.

“Go get dressed,” I grit out, fuming at her. “We’re going to be late.”

Instead of that defiant look I’ve come to adore, Lilah’s expression is stunned.

“Lilah.” My words are a growl as I get her attention. “Go. Take. A. Shower.”

“You don’t have to fucking yell. I hear you,” she snaps at me, turning on her heels.

My shoulders don’t relax until I hear the spray of water from down the hall. Closing her front door behind me, I walk deeper into the apartment and take a seat on her worn sofa. Face down on the other cushion is a book that brings a smirk to my face.

Bossypants by Tina Fey.

Why the hell am I not surprised?

This one’s a fucking firecracker. And she’s going to send me straight to the psych ward if I let things get away from me.

But that won’t be happening. Because by the end of the night, I’ll have those pretty thighs spread wide as she begs me not to stop.