CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“What are you doing?” Paige asked. Her head was pillowed on the arm he had tucked under his head. They both were staring up at the unfinished ceiling in the master bedroom.
“I’m composing a thank you note to your mother in my head.”
She laughed, rising up onto her elbow to study him to prod him in his ribs. “Very funny.”
“Dear Leslie, I can’t thank you enough for being a pompous ass and forcing your beautiful, stubborn daughter to get out of her own way,” he recited.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re thinking about pizza.” Gannon screwed up his handsome face as if he was trying to read her mind. “And trying to figure out what this means.”
Paige flopped back down on her back, breaking the eye contact. She’d been doing exactly that.
“I don’t want to be in a relationship right now, Gannon.”
“So you used me for sex?” he asked in mock horror.
“I forgot how hilarious you are after sex,” Paige grumbled, stretching her arms over her head.
Gannon reached over, his large palm closing over her breast. “I’m hilarious all the time. You just have a terrible memory.”
“Today’s my birthday.” She wasn’t sure why she’d said it beside the fact that it had been poking at her in her head. She’d seen her mother on her birthday, and Leslie hadn’t remembered. Paige had barely remembered. Her life was full steam ahead right now, and she didn’t have time for things like relationships with sexy, smoldering men or birthdays. As rebellious as her mother considered Paige to be, it appeared as though she were following in the family’s footsteps after all.
“Today’s your birthday, and you let me fuck you on the floor of a construction zone?” Gannon was surprisingly pissed.
“Uh, thank you?” She wasn’t sure what kind of answer he was expecting.
He propelled himself off the floor, dragging on his jeans. “Get up.” When she didn’t move fast enough for his liking, Gannon hauled her to her feet.
“Geez, is this a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am?”
“Put your clothes on, Paige. We’re having a birthday.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t want a birthday.”
“I don’t want a birthday, Gannon. I don’t want a relationship, Gannon.” He was misquoting her in an obnoxious falsetto. “Sometimes you’re really infuriating, you know that?”
“You were a lot nicer to me when you didn’t know it was my birthday.”
But he was too busy looking at his watch and muttering to himself. The shine of sex was rapidly wearing off, and Paige wished that she had kept her big, fat mouth shut.
“Let’s go!” The order was given over his shoulder as he trundled down the stairs to the main level.
Paige tugged her sweater back in place, zipped her jeans, and shuffled down after him. “Yeah, yeah. We’re going.”
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Darkness had fallen on Brooklyn, at least as dark as the borough could get with its army of LED streetlights. They drove for a few blocks before Gannon cut the wheel and expertly worked the oversized pickup into a parking space on the street in front of a closed fish market.
“Stay here.”
Before she could even come up with a smart comeback, he was slamming the door and stalking down the block. Paige rested her head against the seat and sighed. She’d chucked her will out the window today and embraced the bad decision that was Gannon King. Again.
Paige frowned through the windshield. She didn’t feel like she’d let herself down. She felt… satisfied, smug even. There was no doubt that time spent in bed—or on the floor—with Gannon was never time wasted. The man made pleasure an Olympic sport. But she’d expected to feel guilty for letting herself down, for caving. She didn’t have time for a man as demanding as Gannon. She didn’t need any distractions at this point in her life.
But as she ticked off the reasons for keeping her distance, none of them held the weight against the argument her post-orgasmic body was making. She liked him. Even when he was being a temperamental ass. He pushed her outside of her comfort zone, challenging her at all turns. And she was stronger because of it.
Paige blinked, convinced the spectacle approaching the truck was a post-orgasmic hallucination. Gannon was loaded down with shopping bags. Clipped to his jeans was a bouquet of balloons proclaiming birthday sentiments. Flowers peeked out of one of the bags.
He opened his door and started shoving bags and balloons into the backseat. “Don’t look at this stuff,” he ordered, pointing a finger at her. “You just turn your pretty little self around and ignore everything back here.”
She turned around, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re ridiculous,” he countered.
They drove the half dozen blocks to his apartment, and when Paige tried to help unload, he slapped her hands away. “Go upstairs and unlock the door,” he said, tossing his keys at her.
Relieved that she didn’t have to be part of the attention-calling birthday parade, Paige jogged up the three flights of stairs and let herself into the apartment. Not much had changed since her last visit this summer. The couch was still leather and battered, the kitchen was still tiny, and the bedroom still reminded her of long, late hours of pleasure.
She did find something new here. The shelf next to the TV held a framed picture that hadn’t been there before. She picked it up to examine it. It was one of the candid shots from the set of Kings of Construction. Paige was standing hands on hips in a tank top and shorts, giving orders and grinning. They were at the Russes’, mid-shoot.
She heard the commotion in the hallway and put the frame down just as Gannon stormed in with his haul. He kicked the door closed behind him and dumped the lot on the kitchen counter. Without bothering to unclip the balloons from his belt, he yanked a bottle of wine out of the cabinet and opened it.
He poured a glass and handed it to her, the balloons buffeting against each other over his head. She couldn’t not laugh. A scowling birthday fairy delivering wine? No one could keep a straight face.
“Take your wine and go take a shower.” He started unloading items from the bags. She spotted a giant box of condoms and raised her eyebrows.
“That should get us through the night,” she quipped.
He held out a shopping bag to her. “Shower,” he insisted. The giant smiley face balloon with hearts for eyes peeking over his head ruined the effect.
She sidled up to him. “What are you going to be doing while I’m naked and soapy in your shower?” Now that she’d had him again, she wasn’t even close to done with him for the night.
He leaned down, kissing her hard and then nipping her lower lip. “Taking care of dinner.”
“I’m not that hungry.” She rose up on her toes to press a soft, suggestive kiss to his mouth. He deepened the kiss, his hands settling on her hips. She let him take the lead as he walked her backwards. Her body was humming to life again, a slow burn that began to build in her belly and lower.
She felt cold tile under her feet and Gannon’s heat at her front. He pulled back, and she stared up into his lust-glazed eyes.
“We have all night,” he promised as if he was reminding himself as much as her. “Shower, dinner, dessert.”
The way he said dessert gave Paige a delicious shiver up her spine.
“Sure you don’t want to skip straight to dessert?” she offered.
“If you keep looking at me like that, it’ll be more like breakfast.” He closed the door harder than necessary.
Paige caught her reflection in the mirror over his vanity. She saw flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and a kind of excitement that glowed from within. That’s what Gannon did to her. She felt loose, relaxed, good.
Maybe a shower wasn’t a bad idea, she decided. She poked through the grocery bag he’d shoved at her and was delighted to find her favorite shampoo, conditioner, body wash, even moisturizer. He’d thrown in a few impulse items, too, she noted with amusement. There were two tubes of Chap Stick, a stick of deodorant, and a new toothbrush.
It looked like she’d been invited to spend the night. And with an early shoot start tomorrow, she certainly wouldn’t complain about the shorter commute from Gannon’s apartment. Not that a night in Gannon’s bed left much to complain about.
She cranked on the hot water in the shower stall and stripped. Looking at her wine, she shrugged. What the hell? It was her birthday after all. She took the glass with her into the steam.
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Hair still damp and body now clean, Paige padded into the kitchen in one of Gannon’s t-shirts and her own underwear. She wasn’t sure which of them was more startled by the other. Gannon, raised his head and promptly dropped the spoon he was using to abuse a bowl of something dark and chocolaty.
He’d lost his shirt, splattered with the same dark chocolaty substance from the bowl, while she was in the shower and replaced it with a Kiss the Cook grilling apron. He stood eyeing her, bare feet braced, jeans low on his hips, and a sexy as sin half grin on his face.
“You look good in my shirt.”
“You look good in your apron.”
There were two large grilled chicken salads still in their plastic containers on the counter. He picked up the spoon and rinsed it in the sink before returning to the bowl.
“Whatcha making there, Chef King?” Paige asked, topping of her wine glass and sneaking behind him to fetch a beer for him from the fridge. She twisted the top and set the bottle on the skinny scrap of counter next to him.
“Do me a favor and peel the stickers off of those things,” he said jerking his chin toward the muffin tins peeking out of their own grocery bag.
“You can’t be serious,” Paige demanded, her brain refusing to make sense of what was happening.
“They’re stickers,” he insisted, missing the point. “It’s not that complicated. Get a grip, princess.”
“You’re baking me cupcakes.”
“Yeah, well if you would have bothered to share anything personal at all like the fact that it was your birthday, it would have been a really nice Death by Chocolate cake from the bakery around the corner. But you didn’t, so you have to deal with these. Peel.”
Words failed her. Gannon King was baking her cupcakes on her birthday and yelling at her about it.
She slipped her arms around his waist from behind and laid her forehead against his muscled back. “You’re not going to cry, are you?” he asked gruffly.
Her lips curved. “No.”
“Good, save it for when they’re done and burnt, and you still have to eat them or you’ll hurt my feelings.”
The cupcakes were only a little burnt. But Gannon made up for it with the yellow crown candle he lit and stuck in the chocolate frosting of one. He didn’t sing her “Happy Birthday” which would have only embarrassed them both, but he did demand she make a wish.
And when the second can of chocolate frosting was put to even more decadent use a little later, Paige felt like her wish had come true.