“Favorite movie?”

“Commando,” he said instantly. “You?”

“Mean Girls.”

“I had you pegged for 10 Things I Hate about You.”

“Never seen it?” I shrugged.

“What? That’s not right. Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles – classic.”

“Favorite food?”

He tapped his empty spoon lightly against his lips. “Lasagna. You?”

“Pizza.”

We sat on a bench in Central Park with frozen yogurt. Our third food stop of the day. We started with donuts and coffee while we walked the Chelsea Market. Later we’d stopped for brunch in Hell’s Kitchen, and then fro yo as we neared the park because Court drew the line at going into the cute cupcake shop I’d wanted to go in claiming no one should have that much sugar before noon. I didn’t agree, but I figured I’d make him eat his words after lunch and after his noon time constraint.

“What were you like in high school?”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t really interested in high school or any of the cliques. I did my own thing.”

“And what was your own thing? What did you do after school or on weekends?”

“I had a buddy whose uncle owned a mechanic shop, we hung there doing odd jobs for cash.”

I could sense his childhood was a tough topic and I’d danced around the real questions burning the back of my throat as long as I could. I could either not ask at all and wish I had or bite the bullet. I spooned a large glob of strawberry goodness into my mouth and waited for it to melt as I summoned the courage.

“You said you didn’t know your parents and I know you were in foster care with Leika. How many homes did you live in?”

He looked up and met my gaze. He hadn’t expected me to ask a specific question and I couldn’t tell if it put him at ease or made him more jittery.

“Five or six. I stopped keeping track. The last one was the longest – mostly because of Leika. She covered for me a lot to keep me from getting the boot when I was acting like a shithead – her words -and she was the first person I wanted to keep around, so I was a little better to tolerate knowing if I got booted we’d probably lose touch.”

“What was Leika like back then?”

He smiled, his face softening. “Exactly the damn same. That girl’s been a ball buster since birth, I think. She was put into the system when her parents were killed in a robbery gone wrong. She was in the store with them when they were killed. She doesn’t talk about it much.”

My mouth went dry and my heart squeezed for the happy, bubbly woman I’d started to like. “Understandable. Is that what happened to yours?” I shook my head. That was extremely unlikely and not what I’d meant, but God I was too much of a coward to just come out and ask directly. “I mean did something happen to your parents? Is that why you were in foster care?”

“No, my parents just bailed. Couldn’t deal with being parents I guess.”

“So, they are still alive?”

His face was unreadable but the tone he spoke with was grave and dismissive. “Does it matter? They didn’t want me.” His tone was harsh. Understandably.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“I can still be sorry. It couldn’t have been easy growing up the way you did.”

He tossed his spoon into the empty container and sat it next to him. “When you don’t know any other way it’s just normal. Just life.”

“Do you ever think about looking them up?”

“No.” His answer was immediate and definitive. “They peaced out on me. Blood and genetics don’t give them a pass for –” He paused and then shook his head. “No.”

I nodded and bit down on my bottom lip instead of throwing my arms around his body and hugging him. I knew he didn’t want my pity. “It could give you closure just knowing. Information is powerful.”

“Power isn’t always for the good.”

I’d have been inclined to believe him if it weren’t for the way his body hummed with nervous energy. Foot tapping, mouth pulled into a thin line – he was wound tight.

Standing, I tossed our empty containers in the nearest trash bin and then stood in front of him with what I hoped was a charming grin. “I have an idea.”

He raised an eyebrow, but his body language relaxed. “That sounds like trouble.”

I nodded. Yep, it was definitely trouble and probably a huge mistake that was going to leave me with a shattered heart, but right now I wanted nothing more than to take just a little of the baggage he carried around off his shoulders. I’d trade a piece of my heart if it patched his even a tiny bit.

It took more convincing than I imagined getting Court to agree to go back to his apartment. He’d been handsy and checking me out all day, so I knew it wasn’t because he didn’t want to kiss me. I thought he was probably worried he was short changing me on the day we had planned. New York was New York, though. No matter where I lived, it would always be home and there would still be lots of visits to do all the things that made me love this city.

With two grocery bags and a box of cupcakes I finagled into the deal, we were set for cooking at Court’s place. When I said, we – I meant him. I was going to watch. I told him outright I had no intention of helping and so I’d plopped myself down on a stool on the opposite side of the kitchen counter while Court minced onions. I was mesmerized by the way his long fingers wrapped around the knife and sliced in quick, precise movements.

“You look good in the kitchen,” I admitted taking a small drink of the wine he picked out at the store. “And you’re right, I like the wine.”

I’d been adamant that I wasn’t a wine person, but apparently, I wasn’t a cheap wine person.

He nodded, still paying attention to his task. “That Malbec will go well with the steak.”

“Where did you learn to cook?” I asked while I twirled the stem of the glass.

“Mostly self-taught.”

“Mostly?”

“I took a cooking class last year.” He gave me a sheepish grin before adding. “If you tell anyone I’ll deny, deny, deny.”

“Finally, some leverage over mister perfect.”

He raised an eyebrow and paused over the cutting board. “I’m flattered, but perfect I am not. Far from it.”

“Are you kidding? Perfect home,” I raised my arms up to motion to the living room so perfectly put in place with what he’d admitted was a designer’s touch. “Great job in the most amazing city ever, you’re good looking and charming and can get any woman you want. Maybe not perfect, but you look pretty good on paper.”

He set the knife down and rounded the counter, spinning me around on the bar stool and invading my space.

“On paper is bullshit. I know… I mean, I remember what it was like just getting out of college, the whole world seems to only view you as a checklist – your degrees, your GPA, your job, your apartment - but it’s all bullshit, 8B. Ten years from now I promise you’ll look around your life and you’d trade any of that for the things that truly matter.”

“Which are?” I asked and swallowed hard, not able to look away from his hazel eyes that swirled with grit and maturity.

“Who you are inside, your values, being able to look yourself in the mirror.”

“And you think you’ve failed?”

He withdrew, stepping away from me and running a hand through his dark hair.

“Shit, Bianca, isn’t it obvious by now? I look good on paper because my life is devoid of the things everyone else holds close. When you don’t have family or friends, then work and appearances are easy.”

“You have Leika. And there are lots of people who are just waiting for you to let them in. All those people that were here last night were here because you mean something to them. That’s not nothing.”

He dropped his hand but the haunted look on his face didn’t disappear.

“And you have me.”

The look on his face was almost painful and I stood and walked to him. “Maybe you aren’t perfect, but you make me feel…” I worried at my bottom lip as I searched for the right words. The way he so intently watched me and hung on my words told me that I needed to find the right ones. “You make me feel special.”

“You are special.” His voice was low and full of gravel.

I grinned because it was the perfect response and the idea that he was being perfect even as we had a conversation about him not being perfect was funny to me.

“Special to you?”

“Yes, but special in general, too. The kind of special that any man would be lucky to have – even just for a little while.”

It hurt in a way I knew he didn’t intend. He’d lumped me into a category that he placed all his women. Temporary one-night indulgences. Okay, I wasn’t a one-night indulgence, we’d been coming to this point for weeks. But I was temporary. That was the deal, I knew this.

I knew this.

He’d signed up to be a dating coach, nothing more. That was our only thread of connection. It wasn’t supposed to get this complicated.

I wasn’t supposed to get attached.

I wasn’t supposed to want him instead of Todd.

Mustering all the courage I could find, I stepped forward closing the remaining distance between us and ran my hands from his stomach up to rest on his chest. I could feel his shallow breathing under my palms.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re allowed to have special things.”

I felt the sharp inhale and I knew I’d hit the real issue. He wasn’t keeping himself distant from people because he was afraid of hurting them or even because he didn’t want them around. He’d constructed a life surrounded by people he kept from getting too close. He wanted them around, but he kept them at arm’s length because he was afraid of getting hurt. Of not being good enough to deserve them.

My heart ached for him and still it was so mind boggling ridiculous as I stared up at this beautiful man who made me, a dorky college student, feel sexier and more confident than was probably merited.

I ran my hands back down slowly. I watched his face morph – so many emotions flashed across his hard, chiseled features and I wanted to make him feel how deserving he was. I wanted to somehow make him feel as good as he made me feel. I reached the top of his jeans and hooked a finger under the denim material. His dark eyes were hooded and intense. It was powerful the way he looked at me and I wondered if my desire for him made him feel this way. I felt like I could fly or run a marathon. Slay a dragon. Slay his dragons.

As I tugged the material away from his body, he captured my wrist in a movement so quick I didn’t see it coming.

“Whatcha doing little 8B?” he asked in a voice dripping with lust and a splash of humor.

“I’m giving you something special.”

He smirked at that before using my captured wrist to haul me against him. His lips crashed down on mine hard and wanting. There was no hesitating this time. I gave right back – pushing against his mouth and meeting his tongue before it could invade my mouth.

He groaned, leaned me backward without breaking contact as he slid his hands down under my butt. In one swift, totally suave motion, he lifted me, using a strong hand to wrap my legs around him. My dress was bunched up around my hips and for a brief second I wished that I’d worn something sexier than the cotton panties now on display, but as his hands gripped my skin through the thin material all I could focus on was the hum of my body and the need to be closer.

He walked us through the living area and into another room – the bedroom. I didn’t bother to look at the room as he dropped me on the bed. I was only interested in him. His chest lifted and fell as he stared down at me, but he didn’t join me.

I patted the bed next to me playfully and a little impatiently.

“You sure you want to do this 8B?” he asked, voice gruff and quiet. The confliction and desire swirled in his multi-colored eyes.

“Yes,” I stated, but the confidence I’d had out in the living room was starting to wane.

“Take off your dress,” he ordered as he backed up another step and leaned against a dresser. I took this moment to get a quick look at the room. It wasn’t big– gray walls, metal frame bed, black dresser and matching night stand. No photos or personal details in sight. I was stalling, and he knew it because he stepped forward and lifted my chin with a finger forcing me to look up at him.

“You’re beautiful and sexy and if you didn’t already feel how much I want you –” he took my hand and placed it against the bulge in his pants. “Now you have. If you want to do this – and know that we don’t have to – we can go back out there and forget this happened.” He motioned with his head toward the living area. “But if you do want this then undress for me, Bianca.”

Dropping my hand, he brought his fingers back to my face. Staring into my eyes, he brushed the pad of his thumb against my lower lip and then returned to his spot against the dresser. I stayed seated. My dress was already around my hips so there was no need to stand or maneuver to lift it. Bringing the material up and over my head, I never took my eyes from his. They gave me the reassurance I needed to continue. I unclasped my bra next and with thin, shallow breaths I let it fall.

A low groan came from the man in front of me. My eyes fell to his grip on the dresser. White knuckles grasped the edge of the black wood and I kept my eyes there, transfixed by the strong, sexy sight while I stood and pushed the last scrap of material covering me down my legs.

When I stood upright, I tried my best not to fidget. I just stood there with no freaking idea what to do next. He decided for me, for us, as he lunged at me. He cupped my face with both hands and kissed me softly. Sweetly. He kissed me like we were standing in front of a room full of people, fully clothed instead of inches from his bed, me completely naked.

I brought my hands up to his waist and slid them under his shirt. I needed to touch him. To ground myself to him.

He took a step forward, forcing me backward until the back of my legs touched the bed. With a light touch, he set me on the comforter as his lips moved from mine to my neck and down to my collarbone. A bolt of electricity flashed when his warm tongue glided over my skin. My body arched of its own accord and Court leaned into me until I fell back on the bed. I wanted to protest that he was still clothed, but my brain had short circuited.

Warmth radiated off him as he worshiped my body. No spot went untouched or un-kissed as he moved down, across, up – there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the way he moved from hip to neck to navel to breast, but each spot was equally attended to. His lips found mine again, the kiss deeper, hungrier. I got lost in the way our tongues stroked and when he pulled away I let out a whimper at the loss of him. Opening my eyes, I found him hovering over me with hooded eyes. “You’re gorgeous, sweetheart.”

With that, he slid down to my hips and hooked one arm under a knee and forced it up, exposing me. His other hand slid down my body. He cupped my sex before inserting one finger inside me. My body shook at finally being touched where I throbbed.

“So wet. So gorgeous,” he muttered.

Another finger joined, and I moaned at the way he filled me. With a sexy chuckle, he planted a kiss on my hip bone.

“Are you ready to give me something special?” he asked, and my eyes opened and moved to his in confusion.

Was that my cue to undress him? Before I could decide anything, his mouth joined his fingers and I cried out because damn that mouth and those fingers – it was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Granted, my experience was marked more by inexperience than anything else, but I was certain this moment would have been better regardless. Because Court and I weren’t just this. I felt his soul with every kiss and I’d all but gift wrapped my own as I prepared to give it to him.

His tongue worked in slow deep licks and his fingers pumped in and out faster and rougher. The contradiction had my world spinning. I laced my fingers through his hair, pulling at the thick tresses. I wanted him to stop and I didn’t. It was ecstasy and agony. He seemed to sense my hesitation and his fingers moved faster, his thumb moved to circle my clit.

“Come for me sweet girl,” he said and the way his breath whispered against the tender flesh was almost more erotic than the licking. And I did come.

Hard.

Explosive.

Electric.