The Fortunate Ones
Page 31

My focus is on my shoes, but he steps forward and captures my chin, raising it gently until I’m forced to meet his eyes. Desire ripples through me.
“Lacy Nichols.”
“Was a friend who invited me to a fundraiser.”
“Nothing else?”
He takes another step toward me. I step back and my heels hit my bedroom door. There’s nowhere to go, no way to escape the fact that James is crushing me against the door with his body, not enough to hurt me, but enough to make my breathing erratic. My chest brushes against his and my heart leaps as if trying to reach him. His hand still holds my chin, and slowly he tips it up, up, so when his head bends and he captures my mouth, our lips are perfectly in sync.
The kiss is so unexpected that at first, I freeze from the initial shock of contact. For seconds, I don’t do much more than stand there. He increases the pressure and slips his hand from my chin to the nape of my neck. His fingers stroke and soothe, making it too easy to give in to him. I tilt my head and my hands find his waist. I grip the bottom of his shirt and tug him closer until our hips meet. His hard thigh presses against mine. He shifts us closer to the door, and a heavy need starts to build between us. My lungs don’t have room to inflate as he continues to kiss me endlessly, teasing and coaxing out soft moans.
By the time his hand starts to slide up from my waist, my body is a mess of sensations. He skims along my ribs and then brushes his fingers just below my breast, testing the limits. When I don’t protest, his hand moves higher until he’s cupping it in his palm, rolling his hand back and forth. His kiss is nearly punishing, but his touch is so gentle I want to melt.
He’s playing a game with me, seeing how long I can endure the sweet torture before I break down and openly beg him for more. A fire is building within me, burning hotter by the second. Soon he’ll get exactly what he wants. I’ll have turned to putty in his hands.
I grip his shirt tighter and our hips grind together as if the friction will help dispel some of the pressure mounting between us.
Out of nowhere, a knock pounds against my bedroom door behind me and we leap apart.
“Hey dude! Is it cool if we take your car around the block?”
I press the back of my hand to my lips to hide my laugh.
My roommates have impeccable timing.
James’ hand rests against the door beside my head and he pinches his eyes closed, obviously annoyed at being interrupted.
“I know it’s an expensive car,” Jerry says. “But you probably have some pretty good insurance, huh?”
“Go! I don’t care,” James replies, his voice booming so loud that I jump.
“Thanks man!”
The sound of receding footsteps echoes down the hall and neither one of us speaks. It feels just like the aftermath of our car crash. The pieces of the scene filter back to me slowly and then, with embarrassment, I realize I’m still gripping his shirt. I let go and step aside to put space between us.
“Don’t,” he says, turning to me.
“What?”
“Don’t do the thing where you regret what just happened.”
I laugh. “Believe me, I don’t regret that.”
He nods and pushes off the door, straightening back to his full height. “Good, because that wasn’t a mistake. I came here with clear intentions.”
A lazy grin spreads across my lips. “Of ravishing me?”
He shakes his head and steps back to assess me. “Of asking you to accompany me on a trip I need to take for work.”
“What?”
“There’s a conference in Vegas. I go every year, alone, but this year I’d like you to come with me.”
He’s making it sound extremely simple, but it’s not.
I shake my head. “It’s not a good idea. It would only make this more confusing.”
“I don’t care.”
I narrow my eyes at him, angry at having to be the responsible one all of a sudden. “Come on, James. This has been the weirdest friendship, non-friendship, relationship thing I’ve ever dealt with. Normal people go on dates. We get in car accidents and then ignore each other for weeks.”
He steps closer and I hold out my hands to block him. I need my wits about me if I’m going to make important decisions.
“Maybe I don’t know what to do with you,” he says, capturing my wrists and gently tugging me closer. “Maybe I’ve been wondering if it’s really best to leave you alone.”
His gaze falls to my lips, and I think he’s going to kiss me again.
“You shouldn’t be showing up here unexpectedly,” I say with a weak voice. “You shouldn’t be inviting me on a trip, and you definitely shouldn’t be sending me flowers!”
He grins, and it’s like I’m looking at the devil incarnate. “So they arrived?”
I nod to where they sit on my nightstand. I’ve cut them and changed the water every day. They’re in full bloom now and I know if I stepped a little closer, their fragrance would hit me in full force.
He turns to look at them, and I wonder if it’s apparent just how much care and attention I’ve given the flowers over the last few days. I’m slightly embarrassed until he glances back and says confidently, “Come to Vegas with me.”
“The last time you invited me to be your date, I didn’t like it,” I point out.
“This will be different, I promise.”
His voice sounds so earnest that I believe him. Still, I throw my last measly excuse at him. “I’d have to get off work.”
He levels me with an amused glare. “Have someone cover your shifts. If not, I’ll work it out with Brian.”
I’m annoyed that he seems to already know I’ll agree to go with him, and I’m confused about why I want to. Nothing has changed between us. Later on, when I’m alone, I’ll regret my decision, but right now, he’s crowding my space and overriding any sense I might have. My lips still tingle from our kiss, and my heart is still running a marathon.
He’s standing a few feet from me, and I’m feeling every bit of his commanding presence. Sure, he’s physically intimidating, tall and fit, but it’s more in the way he carries himself, an unspoken confidence that makes it difficult to argue with him. A few weeks ago, he said it would be best if we stayed away from each other, and I complied. Now, he’s inviting me to Vegas and I’m bending to his will without much of a fight.
That infuriates me.
But not so much that I won’t go, because then I’d be punishing myself.
I’ll concede, under one condition.
“I’ll need my own hotel room.”
It’s my only way of gaining back some semblance of control.
He barely manages to stifle a laugh. “Did I not make myself clear before? I want you to come to Vegas with me as my date.”
“Oh, so you expect me to put out?” I quip. “One kiss and now suddenly you think you’re Casanova? Maybe I need a little more time before I share a bed with you.”
His dark eyes flame with stifled emotion. He steps toward me, advancing until I’m scared we’ll be right back where we were a minute ago.
“One room, two beds,” he counters.
“Two rooms,” I insist, straightening my back in the hopes that I look somewhat resolved. “And just to be clear, I’m only going with you because I haven’t had a vacation in a while.”
His smirk is so damn conceited I want to slap it off his face. “Oh, that’s it? Anything else?”
“Yes. I want to lounge by the pool and read a book.”
“Uh huh.”
“And I want one of those massive volcano drinks.”
“Brooke…”
“Oh! And I want to play the slot machines. I love those.”
“So you’ll come?” he asks, hope brimming in his tone.
Of course I will. The choice was never mine to make.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I’ve never flown private before, but here I am, sipping champagne with raspberries floating in the glass while cuddled under the softest throw blanket I’ve ever felt. The interior of the plane is the color of wealth: beige and tan with wood trim. Boring and elegant equals money and class, I guess.