The Virgin and the Kingpin Page 9

  “Because it was embarrassing.” She tucked in her shoulders and moved farther from him.

  “But the party wasn’t?”

  “It’s different.”

  He leaned into her and nudged her toward a coffee shop they were drawing up on. When they stepped inside, warm air bit into the half of his face he could feel, stinging until his skin adjusted to the temperature.

  Susan didn’t unfold, but she did follow him to the counter.

  The girl behind the register—Meg, according to her nametag—glanced at him with a frown, then turned her attention to the register and refused to make eye contact. “What can I get you?” she asked.

  On a different night, he’d ask if the scars turned her off or if she was simply less than friendly. His mood would determine if he kept the question to himself or shared it with her. Tonight, Susan’s company was too compelling to let him be distracted. “A large coffee, and a small non-fat latte, double shot of sugar-free vanilla.”

  “How—” Susan snapped her mouth shut when he looked at her.

  The cashier took his money and handed over their drinks a moment later, and they found a table near the front window. He slid the latte to Susan. “Lucky guess,” he said.

  “Thank you.” She seemed content to hide behind the cup or her hand or whatever was convenient.

  He waited until she put her drink down, then reached over to pin her wrists to the table. He was grateful for the layers of clothing that kept him from touching bare skin. He was also definitely losing his shit if naked wrists were a temptation. “People are always going to have an opinion about you. Pumpkin Spice, over there?” He nodded at Meg. “Odds are as good that my face puts her on edge as they are that she’ll forget about us the moment we walk out the door.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Hang on.” He gave one of Susan’s arms a gentle squeeze. “What she thinks? It’s not your responsibility. What a random stranger at The Gateway wants to believe? That’s not up to you. You said you want to teach dance more than anything. That’s up to you.”

  She pulled one hand from his grasp, to take a drink, but didn’t extract the other. “Which is all all pretty and simple in theory. It doesn’t work that way in practice. Not all of us can shut off caring what other people think about us. We can’t all be you.”

  Her words hurt more than he wanted. Ironic, given the conversation. “Is that what you see in me? Someone who doesn’t care?”

  “No. Maybe. It’s like sometimes I think you do, but others... Don’t listen to me. I don’t know you.”

  Let’s change that. He stashed the errant thought. “I care about what people think. And not only Mercy. Or you.” Shut up. “But I learned a long time ago that, if I don’t think my opinion matters, no one else will.”

  She drummed her fingers on the table. Great. Now he’d irritated her. “I hear it, but I don’t know how to do that.” She didn’t sound annoyed. She bobbed her head back and forth. It was subtle, but it matched the beat spilling from the speakers.

  He stood and offered his hand. “May I have this dance?”

  She stared at him, bottom lip caught between her teeth. The silence dragged out between them. He didn’t know why he was doing this again, after her reaction last time. A tiny voice whispered this was about more than pushing her boundaries; it was personal.

  He refused to listen. “No one else is in here but us and Pumpkin Spice.” He kept his voice low, so only Susan would hear him.

  The corners of her mouth twitched up, but she didn’t show any other sign of movement.

  SUSAN WASN’T GOING to make the same mistake she did last time. Swallowing the apprehension sprinting through her, she took Andrew’s hand and let him pull her to her feet. When he twirled her, she gave an embarrassed laugh. When he pulled her close, her breath caught. She kick-started her heart and forced herself to stay calm, despite the memory of his kiss lingering on her lips. This would be easier if she focused on the fact that he couldn’t keep a beat.

  She looked at the counter, then ducked her head at the cashier’s expression. “She’s scowling.”

  “Who? Pumpkin Spice?” Andrew kept going in what Susan thought might be a weak waltz. Or a two-step. Or a slow-version of a dance-club spaz-out.

  If Susan kept her attention on the way his hands felt, one gripping hers and the other at her waist, it was easier to block the urge to hide. “Why are you calling her that?”

  “I assume Meg is short for Nutmeg. Makes sense, doesn’t it? She works in a coffee shop. She looks like Bratty Spice. One plus one equals Pumpkin.”

  Susan buried her face in his shoulder. “You’re sure it’s not because you’ve got a food fetish?” She should be hesitating to ask the question, but it felt natural.

  “I’ve fetishized a lot of things in my life, but food’s not one of them.” He whirled them, then pulled her close again.

  She wanted to ask if she could be one of them.

  “Excuse me. You can’t do that in here.” Meg’s irritation cut through the conversation.

  Susan paused, but a nudge from Andrew moved her again. He turned to face the register. “Do what?”

  “That.”

  “Not very clear, but let’s say I know what you’re talking about. Why not?”

  The warmth scorching Susan’s cheeks was no longer affection, but she didn’t have a desire to ask Andrew to stop.

  “You’re bothering the other customers.” Meg’s words faded off when Andrew cast his attention around the room.

  “There’s no one else in here,” he said.

  “You need to leave.”

  Andrew turned back to the table but never took his arm from Susan’s waist. “Yes, ma’am.” He grabbed Susan’s drink and handed it to her, before taking his own. They left the shop. As the door swung shut behind them, he whispered in Susan’s ear, “Notice how that didn’t kill us?”

  “Jury’s out on that.” Despite the gnawing in her gut and the adrenaline pumping through her at the confrontation, she had to admit she was right. He didn’t push Meg once she asked them to leave. No one got hurt. It wasn’t so bad. Once Susan convinced all of herself of that, not only her brain, she’d be doing better.

  He steered her down the street, holding her close. “Let me know when they reach a verdict.”

  “I had fun. If she hadn’t stopped us, I could have danced all night.” She peeked up at him through her lashes, trying to gauge his reaction to her play on their earlier conversation.

  He smiled. “And still have begged for more?”

  “Depends on the partner. And you are a fan of the classic movies, beyond retro porn.”

  He glanced at her, smile in place. “You googled The Green Door? I hope you liked what you found. And no, not so much a fan, as a four-year drama student in high school. A lot of those musicals are burned into my mind.”

  “You were in drama? I’m so surprised.” She laced teasing with her sarcasm.

  “I’m wounded.” He sounded anything but. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She hesitated. What if she’d read him wrong? Worse—what if he didn’t know he was doing it, and she offended him? Instinct said she’d be okay. “You molded yourself into a community where you got to play a part—or a lot of them—and draw all the attention you could ever possibly want, as someone else.”

  He slowed his pace but didn’t drop his arm from around her waist. He tossed his coffee in a nearby bin. It landed with a heavy thud. “Do you think I’m playing a part with you?” His tone was more serious than before. Which meant he didn’t shut her out like every other time she tried to chip away at his exterior.

  She pushed forward. “Are you going to argue you’re not? You said earlier my audience doesn’t know me. You don’t either, the same way I don’t know you. Despite your stories.”

  “What do you want to know?” He sat on a bench and tugged her down next to him. Sincerity shone in his eyes when he looked at her.

  She hadn’t expected
a chance to actually ask. “Are you still in love with Mercy?” The question rolled out before she could consider it.

  “No.” He didn’t flinch.

  “If you’re not going to be honest with me, there’s no point.”

  “Correction—if you’re not going to take me at my word when I am being honest, there’s no point.”

  She didn’t want to argue. This was her chance to uncover the enigma that was Andrew. If that meant saving the question about her sister for another time, she could do that. “All right. Give me another question?”

  “As many as you want.”

  “When did you decide to stop performing and start watching?”

  He gave a shaky laugh and stared at the bench. “You do ask the tough questions, don’t you?”

  “Should I let you do the asking?” So much for stripping away the mask.

  “Hmm... I’m going to take your very generous offer to let me change the subject. What do I want to know?”

  She expected him to make her blush, and braced herself to hide the reaction.

  “Why blue?” He trailed his fingers through her hair.

  The tender gesture caught her off guard and snatched away her thoughts. Lean in. Kiss him again. She ignored the impulse. “I wanted hot pink, but the girl who does my hair didn’t have any in stock.”

  “Lucky for me, I like the blue.” He rubbed a lock between his fingers. “What does your dad think you’re majoring in? In his mind, what are his college dollars buying?”

  “Teaching. Like I told you before.”

  “You hesitate every time you talk about it. In the car. At Kandace’s. What aren’t you saying?”

  She didn’t want to get into this, because he’d take it wrong. On the other hand, skipping the question would make it seem like a big deal, and it wasn’t. “He jokes about kicking me out if I pursue dancing as part of the teaching.” She made sure to put some laughter in her response.

  His scowl was worse than she expected. “Jokes about it?”

  “He’s not serious. He was so hurt over Mercy leaving when she was eighteen, he’d never throw one of us out.”

  Andrew worked his jaw up and down, and then his frown vanished. “No. I’m sure he wouldn’t.”

  The flat, neutral tone was the same she heard every time he held back. She’d love to know how to unlock the things he hid. The glimpses she got intrigued her. She could see why he and Mercy were such good friends. When he wasn’t wearing the mask, he was sweet and fun. Too bad she didn’t know how to get him to leave the mask off.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Andrew was grateful Saturday was almost here, and at the same time he’d yet to figure out what to say to Lucas when the time came. He’d play it by ear, most likely.

  He gathered his laptop from his temporary office, so he could work over the weekend, and sent Kandace a text. You free tonight?

  No. Sorry. Lucas has therapy and then dinner with friends. Her message came back too quickly for his liking, especially given the content.

  He twitched his thumb over the screen, not making contact. It was tempting to ask where the therapist’s office was, so he could go pull Lucas out and put his foot down over the boy ever going back.

  His phone beeped in his hand, startling him. And I’m not giving you the therapist’s info, his sister texted.

  I wasn’t going to ask. There went that idea. He wouldn’t mind a bit of friendly company to distract him if Susan was free. As he made his way into the lobby, a familiar voice drifted to his ears. “Dad wanted me to drop these off, so they’ll be waiting for Ian Monday morning.”

  Susan. How convenient.

  “I’ll make sure they’re on his desk,” Mindy said.

  Andrew rounded the corner, to see the two women chatting, a manila folder on the reception desk between them. Susan’s smile grew, her eyes twinkling when she saw him, and a rush of possessiveness flowed through him. He wanted that look to be for him alone more often. He shook aside the random notion.

  “Hey.” Her greeting was as bright and genuine as her look.

  “Ladies.” He gave a short bow in Mindy’s direction, then turned back to Susan. “Do you have plans tonight?”

  Susan raised her brows. “Is this for another lesson?”

  Of course she was going to ask him that in front of a witness. He’d have to talk to her later about what Mercy doesn’t find out meant. “Nope. I’m simply looking for a dinner companion.”

  “Sounds like fun.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

  That was cute. And a bad sign. Odd, errant thought. “When are you free?”

  “Now. I was dropping off some paperwork for Dad and then heading home for the night.”

  It was early for dinner, but he liked the idea of hanging out. “Now it is, then. Have a good weekend, Candy Cane.” He waved to the receptionist, and then joined Susan outside. “Anywhere specific you’d like to go?”

  “The Bistro is always nice.”

  “The one at my hotel?”

  “Is that where you’re staying? Totally forgot.” There was a slight pause in her step, before she resumed walking.

  It was a good restaurant. “The Bistro it is.”

  SUSAN WAS SURPRISED Andrew couldn’t hear her heart hammering against her ribs, and shocked that she managed to keep up her half of a conversation on the drive back to his hotel. Since Tuesday night, she hadn’t been able to get him off her mind. Not only the kiss, though that had played on a loop in her head. The text from Rissa on Wednesday, teasing that Susan was friends with a porn kingpin and still couldn’t get laid and asking if she was defective, didn’t help.

  What haunted her the most were his stories. How open he was about sex. The way his just-detailed-enough-to-be-tempting tales kept her company when she was alone with her vibrator. It led her to calculate a plan. It was stupid and insane, and there was no way she expected a chance to act on it, but who better to take her virginity than a guy who seemed completely uninterested in commitment, and knew more about sex than probably anyone? It was a bonus that he was kind and considerate. And on top of all that, he invited her back to his hotel.

  “Since we’re here, do you mind if I stash my laptop in my room?” he asked as they entered the lobby.

  This was going way too smoothly. She swallowed, to keep her anticipation and nervous excitement in check. “No problem. I’ll head up with you.” She had to pin her arms to her sides to keep from tapping her fingers against her leg on the elevator ride up.

  He let them into his room and set the computer bag on a desk near the TV. She had no idea how to do this. What to say. A billion half-formed words jammed into her thoughts at once, none making sense. She closed the distance between them when he turned around, and stared at her in surprise.

  “Didn’t mean to nearly step on you.” He laughed.

  She managed a chuckle but couldn’t think beyond that. It was now or chicken out forever. She draped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his, before she could think herself out of it.

  A shock raced through her at the kiss. Apparently her memories of the other night weren’t as vivid as she thought. And he was kissing her back. It wasn’t only that he knew what he was doing—dropping his hands to her hips and nipping at her bottom lip—there was also a feeling to it she couldn’t describe, but that left her craving more. Lord, this was amazing.

  He dug his fingers into her skin, gripping tight, and she pressed closer. Her heart hammered in her ears, and his erection dug into her stomach. She whimpered against his mouth, unable to think about anything but how good this felt and what came next. Would it hurt? She didn’t care, if it was wrapped in this kind of intensity.

  He shoved her back to arm’s length, let go, and put a couple more feet between them. “What the fuck?” His gravelly question was breathless.

  Not quite the response she hoped for. “I was thinking... sex?” That was less than intelligent. She struggled to make her brain work again. Despite his que
stion, he didn’t look angry. She’d seen the expression before, though. The first time he watched her dance, at R&T. The other night when they kissed. Lust? That had to be it.

  “Whatever I’ve said, I’ve obviously given you the wrong impression about our relationship.”

  She frowned. “I thought we were friends. You invited me to dinner for company. We enjoy hanging out.”

  “We are,” he said. “I adore spending time with you, Suzie-Q.”

  “I’m not asking you to be my boyfriend. I’m tired of being a virgin. Friends help each other out, don’t they? It’s not like I’m saving myself for marriage.”

  “Which—good on you. But I’m not the guy you want to do this with.”

  The rejection stung more than she expected, burrowing through her chest and into her gut. “Why not?” She tried not to let the hurt worm its way into her voice. “There’s attraction. You know what you’re doing. It’s because of me, isn’t it? I’m too inexperienced.” She should have considered that. Of course he wasn’t interested in someone who had no idea what they were doing. It was a selfish request.

  He closed the distance between them, gripped her shoulders, and guided her to the edge of the bed. Then he pulled a chair from the desk, placed it as far back from her as the room allowed, and sat. “You don’t want this to be your first time.” Great. Now he sounded like he pitied her. “It doesn’t matter if you’re saving yourself or not. An intense experience like this, especially if it’s done right, will make you feel an emotional connection. You need a guy you already have that with. Even if you decide you’re okay with casual sex down the line, don’t make it a starting point.”

  The condescension hurt as much as the rejection, and venom bubbled inside before she could stop it. “You’re not worried about me getting attached. You’re scared of what Mercy will say if she finds out.” She wanted to take the words back before he furrowed his brows, but she couldn’t find the strength to do so.