Page 27 of Sweet as Sin (Bad Habit 1)
“Hmm. Well, you never know. A lot of women like older men. Especially older men who supply them with tequila.”
“True. Although I do have my standards. I require my men to have at least eight teeth. Ten is preferable, but a girl can’t be too picky.”
He laughed. It was soft, intimate, and utterly pleased. I smiled, loving the sound of it.
“Lucky for me I’ve got all my teeth, then. I think that should score me some bonus points.”
I pictured his mega-watt, ultra-white smile. Yes, it did score him a few bonus points. But I didn’t want him getting too cocky. “Eh, you’re okay. I’m very loyal to Bob, though. He knows exactly what I need.”
Nico’s voice lost all its laughter and lightness. It turned dark, serious, toe-curlingly sexy. “I know what you need.”
And there went my heartbeat, surging to breakneck speed. Since we were at a safe distance, I thought a little light flirtation couldn’t get me into too much trouble. I pretended innocence, just to see what he’d say. “Oh? And what’s that?”
“Gimme your address and I’ll come over and show you.”
That’s not what I thought he would say.
“What—now?” Frantic, I looked around the living room. The place was a mess. I wasn’t much of a housekeeper, cleaning only when the dust became choking. I couldn’t have Nico come over!
“Yes. Now. Made me wait two fuckin’ weeks, Kat. I wanna see you. Now.”
“Um. Maybe we should meet somewhere a little more . . . public.”
“You afraid to be alone with me?”
“Well . . . yes.”
He made a low, masculine noise in his throat. “Good. You should be. ’Cause I’ve spent the last fourteen days with a dick so hard it hurts. Gimme your address, Kat.”
Whoa. Okay, this was all happening a little too fast, two-week interval notwithstanding. I couldn’t just invite the man over with the expectation that we were going to have sex the minute he walked in the door.
Right?
“Here’s the thing, Nico—”
“Don’t overthink it, Kat. You wanna see me or not?”
My pulse was all over the place. I sat up, then regretted that move as the room began to wobble. “I do.”
“What’s the address?”
“I wasn’t done talking.”
He cursed. I ignored it. “I do want to see you, but I just want to lay a few ground rules before we start this whole . . . whatever this whole thing is.”
I waited for him to respond. He sounded like he was listening hard, and he didn’t answer, so I plunged ahead. “I don’t want to just . . . um . . . ”
“You got a three-date rule, sweetheart?”
I was relieved that he sounded amused. Thank God he had a sense of humor.
“Because I can respect that. But you should realize that when you see me today, it’ll be the third date. So the next time you see me, all bets are off.” His voice dropped. “And I wanna see you again tomorrow.”
“We haven’t even had one date yet!”
“The shoot, then the restaurant. That’s two.”
His idea of what comprised a date was seriously impaired.
