Page 28 of Sweet as Sin (Bad Habit 1)
“Those don’t count as dates! We were working on the shoot, and you were only at the restaurant for like five seconds. If I see you today, that will be our first date.”
I didn’t mention that he’d gotten the details of the three-date rule wrong. It was sex on the third date, not after. I was trying to buy myself as much time as possible, because he was moving at the speed of a rocket.
“Okay. I’ll give you the shoot. But the restaurant should count. Being with someone at a restaurant is textbook definition of a date. No matter how long it lasted.”
I could not believe we were actually having this conversation. I sighed.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ Now give me the fuckin’ address, Kat, before I wear a hole in the damn rug.”
He was pacing?
“What part of town are you coming from? Because I need, like, a half hour to get cleaned up.”
Nico’s response was a growl. I gave him the address.
“You’re in luck. I’m comin’ from the Hollywood Hills. It’ll take me at least forty-five minutes to get to Venice in traffic.” He paused. “Or I could take the bike. That’ll get me there in thirty.”
Was he screwing with me right now?
“You still there, Kat?”
“I’m still here.”
“I’m gonna be there in thirty minutes. You gonna be ready for me?”
Oh, the dark promise in that tone. I felt like I was standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down. I already knew I was going to fall. The only qu
estion now was, how far?
And how hard?
And would the fall break me?
“I’ll be ready,” I whispered.
Nico’s voice was almost a purr. “Darlin’, that’s exactly what I’ve been waitin’ to hear.”
Before I could say another word, Nico hung up.
Thirty minutes passed at the speed of light.
I did my best to straighten up. I threw the dirty dishes in the sink into the dishwasher. I threw the dirty clothes on my bedroom floor into the laundry basket in my closet. The vacuum cleaner made its first appearance in six months. The entire time¸ I was frantically checking the clock.
I needed to brush my teeth. I needed to change my clothes.
I needed to take a Xanax.
When I heard the knock at the door almost exactly half an hour later, I was ready. Though not composed. I had no illusions about being “cool” for this. I just hoped Nico didn’t notice how badly my hands shook.
I opened the door. He stood there, brawny and unshaven, just as beautiful as I remembered him. From one hand dangled a motorcycle helmet. Parked behind him at the curb was a fat, shiny Harley, which fit. He didn’t seem like a sport bike kind of guy.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You gonna invite me in?”
Visions of that moment when the unsuspecting homeowner invites Dracula inside filled my head. I brushed them aside, trying to maintain some semblance that I was a normal human being, and not the quivering mass of Jell-O I felt like.
