the door, which rattles slightly. I unlock it and open the door.
Joe.
The sight of him lounging over my doorway takes my breath away. He wears a white t-shirt that shows off his rippling biceps and a pair of dark jeans. I didn’t expect him to be here. His dark hair sweeps over warm brown eyes and dark stubble, which covers his face and neck. That deep sadness that I noticed the first time I met him lingers in his hooded eyes, but they brighten slightly when he sees me.
My hand slips slightly on the door when he gives me a smile that makes the skin on my neck tingle. I remember the scratch of his face against my cheek when he kissed me last night. Oh God, I kissed him. I practically ripped off his pants.
“Good afternoon,” he says in a pleasant rumble as he looks me up and down. “Or morning, I should say.”
A flush fills my cheeks as I realize how horrible I must look. “What are you doing here?”
He straightens and crosses his arms. “You asked me to come to your brother’s lunch meeting.”
Lunch meeting. Crap. Yes, I vaguely remember saying something.
“It’s eleven.”
Oh, crap!
I step aside and he moves in smoothly. He closes the door and takes my shoulders, and I feel my heart hammering somewhere in my throat. My skin burns at the contact of his fingers.
“How much do you remember of last night?”
My breath hitches in my chest as he surrounds me with his presence. There’s something about him that’s deeply terrifying and exciting as hell. Blood races through my veins just at the sound of his voice. Somehow, he’s gotten way under my skin. I don’t know why. There’s no question that he’s sexy as hell, but he’s dangerous. His boss threatened my brother and sister, threatened me. Why the hell would I entertain anything more than business with this guy?
“Some.”
By the self-assured way he acts around me—the dark smile on his face, I know that he remembers everything. And he won’t forget anytime soon.
“I really need to get ready.” I gesture wildly around the place. “Make yourself at home or whatever. I’m going to take a shower.”
Tight fingers close over my wrist and yank hard. I squeal as my body bumps against Joe’s hard one. Heart hammering, I can’t say a word as he looks down at me. He gives me a look that some men get when they’ve seen you naked. Joe acts like I already belong to him.
“You’re not getting off the hook that easily.” Then he gives me a knowing smirk, as if he can hear my thoughts, and lets me go. “You sure you don’t need help getting ready?”
Suddenly an image of myself pressed against the fogged glass walls of the shower with Joe in between my legs fills my mind. My chest heats and Joe’s slick smile widens.
“No—I mean, yes!” Dammit !
Joe’s soft chuckle fills the foyer and I lead him into the living room.
I’ve got to end this.
“Listen, last night was a mistake, all right? I don’t want to get involved with you.”
I watch him, heart hammering, expecting him to shout and storm out of the apartment, but he merely looks at me. “Yeah, whatever.”
My voice hardens. “I mean it, Joe.”
“No, you don’t. You may have been drunk, but that doesn’t mean your feelings weren’t real.”
I sputter as he lounges on the couch, apparently at ease. He’s not wrong—I know that from the way heat fills my body from a soft look from him, a touch. It’s like stepping into a warm bath.
He looks under the coffee table and smiles. What’s he looking at?
Oh, God. The slippers.
“What’s this?”
If I was embarrassed before, I definitely am now. My face is hot to the touch, like a burner left on high. I’m too mortified to speak.
The absurd fuzzy, pink slippers with huge yellow toes sit underneath the coffee table. Joe laboriously removes his leather shoes and immediately swaps them for the slippers. They’re way too small for him, but he curls his toes in them and laughs. I cringe from the sound.
“They’re
Joe.
The sight of him lounging over my doorway takes my breath away. He wears a white t-shirt that shows off his rippling biceps and a pair of dark jeans. I didn’t expect him to be here. His dark hair sweeps over warm brown eyes and dark stubble, which covers his face and neck. That deep sadness that I noticed the first time I met him lingers in his hooded eyes, but they brighten slightly when he sees me.
My hand slips slightly on the door when he gives me a smile that makes the skin on my neck tingle. I remember the scratch of his face against my cheek when he kissed me last night. Oh God, I kissed him. I practically ripped off his pants.
“Good afternoon,” he says in a pleasant rumble as he looks me up and down. “Or morning, I should say.”
A flush fills my cheeks as I realize how horrible I must look. “What are you doing here?”
He straightens and crosses his arms. “You asked me to come to your brother’s lunch meeting.”
Lunch meeting. Crap. Yes, I vaguely remember saying something.
“It’s eleven.”
Oh, crap!
I step aside and he moves in smoothly. He closes the door and takes my shoulders, and I feel my heart hammering somewhere in my throat. My skin burns at the contact of his fingers.
“How much do you remember of last night?”
My breath hitches in my chest as he surrounds me with his presence. There’s something about him that’s deeply terrifying and exciting as hell. Blood races through my veins just at the sound of his voice. Somehow, he’s gotten way under my skin. I don’t know why. There’s no question that he’s sexy as hell, but he’s dangerous. His boss threatened my brother and sister, threatened me. Why the hell would I entertain anything more than business with this guy?
“Some.”
By the self-assured way he acts around me—the dark smile on his face, I know that he remembers everything. And he won’t forget anytime soon.
“I really need to get ready.” I gesture wildly around the place. “Make yourself at home or whatever. I’m going to take a shower.”
Tight fingers close over my wrist and yank hard. I squeal as my body bumps against Joe’s hard one. Heart hammering, I can’t say a word as he looks down at me. He gives me a look that some men get when they’ve seen you naked. Joe acts like I already belong to him.
“You’re not getting off the hook that easily.” Then he gives me a knowing smirk, as if he can hear my thoughts, and lets me go. “You sure you don’t need help getting ready?”
Suddenly an image of myself pressed against the fogged glass walls of the shower with Joe in between my legs fills my mind. My chest heats and Joe’s slick smile widens.
“No—I mean, yes!” Dammit !
Joe’s soft chuckle fills the foyer and I lead him into the living room.
I’ve got to end this.
“Listen, last night was a mistake, all right? I don’t want to get involved with you.”
I watch him, heart hammering, expecting him to shout and storm out of the apartment, but he merely looks at me. “Yeah, whatever.”
My voice hardens. “I mean it, Joe.”
“No, you don’t. You may have been drunk, but that doesn’t mean your feelings weren’t real.”
I sputter as he lounges on the couch, apparently at ease. He’s not wrong—I know that from the way heat fills my body from a soft look from him, a touch. It’s like stepping into a warm bath.
He looks under the coffee table and smiles. What’s he looking at?
Oh, God. The slippers.
“What’s this?”
If I was embarrassed before, I definitely am now. My face is hot to the touch, like a burner left on high. I’m too mortified to speak.
The absurd fuzzy, pink slippers with huge yellow toes sit underneath the coffee table. Joe laboriously removes his leather shoes and immediately swaps them for the slippers. They’re way too small for him, but he curls his toes in them and laughs. I cringe from the sound.
“They’re
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