Page 30 of Falling into Place

Chapter Twenty

Carly

You can have anything you want in life, if you dress for it.

—Quote by costume designer Edith Head, on a Post-it in Carly Porter’s closet

The evening was doomed from the start.

The good thing was Carly had been able to find a decent suit on sale, and in Brooks’s size. Yes, she’d still hold him to the promise to get it tailored for a more personalized fit after tonight, but what she’d come up with would do quite nicely.

She showed up at Brooks’s house at six o’clock on the dot with his suit over her arm. When he opened the door, he immediately zeroed in on her lips, and she knew right away she’d made a serious miscalculation.

She put a hand over her bright red mouth. “I thought this might make sure we were good,” she whispered. “Because I might go grab a drink after this and thought I wouldn’t want to mess up my lipstick.”

He’d fisted his hands near his sides and swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Our brains work very differently.”

Oh.

With superhuman strength, she made it past his incredible smelling, freshly showered body without touching him. She paused to greet Oreo, careful not to drop the garment bag, aware of Brooks hovering nearby.

“How was the date?” she asked, standing.

“She wasn’t you.”

Her heart squeezed, but she tried to keep her expression neutral. He wasn’t the type of guy to say pretty things just to score points, which made the simple statement a thousand times better.

He gave her a half smile. “She was pretty cool, actually. Refreshingly honest. She admitted she’s casually dating another guy she’s really into, and she just agreed to the date because her mom doesn’t like the guy and she’d promised she’d keep her options open.

I guess her mom and her friends have been following the series pretty religiously, so they flipped out when she said she was meeting me.

I told her I was into someone, too, and that I was happy to stand in anytime to keep her mom off her back. ”

“Dang, I’m surprised she put all that out in the open.”

“She didn’t really mean to, but we just sort of ended up there. I guess her parents are all rich and fancy, and she stands to inherit a shit ton of money. So she wants to stay in their good graces.”

“Wow.” Carly leaned one shoulder against the wall. “Would you marry someone you weren’t that into for money?”

A strange expression flashed across his features, there and gone so quick she might have imagined it.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Would you?”

“I don’t know, either.” As unromantic as it was, guaranteed financial stability sounded pretty nice. “Anyway, let’s get moving, I don’t want you to be late for your party.”

But then she entered his bedroom and laid eyes on his bed.

His neat, perfectly made bed.

He ran into her from behind because she’d stopped so suddenly, then turned sideways to slide past her, a worried smile on his face. “Did I do it right?”

“It’s perfect.” Her poor heart couldn’t handle it.

And then .

The man got dressed.

She looked up from her phone just as he came out of his closet in gray slacks and a crisp white dress shirt, open at the collar (which was crooked: even hotter), revealing a sliver of skin lightly dusted with hair. He held one arm extended, fiddling with the sleeve button with the other hand.

She scooted to the edge of the bed. “Come here. I’ll help you.”

He arched a brow at her tone, which yes, was more than a touch bossy, but came willingly.

Instead of buttoning the cuff she rolled the sleeve up, just below his elbow, and asked him to move back.

He took one step away from her, looking slightly confused but mostly amused. “Here?”

She nodded. “Do the other one.”

“Roll up my sleeve?”

She bit her lip and nodded again. She may never have this opportunity again, and this wasn’t one she’d pass up.

He rolled the fabric up in phases, moving slow for her benefit probably, the muscles in his forearms flexing.

His eyes never left hers, enjoying this as much as she was.

Her voice came out breathy. “Now cross your arms.”

“Like this?”

She released a slow exhale. “Yeah.” That image would be burned into her brain for all time, perfect for calling upon when she was old and bedridden and looking for memories from when she was young and full of life.

He seemed to revel in her studying him for a few moments, the corners of his mouth tipping up. Then his gaze darted to the side and back to her. “Okay, now I feel weird.”

“Tie, next.”

“I really do think you have a fetish.”

“With a sexy doctor getting dressed up while I watch? Yes, I absolutely do.”

He grinned, neck flushing pink, and grabbed the tie.

He flipped up the collar and turned to face the mirror above the dresser, sliding the tie around his throat.

It was tempting to get up and help—stand in front of him or maybe sit on the dresser and pull him between her legs while she folded a perfect half Windsor.

But she couldn’t move just now with this view.

The slacks fit remarkably well and looked great on his ass as he leaned forward just a little, tucking his full bottom lip between his teeth with focus.

The fabric made a slight brushing sound every so often when it slid across his shirt or as he pulled the silk through the knot.

She was momentarily distracted by his hair, too, which he hadn’t done yet.

Would he let her watch him fix it, too? Or maybe .

.. maybe she could rub the product through the thick strands herself?

“I haven’t worn a tie since my last job interview.” He turned to face her and held his hands out. “Well?”

“I’m impressed,” she managed to get out.

Her whole body was on fire. She stood on wobbly legs and approached him.

“It’s just a touch uneven ... There.” She let her hands rest on his hard chest after she straightened it.

The fresh, spicy scent of his soap surrounding her was just delicious, and his body so warm. She leaned in, just a little.

His breath hitched, and he didn’t move for a few seconds. She should move back, now. Walk away. Abort mission.

Heart in her throat, she couldn’t seem to make herself go.

“Look at me,” he rasped as he covered her hands with his, pressing them harder into his body. His chest rose and fell as his fingers slowly moved down her arms and curved around her shoulders, one hand cupping her neck as his thumb brushed her earlobe.

She shivered and tilted her face up to find his heated gaze on her eyes, then drop to her mouth.

His heart raced beneath her palm, and the silent tension in the moment was thick with barely restrained energy.

Her stomach clenched when his thumb took another sweep, this time along the sensitive skin behind her ear, and she went up on her toes, the need to touch her lips to his a million times stronger than her desire to preserve her makeup.

It was one of those kisses that wasn’t demanding on the surface but carried expectation in its promise of what it could become. The way his fingers curled into her hair and her stranglehold on his tie that turned her knuckles white communicated what they both wanted.

The pull between them was intoxicating.

Without warning, he was gone.

“Give me a second,” he said brusquely, and walked out of the room.

She blinked, her heart still racing, and pressed her palms flat against her stomach as she stared at the empty doorway.

God, it took mere seconds for her to get lost in this man.

Probably wasn’t the best idea to get him all hot and bothered before going to a work function .

.. She couldn’t blame him for needing a second to cool off.

She needed several.

Less than a minute later, he came back into the room, strides long and purposeful. He tossed his phone on the dresser while the other hand yanked at his tie, his gaze locked on her face.

His hand gripped the back of her head. “Gala’s off,” he rasped, and kissed her.

She kissed him back for a beat before her brain caught up, and she pulled her face back. “Wait, what?”

He stared at her mouth with unfocused eyes.

His hand was at her thigh, sliding underneath the hem of her sundress to grip her skin.

“I called James.” He dipped his head and kissed her jaw, then inhaled deeply as if he could pull her straight into his lungs.

“Told him to tell the chief I’m sorry but I couldn’t make it. ”

“Oh,” she said, and it sounded like a question. She leaned her head back with a sigh. Of their own volition, her hands went to work undoing the tie he’d just spent several minutes tying. “Are you sure?”

“Never been more,” he murmured against her skin. Once his tie was undone, he snapped it free and tossed it behind him. He stopped for a second. “Wait, are you supposed to be somewhere?”

“Nope.” She untucked his shirt and slid her hands underneath in search of his warm, bare skin. Kendall would understand.

He ducked his head even lower, and his lips met her shoulder as he slowly slid the strap of her dress down.

It usually took her longer to get in the right headspace for sex, but he’d basically just done a reverse striptease for her, which, as a fashion expert, had the same effect that taking clothes off probably had on most people.

Also, it had been way too long.

She was hot and bothered and impatient, and needed his body on hers now. She’d never needed someone as bad as she needed Brooks, something she should probably evaluate later.

She stepped back and pulled the dress over her head, letting it fall to the floor in one fluid motion. She’d taken off her shoes when she’d come in, so she stood before him barefoot and wearing only her black bra and matching underwear.

His hand covered his mouth and he tipped his head back for a second, closing his eyes as he inhaled deeply.

A sliver of self-consciousness fluttered through her, but then he was moving, working the buttons on his shirt with impressive speed, and the oxford joined her dress on the floor.

His strong arms closed around her waist, lifting her and tossing her onto the bed with a delighted squeak.

She opened her mouth to say something, and he gave her a stern look (wow).

“If you’re about to say something about messing up the bed, I don’t want to hear it.”

A delighted laugh bubbled up, surprising her. When was the last time she’d laughed—or even smiled—during sex? Yes, sometimes it was serious and intense, but gosh, it could also be fun.

“Actually it was a cucumber joke.”

He put a knee on the bed and pinched her side lightly, and she yelped and scrambled to make room as he joined her.

One hand wrapped around her thigh and his lips slid along her hip, stilling her movement.

His tongue traced from her hip bone to her belly button, and her smile slowly faded as sensation took over and her mouth fell open on a sigh.

She ran her hands along his shoulders and down the ridges of his arms as he worked his way up her body, slowly, kissing trails and paths and discovering where she liked to be touched and the many, many places she was ticklish.

The rest of their clothes came off, and feeling his naked body against hers was better than the slide of a silk chemise on her skin.

By the time he made it back up she was ready to fuse her lips to his and feel his skilled tongue in her mouth, but he paused, hovering above her with palms pressing into the mattress.

Their gazes locked and his expression was so sweet and affectionate, all she could do was lie there and let it wash over her like a cool breeze on a summer day.

“Are you done laughing?” He smiled crookedly, his eyes moving back and forth between hers.

“I hope not,” she said honestly. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve been this happy.”

His chin fell to his chest for the briefest moment, as if that was more than he could take. Was it too much? Should she not have said that?

But he just lowered his body closer to hers, pulling a gasp from her lungs, and touched his forehead to hers. “Me either.”