Page 29 of Love.V2 (Occupational Hazards #2)

God, she was cute. “I don’t know. I like this neck. It’d be a shame to cover it up.” When I placed lingering kisses against her skin, she shivered. The fabric of her rainbow dress caught on the passing streetlights.

“You did good tonight, Morris.”

“Mmm,” I agreed, licking the freckle by her lips I’d always been fond of. “It’s not over yet,” I reminded her, nuzzling the soft skin underneath her ear, where she smelled like lavender and rain.

“You’re right,” she murmured, leaning closer, planting her own kisses across my jaw. I glanced at the driver in the front seat. He was looking ahead, paying us no attention. Thank God. Surely he had some idea what was going on back here.

Tess curled around me, gripping my jaw.

And all thoughts of our driver vanished from my mind.

Her lips opened underneath mine. The brush of her tongue across my mouth hijacked every single one of my senses. Taste, touch, smell.

All of it was Tess.

There had been a lot of hard parts about her leaving. I missed her the way someone misses air when they’ve been pushed underwater. Her absence hurt, but it was the torture I inflicted on myself that cut the deepest .

Remembering the feel of her body against mine. The sound of her breath in the morning, soft and even. How her face lit up every time she saw me, even towards the end.

I wrapped my arms around her, hauling her closer and growling when she got tangled up in the seat belt.

This wasn’t a memory, it was real. She tasted like champagne. She felt like a better life than the one I’d been living.

I licked into her mouth. Teeth nipped enough to sting. To make me crave it even more. I cupped her cheek, lifting her, tilting her chin, and taking control. Tess was so careful, so thoughtful and composed, with everyone except me. I wanted it all.

“Dylan,” she gasped when our mouths clashed again. I inhaled the sound, wanting it tattooed into my skin. Her fingernails scraped against my neck, fluttering as she tugged on the top button of my shirt.

I captured her wrist. I was gone for her, but not enough to strip in the back of a cab. But we could still…I chased the thought, sucking her lip into my mouth while my other hand smoothed down her dress. My fingers radiated lavender sparkles wherever they touched.

The hem fluttered a few inches above her knee. Just short enough that I could see the definition of her thighs. I wanted to lick them up and down. Then up again. My thumb slid up an inch, exposing more.

“Sir? Ma’am?”

Tess stilled, reality barging in like a battering ram. Our driver rattled off the address I’d entered when I called the car, unimpressed that we were practically dry humping in his back seat .

A breath rushed out of Tess’s mouth. I felt it against my skin before she scrambled backwards. “Thank you,” she gasped, fumbling with her seatbelt.

I cleared my throat, adjusting my pants. “Yes. Thank you.” I pulled out my phone, already leaving the driver a hefty tip, when I heard a little squeak.

My hands shot out just in time, catching a slightly tipsy Theresa Lynn Livingston before she hit the asphalt. “Thank you!” She giggled again as the car slid away from the curb.

While I was slinging her around, I decided I should pull her up against my chest. She washed up like a wave to shore.

“I think that guy caught us making out,” she whispered, leaning her weight on me.

“I think so, too,” I whispered back, ducking my head down. She was easy to see in the flooded lights of New York, but I wanted to be closer. I wanted to be back in that cab. Or, better yet, back in our hotel room.

Her fingers twined around my hair, playing. “Good thing we… This isn’t our hotel.”

I shook my head, brushing a smudge of lipstick from the corner of her mouth.

I wiped mine as well. No telling what they looked like.

More than likely marked with light pink gloss and bite marks.

I didn’t mind it. If I had my way, the whole world would know she was mine, and that we liked kissing in cabs.

But for this…we should probably both be presentable. Tess would die if she walked in there with lipstick all over her face.

I stepped back, scanning her body. A quick tug on her dress shifted it back from where it had twisted up in the car .

“Why are we in a strange neighborhood in a strange city after dark?”

I nearly snorted. After dark . She sounded pretty scandalized for someone who had been about to take my shirt off in a cab.

“You got me,” I admitted, grabbing her hand to stride toward the big brick building. “It’s been a long con. Twelve years of manipulation, and now I’m finally ready to murder you.”

“Dylan,” she scolded while I pressed the button.

“Tess,” I replied, swinging the door open when the lock buzzed. I towed her across the hall.

“I’m serious. What is this? And why aren’t we back at the hotel? ” She caught up to me, her last words whispered and urgent in my ear as she stroked my arm. It was tempting, so very tempting, to turn around, march back to the street and hail the first cab I saw.

But I’d already screwed this up once. I wouldn’t do it again.

“For this.” I nodded behind Tess to where a large black door covered in bronze dragonflies swung open. A woman stood on the other side. Tall, draped in printed silk scarves, she looked like the Barefoot Contessa, but with graying hair that fell past her waist.

“Tess?” The woman looked at Tess expectantly. She received a blank stare in return. “Dylan has told me so much about you in our email exchanges. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

Tess’s mouth opened and stayed there, like the words had only loaded halfway and were getting stuck on the way out. I eased forward to offer my hand.

“I’m the Dylan who’s told you so much about her. Thank you for inviting us here tonight.”

Her handshake was delicate. I had to be careful not to grip too hard .

“Fiona Winston?” Tess croaked, finally coming out of her stupor. Fiona smiled, offering her hand to Tess, who took it automatically. When she realized who she was touching, Tess wrapped her other hand around Fiona’s, like she was scared the woman would vanish.

“One and the same. Your man here told me you missed my show when it came through Nashville last year. What do you say to a private tour?”

Fiona cracked the door, revealing a long hallway filled with watercolor paintings, from massive, six-foot creations to tiny, postage-stamp-sized portraits.

They were pinned to the wall like butterflies, fluttering with the air conditioning unit.

Beyond the hall, we could see a large room filled with light. More paintings.

“A private…?” Tess’s eyes were wide, ready to capture every color she saw. “Do you have an exhibit going on right now?”

Fiona’s eyes crinkled. “Nothing like that, dear. This is my studio. Want to come have a look around?”

It shouldn’t have been possible, but Tess’s eyes grew even bigger. She looked at me, stunned, like she was asking for permission to go inside. Or, maybe, asking if I was seeing this, too?

“Go on, birthday girl,” I murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “We’ve got all night.”

Tears pooled in her eyes. “Dylan, I…” She looked back at Fiona. At me. Fiona, again. “I’m so sorry. I’m really overwhelmed. I am so inspired by your work. It’s been my dream to see your pieces in person.”

Fiona wrapped her arm around Tess’s shoulders. “Dylan tells me you’re a painter, as well? Maybe we can have some fun once you’re done looking around. I’m working on a new technique I could use a second opinion on.”

As they walked into the studio, Tess looked up like she was entering the Sistine Chapel. She glanced back again, her amazed, disbelieving face framed by hundreds of watercolors as Fiona led her down the hall.

I watched her take it in. The wonder. The joy. The disbelief.

What a waste these past seven months had been. These past few years. Did I really think anything was more important than this?

Tess’s smile lit the hallway. I stepped inside, following her through the room filled with bright colors and muted shapes. And vowed then and there I’d never take her for granted again.