In sweats and one of his RFD T-shirts, Luke rejoined Kai. Her feet were tucked up and to the side in a position not unlike a lying foal. It couldn’t possibly be good for her knees, but it left her bare feet exposed, which gave him an idea. He sat next to her and said, “so, do you intend to wear combat boots for the whole wedding party, or was that just for effect today?”
“Partly I wore them because they went with the outfit. But partly, I admit, after your descriptions of your family interactions, I thought I might need them. And honestly, talking to your mom and your cousin, I might have preferred to be wearing full-on body armor and carrying a nine mil.”
“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad, is it?”
“No, not really. And I won’t be wearing the boots most of the time.”
“More of those spike heels you were wearing the other night?” He waggled his eyebrows, and she laughed.
“I did bring a couple of pairs of heels. I like variety.”
He ran a finger down the sole of her foot and she shuddered. “Women and their shoes. I don’t think any man really understands. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like to see them on you, but aren’t they hideously uncomfortable? Those boots today didn’t have heels, but they have to have weighed a ton.”
“A few pounds. Maybe four. Not more than that.” She patted her thigh. “Good for the legs. I don’t think I can really explain shoes. It’s like clothes or makeup—you put them on, you feel like a different person. Taller, stronger, more confident. In their own way, stilettos are as much armor as combat boots are.”
He tugged her foot away from her body and she twisted around so that her back was to the arm of the couch, letting him pull her foot into his lap. He pressed his thumbs to the inside of the arch and she squirmed in a purely sexual way. His blood heated and he took a deep breath. Not now. Slow down. They only had a week, and some of that week they’d have to spend with his family no matter how much he wanted to spend it all locked into the bedroom. But she deserved better than for him to jump her every time they were alone together, regardless of how much he might want to.
He finished his rubdown of her foot, then switched to the other. She groaned.
“If you keep that up, we’re not going to make it to the end of Godzilla.”
“The hell with Godzilla.”
She leaned up, folding her body in half, and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Got a monster of your own that needs dealing with?”
“Jesus, woman. The things you say.” But he laughed.
She reversed positions so that she was sitting in his lap, his erection pressing against her bottom through layers of cotton. Her mouth rose up and took possession of his. Unable to resist, he fisted a hand in her short hair and held her head in place. His other arm locked her body against him as her arms wound around his neck. He let his tongue dance with hers in a pas de deux that became ever more frenetic. God, she tasted so damned good, all minty, hot, and sweet.
Her hands slipped down his body, then up beneath his T-shirt and she uttered a little frustrated murmur when the material bunched and refused to move.
“Bedroom,” he muttered against her questing mouth.
She slipped off his lap and pulled him to his feet. The minute he was standing, he reached for her again and lifted her with one arm behind her back and the other behind her knees.
“Mmm. Nice muscles, Captain Hottie,” she said, her fingers tangling in his hair.
He almost dropped her. “What did you just call me?”
“Oops.” She buried her face against his neck and even through the sensual haze he could feel her skin’s heat. She was blushing.
He carried her into the bedroom and placed her carefully on the bed. Her face was still bright red and he couldn’t help laughing.
“Come on, now. Fess up. Did you just call me Captain Hottie?”
Her shoulders straightened and her back stiffened. “What if I did?”
“How’d you even know I was captain of my company?”
“It was on your shirt. The first day you came into the store. Before I knew your name, I had to call you something in my head. So…”
“I like it.”
As the punk-goth manager of Las Vegas’s premiere adult toy store, Kai Tyler changes her hair color, nail color, and eye color the way some people change socks. In fact, she’s even changed her name. She owes no one, depends on no one, and stopped believing in happily ever after before she reached the age of ten. All she really wants out of life is a few good gadgets and the occasional day of pampering once in a while.
Luke Clarke loves his family, but he has no desire to fulfill his parents’ dream by getting married and going into politics. So when he’s invited to his sister’s week-long wedding gala, he asks Kai along as a decoy. Having a date will squelch his mother’s matchmaking attempts and Kai’s outrageous appearance might—just might—convince his family once and for all that he’ll never have a career in politics.
But as stress, desire, and close quarters eat away at the masks both Luke and Kai wear, their easy arrangement begins to transform into something neither expected. Will they cling to the stable roles of the past, or bet on an uncertain future together?