Wanting Forever

Part 9

       

The crisp evening air helped clear Effone's head as they walked back to the hotel. The evening had been nothing short of exhilarating. The conversation, the food, the alcohol, but what really made it was the company. He had been right: he was decent company. More than decent. Maybe too decent. Too good to be true. She was glad for the buzz from the drinks; otherwise she would have analyzed her way right out of the evening.

She wasn't paying attention to the sidewalk, so when it dropped off, she stumbled into the man next to her. "Sorry, I'm walking while intoxicated. Not my strong suit."

Strong hands went to her waist, steadying her. "I'm lousy at it, too."

She dropped a hand to his, keeping it in place. Effone had had sex before, and it was good, but she hadn't really liked the guys she'd been with. Reports she'd heard from Anda made her think she'd been lucky to have an enjoyable time with someone she wasn't into. But this guy? Tall, blue-eyed, educated Trace Fortis? She liked him—and in her world that was unheard of. Effone didn't like anyone whose full history she didn't know. She liked him much too quickly. And now she was considering having sex with a man she was about to work with for two weeks...what did the cook put in those fried things?

A ripple of doubt started working its way through her alcohol-induced haze. She saw it coming, and then did something she'd never done before. She shoved it away to take as much enjoyment from the moment as she could.

He still held her close, so close she could feel his breath across her ear, and it sent a current down her spine. Night had fallen, a dark blanket over the city. They were two blocks from the hotel, the street around them mostly deserted. "Trace..."

"Yeah?"

"We're sticking to the 'no drunken physicality' thing, right?" Please say no.

"I am if you are."

Dammit. He was right. "It's a really bad idea." Effone turned to face him, making his hands slide around her waist. She'd be lucky if she didn't end up electrocuted by the jolts running through every part of her body.

"What's a bad idea?" he asked. "We should be absolutely clear on this point."

"Drinking physics, no...drunken psychics." Effone slapped a hand over her mouth when a completely out-of-character giggle escaped. "Fuck me. No! Wait! Shit."

He grinned, draped his arm around her shoulder, and pulled her close. "Right. Gotcha. No drunken physicality."

She poked him in the chest, and felt the hard muscle. Warm...hard...muscle. She marveled at how easy it was for her to touch him. As a rule, she didn't touch. She didn't like to be touched. But him? She couldn't get enough.

Effone allowed her hand to linger on his chest, fingers caught up in the knit of his sweater. "That's it. That's what I was going for." Her voice had lost its conviction, but the responsible part of her brain refused to back down and forced her to say the words. The warmth of his hand sliding back down to her waist didn't help her focus.

"I agree with you, and I am doing my best to remember that."

"Somebody has to be responsible. One of us has to keep it together."

"Don't take this the wrong way," he said as his hand slid up from her waist, burning a trail up her back to her neck where it settled, "but I won't forget. You are sexy as hell, Effone, but I—we are here for work. We're working together and I have a feeling neither one of us wants to become an object of gossip."

"Everyone else has it easy." Effone allowed her eyes to drift closed, relishing the sensation of the lightheadedness from the alcohol and the warmth of his hand. She had to count to three in her head when she saw her doubt desperately trying to horn in. It was there through the tissue paper–thin wall she constructed around the moment.