I almost chicken out, but then I clear my throat and stare at the creamy expanse of her neck and the hint of cleavage peeking out of her shirt. I want her so damn bad, for so many reasons. Who the hell am I kidding? I wouldn’t be able to resist her any day of the week.

“You sure you want this?” I ask.

She swallows, hard. “Yes,” she says in a breathless whisper.

Hell, I’m trying to keep my cool and pretend like this is just a favor I’m doing for a friend. Truth is, my emotions are a jumbled mess right now.

I’m going to shower her with passion, love, and affection tonight.

I just hope in the morning I can let her go. She asked me for an escape. She didn’t ask for forever.

Chapter Forty-six

MONIKA

I can’t believe this is going to happen. I’m excited and nervous and my legs are shaking, but I want this. Vic is the perfect person to hold me and make me feel like everything will be okay. I always feel safe when he’s near and I know he won’t hurt me.

He leans in and says in my ear, “Just relax and let me take care of you.”

With him so close I can practically feel the electricity between us.

“Thank you,” I say, trying hard to stop my voice from quivering.

He leans back and cocks a curious brow. “Thank you?”

“I mean… I didn’t mean thank you. I meant yes, that’s what I want.” I slap a hand over my face. “I’m such a dork. I don’t know what to say, Vic. I’m kind of out of my element here.”

My heart races as his hand reaches for mine. I notice his raw knuckles from a fight he must have had at Club Mystique the other night when he confronted Bonk with his sister.

His gaze drops from my eyes to my chest and lower, making me wish he were holding me up because my body has become one big blob of nerves. Vic is confident and startlingly good-looking. I always knew it, but I just didn’t look at him that way. Now I do and I’m suddenly feeling super self-conscious.

Just the anticipation of Vic touching me intimately makes my body lurch in excitement.

I try to keep my breathing steady, because I know this can mean everything to both of us if we let it.

“Follow me,” he instructs, his voice full of desire.

My pulse quickens and I freeze. “Where are we going?”

“You didn’t think we were gonna do it on the floor, did you?”

“I don’t know,” I say sheepishly. “I didn’t really have a plan.”

“Obviously. Come on,” he says, taking my hand and leading me up the stairs to Isa’s private apartment above the garage. It’s not a big place, but it’s cozy and cute. It’s decorated with pictures of flowers on one wall and a bunch of pictures of people on the other. There’s a picture of Vic and Isa in the shop. She’s got a wrench in her hand, and she’s holding it over him as if she’s about to whack him with it. He’s just got his arms crossed on his broad chest, unamused. It’s so Vic.

He guides me in front of the couch and has me face him. His tawny skin is flawless, and his rippling muscles bulging from his T-shirt are a reminder that he’s an incredible athlete who is strong and capable. I’m suddenly aching for his touch and my attraction to him is overwhelming.

Can he tell I’m more than ready to escape reality with him?

“Close your eyes,” he says in a soft but demanding voice.

I feel dizzy, so I reach out for him. “You want to take away one of my senses?”

“You want to escape reality, don’t you?” I feel the lightest tickle of his hands on my wrists, making little patterns with his fingertips. My skin tingles with each touch, making the dull pain of my arthritis fade away.

He lets go of my wrists and trails a path up my arms and shoulders to my neck. His touch is whisper-soft, almost like a feather. And when his fingers travel from my lips down my chin to my neck and then dip lower into my cleavage, my body is suddenly on fire.

“Vic, that feels amazing.”

“Want me to keep going?” he asks, his breath a whisper away from my ear.

“Yes.”

While his hands are tickling my sensitive skin, I feel those warm lips brush against mine.

“You like giving up some control?” he asks, kissing me once. Twice. When my tongue reaches out searching for his, suddenly his lips aren’t there. He’s pulled away.

It’s torture.

“Kiss me,” I order. “Now, please.”

“Be patient. Don’t rush this.”

I feel the touch of his fingers as they circle one of my nipples over my shirt. His hand moves to the other one. Passion, like fire, whirls inside me and a moan escapes from my mouth.