CHAPTER SEVEN
Max’s Magic Rule #8:
The best magicians fake it on stage, never in bed.
After Grace took his hand, Max gave her one last light, close-mouthed kiss then murmured he was going to shower, change and meet her up front. Grace did a quick rinse off and clothes change, silently lamenting she hadn’t brought make-up or anything fancier than a T-shirt and jeans. Why would she? She’d been planning on working out, not going a few rounds with Max, but now that she had, now that she’d agreed with-no-room-for-doubt to let him take whatever he wanted—no, now that she’d agreed to let him take whatever she secretly wanted to give him, and the answer to that was everything—she was seriously nervous and longing for some feminine battle armor. If she had some mascara and lipstick, hot rollers, a LBD, and some seriously rocking heels, she’d be feeling a bit more prepared for whatever was going to come next.
When she made it to the lobby, Max was nowhere in sight so she contented herself with sitting and thumbing through a few magazines. The selection was truly sad. A body-building magazine held no interest, and neither did a magazine on triathlons. She was thinking Cosmo and one of those “How To Be Fearless In Bed” articles would do her good. Instead, she found a magazine on parenting, dog-eared and well-worn and looking like it rolled off the printing press when flip phones were still in fashion.
It stunned her for a second. Made her realize for all her talk with Melina and Lucy about moving on to what was important—a family—she’d been easily and thoroughly sidetracked to the point her sole focus was once again on sex. Granted, it was sex with Max, which was particularly distracting given the select samples she’d been treated to, but she needed to be more careful. Hopefully her time with Max would be fruitful, so she could pursue her goal for a baby with a truly refreshed and clear state of mind, but she couldn’t forget two things. First, despite Max’s undeniably talented hands, mouth and body, she still couldn’t erase herself from the equation, and that meant actually achieving an orgasm with him was still a long shot. Second, either way, she needed to keep focus on the true prize. While she was staying in Vegas to spend time with Max, he’d be plenty busy doing other things. She needed to do the same, starting with touching base with the surrogacy agency about the interview scheduled for tomorrow. She’d do that as soon as she and Max finished whatever they were going to do next today. It couldn’t take more than a few hours.
The thought of doing anything more with Max—and doing it for a few hours—made her tremble with delighted anticipation. Taking a deep breath, she determinedly opened the parenting magazine. Inside were glossy photos of drooling babies, giggling babies and babies sloppily eating, food in their hair and grins on their faces. Deep in her body something tugged—as if her womb had responded to the images. One article featured insight on how to get a baby to fall asleep. The sleeping baby boy in the photo was cuter than a speckled pup and reminded Grace of how Max had looked when she’d caught him in that brief moment at the club two nights before, when he’d thought no one was looking. The same vulnerability on the baby’s face had been present on Max’s.
It reminded her of something her mama had used to say before she’d give Grace’s daddy a kiss. Something about a man being a little boy just grown bigger. Max hadn’t always been the confident, sexy man he was today. At some point, he’d been a child. Defenseless. Innocent. Craving love. As an adult, he certainly wasn’t defenseless or innocent, but could she really say he didn’t crave love? It was obvious his family was important to him. Melina was important to him. And Melina, who’d known him since she was fourteen years old, believed Max would make a wonderful father.
Who was the real Max Dalton, then? If what she’d seen the other night was him letting down walls, then how high did those walls go? How much of himself was he hiding from the world? And how hard was it for him to keep those parts hidden? She kept parts of herself hidden, too, and she often struggled with the need to be seen for her genuine self. Unfortunately, she wasn’t always sure who that was. The woman who pole-danced and had one-night stands? Or the university counselor who rarely swore and enjoyed nights at home in front of the TV with her friends Ben and Jerry. Oh, she knew she was both those women, just like Max was both bad boy and good guy, but it was where the line was drawn that was the question.
All Grace truly knew was she was lonely. Her parents had both been only children, whose own parents died before Grace was born. No parents, no grandparents, no aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins—nothing.
From an early age, she made life decisions. She provided for herself. She pushed forward every day because she had no choice. In the meantime, except for Melina and Lucy, there’d been pitifully few people she trusted. And even then, she never shared everything about herself with her friends.
That wasn’t Max’s problem. He was surrounded by people who adored him; family, fans and strangers alike. He seemed to truly love his life. The stage. The women. The fame.
Whatever she’d seen in that moment in the club when he’d looked vulnerable, it didn’t mean he felt alone. It didn’t mean he was yearning for love. Not the way she was. And it certainly didn’t mean she’d ever be the woman that could give it to him.
She looked once more at the picture of the sleeping baby and that yearning she’d been thinking of tore through her. She wanted a baby. Needed a baby. She wasn’t going to wait until she was older to find the perfect man and hope she survived long enough to see her child grow into adulthood. The others might think she was being foolish, but regardless of what she gave up to Max in bed, she was a woman in control and she had a plan.
Max first, but not forever.
Her baby, her family—that would be something different.
She cast a quick glance at the doorway to the men’s locker room. Still no Max. Tapping a toe impatiently, she thumbed through the rest of the magazine, then reached for the one on triathlons. She was reading about various ways to prepare for a race, and idly wondering if the same rules would work when preparing for a marathon sex session when…
“Ready?” The steady and deeply male voice came from behind her.
She whipped around, dropped the magazine and perused Max. Tight jeans that cupped him just right, a white button-down Oxford shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows and deck shoes. Yummy. He slid an arm across the chair back, his body now angled slightly closer, and his all-male scent wrapped around her. Briefly, she closed her eyes, imagining that scent all over her body and all the awesome ways it could get there. With a silent groan, she popped her eyes back open and gave him a bright smile.
“Ready,” she said, then immediately spiraled into panic mode. He looked good. Good enough to eat. To kiss. To caress. To take. But he’d made it clear he was the one going to be doing the taking.
What if I’m not ready? What if he wants to do something truly kinky? Am I going to let him? Am I going to let him see how much I enjoy it?
Suddenly, Max squatted down in front her and took her hands in his. “Breathe, Dixie,” he said.
She hadn’t even known she was holding her breath, but at his gentle command, she exhaled, then sucked in a healthy dose. He grinned and asked again, “Ready?” But this time he did it in a dark, husky, near-whisper filled with promises that almost made her sigh out loud. She nodded instead and they stood at the same time.
On the ten-minute ride back to her hotel, they chatted about mundane things, like whether the 49ers had a chance of winning the Super Bowl this year, how round Melina had grown, and the magic show. Although the stunt he’d pulled with Elizabeth increased sales, neither Rhys nor Max was confident that would continue. He was right in the middle of telling her about a new trick Rhys was working on when he paused and cursed.
“What is it?” she asked.
He pulled up in front of her hotel, put the car into park, but kept it running and his seatbelt on.
“I’m sorry, Grace, but dammit… I just remembered Rhys asked me to do him a favor. Today. As in right now. Between you showing up at the gym and dancing for me and me looking forward to what was going to happen next… I forgot what I promised Rhys, but it’s important.” He closed his eyes and groaned dramatically. “God, why couldn’t I have been born an only child?”
Despite the disappointment swelling inside her, she laughed. It was so obvious he was joking and would do anything for his brother. “It’s no problem. I’m here for the week, remember? We’ll have plenty of time for—” she waved her hand “—all that.”
Max laughed. “You do know you make that hand gesture whenever you’re talking about sex, right? It’s gonna get to the point all you have to do is wave your hand and I’m going to get hard.”
She crinkled her nose. “Kind of like a magic wand? I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?”
His eyes unfocused, as if he’d suddenly gone somewhere else, and his smile disappeared. “Yeah. Kind of like that.”
She frowned. Why did he suddenly look like she’d slapped him? Her hands twisted together in her lap. “Max—”
“Anyway,” he said. “Can I come by later tonight, after the show?” He pulled her left hand from her right, lifted her palm to his mouth and kissed it. “Then you’ll have my full attention.”
She nodded, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
“We’ll continue what we started at the gym. I can’t promise we’ll finish it, but I can promise the continuation will be amazing.”
A thrill ran through her at the thought. She tried to imagine him focusing even more attention on her. Would she be able to handle it? Giving him total control?
Because from what he’d said earlier, he was absolutely certain that’s what it was going to take to get her off. And by her body’s response at that very moment, by her escalating pulse and hardening nipples and weeping core, she was pretty close to believing it herself.
Odd, how it had taken only a couple of conversations between her and Max—granted, one discussion had happened with her straddling his hard-on—for him to have learned so much about her. She wanted to know more about him.
What was it Max Dalton considered an “important” favor?
“What is it you have to do?” she asked, hoping he didn’t think she was being nosey.
“Drive to Cedar City, Utah. Then get back in time for my show. The whole trip will take about five or six hours.”
He traced the lines of her hand with his thumb, and although she enjoyed the soft caresses, her hand still tingled from when he’d kissed it. She stared at his mouth, wanting it under hers. Wanting it to explore every crevice and dip on her body.
“What’s in Cedar City?” she asked, almost wincing at how husky her voice sounded. He released her hand, touched the edge of her mouth with the pad of his thumb, smiled briefly, then let his hand drop before answering her.
“My parents. They’re leaving for a trip—a second honeymoon. We already had a family dinner to send them off, but Mom, well, she’s been working on something and she just finished, sooner than expected. It’s important to her that Rhys and Melina have it before she goes.”
The answer startled her and surprise must have shown on her face.
Max frowned. “What did you think I was going to say?”
“I—I have no idea…” she said, stammering. “I just didn’t think it would be… that.” With Max frowning even harder, she scrambled to say something that made sense. “Cedar City. That’s a few hours away, right?”
Grace had only met his parents once, at Melina and Rhys’s wedding, but it had been plain to see how much they loved each other and their sons. So much it had surprised her they no longer helped with the magic act and hadn’t followed their sons to Vegas. Melina said she was surprised, as well, but thought it had something to do with them wanting to give their sons space, which they’d missed their whole lives thanks to all the touring the family had done.
“They’re close enough that we get to see them often. They’ve never taken a lot of time for just the two of them, and they probably wouldn’t be going on this trip except that Rhys and I surprised them with it before we knew Melina was pregnant. Mom’s wanted to cancel several times, but we talked her around. Once the babies are here, nothing’s going to tear them away from their grandkids. I know I won’t be traveling anywhere far, that’s for sure.”
Grace was thinking how nice it must have been to grow up with doting parents and how much she missed her own, who’d been loving if not exactly doting, when Max’s last sentence penetrated. The knowledge that he’d not only stay close to spend time with a niece or nephew, but relish doing so, once again had her thinking there was more to Max than she’d given him credit for.
Then again, it wouldn’t exactly be a hardship for him to stay in Vegas. He’d have his family close. His magic show. And he could build on his reputation by continuing to date one woman after another after another.
The knowledge that she was just one in a long line made her stomach drop, and she swiftly shoved the thought aside. She knew what she was getting into with Max; she couldn’t complain now.
“You mind if I tag along?”
He looked surprised and she wanted a hole to form and swallow her. Had he said he wanted company? No, Grace, he hadn’t. But she’d still been reeling by his comment about wanting to stay close to the babies. She wanted to spend more time exploring that Max and she’d spoken without thinking.
“Not so we can—” She waved her free hand, returning Max’s sudden grin. “—squeeze stuff in or anythin’ like that. Lucy’s gone, and Melina’s home with Rhys. I just thought… You know what? Nevah mind. Looks like you’re going to be busier than a moth in a mitten. I don’t have to—”
“I’d love for you to come with me.”
She studied him closely. “You sure, honey? Because maybe you’d enjoy the ride by yourself…”
He was looking at her strangely, eyes blazing.
“What is it?”
“You’ve never called me ‘honey’ before.”
“I haven’t?”
He shook his head. “You’ve called me ‘Shugah,’” but like I said before, I’ve always felt you do it to distance yourself. Plus, I’ve heard you call others that. I haven’t heard you call anyone honey before.”
“Do you… like ‘honey’?”
He grinned. “I love it. And Dixie, I absolutely guarantee you, I would far prefer your company than driving by myself.”
She was still glowing at the fact he liked her calling him honey. “Great then. I just need to run up to my hotel. Take another shower so I can wash my hair and then change. Do my make-up. Is that okay?”
“Sure. But why go to that trouble? You always look great and now’s no exception. My parents won’t care if you’re wearing make-up or not.”
His statement that she always looked great made her feel even more warm and tingly inside. “Thanks, but I care. The only time I met your parents was at Rhys and Melina’s wedding. I don’t want them to see me with no make-up, ratty hair and in casual clothes. I just wouldn’t feel right.”
“You mean you don’t want them to see you without your armor on. But you’re letting me see you that way.”
It wasn’t like she’d had a choice. They’d run into each other at the gym. But he seemed to like the idea of seeing her in a way others didn’t. That made her feel warm and tingly again, but this time the feeling scared her. She glanced away, pulled her hand from his and plucked at an imaginary piece of lint on her jeans. “We’ll just tell them I’m visitin’ Melina so they won’t jump to the wrong conclusion.”
“What conclusion is that?”
Her gaze snapped back to his. He no longer sounded or looked pleased. “Well… I mean… it’s probably better if your parents don’t assume I’m one of your women. It might make things awkward when I see them in the future.”
“Because I don’t have female friends? Because my parents will assume any woman I’d bring along for a visit with them is a woman I’m sleeping with?”
It surprised her how hurt he seemed by her careless words. A man-whore slash playboy shouldn’t care what she thought about him, right? The fact he did pulled at her heart. “No. I mean, obviously you have female friends.” Though there was only one she knew of—Melina—and she was more like family. She always had been. “I just thought… I don’t know. I just figured you wouldn’t want them barking up the wrong tree.”
Max stared at her for a minute longer, then smiled slightly before shrugging. “They’re going to get the wrong impression no matter what we tell them, Grace. But we can play it your way if you want.”
Puzzled by his cryptic response, she waited for a moment. When he didn’t expand, she asked, “What do you mean they’re goin’ to get the wrong impression anyway?”
“I’ve never brought a girl to meet them. Ever. Friend, lover or otherwise. You’ll be the first. And you know what they say, Dixie. No one ever forgets their first.”
***
Max sneaked a long look at Grace before she stepped out of the elevator and into the hall, headed toward her hotel room. Once again, he wanted to tell her not to bother getting dolled up. She looked great without make-up. Younger. Sweeter. Guard down, even if that wasn’t actually true.
She looked beautiful and relaxed. Not worrying about her ability to have an orgasm or finding someone to father a child. Not trying to control every step of her life because she was so damn afraid just living it in the here and now wasn’t worthwhile.
When he’d remembered his promise to Rhys, he’d been in agony, picturing everything he wasn’t going to be doing to Grace’s sweet body. But now that she was coming along and he’d have a chance to talk to her for several uninterrupted hours… Well, he was hoping he’d learn more about Grace, but also make some headway in getting her to rethink her baby plan.
For a complex woman, she wanted simple things—things most people wanted. Who didn’t want to come while actually having sex and not because some vibrator stimulated you into climax? And while he knew plenty of people who didn’t want children, the majority of people he’d come across did. Grace wasn’t alone in her desires. But who went out and found another person for the sole and specific purpose of creating and raising a baby? Who looked for someone they didn’t love and never would just because they wanted a child to have a father, but didn’t want the emotional complications that came with having a baby the traditional way?
Someone with enough issues around control and letting go to fill an Olympic swimming pool.
Someone like Grace.
She opened the door to her hotel room and motioned him inside. It wasn’t messy, but it wasn’t exactly neat either. It was how his own hotel rooms often looked, which for some reason made him smile. There was only one bed in the room, but it was a king. “Did you share a room with Lucy?”
“No. I stayed all by my lonesome,” she said, putting her gym bag on the bed. “Why?”
“No reason. But you’re ruining my fantasy of two women sleeping together,” he said, teasing her. “Why not share a room while you were here?”
“I like my privacy. And Lucy is datin’ Jericho. They tend to get carried away with their Skype calls.”
He snorted. Knowing Lucy, he could only imagine what fresh hell Grace would have to endure if Lucy and her latest boy toy were having internet sex in the same room.
“What do you think about this Jericho guy?” he asked.
“He’s broodin’, passionate, artsy. Seems perfect for her.”
He heard the hesitation in her voice. “But?”
Grace dug around in the chest of drawers then pulled out some clothes. “I’m goin’ to shower first.”
He looked at his watch. It would be cutting it close, but they had about a half hour before they had to leave. Without her invitation, he stretched out on her bed, palms behind his head with legs crossed. “Leave the door open, and talk to me,” he said, mostly to see how she’d react.
For a moment, she hesitated, and he mentally willed her to do as he asked. She’d made it clear that letting others make decisions for her was not something she generally allowed, and he figured baby steps were needed to lead up to what he wanted from her. And for her.
She gave a tight nod of her head, then stepped toward the bathroom.
“Take off your clothes first.”
She froze and turned to look over her shoulder at him, mouth open and eyes rounded with horror.
He stifled a grin. She wanted him to make her come. An hour ago she’d been sliding her body all over his hard-on. And yet she was embarrassed to take her clothes off in front of him?
Baby steps, he reminded himself. Baby steps.
“Just strip to your bra and panties. We’ll save the rest for when we have more time.”
She took a deep breath. “Your parents. You said—”
“We have time. Now do what I said, Dixie. Start with your top.”
She licked her lips, looked toward the bathroom as if she was thinking of running inside, then carefully placed her fresh clothes on the dresser beside her.
Facing him, she pulled her top off. When she dropped it to the floor, she lifted her chin and kept her hands to her sides.
He studied the baby blue lace demi-bra that cupped her flesh to perfection. It looked padded, but he could still see the thrust of her nipples and the slightest hint of her piercings through the thin fabric.
“Nice,” he whispered. “Now your pants.”
She shifted her legs, but immediately moved to unbutton the jeans. She lowered the zipper. When he glanced up, he saw her eyes on him. As if she was judging his reaction to what she was doing. As if she was getting off on it.
He knew he was reading her correctly when the zipper was completely down but she didn’t remove her jeans. Instead, she trailed her fingers across her belly and the edge of her panties in a devious little tease.
He straightened and sat up, no longer able to just lie there. No longer able to pretend this was just a game. “Take them off.”
“Or what?” she said.
He narrowed his eyes. “Or I’m going to have to punish you.”
She shook her head. “I’m not afraid of you. You’re too much of a gentleman to hurt a woman.”
He stood, watching as she stiffened and visibly stopped herself from retreating. When he was three feet in front of her, he reached out and gently freed her hair from her ponytail holder. He skimmed his fingers through the golden strands, loving the way she leaned into his touch. Then he dropped his hands.
“You don’t know me, Grace. We don’t know each other. But we’re going to. And you’re going to learn I’m the type of gentleman that makes a woman hurt really, really good. Now take off your jeans.”
She licked her lips. Swallowed hard. Then did as he said.
Her panties were blue lace, too. Unlike the skin on her back, the rest of her body was bare of ink, her skin smooth and creamy.
He reached behind her with one hand and unclasped her bra.
“Max,” she said, her breath starting to hitch.
“Shh. Let me,” he said. “I want to see you.”
When she remained quiet, he tugged her bra off, letting it fall to ground.
He sucked in a breath. Her breasts were just as graceful as the rest of her. The perfect size. Not big and overblown, but still womanly and lush. Her nipple piercings were dainty gold hoops with a tiny silver ball. Forcibly keeping his hands off her, he leaned forward. Kissed her throat. Kissed down her chest. Then sucked her nipple into his mouth. Hard.
She immediately buried her hands in his hair and arched closer. “Oh God. Oh Max.”
He repeatedly flicked the ball dangling from the hoop with his tongue, then moved to the next nipple, sucking it good while his thumb and forefinger played with its mate. Whenever he pinched her nipple, she gasped. Whenever he tugged lightly on her piercings, she moaned.
He wanted her to scream.
Wanted to nibble his way to her belly and to the moist, delicate flesh between her legs. He wanted to bury his face there. Rub her cream all over himself until all he could see and taste and smell was her. He wanted it so damn bad he was shaking.
A half hour, he reminded himself. Not enough to do what he wanted by a long shot.
So he forced himself to pull away.
She reached for him, but he grabbed her, kissed her hands, then let her go. He returned to the bed, hands once again behind his head. Enormous erection on display so she couldn’t miss how aroused he was.
“Do what you need to do, Grace. But first turn around.”
She was flushed and breathing hard, her eyes dazed. At first, she didn’t seem to understand what he was saying.
“Show me your tattoo, Dixie.”
Slowly, she turned.
He sat up to get a better look before standing once more and stepping behind her.
Gently, he bunched her hair in his fist and lifted, giving himself an unimpeded view of her back. Running the length of her spine was the black outline of a stylized bird. Was it a swan? He wasn’t sure, but the curved lines he’d seen at the gym above her tank top made up one of its wings, stretched up toward her neck. The ones he’d seen below her tank made up the other wing. The overall design had a simplistic elegance and sensuality, giving the suggestion of flight even as the bird stood upright.
It was gorgeous.
She was gorgeous.
And given what he’d said to her the night before, it seemed terribly significant that the only tattoo she had on her body was a bird.
Don’t get on that plane, Grace. Fly with me instead.
“Does it represent anything in particular?” he asked. She jumped slightly as he traced the length of the tattoo with the tip of his index finger. She gave a long, drawn out moan when he leaned forward and began sprinkling kisses up and down the length of the tattoo.
“Not really,” she said.
And he knew there was a story there. One she didn’t want to share.
He’d give her that for now.
With one last kiss to her back, he straightened and reclined once again on the bed. “Go ahead and take a shower.”
With a jerky nod, she headed into the bathroom, leaving the door open as he’d told her. He heard the shower turn on.
He blew out a breath even as he imagined her body and that freaking fabulous tattoo glistening under the spray of the water. Groaning, he cupped himself through his jeans, imagining it was her stroking him. Fuck, when she’d been on her knees in front of him in that dance studio, it had taken all he’d had not to—
He heard her fumble a bottle and grinned. If she was half as torqued up as he was, she was probably cursing his ass about now. Best to get her mind on something else.
“Tell me about Lucy and Jericho,” he said.
It didn’t seem like she was going to respond, then she called back over the sound of running water. “After Lucy and her last boyfriend, Jamie, broke up, she came up with this theory.”
“What theory?”
“That people with different backgrounds, like a jock and a brain, or a preschool teacher and a skydivah, can totally fool around with one another, but when it comes to long term commitments like should stay with like.”
That didn’t sound like the free spirited Lucy. Maybe he’d misheard her. “Like and like? Meaning what?”
“Both people should be preschool teachers. Or skydivahs. You know, the same. In personality if not profession.”
“Sounds boring,” he said.
“Maybe. I thought Jamie and Lucy were so right for each other. They were completely different from one another, both professors, her wild and him more restrained. But they lit up like Christmas trees whenevah they were together.”
“So you think her theory’s all wrong?”
Only the sound of the shower came from the bathroom for a few moments. Then, Grace spoke again, her voice low. “How ‘right’ could they have been, given he broke up with her?”
“Are you saying the reason their relationship didn’t last was because they weren’t like one another?”
“Actually…” She hesitated, then the sound of the shower stopped.
Max worked hard to erase visions of a naked and dripping wet Grace from his mind. No time, he reminded himself. “Lucy nevah told us why Jamie dumped her,” Grace said. “Just that he did, and that’s when she came up with the whole ‘like sticks with like’ theory.”
“You sure she wasn’t talking about gender? Like with like, as in a woman with a woman? I mean, I know Lucy’s not a lesbian, but is she bisexual?” Max asked.
Grace laughed. The sound was light and tinkling. “Does this go back to that male fantasy you were talkin’ about earlier?”
“Everything goes back to that male fantasy.”
She appeared in the doorway wearing a fuchsia top and flirty black skirt, a towel on her head turban-style.
“Have you actually evah had that fantasy fulfilled? I mean, in real life, not on a television or computer screen?”
The easy way she referred to porn made him wonder if she ever got off watching the stuff herself. He’d seen his fair share, but he couldn’t recall a single scene, let alone one involving two women. All he could see was Grace.
“Max?”
“Huh?”
“Have you evah watched two women together? Been with two women?”
Holy hell. This conversation had taken a right turn to Interesting. “Yes. Does that turn you on?”
“Not at all.”
His bullshit meter went into overdrive. What else was Grace lying to herself about? “No? Not even imagining you as one of the women?”
“I don’t like to share,” she said.
So if not two women, then… “So what about being with two men?” he asked.
Instead of denying anything, her expression softened and her eyes twinkled. “Isn’t that every woman’s fantasy? One man inside, the other man tendin’ to whatevah needs tendin’ to?”
“We’re talking about your fantasies right now.”
“Then sure, I suppose that would feel nice. To have two men devoted to me. To my pleasure. But somehow I don’t think it happens very often. Two hetero or even bisexual guys bein’ comfortable enough to cross swords in bed? I bet you probably haven’t even done it.”
“You’d lose that bet.”
The flirtatious light disappeared from her eyes, which grew wide, and she swallowed convulsively. Ha. He’d shocked her yet again.
“I’m not saying that’s my thing—being with another guy and a woman. But my lover had a fantasy, and I made sure it came true for her. Part of that meant giving in to the fantasy myself.”
“And?”
“And I was so turned on by the fact she was so amazingly turned on I came hard enough to strain a muscle in my neck.”
“Are you sayin’ you’d be willin’ to do it again? Because you shouldn’t let your mouth write a check it can’t cash.”
He thought about it. “Is that what you want?”
“Answer my question first.”
His chest tightened and he frowned. “I’m not certain I could do that with you.”
Her brows raised in surprise. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. You make me feel… possessive. I wouldn’t want to share you with another man.”
A hint of a smile formed at the side of her mouth.
“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t ultimately do it. Or, failing that, that I wouldn’t work twice as hard to make sure you were completely satisfied.”
Grace took off the towel on her head, shook her hair out, then stepped toward him. “I have a confession to make…”
When she came close enough to stand before him, he deliberately didn’t reach for her. His breathing went shallow. “And what confession might that be?”
“I don’t want to be with two men. I—I just want to be with you. That would be fantasy enough, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Fuck, Grace.”
As if she realized just how vulnerable her confession made her, she laughed and stepped back. He instinctively followed her, and she held up a hand to ward him off. “Make-up. Hair. I’ll be faster than a herd of turtles and then we can head to your parents’ house, okay?”
Before he could respond, she high-tailed it back to the bathroom and he soon heard the blow dryer going. He fell back onto the bed with a groan and rubbed his palms over his face, then reached down to adjust himself inside his pants while her voice echoed inside his mind.
I just want to be with you. That would be fantasy enough, as far as I’m concerned.
Staring at the ceiling, he grinned.
He was no fantasy, and soon he was going to prove it to her.
Instead, he was hoping to be her dream come true.
“Light a fire under your ass, Dixie,” he yelled.
He heard her giggle.
He’d been right before, back in the gym. Her giggle was fucking fantastic.
Even better, she knew what he was saying.
He wanted her to hurry because the sooner they got to his parents’ house and back, the sooner they could get back to one another.