Chapter 6

She was maddening.

A week later, Dylan found himself hiding out behind a green screen and praying he could have five minutes to get himself together. He was sweating, his heart was racing, and he was hard as a rock. Not that that particular effect was new—he’d been in a heightened state of arousal since the cocktail party.

He’d done the right thing by not kissing Paige. He knew that.

But apparently, Paige didn’t agree.

Over the course of his life—particularly from the age of fifteen on—Dylan had been pursued by a lot of women. Something about playing in a rock band seemed to make women wild. He’d been pursued by groupies, models, actresses; he’d come home to find naked women in his bed; and on the road, he’d find them in his hotel room and numerous other places. They were obvious in their pursuit, brazen.

Not Paige.

It was a touch that was innocent enough but lingered.

It was a throaty laugh at something funny he said.

It was the way her wardrobe seemed to get a lot less layered and a lot more…sexy. But not in an obvious way. She still wore her sassy, little skirts with tights and boots, but gone were the scarves and sweaters and instead were silky blouses or clingy tees. Gone were the clips or bands to hold her hair back; now it was loose and curly and smelled so damn good that being near her made his mouth water.

He was seriously losing it.

To anyone observing them, nothing was out of the ordinary. Paige was handling everything for the campaign that she had to—and a lot that she didn’t have to—and she kept everyone in line. Every promotional appointment—photo shoots, speaking engagements, group interviews about the campaign—was run with military precision, and she wasn’t showing him any preferential treatment.

At least not to someone who wasn’t aware of what had transpired between them.

For his part, he tried to keep everything as normal as possible. He brought her lunch when he was getting some for himself; he made sure he was on time for things or lent a hand where it was needed. But when she thanked him, her eyes seemed to…well, they seemed to be saying a lot more than thank you.

And it was such a turn-on that it was making him crazy.

Oh, and then there was the morning after.

Hell, he wished it was that kind of morning after, but it wasn’t. Either way, Dylan had congratulated himself for leaving the bedroom that night without doing anything more than letting her touch his hard-on. All night long, he thought about that simple touch and how he should be given a medal for walking away and staying on the living-room side of the door. And how did she thank him? By getting up bright and early and walking across the living room in nothing but his damn shirt. She was all legs and mussed up hair and sleepy eyes, and when she smiled at him, he had to sit on his hands to keep from reaching out for her.

A call to the concierge desk and she had new clothes delivered to the room so she wouldn’t have to put her dress or heels on. And wouldn’t you know it, the simple, black yoga pants and Beverly Hills Hotel shirt and hot-pink flip-flops looked sexier than her cocktail party ensemble.

Peeking around the screen, he looked at her and frowned. She was talking to her father and… Wait. Was that Mick?

Leaving the security of his hiding spot, he stalked over to where the three of them were. “What’s going on?”

Mick held up a tabloid newspaper, and Dylan took it and read.

DYLAN ANDERS OFF THE WAGON! WILD NIGHT OUT WITH SUPERSONIC! HAS HE RETURNED TO HIS PARTYING WAYS?

“What the hell?” he cried. “What is this about?”

Roberts Walters looked at him. “If you’d read beyond the headline, you’ll see they’re talking about your little…excursion Saturday night after the launch party.”

As much as he didn’t want to, Dylan forced himself to read the story. Not one word of it was true. According to their “source”—whom he knew was Morgan—Dylan had hit the hotel bar with Morgan and Steve and then drove around LA drinking and partying until the wee hours of the morning. The article ended with: “Shaughnessy’s bad boy is back!”

“It’s a lie,” Dylan said defiantly, shoving the paper at Mick. “None of that happened.”

“Dylan—”

“No,” he interrupted. “None of this happened!”

“So you’re saying you didn’t see these people at the party?” Robert asked with more than a hint of disbelief. “Because there’s a picture of the three of you right there.”

“Yeah, I saw them and I talked to them for a few minutes, but I did not leave with them.”

“Dylan,” Mick said solemnly. “I’m not going to lie—this isn’t good. You’re not supposed to be drinking and, well, the rest of it…”

“There is no rest of it!” Dylan shouted. “Nothing in this article beyond talking to Morgan and Steve is true!”

“It’s your word against theirs,” Robert said. “And the Literacy Now people are not amused. This is not the publicity they wanted.” He paused. “I think it’s best if—”

“Wait!” Paige cried. “Dylan’s telling you this article is false and libelous. Why is he being punished for this?”

Mick looked at her and gave her a small smile. “It’s their word against his, and unfortunately, more people are going to believe theirs. Especially with the picture.”

“But…why? I mean, all that picture shows is three people talking. And from a distance. How is that enough to condemn him?” Paige asked.

“I don’t like it either,” Mick said slowly. “But still, with Dylan’s history, the press is going to believe this. They have no reason not to. And he’s got his community service he needs to finish, and we can’t have this turning into a big thing. We need to find him something else to fulfill his commitment.”

“As I said,” Robert began patiently, “our people with Literacy Now feel—”

“Dylan wasn’t with Morgan and Steve!” Paige said with frustration.

“Paige, sweetheart,” her father said and then patted her on the arm, “I understand that you feel bad. After all, he’s been your responsibility—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” she snapped before Dylan had a chance to respond. “I was with Dylan Saturday night. All night. So I know he wasn’t with those people or doing any of the things they implied and that this story is a lie.”

All three men looked at her like she was crazy. Dylan wasn’t sure if he was grateful or pissed off.

Robert cleared his throat, and Mick studied his shoes, and Dylan just…waited.

“They’re lying, and as a PR firm, I am confident we can clear this whole thing up quickly and quietly without it becoming some media circus,” she went on. “Dylan is not the same person that article described. You ask anyone at the event, Father. He was by my side the entire night except for when I was up on the stage. When I went to find him, he was talking to the two of them, but we left together. It sounds to me like they were being spiteful because he turned down an offer to get some publicity with them. I’ll bet if you checked with the hotel’s security cameras you’d find that they left on their own. And you’ll also see…” Paige paused and moved closer to Dylan. “You’ll see Dylan carrying me to the elevators and that I didn’t leave until the next morning.”

Yeah, Dylan was pretty sure Robert Walters was going to lose his shit if the bulging vein in his forehead was anything to go by.

“I see,” was all he said.

Dylan cursed himself. He had done everything he could to keep something like this from happening and yet it had anyway. And what was worse, it was uglier because of the circumstances. He’d have loved to get his hands on Steve and strangle him for putting him and Paige in this predicament.

Paige let out a sigh. “So now what?” But she didn’t wait for an answer. “I say we pull the tapes to confirm our story. We don’t need to offer an excuse or an explanation as to why those two chose to sell out someone they claim to be a friend. Let the press draw their own conclusions.” She shrugged. “Seems to me the best thing to do is not make a big deal out of this and not give them the attention they crave.”

Dylan nearly choked trying to hide a laugh.

“I’ll handle it, Paige,” her father said. “However…”

Here it comes, Dylan thought.

“To make this look a lot less…scandalous, we’re going to say that you and Mr. Anders are involved romantically and have been for some time—even before the campaign.”

“Fine,” she said.

“No,” Dylan said at the same time.

Paige turned and looked at him. “Dylan, this will solve everything. You won’t have to look for another way to do your community service. It will be a public acknowledgment that you’re not drinking again and that you’re not the man this article,” she said with disdain, “painted you to be.”

“But it’s not right, Paige. This is exactly the kind of thing I mentioned to you the other night. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“And yet I already am,” she said with a smile.

A sweet smile.

One of those smiles that meant more than what it appeared to.

“Look, Dylan,” Mick chimed in, “they’re right. It’s all in your favor and would be a great boost to the image we want people to start having of you. From now till the end of the campaign, you and Paige play the part of a happy couple. You’re already spending a lot of time together, so it’s not like you have to do anything different.”

He had a point, Dylan thought. “I… I don’t like this,” he sighed. “Paige shouldn’t have to pay for something she didn’t do.”

“Like Mick said,” Paige explained, “we’re already spending a lot of time together. No big deal. Nothing has to change.”

It was the impish grin and gleam in her eye that told him she had more on her mind than what she was sharing.

Although, if they were playing the part of a happy couple in public, he’d have an excuse to touch her too and share heated looks. He couldn’t act on them—wouldn’t allow himself to—but for a couple of hours a day, he could torture himself and pretend he was good enough for her.

Every night since she’d slept in his bed, he’d smelled her on his pillow—she was becoming an obsession.

Yeah, he was seriously losing it.

And he wasn’t sure if this new turn of events was the solution or a potentially new problem.

Within minutes, Robert said his goodbye and, along with Mick, promised that this whole situation would be resolved within twenty-four hours. Both he and Paige thanked them and watched them leave. When she turned and smiled at him, he had his answer.

This was a new problem.

And if he thought the last week had been an issue, it was nothing compared to the rest of the day.

She smiled.

He smiled.

She touched.

He touched.

Big mistake.

It was one thing to be touched; it was quite another to be the one touching.

Dylan already knew what her skin felt like from when he’d caressed her cheek, but her hands were incredibly soft and so was her wrist. He discovered that her pulse beat like wild whenever he got close to her and found himself reaching out and caressing the sweet spot on her neck that he wanted to taste more than anything.

“That’s it for today,” she said sometime later.

He shook his head to clear it. “Um…what?”

“We’re done here for today. You did great with your PSA.” Paige flipped through the pages in her planner. “And it looks like we are good until Tuesday. We have a meeting with the local library council to discuss scheduling for appearances. We don’t want to bring everyone involved to every event, so we have to coordinate everyone’s schedules and scatter you all out.” She looked up at him. “Does that make sense?”

“So you mean while I’m talking at a library in Culver City, someone else will be talking that day or that week in Hollywood?”

She smiled. “Exactly. I’m going to need a copy of your schedule to take with me.”

“I thought I was going with you?” Wasn’t that the plan? Hadn’t she been saying “we”?

“You could… Then you’d get first choice on dates and locations. But I don’t want it to look like I’m playing favorites with my boyfriend.”

She said it all a little distractedly, and Dylan wondered if she realized the slip.

He stepped in close and lowered his head, so his lips were a whisper away from her ear. “But you’re supposed to show everyone that I am your favorite, remember?” His tongue came out and swiped at the shell of her ear, and her soft intake of breath told him this was a spot he wanted to explore again.

“Dylan…”

“Good night, Paige! Good night, Dylan!” The camera crew headed for the door, and within minutes, they had the place to themselves.

Bad idea! Bad idea!

Looking around, he confirmed that everyone else was gone. When had that happened?

“So,” Paige said as she leaned in closer to him, “would you like to get something to eat? Some dinner?”

It was her tone.

Alarm bells rang in his head, and he knew he had no one to blame but himself. It was safe—sort of—to play around with an audience. It took on a whole other meaning when they were alone, and licking her ear while they were alone was not playing. Taking a step back, he stuck his hands in his pocket and let out a huff of frustration.

“Thanks, but…I’ve got plans,” he said.

She blinked at him as if she didn’t understand what he was saying.

“So Tuesday, right? I can have my schedule to you beforehand. I’ll email it to you and then…” He shrugged. “I think we don’t have to see each other until Thursday at that luncheon thing, right?” He knew he sounded like an idiot, but it was going to be hard enough pretending with her for two more months—no need to go out of his way to torture himself when escape was close by.

With a shrug of her own, Paige turned her back on him and looked over her calendar. “Um…yeah. Thursday. You need to be there by noon. You have the address.” Then she began to gather her things and if he wasn’t mistaken, she was talking to herself about all the things she had to do between now and then. He’d have said she was talking to him, but her voice was so low he couldn’t hear more than every fifth word.

Cautiously, he stepped closer.

“Like I don’t know what that is about,” she was murmuring, and Dylan realized that staying was only prolonging the inevitable.

“Well, I guess I should go,” he said as he started backing away toward the door. The studio space didn’t belong to PRW, so he knew they weren’t responsible for locking up. He also knew there were offices down the hall and she’d be okay here by herself. Right now, he was more concerned with his own sanity. If he stayed, there was a really good chance of him taking her behind the green screen and kissing her and doing a hell of a lot more than licking her ear.

“I’ll see you Thursday,” he called out.

No response.

Sighing, he turned and continued to walk toward the door and instantly stopped when she called his name.

So close.

Turning, he saw her walking toward him. He couldn’t read her expression—was she upset? Mad? What?

“Paige…I…”

“Shut up,” she said, her voice authoritative and…

He couldn’t finish the thought because she cupped a hand around his neck and pulled him down and kissed him.

* * *

For the love of it… She had done everything except offer a naked limo ride and Dylan still hadn’t made a move!

A girl could only wait so long.

And boy, oh boy, was it worth the wait.

Every inch of him was hard and muscled and felt so good wrapped around her. She wanted to climb him like a tree. Coupled with the softness of his lips and gentleness of his caress, Dylan Anders was every naughty fantasy she’d ever had—and all he’d done was kiss her!

Paige’s hands anchored in his hair as she went from being the one controlling the kiss to the one being controlled. Dylan’s kiss went from wow to ohmygod in less than a second. He kissed, he tasted, he devoured, and Paige was more than willing to be devoured.

For hours at a time.

When his lips left hers to lick the shell of her ear—she really liked that—and her throat, she let her head fall back as she fought to catch her breath.

“Come home with me,” she panted. “Please. Please, Dylan.”

He bit her gently and then soothed that tender spot with his talented tongue and she was certain they were on the same page. She ran a quick checklist in her head: Bed made? Check. Bedroom clean? Check. Legs shaved? Check. If she could just get him to the car…

Dylan lifted his head, and she could feel his entire body practically vibrating. Good. She wanted—no, needed him like that. Turned on and unable to say no. Playing the seductress was so not her thing, and she had never been sexually aggressive, but everything about this man brought that out in her.

“Paige,” he said breathlessly.

“Yes?” This was it!

“I… We can’t do this.”

Say what?

“What do you mean we can’t do this? We already are doing this!” It was pointless to pretend she wasn’t pissed off. There was only so much a girl on the verge of climbing a man could take!

Dylan took a step away. And then another. And another. He raked a hand through his hair, making it stand on end, and even that managed to look sexy on him!

The bastard!

“Look, I think lines are getting blurred,” he began. “We talked about this, Paige. I told you why we can’t get involved.”

“And you know that, to the world, it’s going to look like that already. I don’t see why we can’t take advantage of this situation. It’s obvious we’re attracted to each other. I don’t see what the big deal is!”

He studied her for a long moment and Paige wanted to walk up to him and shake him.

But she didn’t.

“Because you deserve better than this,” he said, his voice void of emotion. “You deserve better than a fake relationship with someone like me. Trust me.”

“Dylan…wait…”

But he didn’t. He turned and walked away, and Paige watched him go.

There was a part of her that said to run after him and make him see that he was wrong. But the logical, regular part of her told her to respect his wishes and let it go.

With a weary sigh, she collected her things and made her way out of the studio. She stopped at the front office and thanked the receptionist on her way out. As the warm afternoon sun hit her face, Paige reached in her bag for her sunglasses and slipped them on.

And then stood on the sidewalk and contemplated what to do next.

She didn’t have errands to run, and she didn’t want to go into the office. She could drive around the city, but traffic was always a nightmare, so that wouldn’t be a relaxing endeavor either. Pulling out her phone, she checked the time. Three o’clock. There was always… Nothing. There was nothing she wanted to do. No hot yoga, no Zumba, no spinning class. Then she laughed at herself because it had easily been six months since she’d been to the gym, so why even consider those activities?

“Because I have way too much pent-up energy and need to do something with it,” she murmured and walked to her car. Inside, she started the car, turned on the air, and still tried to think of what to do. She didn’t want to go home. Home was where she had hoped to be with Dylan right now.

Dylan.

Why did he have to be so difficult? Why did he have to choose to be a good guy with her? Why couldn’t he just hold on to those bad-boy morals a little bit longer?

Who was she kidding? She liked Dylan exactly the way he was. Thinking back to their first meeting, she realized how much her feelings for him had transformed. His looks were always something she admired, but the more she got to know him, the more she saw beyond the sexy rock-star looks and saw a man with a kind heart who still struggled with far too many demons. And who could blame him? That tabloid story about him had to be painful for him. Here he was doing everything he could to change his public image, and on his first real outing, someone had to take him down.

Paige silently prayed there was video of Morgan’s drunken walk from the hotel with another man. Though the footage of her and Dylan going into the elevator would be more than enough proof that he hadn’t done any of the things he’d been accused of, she wanted to inflict some pain on Morgan too.

Wow. Who was she all of a sudden? She had never been a spiteful or vindictive woman. And she’d never been one to stand up for herself or for…

She’d stood up for Dylan.

Her heart kicked hard in her chest. Yes, she had stood up for him to her father and his manager, to defend him—his character. The look on her father’s face had been one flash of disbelief before he’d schooled his reaction and kept it strictly professional. Talking to her father about her sex life had never come up and should have been a pretty big roadblock to admitting she was with Dylan.

But it hadn’t.

Today she had broken through so many of her own obstacles, so why was she quitting now? Why, when she was so close to having what she wanted from Dylan, had she let him walk away?

“Because he doesn’t want me,” she said, banging her head on the seat. “Well, he does. But not enough to take the risk.”

A soft gasp came out as the thought took hold.

He’s afraid.

And who could blame him? Look at what had happened with Morgan, and she had a feeling Dylan didn’t have a whole lot of reason to trust anyone right now. Hadn’t she just said he was fighting his own demons? What if intimacy, sex, relationships were part of those demons? Why couldn’t she be the one to show him there were still good people in the world and how it was okay to take a risk?

“Sure, one stupid confession in front of Dad and all of a sudden I’m the poster girl for taking risks?” she said with a snort. And then she thought about it. “Why can’t I be that poster girl?”

And that was exactly what she was going to be.

Brave.

Bold.

And hopefully…very satisfied.

It took her an hour to get to the hotel; she made one stop for a quick wardrobe change, and traffic had been a complete pain. Then she had circled the block three times to give herself one last pep talk.

You can do this.

She wanted Dylan. She wanted to help Dylan. But more than anything, she needed Dylan.

You can do this.

Pulling the car up to the valet, she grabbed her ticket, climbed out, and walked determinedly into the lobby. While her immediate thought was to go right up to his room, she realized she was thoroughly unprepared. With a quick look around, she spotted the gift shop and ran in for a few necessities—breath mints and condoms. She paid and slipped the bag into her purse before heading to the concierge desk. There she told them exactly what she needed and gave them Dylan’s room number and asked for it to be brought up in an hour.

That was enough time, wasn’t it?

“Make that two hours,” she said with a shy smile and was thrilled when the woman behind the desk simply smiled and nodded.

Feeling confident, she strode to the elevators and was fortunate enough to have one arrive seemingly just for her.

Three minutes later, she was standing at Dylan’s door.

She knocked and held her breath.

He pulled open the door and the ability to speak simply deserted her. His shirt was open, his shoes were off, and his hair was still a glorious mess.

He was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

“Don’t say a word,” she said when he went to speak. “I heard everything you said earlier and I remember everything you said to me last Saturday night. I’m not asking you for some sort of long-term commitment. I’m not even asking you for a serious relationship. All I know is that when I’m with you…I feel…everything. You make me feel so much, Dylan. I look at you and I’m not seeing the celebrity with a troubled past—I’m seeing you. The man. The one who plays chess and brings me turkey sandwiches. The one who went food shopping with me and held me up while I walked around in those ridiculous shoes. That’s the man I see. The one I want.”

She saw him swallow hard as he stood in the doorway and she stepped in close, pressing her body against his.

“You can tell me to leave. You can tell me it’s all a mistake.” She leaned in and kissed his chest. His magnificent, tattooed chest. “But tell it to me later. Please.”

He let out an audible groan as he hauled her into the suite and slammed the door shut.

Thank God! she thought.

* * *

Relief, pure and simple, swamped him.

The entire drive to the hotel had him questioning everything: Was leaving the right choice? Was he wrong for walking away from something that could be incredible because of previous bad decisions? How long was he supposed to keep punishing himself? Wasn’t he entitled to some happiness? And now that Paige was here and in his arms and wrapped around him like she was afraid to let go, he had his answer.

Yes.

Yes, dammit. He deserved to have a little happiness.

He had to admit, the sight of her standing in his doorway had floored him. From everything he had learned about Paige over the past month, she had not seemed like someone who actively went after what she wanted. She accepted other people’s decisions and went on with her life—even if she didn’t agree with it. After all, she certainly didn’t fight for her position at work where their campaign was concerned. So that could only mean one thing:

She really wanted him.

Reaching down, he cupped her ass and lifted her. Those wonderfully sexy legs of hers wrapped around him, and he had to fight the urge to take her against the wall. Although…

“Bed,” she said, lifting her lips from his. Lips that were wet and red and swollen from the force of their kisses. “I’ve been dreaming about being in that bed with you.”

Her honesty was probably the biggest turn-on of all.

Turning with her still in his arms, he strode to the bedroom and lowered her onto the bed. He meant to stand up, to strip his shirt off, but Paige was having none of that. Her legs tightened, effectively holding him to her, and he had to admit the position had promise.

“Take your shirt off,” she said as she began pushing it off his shoulders. “I want to kiss and lick and touch all your tattoos.” Then she let out a sexy giggle as she looked up and met his eyes. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

This girl.

Because she was turning him inside out, he was willing to do whatever she wanted, give her whatever she wanted.

This time, when he went to pull away, she let him. Dylan quickly stripped off his shirt and sent it flying. Paige’s hands were on his chest before the garment even hit the floor. Her hands were smooth and hot and felt so good that he groaned with pleasure. When was the last time anything had felt this good? When was the last time he had gotten this turned on by the touch of a woman’s hand? His eyes closed and his head fell back while he allowed her to explore him.

He was straddling her, and all he could think of was how much he wanted to reverse their positions. While he had been more than willing to let Paige take the lead so far, he just… He needed to do this. Now.

In the blink of an eye, he slid his hands under her back and rolled them until she was the one straddling him. Her swishy little skirt bunched up, and he had to fight to keep his hands from sliding underneath it. Instead, he looked at her, met her heated gaze, and said, “Now you can kiss and lick and touch all you want.”

And holy hell did she.

Her hands roamed his torso, his arms, and then rested on his chest. Her lips—God, those soft, wet lips!—kissed the trail her hands had set. Dylan reached out and anchored his hands into her hair because now that he had her here, there was no way he was ready to let her go.

It had been too long—too damn long—since he’d been so consumed with need, with want. And if he allowed himself to think back, Dylan knew it had been years since anything sexual had felt remotely like this. Back then, his senses had been dulled by alcohol. But this? What was happening right now in this very PG-rated encounter was better than any porn he’d ever seen.

And that took his mind to a whole other level.

“Paige?” he asked huskily.

She lifted her head from his chest and looked at him, her expression dazed.

“What are you wearing under this skirt?”

A slow smile played at her lips and he watched as her hands lowered to the hem of the garment and then slowly slid it up. And…

“Those are… I mean…they’re not…”

Running her hand over her thighs as she lifted her skirt ever so much higher, she let out a sexy little moan. “They’re thigh-high stockings.”

His mouth seriously began to water. “Were you… Do you normally…?”

“I bought them on my way here,” she said softly.

He tore his eyes from the sight of her thighs and looked up at her. “You did?”

She nodded. “I was thinking…well, hoping…”

Dylan reached up and cupped her cheek. “What? What were you hoping for, Paige?”

“I hoped you’d like them. That you’d see them and…not want me to leave.”

He inhaled deeply. “Baby, I don’t want you to leave. And it has nothing to do with these sexy stockings.”

Her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled at him, the relief on her face was obvious. “So you like them?”

He grinned as he nodded. “Oh, I like them all right. I like them a lot. And…I think I want you to keep them on for a while.”

A breathy little “oh” was her only response.

“Promise me something,” he said gently, his tone going serious.

“Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll wear these when we’re working, like at a public appearance or maybe at a meeting. The thought of you having these on under your skirt and knowing I can reach out and touch you…”

She hissed out a breath and ground herself against him.

So fucking sexy.

And then he did it—he reached out and touched her, and it was better than he imagined. “Yeah. I want to know I can touch this soft skin of your thighs and no one will know but me.”

“Dylan,” she panted, still wiggling, still grinding.

“Tell me, Paige. Tell me what you want. Tell me.”

“I want you to stop talking and touch me. Everywhere. Now. Please.”

His hands inched higher and touched the soft lace of her panties. “Well…since you said please…”

He didn’t stop talking. In fact, his words got dirtier and his hands got way more involved. And judging by the way she cried out his name, Dylan knew he was giving her exactly what she wanted.

* * *

If this was what it was like to go after what you wanted, Paige was seriously rethinking how she currently was living her life.

When she’d shown up at Dylan’s room, she wasn’t sure how it was all going to play out. Turns out, it was better than anything she could have ever imagined. Never before in her life had she been more thankful than she was right now that she had gone after what she wanted.

Turning her head, she looked over at Dylan and had to suppress a proud grin.

He was on his back—his body slick with sweat, and he was still trying to catch his breath.

Yeah. She’d done that to him.

As soon as he had pulled her into his suite, Paige knew she was out of her element. The men she had slept with in the past were far more…reserved where sex was concerned. It had always been pleasant but not passionate. Dylan’s hands and lips and body oozed passion.

And she wanted it again.

Tentatively, she reached out and touched his hand.

“If this is part of your evil plan to kill me so I’m out of the campaign, I give up,” he said breathlessly, and Paige couldn’t help but laugh.

Laughing while in bed after sex? Who was she?

“First of all, killing you would be a bad thing.”

“Don’t look good in orange?”

She swatted playfully at his arm. “No…I mean, I don’t look good in orange, but that’s not the reason.”

“You enjoy your freedom?”

His playful side was something she loved about him. Scooting closer, she placed her hand on his stomach and waited for him to face her. “I enjoy you.”

There must have been a million thoughts going through his brain because she could see in his eyes that he wanted to say something but didn’t. It was okay. She wasn’t fishing for compliments. She wanted to let him know how she felt.

“Dylan,” she began softly. “This has been the greatest afternoon for me. Maybe I should have respected your wishes and kept my distance and kept things professional between us, but…”

Reaching out, he placed a finger over her lips. “I’m glad you didn’t listen to me. All week, I’ve been going crazy.” He paused. “Actually, that’s not true.”

Her heart sank.

Oh God. What if this was like…pity sex? Pulling her hand from his body, Paige immediately began to think of how she was going to get up and get dressed and leave while she had a trace of her dignity still intact.

Grabbing her hand back, Dylan held it against his chest, over his heart. “Paige, you’ve been making me crazy—in a good way—almost since we met,” he said solemnly. “I meant what I said to you last week—you deserve so much more than I can give you. You deserve a man who doesn’t have so much baggage and who isn’t so…”

Paige climbed over him and forced him to look at her. “Everyone has baggage, Dylan. Everyone. I’m a mess too, you know.”

He gave a mirthless laugh. “Paige, you aren’t a mess. You’re a little uptight and structured, but you certainly aren’t a mess.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I let everyone walk all over me—especially my family. I have daddy issues, I have petty jealousy issues with my sister, and I’m a bit neurotic about making sure I keep it together all the time, and it’s starting to make me crazy.”

“And that’s why the last thing you need in your life is someone like me. I’m always going to be someone who draws attention for the wrong reasons. People don’t forget the bad stuff you do, and I did a lot of it. And it doesn’t matter how long I stay clean and sober—it’s always going to be how people refer to me: ‘former bad boy’ or ‘former alcoholic.’ My counselor in rehab told me it’s a title I shouldn’t shy away from. Getting over my addiction is a big accomplishment so if I can say former, that’s a good thing.”

“It is,” she said encouragingly.

But he shook his head. “I want to move on from that. I want to be recognized for my music, for who I am now. I don’t want to keep looking back or having my past thrown back at me.”

Sighing, she leaned down and hugged him. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been in that position to the same degree.”

Dylan shifted and lifted her up so he could see her face. “What do you mean to the same degree?”

It was easier to climb off him. Shifting, she pulled the sheet up to cover herself. She knew it was crazy considering everything they had just done, but right now, she needed a little bit of a shield.

“I work for my father. I’ve always worked for my father. And he made me start out at the bottom and work my way up to where I am now.”

“Did he do that with Ariel?”

She nodded. “Not as much. She was promoted much faster than I was, but it was because she presented a more polished image. She always has.” Another sigh. “I was awkward and shy, and I didn’t mind doing the grunt work behind the scenes. After a while, I almost blended into the background. And it was fine. Really. Then people started talking like I must be the idiot daughter if my father was too embarrassed to let me work up on the executive floor.”

“People said that?” he asked incredulously.

“Oh yeah. I overheard it, and I guess my dad did too because a week later, I got promoted. The first campaign I got assigned to, I was given the task of putting together the PowerPoint presentation. I was a whiz at that sort of thing, and it meant I was still behind the scenes while being part of the executive team.”

“So what happened?”

“I was left out of a crucial meeting with the client. And when we did our presentation, half of the information was wrong. My father was mortified and he let me know how disappointed he was in front of everyone. It was a couple of years ago, and I still have people asking me if I remembered to go to all the meetings and are always double-checking my work before any clients see it.”

She hung her head as she finished speaking, too ashamed for Dylan to see her.

His hand twisted in her long hair with a gentle tug. “Hey,” he said softly, and Paige had no choice but to look at him. “I’m sorry. I hate that you have to deal with that.”

She shrugged. “I’m used to it. I hate it though. It was one time, and it wasn’t my fault that I was excluded from the meeting and not given the updated information. But whenever I bring that up, I’m told I’m making excuses.”

Dylan was quiet for a moment. “That’s why you do it, don’t you? That’s why you take on so much and make sure everything goes smoothly. You’re trying to prove yourself.”

Busted. And all she could do was nod.

He cursed under his breath and sat up. “When will it be enough? When are you going to see that you’re good enough? That you’re talented and freaking great at your job? Are you waiting for your father to say ‘good job’? Will that make you relax?”

“Honestly, I don’t know!” she cried. “I can’t remember him ever saying those words to me where this job is concerned. He used to say it to me regarding school and my grades, but not once has he said it at work.”

“Does he say it to your sister?”

It was like someone kicked her in the stomach. Of course he said it to Ariel. She was like his mini-me, for crying out loud! She sighed loudly. This was not the conversation she wanted to have after what they had just shared.

She lowered the sheet, exposing her breasts to his gaze once again. Then she stretched and noticed Dylan’s whole demeanor instantly changed.

He had her pinned beneath him a second later. “Nice distraction method,” he said gruffly.

Feeling playful, she rubbed her breasts against his chest. “Glad you liked it. I never tried it before. I may need practice with perfecting it.”

He chuckled. “Baby, you don’t need practice for anything. You’re already perfect.”

And damn if that didn’t make her heart squeeze a little.

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Slowly, she repeated the motion and gave him a sexy grin. “That had nothing to do with distractions. That was all for pleasure. I like pressing up against you. I like how warm your skin is.”

Dylan lowered his head to her shoulder and kissed her there. “Yours is warm too. And soft. And so damn sweet.”

She let out a small moan as she raked her hands through his hair.

A knock at the door had them both going still. “Ignore it,” he said before he went back to trailing kisses from one breast to the other.

She remembered her order with the concierge. How was it possible two hours had gone by already? “You should answer it.”

Dylan lifted his head. “Seriously? You want me to get up now and answer the door?”

She nodded. “It could be important.”

“It could also be nobody. Or housekeeping. I don’t need fresh towels. Trust me.” More kisses. And another knock at the door.

“Room service!” a voice called out.

That had Dylan jumping up. “Room service? They must have the wrong room. Wait here.” Grabbing his jeans, he was slipping them on when Paige called out to him.

“They don’t have the wrong room,” she said with another catlike stretch. “I placed an order before I came up here.”

He arched a dark brow at her. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm. Now go let them in and hurry back.” Paige watched as he left the room and closed the door behind him for her privacy. Part of her was feeling self-conscious and like she should crawl under the blankets, but her new inner vixen told her to stay exactly where she was because Dylan would be back any minute.

And he was.

The bedroom door opened, and he walked in carrying a silver tray.

“Care to explain this?” he asked with amusement.

“I would have thought it was obvious.” Rolling onto her side, she rested her head in her hand. “I figured we’d be hungry right about now, so a little snack was in order.”

He nodded. “Strawberries and cream. Excellent choice.”

“And I knew I was going to crave something sweet.”

“That explains the cake pops.”

“And if you’ll give me a few minutes, the last item will make complete sense.”

Ten minutes later, Paige sighed as she rested her back against Dylan’s chest.

“Um…I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing here,” he said with more than a little uncertainty.

“You’re supposed to relax and enjoy this. Doesn’t it feel amazing?”

“I guess.”

This time her sigh wasn’t one of pleasure but mild annoyance. “You’ve never taken a bubble bath? Seriously?”

“Maybe when I was five. But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a guy. Guy’s don’t take bubble baths.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, they do.”

“Not real ones,” he murmured.

“So you’re going to sit there and tell me the hot water doesn’t feel good? That the jasmine and vanilla don’t smell amazing?” Carefully she turned around and stretched out on top of him. “And that being naked with me in the tub isn’t fun?”

“Baby, having you naked anywhere is fun. This seems like a lot of work when we’re both going to get up and go back to the bed.”

Paige playfully splashed him. “Come on,” she said with a small laugh. “How can you not be enjoying this? When I was here Friday, all I wanted to do was come in here and test this tub out. This entire bathroom is amazing.”

“That’s what you were thinking of while you were here? Taking a bath?” he asked with mock offense.

She laughed again. “Well…it wasn’t all I thought about. But it certainly played a big part in my fantasies.”

Dylan’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah? Tell me. Were they naughty fantasies? Did you need to take a bath because you were so dirty?” he asked lecherously.

Now she cracked up. “You are such a perv! Knock it off!”

Dylan laughed with her and hugged her close. With a kiss on the top of her head, he shifted them around until they were in their original position. “Okay, so a bubble bath was part of your fantasy, huh?”

Paige nodded. “It was. I’m a bit of a sucker for a soaking tub. I had one when we were growing up, but my condo doesn’t have one. I dream of owning a house someday with a spa-like bathroom.”

Behind her, Dylan was quiet.

“Of course, that’s a long way off. Real estate in California is ridiculous. As it is, my condo payments are sucking my will to live.” Then she shrugged. “Still, a girl can dream.”

She snuggled a little more against him and was rewarded with his wonderful hands coming up and cupping her breasts. She let out a soft sigh, resting her head on his shoulder.

“The bathroom I had in my house was twice the size of this one,” Dylan said gruffly. “Maybe even three times. The tub was huge and the shower could fit four people easily.”

She didn’t want to think about how he could know that.

“And I can’t remember ever using the tub. It was a great selling point for the house, but it was never something that was on my radar.”

“Do you miss it? The house, not the bathroom,” she quickly added.

Dylan laughed softly. “No. It was… I don’t know. It was the first thing I bought when Shaughnessy made it big. I didn’t need it because we were on the road so much, but I thought it was something I should have. Looking back, I realize how ridiculous it was.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” she reasoned. “There’s nothing wrong with buying a home.”

“That’s it though—it wasn’t a home. It was a house. It was a status symbol. It was far too big for one person, especially one who was never around.”

His voice sounded…odd. Not sad, not detached, but…odd. Turning her head slightly, she looked up at him. “Is that why you decided to sell it?”

“No. It held too many bad memories of who I used to be. I didn’t want that sort of thing around my neck like a constant reminder.”

“Dylan, you do realize that not everything about you and the way you used to be was bad, right?”

The look on his face was one of complete disbelief. “You didn’t know me before, Paige. You have no idea—”

She held up one hand to cut him off. “No, I didn’t know you before, but it doesn’t mean anything. I’ve done my homework where you’re concerned, and let me tell you, you’re wrong about how you view yourself.”

He started to push her away to stand up, but she maneuvered around so she was straddling his lap again. “Hear me out,” she began. “You are an incredibly gifted musician. I’ve heard the music you did with Shaughnessy and I’ve heard the music you played with other groups. Anyone who talks about your musical skill does it with awe. When the band went on hiatus, you were in high demand. Why? Not because you drank, Dylan, but because you are an amazing bass player!”

“Paige—”

“You grew up in South Carolina as an only child. Your parents are always quoted sharing stories of how you’ve been playing music since you were a small child—piano, guitar, harmonica, anything you could get your hands on. You played music at church, at parties, and for some of their work functions.”

His eyes went wide, but he stayed silent.

“Your dad’s a bank manager and your mom is an administrative assistant at the middle school in your hometown. Every year, you donate money to the music department at her school and you’ve even gone and talked to the students about the importance of music in their lives. And you did all that long before you went into rehab, so you can’t use that as an excuse.”

“I haven’t gone back since though,” he said with a hint of defense.

“But you will,” she countered smugly. “It’s part of who you are. You’ll go back when you’re ready, and you’ll have an even more important message to share with those kids.”

“Right. Because it’s important to talk to them about how I screwed up my life.”

“As a matter of fact, it is,” she said firmly. “Dylan, not everyone gets a chance to turn their life around. Most people don’t think it’s possible. You can show them that it is. You can give them hope.”

She could see the range of emotions in his eyes—the anger, the disbelief, the annoyance, and…the vulnerability. Deep down, she knew he wanted to believe her, to believe that he was someone who deserved to be happy and be an inspiration.

To overcome his past.

This totally wasn’t the conversation she envisioned them having while naked in the bathtub. And besides, she felt like she’d pushed him enough for the time being.

It was time to take it down a notch in the conversation department and ratchet it up in another.

Slowly, she bent her head and kissed his jaw.

“Paige…”

Then she licked her way down his neck and then up again. She bit his earlobe and heard his soft hiss, and when his hand came up and splayed across her lower back, effectively holding her to him, she knew they were on the same page. Dylan’s head slowly fell back and he seemed more than happy to let her have her way with him.

Funny how she was beginning to enjoy doing that as well.

He was addictive—the taste of him, the texture of his skin. It was like she couldn’t get enough. And as she continued to explore him, Paige knew she needed to take advantage of this time together.

Because her homework on Dylan not only showed her that he had some great qualities—it also showed that he had a short attention span.