I turned up the speed on the treadmill, determined to sprint the last mile. I needed to push my body out of my comfort zone.

Fuck it. I cranked up the incline as well. My lungs burned.

Going to the gym had always been part of my routine, but lately my workouts had become longer and more intense. Funny how I upped my cardio at the same time my desire for Lizzie intensified. By holding myself back with her, I needed to get my sexual tension out somehow.

And now that’d I’d had a taste of her, I wanted a whole plateful. Four courses, including dessert.

It was a little bit easier to go on a Lizzie-free diet when I thought she was a virgin dispensing romantic advice from a hundred years ago. Now, I was getting a lot of mixed signals.

The advice she was doling out as Miss Behave was getting edgier, like she’d been taking some tips from yours truly. I was flattered, sure, but my column was still better and I had the mail to prove it. But she was catching up, like a girl from junior high coming into her boobs later than her friends.

Okay, bad analogy.

I’d told her that I wasn’t sure what to do with a girl like her. What I wanted to do was tell her to hang on to those metal shelves while I fucked her brains out. But women like her—and most of the rest—wanted true love and great sex. I only provided one of those things. I couldn’t deny, though, that I found Lizzie fun to be with, in a way that I couldn’t imagine spending time with Ashleigh or any other woman I’d met in recent months.

My teeth were rattling as I pounded out the last quarter-mile. I did an extra minute at that speed until I thought I might puke, and then I slowed down until I was walking. As I cooled down, I couldn’t help grinning at the thought of my date with Lizzie later.

Well, it wasn’t a date so much as a joint appearance. The Powers That Be thought it would be good PR for their advice columnists to go to the opening night of a new adult store. It was going to specialize in sexy stuff mostly for women, by women. This would definitely push Miss Behave out of her comfort zone.

I couldn’t wait.

---

“I wasn’t sure what to wear,” Lizzie said, looking down at herself. She wore black skinny jeans, high-heeled ankle boots, and an old-fashioned sweater set in red. It might have been cashmere. It looked soft, anyhow.

From the waist up she looked like she escaped from 1953, but from the waist down she looked like a sultry rock star. It was totally mixed up and I fucking loved it. I wanted those legs wrapped around me, and my hands up that soft sweater.

“You look great,” I said. “You ready to do this?” We stood outside the store, which was seeing steady traffic in and out. “Lizzie?”

“Hmmm?” Her attention was on the window display of lingerie.

I leaned in to her. “Which one do you like?” I asked in a low voice. Her visible shiver thrilled me.

“The pink one,” she confessed, indicating the raspberry-colored baby doll with stretchy lace cups. I imagined her filling out those cups, her rosy nipples just peeking through the fabric.

Damn.

I cleared my throat. “Nice choice.”

Well, I wasn’t the first man to have an erection while shopping in a sex toy store, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

My hand went to the small of her back as I followed her inside, lingering there when she halted in the middle of the store. I watched her as she looked around, her eyes widening in places and narrowing in others.

Yeah, this was going to be interesting.

“Looks like they have a little table for us,” I said, pointing out a small folding table with two folding chairs behind it. On it was a black tablecloth, a scattering of foil-wrapped candy, and a fishbowl the size of my head, full of condoms. And two signs with our column names on them and the website logos.

“What, are we the kissing booth or something in this carnival?” she muttered, her cheeks pink.

A tall redhead dressed in all black came up to us. “You must be Elizabeth and Ash.”

I stuck my hand out automatically. “Hi, Sasha?”

She nodded, shaking my hand. Then she turned to Lizzie. “This is my store.” Her pride was nearly tangible, and her smile infectious.

“I go by Lizzie.”

Sasha gave me a sly smile, not so subtly checking me out. “So that makes you Mister Behave?”

Lizzie snorted.

I shrugged. “I’m a guy’s guy.”

“I guess you’re going to sit behind the table and give advice to people who want it? That’s what your PR person told me, anyhow.” She frowned.

I couldn’t blame her—most people didn’t come to buy sex toys and then want a one-on-one with an unqualified counselor.

“And if nobody is here…?” Lizzie asked.

“Feel free to wander around! Or go on your phone. I don’t care. But if you’re on social media, it’d be great if you could tag the store.”

I nodded. “Of course. No problem, right Lizzie?”

We took our seats and twiddled our thumbs for a few minutes before we both took out our phones and began doing our own things.

Unfortunately for Sasha and her new business, the traffic really died down. She guessed that everyone was at dinner, but then she was hoping to get some browsers after eight o’clock. She ordered in a pizza for the three of us before parking herself behind the desk to work on the computer.

I nudged Lizzie. “Nobody’s here. Let’s look around.” She blinked at me. “I want to window shop.” Not waiting for a response, I tugged her out of her chair and headed to the vibrator section.

Her cheeks reddened as she perused the display, her gaze flitting around without landing on anything. I watched her as she laced her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth on her heels.

We were standing so close together that I felt her body heat, and if I whispered, she would hear me. Something compelled me to speak in a hushed tone, like we were in a library or church.

“Do you have any of these?” I asked. I couldn’t help teasing her a little. “Hiding in a drawer, maybe?”

Her head turned and she looked me in the eye. Paused, like she was deciding something. Then she raised an eyebrow and pointed to a black vibrator with a crazy clit attachment.

“I have one sort of like that.”

My mouth fell open.

“But it needs new batteries,” she added casually.

My whole body turned to stone. Without looking at me, she wandered over to the next aisle. Her hips swayed, almost a swagger in her step. If this was a cartoon, my eyes would be on the floor and she’d be whistling.

I stared at the vibrator then squeezed my eyes shut as the image of Lizzie pleasuring herself burned into my retinas.

Lying on her bed, naked, one hand plucking at her nipples while the other thrusting the toy inside her dripping pussy, wriggling it against her clit.

Arching, moaning, shaking with arousal.

Calling out my name.

“Ash!”

I shook my head, exhaling heavily.

“Ash?”

She really was calling my name—from around the corner.

I adjusted myself discreetly and went to the other side of the display, where she was running her fingers over an item.

“Have you ever tried anal beads?”

Here I thought I’d be pushing Lizzie out of her comfort zone. At that moment, the woman had me rock hard and speechless.

“Gluk,” I replied.

Frown lines appeared on her forehead. “What?”

My lips moved as I tried to connect the parts of my brain that created words.

You. Me. Sex. Now. Please. Now.

“Gluk.”

“Okaaaay. I’ll take that as a no.” She hung the string back up, where it rattled against another.

She floated around the store, her hand alighting on massage oils, games, and whatever the fuck else there was in the store. I stopped looking once she bent over to access a lower shelf.

I had my eyes on her, not the merchandise.

Not once did she look at me, no matter how much I willed it. I was trying to will a lot of things at that moment—not the least of which was control over my dick. It was leading me to her like a goddamn divining rod.

Then, in a split second of lucidity, I saw her glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. I’d almost missed it, as she returned her gaze to the shelf before her.

Then glanced back at me again, a small smile curving her lips.

Holy shit. Lizzie Bell knew exactly what she was doing to me. The player was being played.

I ran my hand over my face as I struggled with a decision. What to do, what to do… what would she do, once I made up my mind?

There was only one way to find out.

My jaw tight, I stalked to a rack and pulled out the lacy pink slip displayed in the front window. A matching g-string swung from the hanger.

She was flipping through a book when I came up behind her. I slid close to her and wrapped my arms around her to dangle the nightie in front of her. My head dropped, my mouth grazing the top of her ear.

“I want you to try this on.”

Standing tall in her heels, her ass grazed my erection as she lifted her hand to the garment. “Why?” she whispered.

“Because I think it would look fucking amazing on you.” That was me—honest to a fault.

She cocked her head to the side. “I thought you believed I wasn’t that kind of girl.”

My lips brushed against her hair as I admitted, “I’ve been proven wrong before—once or twice.”

Our fingers touched as she took the hanger from me. “It’s pretty.”

My hands, now unencumbered, went to her hips. I pressed up against her back, thrilling in the sensation of our bodies lined up from our thighs to our chests.

“It’s pretty,” I murmured. “But you’re beautiful.”

“You’re shameless.” But she leaned back against me, her head tilting back to rest against my shoulder. Exposing her neck.

“I think that’s what you like about me.”

I raised one hand and drew a line up her body, starting at her pelvic bone and ending at her jaw. Underneath my fingertips, I felt her pulse and the muscles of her throat as she swallowed nervously.

I was a blind man tracing her for the sake of memory, for titillation now and for fantasies in the future.

She hummed. “It seems like a waste to spend money on something that wouldn’t stay on for very long.”

“I’ll buy it for you.”

“I can buy my own underwear, thank you very much.”

I was done debating this. I growled into her ear, “I want you to take this to that dressing room over there. I want you to strip off all your clothes and put it on. Then, while I pay for it, I want you to put your clothes back on.”

Silence. Our chests rose and fell together in sync as we both struggled to control our breathing.

“What about the hem? It’ll hang out underneath my sweater,” was all she said in response.

“Improvise.”

She clutched the babydoll to her chest. “Then what?”

“Then I’m taking you home and you can show me what kind of girl you really are.”