BOOKER

Oh, baby. There was a loaded question. And before I can monitor the impulse, I give voice to the first thing that springs to mind: the truth. “In my bed.”

I manage not to cringe—or punch myself in the face—but, shit, really, Jameson? I had smoother moves when I was eighteen. I haven’t even taken Lena on a damn date or done so much as buy her a burger at the stand on Fifth and Lenora. But, hey, I’m sure she’ll leap for joy at the mere thought of jumping in my bed.

Yeaaah...no. That is not gonna happen without some real effort—not to mention sincere wooing—on my part.

As if to underscore my internal conversation, Lena laughs in my face. When she gets control of herself she stares at me, her hands planted on her hips, her pale hair disheveled, her face rosy and those big, dark-rimmed blue eyes flashing with—hell—rage, probably.

“Uh, no,” she says flatly. “Thanks, anyway.” Her Cupid’s bow lips look as though she just took a bite of something nasty. “I’m not a huge fan of nookie. And I’m ab-so-tootly not a fan of whoring myself for the sake of a bed for the night.”

“What? No.” I take a giant step toward her, then stop as if running into an invisible wall when I see her jerk back. Shit, shit, shit! She’s afraid of me? That is just all kinds of fucked up and I hold my hands up in what I hope is a See, just a harmless fella here gesture. “Jesus, Lena. Tell me you know I would never force myself on any woman, let alone you! Any bed you want in this house is yours, no strings attached. I never meant to imply sleeping in mine was a condition for staying here.” I thrust my fingers through my hair, knocking the fedora I forgot I was even wearing to the floor.

Then my mind gives birth to a thought that promptly exits my damn mouth. “When did you quit liking sex?” Another thought treads on the heels of the first and my uncharacteristic verbal spewage continues. “Did somebody hurt you, baby?” The very thought has my fists curling at my sides and I take a daddy-long-legged step in her direction.

“If by hurt you mean forced me, of course not. It never entered my mind you would do that.” She balloons her cheeks then slowly exhales through pursed lips. “And to be fair, I may have pretended to like it the one time you and I did...you know...the whole sex thing,” she says with a shrug. “But I didn’t. I always loved your kisses,” she admits, and the look she shoots up at me through her eyelashes damn near stops my heart. “And I gotta admit I really liked the touching and petting part that came before—” Lena’s distaste is clear in her wrinkled nose and curled upper lip “—that.”

“Then, why?”

Lena looks at me as if I’m an idiot, and, hell, maybe I am. God knows I’m totally at sea here.

For a second she looks uncharacteristically flustered. Then the real Lena comes roaring back, her chin thrusting a couple of notches upward as she drills me with a look that should have seared my eyeballs. “Well, come on,” she scoffs. “I doubt any woman likes the action that comes after the petting. It’s wicked uncomfortable and over before a girl can even recover from the way all the really good-feeling stuff was just killed dead.”

I choke. “Wait. You’re telling me the one time with me was the only time for you?” She’d been so sensual back then, it being a onetime only deal never even occurred to me. So, why does the mere thought, the possibility no other man has ever seen Lena, touched Lena, the way I did, make me want to thump my chest, throw back my head and roar like the goddamn king of the jungle?

Lena’s jaw goes slack and the look she gives me is so incredulous I have no problem reading her opinion of me. She thinks I’m too stupid to live.

For a second I worry she somehow read my mind, that she saw my primal reaction to discovering she’s only ever made love with me. Then she snaps her teeth together and makes a visibly concerted effort to relax the muscles in her face. And my brain finally kicks in, making me realize her response was to my question, not my primitive need to claim her.

She squares her shoulders, which make her breasts bounce, and now I’m the one having to make a concerted effort to keep my mind on the matter on hand. Still. Make no mistake. I am going to claim her.

‘Til death do us part claim her.

Clearly abandoning her effort for cool and collected, she says hotly, “For God’s sake, Booker, if I thought sex with you was a messy, uncomfortable waste of time, and I loved you then more than my next breath—“ Her voice trails away, but she takes a deep breath, then slowly exhales it. And asks with genuine bafflement. “Why on God’s green earth would I rush out to try it again with a stranger?”

I inch closer. “Honey, you had to have considered the fact we were teenagers when we made love. Inexperienced teenagers. Plus, it was your first time. From everything I’ve ever heard about losing one’s virginity, no girl’s first time is a huge success unless she’s lucky enough to have a man who has experience and control.”

“Well, it would’ve been nice if you’d told me that upfront,” she mutters.

“Hey, I only had hearsay to go on myself at the time.” I move close and tilt my head until my lips are near her ear. “But I can make it really good for you now.”

“Yeah,” Lena breathes, looking up at me, all baby vamp eyes and flushed cheeks. Then those eyes narrow down to dangerous little slits. “Because being reminded of all the women you practiced on is sure to get me in the mood.” She shoves me away. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for that to happen.”