“You know that I’m not lying about Audrey,” he said, his grip loosening. “So I don’t understand.”
“I know, but that doesn’t mean—you know.” I gestured between our bodies. As much as the sex had been incredible, and he felt so good, I knew that Audrey was right, he was too good-looking. Not to mention famous and bound to attract attention wherever he went. That was a whole pot of crazy I didn’t want to dive into.
“You don’t want me to fuck you again?” His grin told me he was confident about his skills in the bedroom.
I rolled my eyes.
He bent and whispered into my ear. “Don’t tell me that wasn’t the night of your life.” He dropped a kiss on my jaw. “You were perfect.” He kissed me again. “We were fucking phenomenal.”
I pushed at his chest and he released me, holding up his hands. I didn’t move away. “The sex was . . .” Better than I’d ever thought possible? “Fine,” I finished.
“Okay,” he said, nodding as he grinned. “It was fine.”
“But I’m not here for you to pick up and put down whenever your schedule allows. I’m busy. I have a life. And just because you want something, doesn’t mean you get to have it.” As much as the sex had been phenomenal, I didn’t want to become a plaything for some guy passing through town.
He shifted his hips as if to give me a taste of what I’d been missing. “Okay. So what about the day after tomorrow? I was wondering if you wanted to drive up the coast with me.”
I hadn’t expected him to suggest a trip. I’d thought his mind was firmly between his legs. I knew mine was. “Where were you thinking?”
He pushed his fingers through his hair and I had to fight the urge to reach out and do the same thing.
“I just want to see some of Maine. Wherever you think best.”
I wasn’t sure if it was excitement or danger rumbling in my belly, but I wanted to show him my beautiful state. Just as I was about to accept and suggest we go to Bath, I realized there was no way that would be possible. “We can’t just take off up the coast,” I said.
He pulled me from the counter, turned me and walked me backward. “Why not? Are you working?”
“You’ll be recognized.”
He shrugged. “I doubt it. It’s amazing what a hat and some old jeans can disguise. And if I am, I am.”
“But, what about Audrey? Surely you can’t risk someone spotting us.”
“I promise not to kiss you, or hold your hand. Outside of New York and LA, it’s rare to get photographed. And even if we do—”
“No. I want no part of that.”
He frowned. “Part of what?” he asked.
“The fame thing. I don’t want anyone taking my picture.” Fear slithered down my spine at the thought of strangers gawking at me. That exposure and lack of privacy were what had sent me running from New York.
He cocked his head. “It’s really not that bad,” he said. “People are pretty friendly.”
I shrugged. “You’re not going to get branded a whore and a homewrecker if we get caught.” There was no way I’d risk being seen. It would make life too messy.
He sighed, pausing in the middle of the kitchen. I could almost see the cogs in his brain crank into action. “What about if we just drive up the coast? We could take a picnic, but not stop anywhere with people.”
He sounded excited—I hated to let him down.
“Come on,” he begged. “I really want to get out and explore. You must know the places where there aren’t any people.”
“No restaurants,” I said, prodding him in the chest.
“Promise.” A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth.
“No PDA, either.” I stabbed my finger twice against his hard pecs.
“I’ll try to keep my hands to myself, but you really are impossible to resist.”
I rolled my eyes. “Do you have an impulse control problem?”
“With you? Yes,” he said. “Do we have a deal?”
“And promise to keep your hands to yourself?”
He grinned. “I promise.”
“Okay,” I said, reaching behind me, removing his arms and backing away from him slowly.
“Okay?” He followed me as I headed toward the back door.
“I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.” I turned to grab the brass doorknob.
“You’re leaving?” he asked, sounding confused.
“I am.”
“I’ll let you go on one condition.” He caught the door before it slammed shut.
“Let me?” I asked over my shoulder, as I headed to the edge of the deck.
“You heard me. Don’t make me come over there.”
I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “Okay, tell me.”
“Wear a skirt,” he said and my heart tripped. His confidence was a complete turn-on. “I saw you in one. I liked it.”
Goose bumps scattered across my skin.
“Deal,” I said.
“Perfect.” He crossed his arms and watched as I turned and padded down the steps. As I got to my back door, I checked and he was still there, leaning against the cottage, his arms folded.
I couldn’t help but think I’d just made a deal with a very handsome devil.
Twelve
Matt
My thighs ached as I stepped out of the shower. I’d extended my run this morning. I needed to get rid of as much excess energy as possible because a day in the car with Lana without being able to touch her, kiss her or fuck her was going to keep my balls blue. Just as they’d been since I let her walk off my porch two days ago.
Blue, purple or fucking orange balls, I didn’t care—I was looking forward to our trip today, even though I really should have cancelled. In fact, I shouldn’t have suggested it at all. I’d had to convince her to come with me and that was a new experience. I wasn’t used to working to get a woman to do what I wanted, but I liked the challenge. And she seemed worth the risk.
I dried off, then pulled on some shorts and a t-shirt. Nothing that would attract attention. Most of the women I’d fucked along the way had been desperate to go to the most photographed places in LA—needy for eyes on them and hopeful they’d be discovered just by being seen with me. But not Lana. She’d seemed horrified at the thought of someone seeing us together. Maybe she was just afraid she’d expose my relationship with Audrey, but something in the way Lana’s whole body had tightened at the thought of discovery made me think it went deeper than that. I grabbed my wallet and sunglasses from my nightstand and headed out. I didn’t want to be late.
My assistant had arranged for a nondescript car to be delivered first thing this morning complete with a packed picnic in the trunk. I hadn’t driven the first one much, but just in case some photographer had clocked the license plate, I’d swapped it out. I wanted Lana to feel completely comfortable. And there was no point in taking unnecessary risks. I didn’t want to needlessly jeopardize my career.
I took the steps to her porch in two strides and knocked on the door.
She swore.
“I heard that,” I said with a chuckle.
“I just spilled—never mind. Come in!”
I opened the door and stepped inside. “Lana?” I asked when I didn’t spot her.