Worth the Wait (Very Personal Training Book 2)

by Karla Doyle

  “Babe.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I know there’s more to this story because there’s a sparkle in your eyes that wasn’t there a minute ago.”

  “You think you have me figured out, do you?”

  He barked out a laugh. “Hell, no. I’m trying, but you’re not making it easy.”

  “Maybe that’s the reason you’re so determined to know things about me, because I’m not spewing out information in an attempt to gain and hold your interest.”

  “You think you have me figured out, do you?” He smiled while playfully copying her line. The joke was on him though.

  She did have him figured out. The challenge of the chase had always been his thing. That’s why he didn’t have any real relationships in his past. Same reason his math degree sat in an envelope in his safe instead of hanging on a wall in an office somewhere. The reward had never held his interest. Only the challenge of getting it.

  That was then. His perspective had changed a lot in the past year. The woman sitting across from him, challenging him, was unlike any he’d been with. Maybe this time would be different. Only way to find out was to keep chasing until he caught her. Really caught her. Not just reeled her in with his dick.

  Though maybe that was all she wanted.

  “Sam?”

  “Sorry. Kind of spaced out there for a minute.” And in doing so, he’d wiped the sparkle from her expression.

  “I was teasing, you know. I wasn’t being serious.”

  “Yeah. No seriousness tonight, I got that vibe.”

  The setting sun’s warm, hazy glow bounced off her hair as she tilted her head. “You set the tone for tonight when you texted me to hurry and get over here so you could make me come. Then again when you instructed me to undo my shirt in the elevator, and again when you slipped your hand under my skirt out in the hall. All of which I have no complaints about, for the record. I thought the whole ‘dinner first’ thing was just part of the game.”

  The game. Guess he had his answer to what she wanted. Forget dinner, forget conversation, forget substance. Just serve up his dick and she’d be satisfied.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, when he grunted.

  “It should be.”

  “But it’s not?”

  He took a long pull of beer. For time, not courage. He’d never needed courage. Then again, he’d never felt as if he had anything to lose.

  Sighing, she raised her glass. “Since we’re playing a drinking game…” Full, pink lips pressed against the rim, she tipped her head back and drank until she’d emptied the glass. “I win. Now, please say what’s on your mind. Or call it a night. Your choice, but continuing this moody vagueness isn’t an option.”

  “What if I suggested we stop talking altogether and I take you into the bedroom to fuck for the rest of the night, would that be an option?”

  “No.”

  “Because you’re too pissed off for sex?”

  Another head tilt, this one accompanied by narrowed eyes. “I’m not pissed off. I just don’t want to have sex with you at the moment.”

  “Bet I could change that in ten seconds or less.” He rose and moved around the table to stand behind her chair. Sweeping her hair to one side, he leaned in nice and close. “You wanted to skip dinner, so we’ll skip dinner. I’m still going to eat my fill, only it’s going to be you. All of you. I’m going to put your sexy legs over my shoulders and feast on your sweet little pussy until you come so hard, you’re begging me to stop. So I’ll stop. But only long enough to bend you over the edge of the bed so I can eat your tight little ass while I make you ride my hand like you did in the hall.”

  Goose bumps rose on her soft skin. Her pulse pounded in her neck and her breathing had gone shallow. She turned to face him, pupils dilated, and cheeks flushed with pink.

  He’d won his bet. The victory didn’t give him a rush, but that wouldn’t prevent him from enjoying the prize. As soon as he had Leigh in his bed, his pain-in-the-ass brain could get in the backseat while his libido took the driver’s seat. His dick was sure as hell on board with the plan.

  Cupping her chin, he dipped down to kiss her—and was denied when she pulled away.

  “I don’t care how delicious and satisfying your enchilada is, I’m not taking a bite until I get my appetite back, and listening to you read the menu isn’t enough to do that.”

  A laugh ripped up from his gut, filling the summer air with a volume sure to earn a complaint from his neighbor. Still chuckling, he went back to his chair, reached across the table and lifted her hand for a kiss she didn’t pull away from.

  He released her hand and leaned back in his chair. “You’re great.”

  “So are you, most of the time.”

  Meaning, not now. He’d concede that point. Nodding, he said, “You’re right about me. I get bored easily, I always have. That’s why I’m not making use of my math degree and working as a statistician or analyst. As a personal trainer, each day brings new clients, new goals, new challenges. Keeps things fresh and interesting. I need that.”

  “I get it. Custom baking is the same way. There’s a lot of unpredictability, but as long as customers are coming in, the randomness is exciting. I get a thrill every time I contract a new job or see a finished order go out the door. There’s nothing wrong with wanting a job that has variety and ever-changing content.” She leaned across the table and took his hand, giving it a squeeze as she looked into his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting the same things in your personal life either. Some people aren’t wired for commitment or monogamy.”

  “First of all, I am monogamous. I’ve never juggled women. Straight line only, no overlap. As for the commitment part, I’m not against it or afraid of it. I just haven’t met somebody I wanted to be with day after day. Until you.”

  “That’s sweet and I believe you’re sincere. I just think your feeling that I’m different stems from where I am in life and my lack of neediness. I’m a fresh, new challenge and I’m okay with being that.”

  “You’re underestimating yourself if you believe that.”

  “I’m not underestimating myself.”

  “Then you’re underestimating me, and that’s justified. My track record is shit. And you’re right that I’m attracted to your maturity and independence. Very much so. Also to your beauty, sexy body, friendliness and sense of humor, the commitment you bring to every aspect of your life. I’m attracted to everything about you. Have been since the day we met. I didn’t make a move then because I wasn’t ready to be the kind of man you deserve. I’m ready now.”

  Leigh’s eyes had always shared more than her words. Right now, they were telling him he’d hit a sweet spot.

  He’d never been one to let an opportunity slide. Nudging his plate aside, he reached across the table to cradle her face in his palms. “If all you want from this is casual good times and amazing sex, let me know. It’s not what I want but I’ll take it—I’m not an idiot.” He winked, smiling when she laughed softly. “But I think we can be more.”

  Covering his hands with hers, she slid them from her face, onto the table. “Being ‘more’ comes with challenges and responsibilities. You won’t just be in a relationship with me.”

  “There’s Lennox, I know.”

  “And Tim.”

  “Of course.” He hadn’t forgotten about Lennox’s father, just hadn’t factored him into his relationship with Leigh. The guy was a friend who’d donated sperm, not an ex-husband. But whatever. Detail to be dealt with another day, if necessary.

  “I’m not going to lie, Sam, I’ve been making a conscious effort not to fall too hard for you. Talk about a challenge.” Another light laugh slipped through her smiling lips. “I’m prepared and equipped to deal with a broken heart, if and when it happens. But I don’t want to risk putting Lennox through that.” She squeezed his hands. “I’m not ready to include our families in the relationship we’re building. Let’s give us some time to find our groove.”

  “Sounds g
ood.”

  “So did that menu you recited in my ear. Now that my appetite is back, I’d like to have everything on it.”

  Boom, his dick was instantly full-mast again. He leaned across for a taste of her sweet, full lips, only to be denied again when she deked sideways.

  A smirk curved her mouth as she picked up her fork. “Dinner first.”

  He could try to seduce her away from the table. Might even succeed. Instead, he relaxed in his seat and took in the beautiful view. Dessert was going to be fucking amazing, but he was in no rush to get to it.

  “About that toy oven you had,” he said, smiling across the table at her while loading his fork with food. “Tell me the rest of the story. The part that put extra sparkle in your eyes.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Didn’t we just establish that I’m a serious guy?”

  Her bubbly laughter popped in the warm evening air. “Yes, I suppose we did.” The golden highlights in her hair gleamed as she gently shook her head. “It’s probably not the kind of story you’re expecting.”

  “Now I really want to hear it.” He made a point of putting food in his mouth. Chewing. Swallowing. Didn’t even notice the taste. Hard to focus on anything except her beautiful face when she got that glow that seemed to light her up from the inside.

  “I grew up in a small town with only a handful of businesses. One restaurant, one convenience store, one bank, one pharmacy, and so on, including one bakery. Everybody went to Smith’s Bakery.”

  “Was it any good?”

  “Very good. The owner, Mr. Smith, generally sold out of everything by noon on any given day. Since my mother wasn’t an early-bird type of person, he rarely had cookies left by the time we got there. Since my mother also wasn’t a make-it-at-home type of person, I rarely had fresh cookies in my lunch. And I tell you, those giant chocolate-chip cookies from Smith’s Bakery were sought after at school. Kids traded for them, sometimes even paid for them.”

  He nodded while blindly shoveling more food into his mouth. Having a reasonably good idea where this story was heading didn’t make it any less exciting to hear. Especially since that sparkle was back in her eyes, full force.

  “I bugged and bugged my mother to let me make my own cookies. She wouldn’t let me use the oven, claimed it was too dangerous. To this day, I think it’s because she didn’t know how to use it. My mother was the queen of microwaving.” She scrunched up her nose and shuddered. “Be thankful you never had to attend those family dinners.”

  He laughed and set aside his fork. Forget eating. He couldn’t even pretend to be interested in food. “Did she buy you the Easy-Bake Oven?”

  “No. She told me I could put it on my Christmas list, but it was mid-September and I didn’t have the patience at nine years old that I do at forty-two.”

  Part of him didn’t believe that. He’d bet she had more patience at nine than most people had at forty-two. “So what did you do?”

  “Mowed lawns, walked our neighbors’ dogs and knocked on doors asking for empty bottles to return, then saved every cent that came my way until I had enough money to buy the oven and two full-size boxes of cookie mix. It took me less than two weeks to recoup my investment.” She was beaming, and it was possibly the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

  “And that’s how it all began?” he asked, and she nodded. No way was that the end of her story. Not when she could barely sit still.

  Whatever it was, she’d held back but hadn’t shut down. Something she wanted him to know, but for some reason, wasn’t telling him.

  “Did you win an award, or get in trouble?”

  Still looking as if she were sitting on a pile of ants, she shook her head.

  All right. Had to be something else. Something embarrassing, maybe. Or—

  “What did you call your cookie business?”

  Bam, the smile on her face. The sun itself couldn’t have shone brighter. “Short’n’Sweet.”

  “That’s the best story ever.”

  “Well, maybe not the best, but it’s one of my favorites.”

  “As it should be. It’s an awesome story.” One that should be on the wall of her shop. “Were you ever interviewed for your hometown newspaper?”

  “The town is too small for a newspaper. They have a newsletter that the businesses put together once a month and leave on their counters. I was never mentioned in that.”

  “Smith’s Bakery couldn’t take the heat of competition?”

  Her laugh was as fresh and light as the cookies he’d wolfed down the first time he set foot in her bakery. “Actually, Mr. Smith was pretty great. He was proud of me. He’s the one who came up with the name Short’n’Sweet. Then hired me.”

  “At nine years old? Pretty sure that’s not legal.”

  “I wasn’t a child laborer, Sam. My parents gave their permission. They thought he was just being kind, humoring a child by letting her hang around the kitchen and watch him work. They had no idea that he actually taught me all about baking. Not just cookies, I learned to do everything he could do. It was amazing. And he didn’t pay me. Well, not at the time.”

  “Did he pay you later, when you were older?”

  Warmth replaced the giddy glow as she nodded. “He passed away before I was sixteen, so I had never had the opportunity to legitimately work for him. But he left me an inheritance. Enough money to open a bakery.”

  “Wow. That might honestly be the best story I’ve ever heard.”

  “Thank you.” She leaned across and squeezed his hand. “And thank you for wanting to hear it.”

  “Thank you for sharing it with me,” he said, sweeping the pad of his thumb over her pulse point. Innocent in intent. Tell that to his dick, currently on the rise, thanks to the jolt of heat touching her had initiated.

  When her lips parted enough for him to see the tip of her tongue, he had to clamp his jaw together to hold back a groan. He knew what that tongue could do. Would do.

  “I’m done with my dinner.”

  “Not hungry anymore?” he asked, doing his patient best to stay on track.

  “Very hungry. For everything on that menu you recited.”

  No keeping the groan inside this time. Especially when she rose and unbuttoned her shirt, giving him a primo view of her perfect nipples.

  “I’m going to freshen up, then meet you in your bedroom to discuss that menu.”

  Oh, there’d be no discussion. Only full-service delivery of every item.

  LEIGH

  Behind the locked door of Sam’s bathroom, Leigh finished the last stages of prepping. Since he clearly liked her sans-bra, she didn’t put one on. Panties, however, were a must-wear. Partly because she enjoyed having him remove them. Mostly because she’d chosen this pair especially for him. A white satin thong with a web of criss-crossing ribbons on each hip. With any luck, he’d break every one of those strands in his urgency to get them off her body. She’d find out soon enough.

  Everything okay?

  The incoming text lit her phone, showing her the time in addition to his message. She’d been in here for twelve minutes. Not excessive, considering the in-depth preparation she’d had to do. And she did mean that literally.

  I hear giggling. You’re not going solo, are you?

  Not with you on standby, no way. I was laughing at my own wittiness. I’d say it’s an inside joke, but that’d just be more wittiness for me to giggle at and you to miss out on.

  Don’t leave me hanging. Get out here and share.

  Exactly what she planned to do—on both counts. She put her assortment of hygiene and clothing items into her bag and stowed it in the closet. Took one last perusal in the oversized mirror, then opened the door.

  “Holy goddamn.”

  Hands raised above shoulder level, holding each side of the doorframe, she did a little shimmy-shake that made her boobs jiggle. “You like?”

  “I don’t like,” he said, stalking toward her. His heated gaze traveled over every inch of her body. �
�I fucking love.”

  Didn’t matter that he’d used the word about her body, her heart still did a little flip. She changed position, placing both hands on one side of the frame with her wrists together, then sliding them higher.

  The implication didn’t go unnoticed. Or unheeded.

  Sam circled both wrists with one strong hand. Not tied up, as she’d suggested earlier, but restrained. “I can’t wait to touch you.” He trailed his free hand up her thigh, inside her panties. “To fuck you.” One oh-so-talented finger dipped inside her pussy. “But first, I need to taste you.” He added another finger with the next dip. “Every way I said I would.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “So polite.” In an out, he finger-fucked her, making sure to graze her clit with each pass. “Does that mean you’re going to be a good girl when I’m tonguing you?”

  Her knees weakened when he added a third finger. “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?” he asked, pushing deeper, taking her breath away with the perfect fullness.

  Ooh, she liked this side of Sam. A lot. “Yes, I’ll be a good girl when you pretty please tongue every part of me.”

  A raw rumble filled her ear as he pressed tight against her back, sandwiching her between the doorframe and his warm, solid body. “I want you so fucking much.”

  “Then take me. I’m all yours.”

  He had her in his arms with her legs wrapped around his waist before she could say another word. Then stole any subsequent words with a hungry kiss delivered while carrying her to his bed.

  The coolness of the gray duvet against her back disappeared within seconds. As if any part of her could stay cool when Sam was touching her. Her sex drive had always been healthy, but with Sam, she was on fire. Constantly craving more.

  “Take these off,” she said, tugging the back of his clothes. “I want you naked.”

  The vibration of his chuckle rippled through her, tugged the string of need that ran straight to her clit. “Can’t argue with that.” Nipping each hard, peaked nipple on his ascent, he rose to his knees and pulled the t-shirt over his head in that one-sexy-motion method that hot men seemed to have mastered.