You Dropped a Blonde on Me

by Dakota Cassidy

  His eyebrow rose. “So this was a planned bag and tag?”

  Campbell saw the struggle of emotions on her face, noted her avoidance of his eyes. “Sort of. I bought them today at CVS. I don’t even know if they’re the right size,” she confessed with so much red on her cheeks, he wanted to kiss her. “I was uber vixen on the way over here, but the thought of you seeing me naked caught up with me. As evidenced by my babble.”

  When she was open and honest, there was nothing sweeter than Max. It twisted his guts all up in unfamiliar knots. “C’mere.”

  Dutifully, she sat at the edge of the bed, clutching the foil packet. “You’re beautiful,” Campbell said, clear and deep. “Every over-forty inch of you. And never make the mistake of telling yourself otherwise. I don’t give a shit about the circles you traveled in that instill the kind of Botoxed crap preoccupations in women over forty. They’re all wrong. Everything about you is beautiful.”

  It was clear to him she didn’t believe him, not fully. Once more, he took her hand, placing it at his zipper. “Feel that?”

  Max nodded, though her lips didn’t move. To her credit, her eyes stayed fastened on his.

  “That’s how beautiful I think you are, and I’ve had time to cool off.”

  When she spoke, her voice was rough, filled with emotion. “Then I guess we’d better do something about that.” Her hands went to the front of his shirt, pulling at the buttons until they were undone, slipping her hands over his chest, brushing against his nipples, making them pucker.

  The dim moonlight streaming through the window allowed Campbell a view of Max’s face, soft, hesitant, determined. She reached for the buckle of his belt, unhinging it, then gave him a small shove to push him flat on the bed.

  He went willingly, fascinated by her journey, the small sighs escaping her lips as she trailed her hands over his stomach, reaching for his zipper. It was a fight not to brush her soft hands away in impatience and take control of the situation. Yet he sensed a need for her to explore him on her terms.

  Campbell gritted his teeth when Max tugged at his trousers, pulling them down over his knees. He kicked them off, waiting to see what she’d do next. Caught off guard by the heat of her palm against his cock, he sucked in a hard breath of air, made himself lie still when she enveloped him and began to stroke.

  Her hair against his flesh, the soft touch of her lips on his lower abdomen made him groan, dipping his hands into her scalp. He arched up to meet her mouth when she grazed his throbbing shaft, his hips writhing.

  No way he’d ever survive much of this kind of treatment. Max’s tongue, flicking out over his hard, molten-hot flesh, was his undoing. Grabbing her by the shoulders, Campbell pulled her upward. “It’s been a long time, Max. No way I’ll be able to stand much more.”

  The flash of disappointment on her face brought a swell of happiness he was unprepared for. He fumbled for the foil packet by her head, tearing it open and sliding it down over his pulsing cock. Impatient hands rolled Max beneath him. A hiss of held breath escaped his throat when her silken skin blended with his.

  Max moaned, too, breathy and with a hint of surprise, if he was hearing right.

  Their eyes met in the dark, Campbell questioning her readiness.

  Her answer was to wrap her thighs around his waist, scrape her clit against his cock with a motion that almost left him undone.

  Campbell measured his entry, paying close attention to her reaction while struggling to keep control of his own. He took possession of her with a slow thrust upward, clenching his teeth at her slick, tight passage.

  Their breathing stopped, then let go when their chests crashed together, her nipples scraping his chest, her ankles twining together at his lower back. She was so incredibly tight, like a glove around his cock, that Campbell had to still himself for a moment.

  His plan had been to take this slow, but the sexy grind of her hips upward, the way she met him stroke for stroke nearly drove him out of his mind. Hands entwined over Max’s head, lifting her breasts higher, arching them, making his mouth water as he took a nipple in his mouth, hoping to slow his release.

  Max bucked hard against him when Campbell slithered his tongue over her nipple, relishing the tight bud on his tongue. The thrash of her head against the bed, the tight grip of her fingers, so much smaller than his, served to make his cock harder inside her.

  The last coherent thought he had was he’d never survive more than two more strokes inside her silken walls before he lost himself in the insatiable need to come. He battled to be sure her needs were met, and when a shudder passed through her body, vibrating into his, he let go, driving into her hard.

  His climax exploded, dragging every last ounce of reserve he had left and forcing it to yield to the powerful current. Each muscle in his body tightened, tensed like coiled springs, then popped loose in a rush, pushing his body to a place he’d rarely been.

  Harsh breaths filled the air, Max’s chest rising and falling with hard chugs. Campbell rolled from her to ease the weight of his body from hers, pulling her on top of him.

  She laid her head on his chest, her legs on either side of him curling into his thighs. That simple act, her head under his chin, her lips pressed to his skin, brought yet another revelation.

  This was as close to perfect as he’d ever been.

  Lying with her head on Campbell’s chest, the palm of his hand stroking her hair, soothing the last vestiges of the most amazing union of man and woman she’d ever experienced, she realized something had changed in her.

  Between them.

  And Max fought the fear of that change while she absorbed how cherished Campbell made her feel.

  “Max?”

  “Hmmm,” she mumbled against his skin, luxuriating in the clean smell of him, the safe harbor his arms were.

  “Do me a favor,” he rumbled beneath her cheek. “Tomorrow, when you wake up and you’ve had a chance to dissect this, try not to freak too big. And if you do freak out, talk to me, because nothing I said earlier has changed. So whatever happens, whatever scares you, just talk to me.”

  So perceptive. Maxine snuggled deeper against him, burying her head in his chest. “Thank you for saying that,” she whispered, her eyes stinging.

  As she lay next to this man, so strong, so completely confident in who he was, she had no remorse due to the kind of joyful realization he’d brought with his selflessness tonight.

  The shift of her heart she’d earlier experienced, the foreign sensation akin to nothing she could pinpoint, returned.

  For this moment, for tonight, Max—yes, Max—was going to bask in the act of simply being. Max was going to revel in the quiet of her whirring brain and the divine pleasure of having a man as luscious as Campbell beside her.

  For tonight.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Note from Maxine Cambridge to all ex-trophy wives: Way to go, guuurrrrll! You got your woo to the hoo on. Here’s hoping it was all you’d hoped it would be and more. If so, congratulations! Count yourself among the lucky to have enjoyed a fulfilling encounter with a man other than your ex-spouse. If it was a disaster, don’t give up the ship. There are more ships. And take heart, this is the first step in regaining one aspect of a healthier you. Go gain it again. Seriously. Gain it as many times as your brittle bones can take it.

  Let the freaking begin.

  “I had sex,” Max blurted in a nervous twitter of words, unable to finish her lunch. Oh, God, she’d had sex. With a man she wasn’t married to. And she’d liked it. Oh, nay, she’d adored it. Would do it again in a New York minute, providing the room was dark and Campbell was blindfolded.

  Len’s head whipped up from the bridal magazine she was scouring while munching on an egg salad sandwich. “Do you mean you’ve discovered self-love? Like vibrators and doodads?”

  Max put her hands to her eyes in mortification. “No. This didn’t have anything to do with gadgets called The Sex-i-nator. God, how could you have sent me to that site, Len? Neve
r mind. I mean I had sex.” Sex in her high heels and nothing else. The memory made her squirm and smile. How contradictory.

  Len’s face went wide with surprise. “With Campbell? You made up?”

  “Did we ever.” By way of tonsil hockey and . . . and stuff. A-mazing stuff.

  “How do you feel?” she squealed, her eyes searching Max’s when she laid down the magazine.

  Her smile could not be thwarted. “It was . . . so . . .”

  “Liberating? Empowering? Hot?”

  “Yes, yes, and yes.” A smile touched her lips. Making love with Campbell had absolutely been hot. She had to fight to breathe, it was so hot. And something else she hadn’t quite pinpointed, but was afraid to examine.

  Len lifted her glasses to the top of her head. “And today you’re going to places in your head only you can go instead of reliving the afterglow, right?”

  It was good to have a best friend who understood her crazy rationale when stress and fear took hold of her brain. “Yes, today . . .”

  “You’re freaking out.” Her hands flapped at Max in a dismissive motion. “I understand. Do it again and the freaking lessens.”

  Speaking of freaking out. “Yeah, I’ll just bet you do understand. Care to explain Adam now?”

  Max observed the glow her friend’s face took on, the dreamy look before she caught herself and wiped her lips clean of a fond smile. “Nope.” She pulled her glasses back down on her nose and buried her face in her magazine.

  “Why? I don’t get it. It’s clear he makes you happy. It’s clear he really likes you. That’s terrific. I’m happy for you. Wasn’t it you who said it was okay for me to date? And I’m not even divorced yet. If it’s okay for me, it’s certainly okay for you. Gerald’s been—”

  “Don’t,” was Len’s stony interruption. “He’s not my boyfriend. We’re not dating per se. We just sleep together. Nothing more. It’s him who wants more. It’s me who doesn’t want to give it.”

  Max tried to piece together the flash of emotions in Len’s frantic eyes, and the only thing she could be sure of was her guilt over Gerald. It’s what kept her from doing anything involving a man.

  So for the first time in a very long time, it was time for her to be there for Len instead of the other way around. “Do you want me to say all the things people say when a friend’s spouse dies and it’s time to move on again? Because I can. I’ve done it before. I can do it again. I will if it absolves you of the guilt I know you’re feeling by sleeping with Adam.”

  Her lips popped with a sharp smack. “I don’t want you to say a Goddamned thing, Maxine. I want you to leave it alone.”

  Max cupped her chin in her hands when she leaned on Len’s desk with her elbows, giving the magazines and garter belts a shove. “No. You know what? You accused me of wallowing in my own stank once. You said I’d never move forward if I didn’t let go. Why is it okay for you to say it, and not me?”

  “Because Finley didn’t deserve you mourning him, your tears. Gerald,” she choked, gritting her teeth. “Gerald was nothing like Finley. Nothing.”

  Yes, Gerald had been all things good. Maxine reached a hand out to her friend to console. Gerald’s death had been brutal on her with more than one question left unanswered.

  It was time Len realized, sometimes, there were no answers. “Gerald’s dead.” There was no other way to put it. “You’re not. I won’t bother to tell you he’d want you to be happy, because I’ve said it before. You’re not the first person to lose their husband. You can’t keep cornering the market on sorrowful widow. Otherwise, you’re not doing all that growing you keep telling me I’m supposed to be doing.”

  Len, always reserved, always so together, crumbled. “I don’t want to grow,” she sobbed, letting her head drop to the desk.

  With sudden clarity, Max understood. She stroked Len’s hair. “You like Adam more than you expected?”

  She lifted her head, using an angry thumb to swipe at her tears. “Yes.”

  “And you said he wants more?”

  Her sigh was shaky, wracking her shoulders. “Yes. He said if I wasn’t willing to go out in public with him soon, he wasn’t willing to get naked with me anymore. He feels used. I think my boy toy, who isn’t such a boy, has mutinied.”

  “I’d say that’s pretty definitive. Sorta hot, too, don’t you think?” Max teased, hoping to lighten the conversation.

  “He’s very hot. Maybe that’s all there is to him.”

  “So what’s keeping you from taking a shot at this and finding out?”

  The look her friend fought to hide was guarded. “I don’t know.”

  Max rose, glancing at her watch before saying, “Yes, you do. It’s Gerald. You feel guilty for feeling things about Adam you thought were reserved only for Gerald. I hear you can love more than one person in a lifetime, Len. There’s some rule somewhere in some big book of love that gives you the thumbs-up on it. So maybe you might want to reconsider just in case Adam’s something great you’ll miss if you don’t stop being such a candy-ass.”

  Len threw her head back and chuckled, throaty and deep, her mood changing in a flash. “I remember hearing that sage advice from someone not too long ago. Someone beautiful, who still has a great ass.”

  Max held up her thumb and her pinky. “I have to go or I’ll be late, so I won’t push you. But you call me if you need me and you want to really talk about this. I’ve learned a lot from you, Oh Giver of Sage Advice and Rockin’ Hot Ass. I haz skills,” she joked, sticking her hand in the pocket of the light sweater she wore. “And look,” she held up an object with a smile. “I also haz a new cell phone, too. So you can call me anytime, and I bought it all on my own. I’m like a real grown-up now.” She reached out to give Len an affectionate hug.

  “Hey, wait,” Len said, leaning back in their hug, her cloudy face lighter. “We didn’t talk about your little rendezvous. You had sex. Was it a well-thought-out venture or spur of the moment?”

  “The first time was just sorta sex. This time involved thought, and I bought the condoms.” Max gave Len a cocky smile.

  “Sorta sex? I don’t get it.”

  “That’s because you have all-the-way sex, miss. That tête-à-tête happened a while ago. But last night was sex-sex. Well, after trying to talk Campbell out of having sex with me because I was petrified he was inevitably going to have to see me naked. I almost forgot I’d bought condoms. I bet smart, savvy women like you don’t forget important things like that, eh?”

  The return smile Len shot Max was vague. “Was it okay for you? Good even? I mean, after the naked hurdle?”

  It was so many things Maxine was afraid to list them all. Probably couldn’t if someone held a gun to her head. Most of all, it had been a discovery, a reawakening, and just recalling even a tiny bit of it made her blush and yearn for more. “I was my usual babbling wreck,” she admitted with a wry grin.

  “But Campbell overcame, I’m guessing.”

  “He did.”

  “God, that man, he’s a rock,” she teased.

  No kidding. Max’s heart warmed and her insides melted just remembering what a rock he was. “He was very patient, and yes, it was pretty spectacular. Now that I’ve admitted that out loud, I think I feel less freaked. So thank you. And I have to go or this trip to Atlantic City I have to plan with the committee is going to be me driving two hundred seniors in my mother’s Kia to gamble in a seedy environment after a buffet dinner. Thanks for lunch. I love you—call me.” Max flew out the door of Len’s office to avoid saying anything else out loud.

  She was back in a good place about last night. If her fears could be kept at bay, and they could do again what they’d done last night, she was in.

  All in.

  Len thrust her chair back toward the window to gaze out at the mid-afternoon sun after Maxine left. Fall was only a couple of weeks away, putting her, if she was estimating correctly, at an April or May delivery.

  Lovely. Spring babies were lovely.

&nb
sp; Her hands went to her face to cover the tears she knew were determined to fall.

  “Maxie?”

  “Mom?”

  “More mail,” her mother said, waving a manila envelope at her in the doorway of her bathroom.

  One last spray of the body perfume she’d picked up at CVS with Campbell in mind, and she glanced at the envelope. Her stomach dipped. “Looks official.”

  “Oh, you bet it is. It’s from the worm.”

  Max snatched it from her mother’s hands and skirted around her to head to the kitchen, dropping the offensive envelope on the counter without looking back.

  “You’re not going to open it?” Mona’s tone was appalled.

  “Nope. Not tonight. It’ll only screw up a perfectly good mood.” She brushed her hands with finality before searching for her purse.

  Her mother tightened her quilted bathrobe around her. “Always hidin’ under those covers,” she accused.

  “Yep,” she agreed. Whatever Finley wanted, it could wait until tomorrow. Lord knew he’d spent plenty of time making her wait. She had a box of condoms to rip through, and by God, he wasn’t going to stop her.

  “Don’t you at least want to know what he wants?”

  “Not at this particular moment. Actually, not at any moment, but I promise I’ll look tomorrow. Tonight I have a date I don’t want spoiled by Finley and whatever he needs. I spent way too much time anticipating his needs. Tonight’s about me.” And my needs.

  Her mother harrumphed. “Look at you and the attitude. What brought this about?”

  Sex. Lovely, delicious, Vulcan mind-melding sex. “No attitude, Mom. I just want to enjoy tonight. Whatever Fin wants, even if it’s nothing good, would have to wait until tomorrow anyway. It’s not like my dial-a-lawyer has a twenty-four-seven hotline.”

  Mona’s eyes went from determined to amused. She gave Max a nudge. “You make sure whatever you enjoy, you enjoy with a condom. Got that?”