I lay her horizontally across the bed, covering her with my body. She could absorb me with those eyes. “Are you okay?” I lace my fingers through hers, lifting her right hand above her head. She’s too quiet for comfort. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
“You,” she whispers.
I’ve rendered her speechless again. I give her a roguish grin.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, squeezing my ass cheek with her free hand.
I clench my eyes shut, enjoying the feel of her touch. “I believe I’ve found another way to shut you up.”
She slaps my ass. My eyes pop open and I release a slow rumble, completely turned on. I thrust punishingly inside her and she circles her fingers in my hair, smiling. “Like that?”
She nods.
I strike again, hard and deep this time. But the play doesn’t last long—the intimacy of the moment affects me in ways I’ve never known, lying face-to-face with her and knowing how incredible it feels to be rooted inside her. My tongue sweeps across her lips. And when she opens up to me, we kiss tenderly, my hips matching the easy rhythm. We’re both ready to come and she writhes beneath me, her little noises making it difficult for me to maintain control.
“Joshua…” Her nails digging into my flesh.
“Let it go.” Violent spasms rack my own body as I explode inside her, fully aware of her pulsing core. She’s amazing. I cup her face, taking her mouth, swallowing the last of her pleasure-filled cries.
And then it hits me—Macey Taylor is mine.
Chapter 8
I’m a mess, physically and emotionally. I did everything I promised myself I wasn’t going to do. I recall some adage about the weakness of the flesh and groan, resting my fist on my forehead. I’m weak, and guilty of something I can’t quite name yet. Not because I still want Wesley. I don’t. I gaze at Joshua—he’s a stomach sleeper, his left arm draped over me. He looks so peaceful, but I’m not. I also hope he’s a heavy sleeper. I lift his hand and slide down, repositioning him. I walk to the bathroom, closing the door halfway. I flip the light on and stare in the mirror.
My lips are still kiss-swollen. My hair is nothing but tangles and I grab a comb off the vanity and attempt to fix it. Next, I take a washcloth and towel from the closet, electing to take a sponge bath so I don’t wake Joshua up. The hot water feels good on my skin. I wipe the remnants of our sex away—remembering how wonderful that Adonis made me feel. I dry off, then throw the dirty linens in the hamper. My clothes are in the living room, so I pad down the hallway.
The condo is luxurious, the floor tiles black with mother-of-pearl inset. I run my fingers down the textured, sand-colored walls. The east-facing wall in his living/dining room combo is nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows, with two sets of extra-large sliding glass doors opening to a balcony that runs the length of his home. Of course it overlooks a private beach. The drapes are open, and I get caught by the sunrise—the fiery orange and yellow streaks in the cloudless sky are beautiful.
As for his taste in furniture…everything is understated elegance. A natural-toned leather sectional and three matching recliners grace the expansive living room. And his dining room resembles something I’d picture on the new set of the TV show Dallas. I have an eye for fashion and interior design. I’m sure his mother had something to do with it.
I find my G-string near the built-ins where he stripped me and spot my T-shirt across the living room. Of course I can’t locate the jeans I wore to his house or the warm-ups he let me borrow. I shrug, desperate for a breath of fresh air. I slide the glass doors open and step onto the balcony. A cool wind whips my hair and gulls screech overhead. I smile. I love Corpus Christi, especially in winter.
I rest my elbows on the railing and stare across the water. If I didn’t work until two o’clock in the morning, I think this would be my favorite time of day. Everything’s peaceful; there are no cars racing down Ocean Drive. Only the sound of the wind and birds, and the waves crashing against the seawall.
“Coffee?”
I jump, startled by the intrusion. It’s not Joshua. A handsome middle-aged man in a terry-cloth bathrobe is standing on his balcony a few yards away. I gape at him, momentarily dazed. Late thirties? Does it matter? How often do I fall asleep wrapped in the arms of a Greek god and wake up to a Pierce Brosnan look-alike?
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says.
I smile, realizing I’ve been caught with no pants on. I stretch my T-shirt so it covers most of my crotch. Thank God I put my G-string on. “That’s okay,” I say. “Just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up so early.”
“The offer still stands.”
“Coffee sounds wonderful,” I say, maybe sounding a little too friendly.
“Be right back.”
He disappears inside, returning seconds later with a steaming mug in his hand. “Cream and sugar?”
I meet him by the stone planter that separates his and Joshua’s balconies. “How’d you guess?”
His gaze roams freely down my body, then meets my eyes again. “Took a chance.” He hands me the cup. “Are you related to Joshua?”
Code for Are you sleeping with him? “We’re friends.”
He grins, his bronze eyes sparkling. “I’m Dr. Bishop Singletary.” He reaches out.
“Macey Taylor.” He lifts my hand to his lips.
“Thought I was hallucinating when I saw you standing out here alone. I had to make sure you were real.”
“She’s real.”
We both go silent. I spin around, finding Joshua leaning against the far wall, girded in a bath towel, my jeans hanging off a couple of his fingers. “Forget something?” He doesn’t look happy.
Bishop clears his throat. “Joshua.”
“Doc.”
I’m completely lost, wondering what kind of subliminal messages are being transmitted between them. Apparently not friendly ones. Joshua scowls at his neighbor, then holds out his hand to me.
“Ready, darlin’?” he asks.
I turn back to the doctor. “Thanks for the coffee,” I say, handing him the mug.
“Any time,” I hear over my shoulder as I join Joshua.
He drags me inside, then slides the door shut. “Enjoying the morning air?”
He’s jealous. “As a matter of fact, I was.”
“Good,” he says. “Next time put some clothes on.”
“Really?”
“What do you want me to say, Macey? I wake up and you’re gone. Then I find you on my balcony half-naked and flirting with my neighbor.”
“He’s hot,” I confess, but that doesn’t make it right. “Sorry.”
He stares at me in silence, then gives me that lopsided grin I adore. “There’s bad blood between our families. It’s not your fault.”
“A real Texas blood feud?” I tease, eyeing his sculpted chest and thick arms.
He drops my jeans on the table, then strides toward me. “Bishop is a third-generation cardiologist. His father misdiagnosed my cousin years ago. After Danny died, my family won a major lawsuit against Singletary. This condo was part of the settlement. I bought it from my uncle a few months ago.”
Before I have time to respond, he takes my mouth. It’s not a gentle kiss. He needs something and doesn’t ask if I’m willing to give it. He seems stressed out—his eyes are a flash of chaotic green, then grow dark as he cups my backside, lifting me. My legs naturally hug his waist and he carries me to the kitchen, gently placing me on top of the cold granite island. He jams his knee between my thighs, spreading my legs wide. Breaking the kiss only long enough to lose the towel and sink his fingers inside me—he doesn’t take my panties off.
I don’t care, his lips and fingers are magical. And that crazy tongue…I moan, riding his hand like there’s a wild stallion between my thighs. Pressure builds in the pit of my stomach as his fingers work my clit. I’m caught somewhere between pleasure and torment as my body sinks into submission, fantasizing about his enormous cock filling me again
. There’s no question what this man is capable of. He knows what I want, and my insides start to pulse.
Just as I’m about to let go, he stops, tugging me to the edge of the countertop. Damn him. The waves of pleasure retreat. I moan in protest, only to be silenced by his savage lips and penetrated by his length. My body instantly shatters—I arch my back, preparing for another brutal thrust.
“I don’t want you near Bishop Singletary,” he whispers against my mouth. “Understand?” If I don’t, I’m sure he’ll fuck me until I change my mind.
I nod—prepared to do anything as long as he takes me where I want to be. He pounds forward. I grip the edge of the counter with both hands, meeting him stroke for stroke, spurring him on. This isn’t supposed to happen. Emotions swirl inside me—I’m falling too fast and too hard. I convulse head to toe and throw my head back, screaming his name.
He palms my thighs, hammering deeper and deeper until the world starts spinning.
“Joshua…”
When he erupts inside me, his body goes rigid with pleasure, his hands smoothing hair from my eyes. “Fuck, Macey.” He stares at me—framing my face with his big hands. He’s sweaty and panting as if he just ran a marathon. “What are you doing to me, baby?” He sounds like he’s in pain.
I’m in awe. If I could name the eighth wonder of the world, Joshua would be at the top of the list. I open my mouth to answer, but I can’t find the words. I need him.
“Macey,” he says. His expression looks fragile. “I care.”
Chapter 9
I do, and I’m not going to waste any time playing games with this girl. She’s single—I’m free and life is too fucking short. “Did you hear me, baby?” Her eyes widen. “Are you okay?”
She slides back, her eyes never leaving mine. “I can’t believe you said that.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to say you care in the throes of passion?”
I chuckle. “There’s a set of rules that governs when a man can and can’t confess his feelings?” This is the side of Macey that truly fascinates me. She’s a walking contradiction—a mixture of “I’m woman, hear me roar” and naïve little girl. “Tell me.”
Her hands are shaky. “Unspoken rules.”
“And that makes it easier for me to understand?”
“No,” she says on a pout. “But you shouldn’t screw with me, Joshua—I’m not up to par right now.”
Screw with her? Is that what she really thinks? “I’ve waited a long time to meet someone like you.”
Her face twists into an unattractive scowl. “Now you’re quoting cheesy lyrics from some love song.”
I can’t help laughing; her self-doubt is endearing. “Think whatever you want, Ms. Taylor. It won’t change the facts.” I lift her off the counter, safely placing her on the floor. “I have a busy day—some of us have to work normal hours.”
“And what if I don’t feel the same way?”
She’s fighting against her own feelings. “Give it some time.” I cuff her backside and she squeals. “Go take a shower. I’ll drive you to your car.”
We arrive at the club by eleven thirty. Glenda and Dave are inside.
“Morning,” Glenda calls, throwing me one of her curious looks. “Have a good night?”
Macey scrambles to the dressing room, leaving me to face her alone. “Revealing,” I answer, accepting the cup of coffee she slides my way.
“There are two dozen roses over there.” She points to the hostess booth by the front door. “Did you send them?”
I shake my head. “Who are they for?”
“Macey,” she answers, slicing another lime. “Arrived an hour ago.”
I walk to the booth and snatch the envelope off the bouquet. It’s not sealed, so I open it. Forgive me. I love you. Wesley. I’m tempted to rip it in half and throw the goddamned flowers in the dumpster out back. Instead, I replace the card, accepting that Macey had a life before I met her. Doesn’t mean I like it. And it definitely doesn’t mean I’m going to let that asshole near her again. I don’t like the way he touched or talked to her last night or the fact that he cheated on her. Some things are unforgivable.
I need something to take the edge off. “Throw some Baileys in my coffee.”
“This early?” Glenda asks, dumping the shot in my cup. “So there is something going on between you and my girl?”
I claim the closest bar stool. “Is that the latest gossip?”
“Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out,” she says sardonically. “You popped Wesley in the face and evacuated her from the club like there was a fire.”
“Merely doing my job.”
“Hah!” She drops her paring knife, then wipes her hands on her smock. “I’d like to read your job description.”
I’ve heard stories about Glenda. She’s invaluable and I like her. I get what she’s saying; she’s concerned about Macey. So am I. Hell, I can’t stop thinking about her. I know my heart is acting stupid. If I’m going to pursue a meaningful relationship with her, I need Glenda on my side.
“Nothing escapes you.” I take a gulp of java. “You’re right—we were together last night.”
“Together together?” She sounds like she’s in high school.
“Is there any other kind?”
She rounds the bar, then sits next to me. I shuck my jacket off and roll up my sleeves like I’m getting ready to dig into some serious project work.
“How long are you staying here?” she asks.
I set my drink down and look at her. “The club or Corpus?”
“Both.”
“My goal is for the Devil’s Den to make the Travel Channel’s America’s Sexiest Gentlemen’s Clubs list. Beyond that, I haven’t made any definite plans. As for where I intend to live…” I pat her hand reassuringly. “I’m a Texas boy.”
She looks relieved. “She’s a sensitive girl, always has been. Whatever you think you know, you don’t.”
I believe in getting all secrets out in the open. And I know things are moving way too fast, but if Glenda can help…“Enlighten me.” I circle the rim of my cup with my finger, waiting, hoping she’ll tell me something that will help me convince Macey I really care. Her reaction to what I told her this morning revealed a lot about her. It lines up with Glenda’s claim, she’s sensitive—hell, she’s as fragile as tissue paper.
“Her father—well, he…” She’s verbally stumbling all over the place. “Lost custody of Macey for three years.” She bites her bottom lip now, like she’s already said too much.
Nothing she shares will change the way I feel. “You can trust me.”
“I’ve heard that line before.” Glenda and I both swivel on our bar stools and find Macey standing feet away with her hands on her hips. “Ganging up on me?” She studies my face for an eternity, then focuses on Glenda. “My past stays in the past.”
“Sorry, baby girl.” Glenda hops off her perch and heads for Macey. “He’s easy to talk to.” She gazes over her shoulder at me. “He cares about you.”
Macey lets out a breathy sigh. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.” Her cell rings. She digs it out of her purse. “Hello?…Wesley? I didn’t recognize the number…” She races to the hostess booth to get away from me, but I can still hear her. “Flowers?”
I fist my hands, rage surging through my veins.
“Yeah, I’m staring at them.” There’s a brief pause. “Beautiful, yes. Wanted? No.” She reappears a second later; tears stain her cheeks and she’s shivering. “I’m headed home.” She doesn’t even look at me.
Glenda jerks her head toward the door just as Macey exits the club. “Go after her.”
I take the last shot of caffeine from my cup. Just when I thought my day was going to be normal. I rush out and find Macey dumping the contents of her small purse on the hood of her Jeep.
“Blasted keys,” she complains.
I stand beside her. “Let me take you home, baby. You’re in no condition to dri
ve.”
“Don’t baby me, Joshua.” She snorts. “Between you and Wesley, all this shit feels like a full frontal assault.”
I refuse to be categorized with her ex. “Hey.” I snatch her hand. “I told you last night, I’m not Wesley.”
Her bottom lip quivers. “Sorry.”
I nod, pushing my anger aside. “Did he threaten you?”
“No.” She slams her free hand against the car. “He’s begging.”
“Change your number.” And the locks on your doors.
I get a you’re crazy look. “I’ve had the same one for seven years.”
“All right,” I say, careful not to say anything else to piss her off. “Stay with me for a few days. Let this blow over.”
She glares at me. “I’m not ready for this, Joshua.”
“You should have thought about that before you slept with me.”
She lowers her head and now I feel like an asshole. Fuck. I release her and start gathering her things off the hood, shoving them back inside her purse. She doesn’t stop me. Next, I guide her to my Porsche, take out the remote, disable the alarm, and open the passenger-side door. “Get in.”
I take a deep breath while pacing behind my car, trying to rationalize my actions—or possibly talk myself out of them. She’s beautiful, an exotic dancer at the most notorious strip club in town—that’s the negative. She’s also well traveled, intelligent, articulate, funny, and completely mine. The finality of that thought hits me like a goddamned sledgehammer. I contemplate the reasons—just so I know I’m not fucking insane or thinking with my little head. The atmosphere in the Den is so sexually charged, so explosive, maybe it’s clouding my judgment. A beautiful woman who’s already half-naked negates that initial awkwardness in first meetings—what you see is what you get. And with Macey, that couldn’t be truer. She doesn’t hide who or what she is. I’ve never been prone to jealousy—until now. She’s everything I’ve never had before and I can’t let anyone get in the way. Not this time.
Sin Page 6