“You don’t know if that was great sex?”
She kissed him, all smiles. “If I tell you that was great sex, you’ll go all typical male, check that box, and lose interest in me.”
“I see. You have a strategy.”
“We need to last a whole weekend. I figure you need an incentive to keep trying.”
He shifted her again to straddle him, so she was able to feel his growing incentive.
“Oh.”
“Your strategy works. I knew you were clever.”
She rolled her hips. “I’m so pleased.”
If she kept doing that, they’d both be pleased. He helped her out by getting harder, giving her something to grind on and holding her hips when she sat up.
Bathed in shadows, moving above him, her body was a beautiful thing—sloping hips and a round belly, breasts that swayed with her movements. Impossible to imagine he’d ever grow tired of having her like this, but knowing this was a limited offer was another kind of shadow.
Lenny lay forward, put her hand to his face. “What just happened?”
He shook his head and smiled. No time for darkness. “We’re good.”
“We are so good.” She thrust her hips. “I hate you for how good.”
“Show me how much you hate me.”
A bite on his neck that made him grunt. A rake of her nails, not enough to mark, but to bring blood momentarily to his skin, and then she took him inside her, and the sweet, sticky sensation of that made them both groan. This was Lenny’s round, and he helped her find angles between them that heightened her pleasure, riding him to intensify his.
“You like this?” He knew she did, but he was greedy and wanted to hear her say it.
“Oh yes, oh yes.”
That would do. “You want some help to come?”
“Yes,” hissed out like a promise and a curse.
He took over, thrusting up, his thumb to her clit, and got to hear her shriek again. Best sound ever.
Worst ever case of coveting something rare, precious, and valuable he couldn’t keep.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Halsey paid attention. Lenny had never considered that was a character trait. It was evident in the way he worked, showed up on time, and planned Operation Green with Envy. Didn’t get caught. A professional capability—a man who was good with detail.
She thought she’d learned enough about him to ensure they had a great weekend.
Mind blown.
Reality collided with wish fulfillment and went straight to her pleasure center.
And her body still hummed from the sex.
He’d gone to his knees. She’d thought about him that way, made jokes about it as a promise to herself to ensure he respected her. He’d knelt with desire in his eyes and his hands and enthusiasm that made her want to squirm thinking about it now.
No other lover had ever paid attention to her in bed like Halsey and not wanted a medal for it. He’d simply wanted her all over again.
They should be sleeping, but they were both still wired, inside the sugar high of each other. She lay in the crook of his arm, her leg over his, her hair spread out behind her, and his fingers playing in the damp strands. The presence of him, warm and solid and not about to race off on some mission or leave because they were interrupted, was a thick, full-up feeling in her chest.
“You don’t have to stay awake for me.” Even in sleep, he’d be hers a while longer.
“I was fooling myself into thinking I could go forty-eight hours without sleep while having sex for thirty-six of those hours. But it must be working, because I’m not tired.”
She tilted her head back to look up at him. “What are we doing with the other twelve ?”
“Eating to keep up our strength. Bathing might be fun.”
“I can get with that. Since I have no clothing, it’s the best use of my time.”
He snapped his fingers. “Damn. All of my sexual encounters should’ve been with women who had nothing to wear. That’s how you keep them in your bed.”
She smiled up at him. His humor was often self-deprecating with an “ah shucks” quality that belied how sophisticated he was. “You’ll know how to play it in the future.”
She wanted to take those words back as soon as they burned the fur off her tongue. Intended as playful, they made Halsey’s mouth flatline and his brows draw down.
She kissed his chest. “That was crass. I’m sorry. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.”
“Overwhelmed good or bad?”
“Overwhelmed good.” And bad.
“I’m not reassured.”
Me, neither. What had he heard to make him say that? She offered him her lips to win thinking time. This was exactly what she’d wanted. What was her deal? She had proof now that rogues were the best men to have in your bed. That was enough to make anyone uneasy.
“You’ve made my heart feel like sponge cake. All light and airy.” She tucked her face into his neck. “My chest is like a warm oven, and my head is star-shaped sprinkles and whipped vanilla cream.”
“And you don’t like sponge cake, cream, and sprinkles?”
“I don’t generally feel this way after sex.”
“Ah. I can explain that.” He brought his arm around her, his palm spread over her hip. “It’s because it’s not after. We’re still having sex; we’ve just reached the plateau portion of the weekend’s entertainment. Technically speaking, we’ve reached the 3:00 a.m. badly need a snack portion.”
She lifted her face to watch his. “You’re hungry?”
“Starving. Chili cheese toast?”
“That’s not a question. That’s a destination.”
He laughed and they sat together, and then he swung his legs over the side of the bed, putting his back to her to stand.
“Oh my God.” Forget the fact she was seeing him top to toe naked for the first time, forget the absolutely bitable butt with those groan-making dimples. He had a tattoo. And it was enormous. Wings that opened across his shoulder blades, hoofs at his sacrum, and in between a rearing horse, muscular and fierce, with a flowing tail and flying mane.
And a single horn.
“Ah,” he said, and sat down. “I forgot about that.”
She traced one wing, the feathers intricate. He’d been under or over her and though she might’ve seen this when he went down on her, she’d not been able to keep her eyes open, and the room was thick with shadows because she’d wanted the lights low. “How could you forget about having this?”
“I spent a long time trying to forget about it before I made my peace with it, and everyone I’m close to has already seen it.”
“It’s incredible.” It was masculine and proud and majestic. Nothing My Little Pony about it. It was the unicorn myth all other unicorns were born from. But Halsey was the last person she’d expected to turn his back into a canvas despite all his talk with Mal.
“You regret it?”
“I’ll tell you over grilled cheese.”
He pulled on cutoff sweats, and she wore the bathrobe. She sat on a stool in the kitchen while he grated mozzarella and cheddar cheese and the grill heated.
“I was eighteen and unhappy. Cal was charismatic and a natural leader, Zeke was daring and adventurous and lucky, and I wasn’t any of those things. Both of them found it easy to make friends and pull women and learn to be Sherwood. I was quiet and studious and forgettable. I was worried I wouldn’t be an asset to the family. I wanted to be different.”
“What kind of different?”
“Not quiet and studious and forgettable. I questioned everything I’d come to learn about myself. From my sexuality to my side part.” He chopped up a green chili and added it to the cheese with salt and black pepper. “I was in a battle against my essential nature because I thought I should be something better, and yet I could barely stand making a decision about changing my haircut.”
He turned to look in the pantry, and she studied his unicorn—wildly incongruous with his c
areful nature, his love of order and precision. No rainbow in sight. “You got rid of the side part.”
He came back to the counter with a packet of minced ginger and a loaf of whole grain bread. “Cal tried to tell me I was fine the way I was. So did my parents, but we’re generations deep in the art of the con, as if I was going to believe anyone I was related to.”
The ginger went in the bowl and he stirred it about. “Crusts on or off?”
“On.”
Up came his eyes and he reached out and cupped her cheek. “You’re the perfect houseguest.”
“Because I like the crusts?”
“It’s all about the crusts,” he said, cutting half a dozen slices of bread in half and putting them under the grill. “I got this done on an impulse. It’s an alicorn, a cross between Pegasus, the winged horse, and a unicorn. Saw it in the window of a tattoo shop. Got it done that day. I thought if I could be spontaneous, willingly alter myself permanently, it was proof I could change. I wasn’t drunk, I wasn’t high, I was convinced doing something unlike me was proof I could be more like Cal and Zeke.”
“You hated it.”
“I defended it. I needed to love it to love the new me. But almost from the last of the scab flaking off, I knew it was a mistake. Haircuts and tattoos don’t change who you are. No disguise can.”
Oh, Halsey.
He flipped the bread with tongs. “I regretted it so much it was nearly a year before I’d willingly strip off to swim.”
“What about sex?”
With an eye roll he said, “Women I let see it got hooked on the idea of it. The tattooed bad boy, fast money, faster cars, and rough sex in improbable places, and that was fun for a while, but I got tired of pretending to be someone I’m not.”
He plucked the toast out of the grill, put it on a plate, spread each piece lightly with butter, and then added the cheesy mixture. “I’m not spontaneous. I don’t do things on a whim. I don’t have Cal’s charm and likeability, and I don’t want to jump out of planes or climb mountains like Zeke. I like old things, fine wines, the History Channel, crusts on bread, and sums that add up in little boxes. I’m the cautious brother, the one who hates risk, who worries, and I’ve made my peace with that.”
“You could’ve gotten it removed.”
“I almost did.” Back in the grill the toast went. “The regret softened, I stopped caring what people thought, and at the end of the day it’s a badass alicorn and it looks boss.”
She slipped off her stool and rounded the counter to stand beside him and watch the grill, the cheese not yet bubbling. She leaned into his side and sighed with happiness when he hugged her closer. He’d loved her expertly, he had the ingredients for a gourmet snack, and it smelled amazing already. It might not be spontaneous, but it was satisfying. “Remember the mark on my arm you were worried was a bruise?”
He rubbed the approximate spot. “Peeking out from your sleeve.”
“It was a unicorn, the prancing kind. Mallory drew one for both of us after that night when you went to war with Easton, and it took ages to scrub off. She’s been drawing them on herself ever since.”
“You worry about her.”
“Mom is lost in the new Bradshaws-are-trash world, and Mallory is a casualty.”
“And you?”
“I know who I am.” She frowned. “I just have to prove it.” Which was why this was only a weekend, despite their love of crusts, the gratifying sex, and the wisdom of the man making cheesy toast who no longer cared about the approval of others. He didn’t have to. He had fuck-off wealth, like she’d once had. She broke away from his side and went back to her stool abruptly, enough that he noticed, so she said, “Tell me about alicorns.”
He turned off the grill, piled the toast onto a plate, and put it in front of her with a napkin. “Twilight Sparkle is an alicorn. They’ve been around in art and mythology since 500 BC. They’re unique and legendary and magical and after a while I realized I was, too, as long as I didn’t try to be someone I’m not.”
On another man who would’ve been a boast. On Halsey it was a learning. And the fine print. There was zero point having any romantic fantasy notions he’d give up his life of crime for her.
“I keep it as a reminder to be true to myself. It’s so much a part of me now I forget it’s there.”
He chose a piece of the toast and held it up to her mouth. “Careful, it’s hot.”
She took a small bite. “I like it.” The toast, she took from his hand, the warning, the look in his eyes. He was more at ease than she’d seen him. Sex and middle-of-the-night feasts were a corner of his comfort zone.
“Your alicorn.” She took a second slice of the bread. “Does it have a name?”
“Call it Twilight Sparkle or She-Ra and you’ll find your cheesy toast has too much chili next time. I’m not a name your alicorn tattoo kind of guy.” True to himself. “Did you know virgins can tame unicorns?”
She laughed, spluttering toast crumbs. “Oh, you must’ve used that line a lot.”
“I stooped to it on occasion. Not my finest moments.” He chewed, watched her.
“What?”
“Wonder if we can find something you’re virgin at.”
“Halsey Sherwood, has the chili gone to your head?”
“You’ve gone to my head.”
Cheesy line; she ate it up. “What are you going to do about that?”
Challenge accepted, he came around the counter and crowded her, taking the last bite of the toast in her hand. She put her arms around his back, letting her fingers wander over heavy muscle and tattooed color. Now she knew him better, deeper for being his cautious, studious, unforgettable self.
There was the taste of heat in their kiss, a hot start to a lavish, unhurried make-out session that was tender, full of soft touches, and leisurely lingeringly caresses until Lenny’s core reactor threatened to melt down. She wrapped her legs around Halsey’s hips and went after his lips more aggressively.
“What do you need?” he asked, mouth sliding over her jaw.
Everything he had to give. He was already lifting her into his arms before she got a response out. “Please fuck me.”
As the first threads of dawn began to lighten the sky outside, he carried her to the bedroom and lowered them both to the bed.
Balanced above her, he ran a knuckle over her cheekbone. “You’re not sore?”
“Do me easy.”
“You’re easy to do.” He laughed. “Don’t take that the wrong way.”
She covered his mouth with her hand. “Quit while you’re ahead.”
Quitting was the last thing he did. And between this cute moment and the back-arching, toe-cramping, all-out sensational orgasm he gave her were precious acts of thoughtfulness—a pillow under her hips, her hair moved out of the way, her clit teased until she was ready, the hands that were gentle while firm, and the lips that were soft but insistent. He made her buzz all over with satisfaction.
This time, there was no staying awake, just a hazy drift into sleep, lying close and sated.
When Lenny woke it was to daylight streaming into the room. The bedside clock said 9:05 a.m. She was alone, and her body felt worked over, and that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. There was shower water running. The polite thing to do would be to wait for Halsey to come back into the bedroom, clean and damp and smelling of soap. Or be a good houseguest and investigate the kitchen and start on breakfast.
Polite and good just weren’t going to cut it. She wanted to watch him shower, see him naked and dripping with his hair slicked back and stubble on his jaw. This was her chance. She got all the way to the bathroom before she realized she hadn’t stopped to put something on. Too late to retreat. From behind the glass screen, he caught her movement and smiled, and it no longer mattered that it was daylight and there was no camouflaging her body or the mess her hair must be, because his smile told her he was delighted to see her, and delight looked decadent on him.
Neither of them spoke. T
he water ran. Halsey did a slow and deliberate appraisal of her that made her heart rate kick. She did her own of him. Heaven help me. Behind that glass screen was a man who most definitely worked out and often, who’d work her over methodically and skillfully, and they weren’t finished with each other yet.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Lenore Bradshaw. I’m not entirely sure what I did to get lucky to have you here. Do you want to join me?”
Yes, very much. No, there was the practical consideration of needing to pee. She shook her head. He shut the water off and snagged a towel. He’d shaved so she missed out on seeing scruff.
“How about I give you some bathroom time?” He wrapped the towel around his waist.
“How about I remember there’s another one and go use that first.” She’d missed out on shower sex, too, and that was a sour note.
He was on her before she had a chance to worry about her breath. His was minty, and he got her all warm and wet pressing against her, holding her face between his hands. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“Good morning. You put me in a sex coma.”
“Glad you recovered.”
“I’m more than willing to go under again.”
He kissed her some more, and when he let her go, it was to ask how she liked her eggs.
She liked her eggs anyway he wanted to serve them, and smelling of his soap and toothpaste and wearing his T-shirt and no pants, she ate them at his kitchen counter scrambled with bacon and mushrooms.
“If Mallory shows up with a neck tattoo, I’m blaming you,” she said as he put his naked back to her to pour coffee.
“If you thought it would help, I’d tell her about my experience.”
Mallory liked Halsey, and his alicorn story would be real to her. The obvious thing to do would be to leap all over his offer, except for the part about him being exactly the kind of man Mal didn’t need in her life—another unlikely thief and miserable liar to shatter her trust.
“Jesus, Lenny, I’m sorry. I get that’s not appropriate.” He collected their plates and took them to the sink. She wished it were. She’d half convinced herself there was a loophole, a way to quarantine the truth of Halsey so Mallory could have his insights.
Fool Me Forever (Confidence Game) Page 19