Bedding The Bad Boy (Dalton Brothers Novels)

by Virna DePaul

  Max first, but not forever.

  Her baby, her family—that would be something different.

  She cast a quick glance at the doorway to the men’s locker room. Still no Max. Tapping a toe impatiently, she thumbed through the rest of the magazine, then reached for the one on triathlons. She was reading about various ways to prepare for a race, and idly wondering if the same rules would work when preparing for a marathon sex session when…

  “Ready?” The steady and deeply male voice came from behind her.

  She whipped around, dropped the magazine and perused Max. Tight jeans that cupped him just right, a white button-down Oxford shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows and deck shoes. Yummy. He slid an arm across the chair back, his body now angled slightly closer, and his all-male scent wrapped around her. Briefly, she closed her eyes, imagining that scent all over her body and all the awesome ways it could get there. With a silent groan, she popped her eyes back open and gave him a bright smile.

  “Ready,” she said, then immediately spiraled into panic mode. He looked good. Good enough to eat. To kiss. To caress. To take. But he’d made it clear he was the one going to be doing the taking.

  What if I’m not ready? What if he wants to do something truly kinky? Am I going to let him? Am I going to let him see how much I enjoy it?

  Suddenly, Max squatted down in front her and took her hands in his. “Breathe, Dixie,” he said.

  She hadn’t even known she was holding her breath, but at his gentle command, she exhaled, then sucked in a healthy dose. He grinned and asked again, “Ready?” But this time he did it in a dark, husky, near-whisper filled with promises that almost made her sigh out loud. She nodded instead and they stood at the same time.

  On the ten-minute ride back to her hotel, they chatted about mundane things, like whether the 49ers had a chance of winning the Super Bowl this year, how round Melina had grown, and the magic show. Although the stunt he’d pulled with Elizabeth increased sales, neither Rhys nor Max was confident that would continue. He was right in the middle of telling her about a new trick Rhys was working on when he paused and cursed.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He pulled up in front of her hotel, put the car into park, but kept it running and his seatbelt on.

  “I’m sorry, Grace, but dammit… I just remembered Rhys asked me to do him a favor. Today. As in right now. Between you showing up at the gym and dancing for me and me looking forward to what was going to happen next… I forgot what I promised Rhys, but it’s important.” He closed his eyes and groaned dramatically. “God, why couldn’t I have been born an only child?”

  Despite the disappointment swelling inside her, she laughed. It was so obvious he was joking and would do anything for his brother. “It’s no problem. I’m here for the week, remember? We’ll have plenty of time for—” she waved her hand “—all that.”

  Max laughed. “You do know you make that hand gesture whenever you’re talking about sex, right? It’s gonna get to the point all you have to do is wave your hand and I’m going to get hard.”

  She crinkled her nose. “Kind of like a magic wand? I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?”

  His eyes unfocused, as if he’d suddenly gone somewhere else, and his smile disappeared. “Yeah. Kind of like that.”

  She frowned. Why did he suddenly look like she’d slapped him? Her hands twisted together in her lap. “Max—”

  “Anyway,” he said. “Can I come by later tonight, after the show?” He pulled her left hand from her right, lifted her palm to his mouth and kissed it. “Then you’ll have my full attention.”

  She nodded, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

  “We’ll continue what we started at the gym. I can’t promise we’ll finish it, but I can promise the continuation will be amazing.”

  A thrill ran through her at the thought. She tried to imagine him focusing even more attention on her. Would she be able to handle it? Giving him total control?

  Because from what he’d said earlier, he was absolutely certain that’s what it was going to take to get her off. And by her body’s response at that very moment, by her escalating pulse and hardening nipples and weeping core, she was pretty close to believing it herself.

  Odd, how it had taken only a couple of conversations between her and Max—granted, one discussion had happened with her straddling his hard-on—for him to have learned so much about her. She wanted to know more about him.

  What was it Max Dalton considered an “important” favor?

  “What is it you have to do?” she asked, hoping he didn’t think she was being nosey.

  “Drive to Cedar City, Utah. Then get back in time for my show. The whole trip will take about five or six hours.”

  He traced the lines of her hand with his thumb, and although she enjoyed the soft caresses, her hand still tingled from when he’d kissed it. She stared at his mouth, wanting it under hers. Wanting it to explore every crevice and dip on her body.

  “What’s in Cedar City?” she asked, almost wincing at how husky her voice sounded. He released her hand, touched the edge of her mouth with the pad of his thumb, smiled briefly, then let his hand drop before answering her.

  “My parents. They’re leaving for a trip—a second honeymoon. We already had a family dinner to send them off, but Mom, well, she’s been working on something and she just finished, sooner than expected. It’s important to her that Rhys and Melina have it before she goes.”

  The answer startled her and surprise must have shown on her face.

  Max frowned. “What did you think I was going to say?”

  “I—I have no idea…” she said, stammering. “I just didn’t think it would be… that.” With Max frowning even harder, she scrambled to say something that made sense. “Cedar City. That’s a few hours away, right?”

  Grace had only met his parents once, at Melina and Rhys’s wedding, but it had been plain to see how much they loved each other and their sons. So much it had surprised her they no longer helped with the magic act and hadn’t followed their sons to Vegas. Melina said she was surprised, as well, but thought it had something to do with them wanting to give their sons space, which they’d missed their whole lives thanks to all the touring the family had done.

  “They’re close enough that we get to see them often. They’ve never taken a lot of time for just the two of them, and they probably wouldn’t be going on this trip except that Rhys and I surprised them with it before we knew Melina was pregnant. Mom’s wanted to cancel several times, but we talked her around. Once the babies are here, nothing’s going to tear them away from their grandkids. I know I won’t be traveling anywhere far, that’s for sure.”

  Grace was thinking how nice it must have been to grow up with doting parents and how much she missed her own, who’d been loving if not exactly doting, when Max’s last sentence penetrated. The knowledge that he’d not only stay close to spend time with a niece or nephew, but relish doing so, once again had her thinking there was more to Max than she’d given him credit for.

  Then again, it wouldn’t exactly be a hardship for him to stay in Vegas. He’d have his family close. His magic show. And he could build on his reputation by continuing to date one woman after another after another.

  The knowledge that she was just one in a long line made her stomach drop, and she swiftly shoved the thought aside. She knew what she was getting into with Max; she couldn’t complain now.

  “You mind if I tag along?”

  He looked surprised and she wanted a hole to form and swallow her. Had he said he wanted company? No, Grace, he hadn’t. But she’d still been reeling by his comment about wanting to stay close to the babies. She wanted to spend more time exploring that Max and she’d spoken without thinking.

  “Not so we can—” She waved her free hand, returning Max’s sudden grin. “—squeeze stuff in or anythin’ like that. Lucy’s gone, and Melina’s home with Rhys. I just thought… You know what? Nevah mind. Looks like
you’re going to be busier than a moth in a mitten. I don’t have to—”

  “I’d love for you to come with me.”

  She studied him closely. “You sure, honey? Because maybe you’d enjoy the ride by yourself…”

  He was looking at her strangely, eyes blazing.

  “What is it?”

  “You’ve never called me ‘honey’ before.”

  “I haven’t?”

  He shook his head. “You’ve called me ‘Shugah,’” but like I said before, I’ve always felt you do it to distance yourself. Plus, I’ve heard you call others that. I haven’t heard you call anyone honey before.”

  “Do you… like ‘honey’?”

  He grinned. “I love it. And Dixie, I absolutely guarantee you, I would far prefer your company than driving by myself.”

  She was still glowing at the fact he liked her calling him honey. “Great then. I just need to run up to my hotel. Take another shower so I can wash my hair and then change. Do my make-up. Is that okay?”

  “Sure. But why go to that trouble? You always look great and now’s no exception. My parents won’t care if you’re wearing make-up or not.”

  His statement that she always looked great made her feel even more warm and tingly inside. “Thanks, but I care. The only time I met your parents was at Rhys and Melina’s wedding. I don’t want them to see me with no make-up, ratty hair and in casual clothes. I just wouldn’t feel right.”

  “You mean you don’t want them to see you without your armor on. But you’re letting me see you that way.”

  It wasn’t like she’d had a choice. They’d run into each other at the gym. But he seemed to like the idea of seeing her in a way others didn’t. That made her feel warm and tingly again, but this time the feeling scared her. She glanced away, pulled her hand from his and plucked at an imaginary piece of lint on her jeans. “We’ll just tell them I’m visitin’ Melina so they won’t jump to the wrong conclusion.”

  “What conclusion is that?”

  Her gaze snapped back to his. He no longer sounded or looked pleased. “Well… I mean… it’s probably better if your parents don’t assume I’m one of your women. It might make things awkward when I see them in the future.”

  “Because I don’t have female friends? Because my parents will assume any woman I’d bring along for a visit with them is a woman I’m sleeping with?”

  It surprised her how hurt he seemed by her careless words. A man-whore slash playboy shouldn’t care what she thought about him, right? The fact he did pulled at her heart. “No. I mean, obviously you have female friends.” Though there was only one she knew of—Melina—and she was more like family. She always had been. “I just thought… I don’t know. I just figured you wouldn’t want them barking up the wrong tree.”

  Max stared at her for a minute longer, then smiled slightly before shrugging. “They’re going to get the wrong impression no matter what we tell them, Grace. But we can play it your way if you want.”

  Puzzled by his cryptic response, she waited for a moment. When he didn’t expand, she asked, “What do you mean they’re goin’ to get the wrong impression anyway?”

  “I’ve never brought a girl to meet them. Ever. Friend, lover or otherwise. You’ll be the first. And you know what they say, Dixie. No one ever forgets their first.”

  ***

  Max sneaked a long look at Grace before she stepped out of the elevator and into the hall, headed toward her hotel room. Once again, he wanted to tell her not to bother getting dolled up. She looked great without make-up. Younger. Sweeter. Guard down, even if that wasn’t actually true.

  She looked beautiful and relaxed. Not worrying about her ability to have an orgasm or finding someone to father a child. Not trying to control every step of her life because she was so damn afraid just living it in the here and now wasn’t worthwhile.

  When he’d remembered his promise to Rhys, he’d been in agony, picturing everything he wasn’t going to be doing to Grace’s sweet body. But now that she was coming along and he’d have a chance to talk to her for several uninterrupted hours… Well, he was hoping he’d learn more about Grace, but also make some headway in getting her to rethink her baby plan.

  For a complex woman, she wanted simple things—things most people wanted. Who didn’t want to come while actually having sex and not because some vibrator stimulated you into climax? And while he knew plenty of people who didn’t want children, the majority of people he’d come across did. Grace wasn’t alone in her desires. But who went out and found another person for the sole and specific purpose of creating and raising a baby? Who looked for someone they didn’t love and never would just because they wanted a child to have a father, but didn’t want the emotional complications that came with having a baby the traditional way?

  Someone with enough issues around control and letting go to fill an Olympic swimming pool.

  Someone like Grace.

  She opened the door to her hotel room and motioned him inside. It wasn’t messy, but it wasn’t exactly neat either. It was how his own hotel rooms often looked, which for some reason made him smile. There was only one bed in the room, but it was a king. “Did you share a room with Lucy?”

  “No. I stayed all by my lonesome,” she said, putting her gym bag on the bed. “Why?”

  “No reason. But you’re ruining my fantasy of two women sleeping together,” he said, teasing her. “Why not share a room while you were here?”

  “I like my privacy. And Lucy is datin’ Jericho. They tend to get carried away with their Skype calls.”

  He snorted. Knowing Lucy, he could only imagine what fresh hell Grace would have to endure if Lucy and her latest boy toy were having internet sex in the same room.

  “What do you think about this Jericho guy?” he asked.

  “He’s broodin’, passionate, artsy. Seems perfect for her.”

  He heard the hesitation in her voice. “But?”

  Grace dug around in the chest of drawers then pulled out some clothes. “I’m goin’ to shower first.”

  He looked at his watch. It would be cutting it close, but they had about a half hour before they had to leave. Without her invitation, he stretched out on her bed, palms behind his head with legs crossed. “Leave the door open, and talk to me,” he said, mostly to see how she’d react.

  For a moment, she hesitated, and he mentally willed her to do as he asked. She’d made it clear that letting others make decisions for her was not something she generally allowed, and he figured baby steps were needed to lead up to what he wanted from her. And for her.

  She gave a tight nod of her head, then stepped toward the bathroom.

  “Take off your clothes first.”

  She froze and turned to look over her shoulder at him, mouth open and eyes rounded with horror.

  He stifled a grin. She wanted him to make her come. An hour ago she’d been sliding her body all over his hard-on. And yet she was embarrassed to take her clothes off in front of him?

  Baby steps, he reminded himself. Baby steps.

  “Just strip to your bra and panties. We’ll save the rest for when we have more time.”

  She took a deep breath. “Your parents. You said—”

  “We have time. Now do what I said, Dixie. Start with your top.”

  She licked her lips, looked toward the bathroom as if she was thinking of running inside, then carefully placed her fresh clothes on the dresser beside her.

  Facing him, she pulled her top off. When she dropped it to the floor, she lifted her chin and kept her hands to her sides.

  He studied the baby blue lace demi-bra that cupped her flesh to perfection. It looked padded, but he could still see the thrust of her nipples and the slightest hint of her piercings through the thin fabric.

  “Nice,” he whispered. “Now your pants.”

  She shifted her legs, but immediately moved to unbutton the jeans. She lowered the zipper. When he glanced up, he saw her eyes on him. As if she was judging his reacti
on to what she was doing. As if she was getting off on it.

  He knew he was reading her correctly when the zipper was completely down but she didn’t remove her jeans. Instead, she trailed her fingers across her belly and the edge of her panties in a devious little tease.

  He straightened and sat up, no longer able to just lie there. No longer able to pretend this was just a game. “Take them off.”

  “Or what?” she said.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Or I’m going to have to punish you.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not afraid of you. You’re too much of a gentleman to hurt a woman.”

  He stood, watching as she stiffened and visibly stopped herself from retreating. When he was three feet in front of her, he reached out and gently freed her hair from her ponytail holder. He skimmed his fingers through the golden strands, loving the way she leaned into his touch. Then he dropped his hands.

  “You don’t know me, Grace. We don’t know each other. But we’re going to. And you’re going to learn I’m the type of gentleman that makes a woman hurt really, really good. Now take off your jeans.”

  She licked her lips. Swallowed hard. Then did as he said.

  Her panties were blue lace, too. Unlike the skin on her back, the rest of her body was bare of ink, her skin smooth and creamy.

  He reached behind her with one hand and unclasped her bra.

  “Max,” she said, her breath starting to hitch.

  “Shh. Let me,” he said. “I want to see you.”

  When she remained quiet, he tugged her bra off, letting it fall to ground.

  He sucked in a breath. Her breasts were just as graceful as the rest of her. The perfect size. Not big and overblown, but still womanly and lush. Her nipple piercings were dainty gold hoops with a tiny silver ball. Forcibly keeping his hands off her, he leaned forward. Kissed her throat. Kissed down her chest. Then sucked her nipple into his mouth. Hard.

  She immediately buried her hands in his hair and arched closer. “Oh God. Oh Max.”