by Jayne Rylon
“I’m probably old enough to be—”
His raucous laughter cut her off. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“No matter how I acted tonight, I’m no racing groupie. That’s for sure.”
“Sloan?”
“Yeah.” She hesitated, her finger a fraction of an inch from the button that would end their call. Now that they’d eased some of their sexual tension, would he cut and run?
“When I get there…I don’t want you to think I’m assuming anything. Things got a little crazy tonight, but I’m not expecting more…physical stuff. You know, sex. I don’t want to scare you away. I won’t touch you if you’re not ready. We can talk. Really talk. Figure out where this is headed.”
“Once a navigator, always a navigator.”
She smiled when he laughed at her lame joke before persisting, “Yeah, so where are you staying? Tell me.”
“Same building as you. Apartment 3027.”
“Isn’t that right down the hall?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So why the telefuck?” He choked on another laugh. “Not that I didn’t enjoy it.”
Sloan shrugged though he couldn’t see it. “It was fun.”
And safe.
But it only made her crave more—the comfort of another human’s contact. Intimacy she hadn’t known in forever. “Marco, what if I need you to touch me?”
“I’ll be right there.”
Dead air followed.
Sloan giggled as she burrowed into her pillows, sated and elated at the same time.
Not two minutes later a knock sounded at the door. She practically skipped to the other room, put her eye to the peep hole then busted out laughing.
“Let me in, quick.”
She flung open the polished wood, a naked Marco zipping past her. She relocked the door then turned when she heard a crinkle. He held a plastic packet for her approval. “Would have been here even faster but I didn’t want to skip out on my promise of snackage. Good thing Bastian and I have connecting rooms. Though I think I knocked their coffee table over in the dark. Maybe they won’t notice?”
“What if someone had been in the hallway? You could have taken two seconds to throw on some clothes, I’m not going anywhere.”
“At this time of night, they’d probably be too drunk to remember tomorrow. I didn’t want to take the chance you’d change your mind.”
Sloan let her gaze wander from his movie-star face, along his sculpted body to his cock—impressive even half-hard—then back to his eyes, which made their own appraising circuit of her nude form. Somehow she didn’t feel the least bit self-conscious.
“You don’t need to worry about me changing my mind.” She took the silver package from his hand and set it on the table.
“Not hungry?” He frowned a little.
“Not for junk food. Except maybe beefcake.” Sloan closed the gap between them and devoured his lips. Their arms entwined around each other—necks, backs, waists—in a flurry of desperate embraces. Her torso brushed his, still sticky from his recent climax.
“You feel amazing in my arms.” He mumbled between nips on her neck. “And yeah, I might not be thirty yet, but you’re still going to have to give me a couple minutes to recover. You destroyed me on the phone. Plus…”
She raised her gaze to his, amused by the wonder there.
“I can’t believe I’m about to say this. A first, I swear.” He took a tiny step backward. “I want to talk. I sort of promised myself no more meaningless sex.”
“With me or in general?” Sloan held out her hand and he accepted it. She led him to her bed then climbed in. He followed but sat, his shoulders resting against the headboard, instead of snuggling next to her.
“I guess I realized I was never going to find what Bastian and Lynn have if I keep running around like a kid, fucking beautiful women who aren’t important to me.”
Sloan’s eyebrows rose. “So you’re looking for something permanent?”
“You’re not?”
“Marco, I was married. Things went to hell. I don’t think I’m ready to sacrifice like that again. Might never be.” She rolled to her back then rubbed her eyes, surprised when he tucked the covers over her exposed breasts as though the sight made it difficult for him to think or have a serious conversation. “I thought the Cougar Challenge was about having a good time, that’s all.”
“What the fuck is the Cougar Challenge?”
The ice in his tone had her bolting upright, dragging the sheet with her. “Oh crap. I thought Lynn put you up to this! She told me to jump onboard the bandwagon like the rest of her friends. They dared me to hook up with a younger man…you…for a night of fun. Why the hell did you call me if you didn’t know I was a guaranteed lay?”
“Wait. You’re saying Lynn dared you to fuck me? Lynn—Sebastian’s Lynn?”
“Shit, shit, shit.” Sloan’s mouth dropped open at the anger darkening his eyes. “I thought you knew. When she gave you my number—”
“So, what, this was some scheme cooked up by a group of horny older women?” He jumped to his feet. “Any young stud with a hard cock would do?”
“No, Marco—”
“Don’t call me that.” He shrugged off her touch then marched into the bathroom.
When he returned with a towel wrapped around his waist, she started to hide her face in her hands to avoid the accusation in his glare then decided those days were long gone. “You called me! You started in on the dirty talk practically before you said hello.”
“Because I’ve had some lame school-kid crush on you for years. I’m sure you don’t remember. You’d have had to see me for that. Everyone notices Sebastian, not me. I’m just the navigator. Some loser who rides along with a superstar and drools over smoking-hot professional ladies who are completely out of my league unless they decide to slum it with some young, dumb, walking hard-on for a night of endless fucking.”
She tried to refute his self-deprecating claims but nothing would come out of her stunned throat except a choked gurgle. Not that he would have heard her over the vicious string of Italian that she’d bet her life contained more curses than anything else.
“Why the hell should you be any different? I always dreamed of a chance with you. I thought divine intervention, or at least poetic justice, made sure you’d be the first woman I tried for more with. Of course, guys who want a girlfriend don’t call her and start jerking off over the phone two minutes later. Dio!”
“Because you did…I assumed you knew.” Sloan swallowed hard at the disbelief etching lines around his sexy mouth. “I’m sorry.”
She clambered to her knees at the foot of the bed and reached for him, to run a soothing hand along the bunched muscles of his shoulder, but he evaded her.
“I would never have used you like that.” Horror churned her stomach.
“Yeah, well, sorry you didn’t get your fill.” He strode from the room. “I can send one of the other crew members over if you’re still horny. I’m sure any of them would like to take your Challenge. Maybe you could screw a few at once, really show the rest of your friends up?”
Before she could object, he’d slammed the door hard enough to knock the package of pastries onto the floor. Shattered.
Tears streamed from her eyes in stunned silence. How had things gone from sugar to shit so fast? She should have known better. Relationships always ended this way. Even the one-night-stand variety.
She wouldn’t forget it again.
And judging by the arguing echoing down the hall, from the direction of Lynn and Sebastian’s apartment, she thought she might have ruined some friendships in her disastrous attempt at a no-strings affair.
Sloan couldn’t bear to listen to the fallout. She headed for her shower to drown the noise and attempt to cleanse herself of the disgust making her feel dirty. Dirtier than the night she’d discovered the bed she’d slept in for years had hosted dozens of other women while she was out of town.
This time she’d bee
n the villain at fault.
Chapter Three
Sloan ignored yet another notification of a post on the Tempt the Cougar blog. She’d tried to unsubscribe from the damn feed but it seemed like the administrator wasn’t responding or her computer had joined the plot to make her life miserable.
She’d spent the day moping in bed watching Chinese television—with no subtitles. What she wouldn’t give for Netflix and a queue full of romantic comedies right now.
After avoiding the Cougar site all afternoon, she surrendered. Otherwise, she’d have no choice but to keep her dinner appointment with Lynn, who refused to confirm her cancellation text messages. Damn it.
She skimmed past Lynn’s lengthy apology and the rest of the Cougars checking in to see if both of them had survived the day intact. If she read their reassurances or encouragement she’d start to cry again, and she’d sworn she’d done enough of that to last a lifetime.
Still, the most recent message caught her eye.
Lynn: Sloan, this is all my fault. I should have been more clear with Mark. I have to interview a local travel agent this afternoon but I’ll be waiting for you tonight as planned. Please come. Let me make it up to you. I have a brand new Desiree Holt novel set aside for you. It’s autographed.
Well shit. Now she had to go. Because it wasn’t fair to make Lynn shoulder the entire burden of this fiasco. The woman had tried to help her out, fix her up. It wasn’t Lynn’s fault Sloan had the inverse Midas touch. A constant black cloud hovered over her head and her love life.
Plus, she adored Desiree Holt.
At least she’d have something to read during the long, lonely nights ahead. Funny, she hadn’t recognized the suffocating silence in the room, and her life, until Mark had filled it with his laughter and desire. Even for a moment. Like a flash of lightning, his companionship had illuminated all the flaws in her current existence then disappeared, leaving her in the dark once more.
Crap.
* * * * *
Sloan tapped her nails on the table in an incessant tattoo that did nothing to soothe her nerves. A waiter approached but she didn’t have the energy to butcher what little Cantonese she’d been able to absorb. Instead, she pointed to the wine list at the bottom of the laminated menu then held up two fingers. It would take more than one glass of white zin to settle her nerves.
Luckily “Thank you” was pretty universal.
She’d already drained both and most of a third on an empty stomach when a pair of platform heels she’d kill for entered her field of vision as she studied the ground. The intricate pattern on the carpet started to make her dizzy.
When two more pairs of shoes joined the sexy stilettos—these much bigger and sneaker-ish—Sloan jerked her gaze upward.
“Oh no.” She shied away from the accusatory glare she expected from Mark, focusing on Lynn instead. “You brought the Cougar bait?”
“They insisted, sorry.” Lynn didn’t wait to be invited, she leaned in and hugged Sloan. “About everything. I really screwed this all up.”
“S’okay.” Oops, maybe she should have sipped the drinks instead of chugging them. “You meaned—meant well.”
“Let me make it right. Please talk to Mark. Hear him out. Sebastian and I will hang out at the bar for a while and, if you’re up to it, the four of us can have dinner together in a little bit. Sound good?”
When Sloan nodded, the world spun. She grabbed the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip and closed her eyes. Ah, it was better if she didn’t have to try to resist the temptation of looking toward Mark. He’d make any woman dizzy.
“If you don’t mind, would you put in an order now? Looks like Sloan could use some food.” The anger she expected to ruin his baritone was nowhere to be found. Unlike last night, his Mediterranean accent made all his words sound as rich as dark coffee.
“We’ll do that.”
Sloan peeked through slit eyelids in time to catch a glimpse of Sebastian putting his arm around Lynn as he turned her toward the bar.
“Back in a few minutes. With some appetizers.”
She scooted over when Mark joined her on the bench seat of the booth—on her side of the table. She kept moving until her arm encountered the wall, but Mark pursued her until their thighs pressed together from hips to knees. He was so warm he melted her insides.
Or maybe the wine did that.
“Are you okay?” His question struck her as absurd and she giggled.
Then suddenly she couldn’t stop. One laugh became a riot of chuckles. She had no hope of restraining her nerves or the ridiculousness of the situation. After a minute, she wiped tears from her cheeks then clenched her aching side, doubled over as far as she could go behind the table.
When she paused to draw a breath, she realized he laughed right along with her. They did seem to share the same twisted sense of humor. “Sorry, Cougar. Dumb question.”
Sloan flinched at the title but couldn’t help turning toward the man who’d destroyed her inhibitions with one tiny phone call and a sprinkle of dirty revelations. When she did, she gasped.
“What happened to your face?” She traced the inflamed area slicing through his eyebrow and the bruise on his jaw with featherlight touches.
“Bastian objected to the way I chastised his woman last night.” Mark grinned, the motion almost reopening a little cut on the corner of his mouth. “He shoved me and warned me to stand down, but I was all too willing to go a round or two. It’s been awhile since we resorted to a good fist fight.”
Sometimes she forgot how young they were. Still, his silly smirk infected her.
“Did you work it out with Lynn, or did you and Sebastian hammer each other until you ran out of steam?” She hated to bring it up and squash the easy banter between them but she had to know.
“Things are good now. With Lynn and Bastian.” He scrubbed his knuckles over his eye then winced when he irritated the puffy area. “It was a miscommunication. She tried to tell me. But I only heard what I wanted to. Look, Sloan, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was an asshole last night. I’ve hooked up with women plenty of times. You’re an adult—a gorgeous, mature woman. You can fuck who you like, when you like without looking for more. It was screwed up of me to imply otherwise. I just… I’d hoped…”
“And now you’ve made me hope too.” She couldn’t believe she’d whispered her confession aloud. “Asshole.”
The smile on his face was worth the potential hazards. “Really?”
Sloan nodded then reached up to kiss his injured lip. “And I’m still sorry things happened this way. Not exactly a perfect beginning for us.”
“Can we start over?” He plucked her hand from her lap and traced the ridge of her knuckles with his thumb. “Lynn is planning one of her day trips tomorrow. Since we always try to take Sunday off, Sebastian and I intend to go with her. To Cheung Chau island. Off the coast, near Hong Kong. It’s supposed to be beautiful. Top-notch seafood too.”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“Uh, yeah. A double date. Is that too weird, considering…?”
“Not at all.” Sloan couldn’t believe he still had any interest untainted.
“Psst.” Lynn hesitated at the edge of the booth. “Is it okay if we have a seat?”
“Sure.” Mark nodded at Sebastian. The other man set a platter of fried rice on the table before the couple slid onto the opposite bench. “I was trying to persuade Sloan to go to Cheung Chau with us tomorrow. Why don’t you give it a try?”
“Great beaches, a world-renown fish market, souvenir shopping and a pirate’s cave! What’s not to love? You don’t want to miss it.” Lynn wiggled her eyebrows in an attempt to lure Sloan that set off another round of laughter.
“I’d really like to go with you.” She trained her stare on the equally dinged face of the race car driver across from her. “But Sebastian better watch his step. If he lays a hand on my guy again, I’ll have something to say about it.”
Only after the words h
ad flown from her lips did she think of Mark’s confession the night before. Then she wished she could retrieve the jest but it was too late.
The four of them exchanged a slew of awkward glances then burst out laughing. “Let’s strike that one from the record, huh?”
“Sounds great.” Sloan reached up to kiss Mark’s cheek. “Thank you. For being so understanding about…everything.”
“And on that note, this is for you.” Lynn handed a book, wrapped in pink ribbon, across the table.
“You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know, but I wanted to.” The other woman snuggled into Sebastian’s chest then sighed. “It’s the least I could do.”
“I appreciate it.” Before Sloan could elaborate, servers delivered family style platters of steaming noodles and fresh stir-fried vegetables to their table. “This looks delicious.”
“Dig in.” Sebastian handed her a plate with a wink before reaching across to spoon some of the food onto his own china.
The next several hours passed in a flurry of laughter, great food, smooth wine and a failed experiment in using chopsticks. Mark fed her from his instead. Captivating conversation, interspersed with several rounds of story-telling, gave her more and more insight into her new friends.
During one particularly colorful retelling about Sebastian getting caught with his pants down—literally—which made Sloan hope no one else spoke English, the driver winged a piece of carrot across the table at Mark. The guys escalated the battle until Lynn stepped in and got caught in the crossfire.
She picked a pea from her hair while wrinkling her nose, but Sebastian took the opportunity to mock their alpha display from the night before. “Careful there, Marco, or you’ll be going down again.”
“If I remember correctly, you were the one who went down first, Bastian.”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you, amico?”
Lynn and Sloan’s wide-eyed stares met across the table in a flash. Thank God she wasn’t the only one who’d caught the undercurrent. She wondered if the men knew both her and Lynn frequently read books involving male-on-male interaction. Some of the bisexual ménage stories were her all-time favorites. After browsing Lynn’s to-be-read list on the blog, Sloan knew the other woman enjoyed the genre as much as she did.