Sexy Bad Valentine

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Sexy Bad Valentine Page 5

by Misti Murphy


  “Into you? I am not.” I pick up one of the white boots with a blade along its sole and push my fuzzy socked foot into it. Finding him attractive, interesting, charming, does not mean I’m into him. That’s ridiculous.

  “It’s okay. You can admit it.” He grins, his brown locks falling across his forehead. “I won’t tell anyone. Especially not Kelly.”

  He leaves me to stew over the idea that he thinks I’m into him while he collects his own ice skates. Sitting back on the bench beside me he puts them on, lacing them up in silence. The last date I went on ended up with me practically giving the guy a hand job under the table and then getting frisky in my car. Clearly, I have no taste. A subject I’ve discussed with Max. Being into him makes it worse. Because now I really know he’s not a nice guy.

  “Come on,” he says, holding out his hand. “A couple times round the ice until you know what you’re doing?”

  “I can handle it.” I avoid his eye and ignore his hand, but standing on a narrow strip of metal isn’t easy.

  I wobble as I try to adjust my balance, and Max reaches out to grip my waist with both hands. “Easy.”

  Once I’m balanced, he brings his palm up between us. “Are you going to take my hand this time?”

  “I’m not into you,” I whisper as I drop my hand into his and he winds his fingers tightly around mine.

  “Okay.” He nods once, turning to enter the rink before pulling me on with him. He’s a natural, his moves both lazy and graceful while it takes everything in me just to keep my balance. It isn’t until the third time around that I find my stride and spend a few minutes solo.

  “Do you want to try circles now? Before we unleash you with Shadow?” Max comes to a stop on the ice in front of me.

  “I suppose I should.”

  “Great.” Max takes my hand, his muscular arm and torso flexing as he pulls me in a wide circle around him that spirals closer and closer. Our bodies whoosh past each other, mine in motion, his still, until I’m close enough that he can stop me with his other hand and then we’re both spinning. It’s almost like dancing. It’s exhilarating, and when we stop my heart is going a million miles an hour and I am breathless and giggling.

  “Max, Evie, we need to get this shoot finished,” Kelly calls from the edge of the rink, but all I can see is the way he’s looking at me like he wants to kiss me again.

  “Max, we should...” Because we can’t...

  “Right,” he agrees, his fingers tightening at my hips before falling away. He beckons to the guy holding the dogs in his stead. “Let’s get Shadow over here.”

  I’m exhausted by the time we’re bundled back into the car. After spinning lazily around the ice rink a few times with Shadow we’d moved on to other physical activities, like running. Not my idea of fun.

  Kelly keeps peering at me through her lashes, but she hasn’t said a word as we’ve weaved our way through traffic back to the Puppy Love offices. It isn’t until we pull into the parking garage that she finally puts her tablet down. “Can I remind you that your contract requires exclusivity for the duration of filming? You applied because you were interested in the process, which will work much better if you’re not distracted.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You and Max. You’re this close to being in breach of contract.” She sighs. “I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

  “But we’re not seeing each other,” I argue. “I don’t even know the dog walker.”

  “You’re into him,” she says. “I’ve seen it before. You get it in your head that you can change him. Or that he’s something he isn’t, but you’re wrong. He’s only interested until he gets bored, and I’m sorry to say you don’t have the staying power.”

  As the car rolls to a stop, I’m reaching for the doorhandle. I’d almost prefer to jump from a moving vehicle than have this conversation. Even if she’s right. “I don’t know where you got the idea I’m into him, but I’m not. Or why you would think that I can’t tell he’s used to girls fawning over him. But I also can’t begin to fathom why you’re being so mean about him. Did he turn you down or something?”

  She actually looks taken aback, as I leap out of the car. It takes her a moment to follow by which time I’m halfway across the parking garage. “Evie, I’ve been his friend a really long time. Like half my life. He’s a great guy, but lousy when it comes to the opposite sex, which is why I’m worried that you might be causing yourself unnecessary trouble. Stick to the contract and save both of you from having to deal with the fall out.”

  “You’re worried he’ll be fired?” I turn and wait for her to catch up.

  “Fired?”

  “From the show. He’s your friend, and if I’m in breach of contract then he will be too, right? So you’re trying to protect him.”

  Again she gives me that queer look I can’t make sense of. It’s almost as though she thinks I’m an idiot. “You think he’ll be fired?”

  “He’s only the dog walker.”

  “He’s the...” Her brow wrinkles and smooths out just as quick. “Right. Only the dog walker. At any rate, I’m obligated to tell you that ignoring the stipulations in the contract can leave you open to a lawsuit. Worry about yourself, Evie.”

  “I’m not doing anything wrong.” I stand my ground.

  Kelly glances down at her tablet again, taps the screen. “You work for Garrett Frost, correct?”

  “It was in the application.” The one she’s most likely reading from right now.

  “Isn’t he trying to reform his image now that he’s a family man?”

  “He is,” I answer slowly. Could screwing up here affect my employment with Garrett Frost? Kelly makes it seem like a foregone conclusion if this thing between me and Max doesn’t stop. Not that it’s anything to begin with.

  “So you’d want to make sure you didn’t do anything to affect that image, right? Because a very public lawsuit with a nationally recognized pet food company might be a problem for your employer. I’d hate for you to lose your job over Max.”

  “Don’t worry,” I tell her as I turn my back and march toward the elevator. “I’m not into Max, and I’m definitely not going to date him.”

  ***

  I pace the front step of Max’s sister’s house with a bottle of wine in my hand. It’s been three days since doggy date number one, and tomorrow is doggy date number two. I told myself I was just going to come over and shower Barclay with some affection because I don’t get a chance to with the other dogs around and I feel guilty about that.

  “Right, if this is about a dog then I must be a compost bin,” I mutter to the wine bottle as I take another turn past the door. The door I haven’t yet knocked on mind you, which is why I’m not just here to pet the dog. It’s definitely not because I haven’t seen Max either, and I can’t stop thinking about him. Or why we need to behave more professionally tomorrow, which is so hard when he’s distracting me, and maybe it would just be best if we slept together and put whatever this is behind us.

  “What are you doing?” Max asks, and I almost jump out of my skin.

  Turning to face the now open door, I find him shirtless. My mouth drops open. No words. Nothing but drool. His chest is holy shit, and those abs, it’s like one of those old-fashioned washboards, or marble. Watching them move in and out with each breath is mesmerizing. The way they stack on top of those lines that disappear into his sweatpants is magical.

  Barclay darts out to greet me. He licks the tips of my fingers before Max orders him back inside. The pup listens. I’d listen too, if he ordered me around right now.

  “Good Lord, put some clothes on,” I whisper.

  “Don’t like what you see?” He frowns.

  “Like it?” I want to jump it. I stalk toward him and he holds open the door.

  As soon as it bangs shut behind us I’m climbing him, kissing him, throwing my arms around his neck, the bottle of wine dangling from my hand. My legs clamped around his hips, we go down on the rug in the foyer.
Grit and glass rolls across the tiles while I tug at my coat, rip it off and discard it along with my scarf and beanie.

  His hands are hot as they travel my bare arms, rough with calluses, strong. Between my thighs I can feel his belly rising and falling and I wriggle down until he groans and his hardness presses to my seam.

  “I knew you were into me,” he states. It’s not at all cocky like I expected it would be. There’s no laughter to accompany the fact either. But there is something in his eyes that turns me to liquid while he clasps my face between his large hands and curls up to taste my mouth.

  I press my finger to his lips when he falls back to the floor. “Less talking, more touching.”

  “All right.” He catches the hem of my shirt and pulls it up over my head, before twisting me under him. The thick, velvety rug meets my back as he pops the button on my pants. A hand to my butt, he says, “Lift your ass.”

  When I do, he pulls my jeans from my legs and tosses them over his shoulder while he gets to his feet to shuck off his sweats and boxer briefs. I can’t believe I’m doing this in the house across the street from where I work. Or at all. I sort of promised myself after sleeping with my employer’s bestie that it was best not to spread my legs too easily for hot men. But now I’m thinking if I can just take the edge off these feelings then I can survive the rest of shooting with him.

  Falling on his knees, he shimmies my panties down my legs and starts kissing me. All over. From my ankle up my thigh, along my abdomen and rib cage. I think I might lose my mind as he toys with my nipples and works his tongue up the hollow of my neck to my jaw.

  “I want you into me,” I demand in his ear, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

  “Good,” he says, settling between my thighs and ripping a condom packet open before rolling it down his length. He pushes against my entrance, slowly filling me. “Because I’ve never been more into anything in my life.”

  “More,” I cry out, urging him to move, and he does. He pounds me, his weight on his hands, one knee out to support him while he uses his hips like a deadly weapon. It’s been so long, and it feels so good, that I’m not going to last long. I tell him that between pants and whimpers with my fingernails bruising his back.

  He grits his teeth and swallows hard. His Adam’s apple is bouncing, his gaze filled with determination and lust as he pulls out long enough to flip me onto my knees. I’m on all fours, with my ass in the air, like he told me it would be. His hands slide over my warm flesh as he presses his teeth to one cheek hard enough to leave an imprint and send a shiver up my spine.

  “So much better than I imagined,” he tells me as he positions himself behind me and grips my hips.

  I flail forward as he slides home again, and with my eyes shut, I let out a throaty moan. His hands explore my back, the bumps and ridges of my spine, the nape of my neck as he fills me over and over. It feels so good. Hot and rough, and exactly what I need to make me come. His arm goes around my waist, pulling me up against him while he slips a finger to my clit and begins to rub.

  “Max.” His name is a chant on my lips as he takes me right to the finish line and pushes me over it. Again and again and again. Until I can’t stay upright even with him holding me, until my body begins to shut down from the release.

  We sprawl on the carpet, naked tangled limbs and heaving chests.

  “That was nice,” I say, trying to catch my breath.

  “Nice.” He raises an eyebrow as he drapes me across his chest.

  “More than nice,” I admit.

  “Give me five minutes.” He holds up four fingers as he struggles to get his breathing to slow down. “We’ll do it again. I’m sure we can do better than nice. In fact, we’ll just have to keep trying over and over until we get it right.”

  Problem is I counted on him not wanting to do it again. I told myself sleeping with him would get rid of the electricity that sparkles between us whenever we see each other. And that he was the bad boy type I accused him of being.

  What if we’ve only made things worse?

  CHAPTER SIX

  MAX

  I leave her on the rug in the foyer to go find wineglasses. The bottle she brought with her is unbroken. It just rolled off into the corner behind one of my sister’s weird statues she’s always finding on her travels. On my way back I pluck a tulip from the vase on the table and snatch the cream angora blanket from the back of the couch where Barclay has fallen asleep.

  “For you.” I hold out the flower. Uncertain. Other than that one time I stole flowers from the neighbor’s yard to give to Deanna, I’ve never given a girl flowers before. I don’t usually bother with romanticized notions. I’ve certainly never felt the urge to do so, but Evie deserves more than I can manage so this will have to do for now.

  Holding her clothes bundled to her chest, she eyes it warily before taking it from me. “Thank you.”

  Sitting down on the rug beside her, I cover us both with the blanket. She’s managed to get back into her underwear, but that only means I’ll get to strip her out of them again. I fill the glasses with the wine she brought while I run through things to say, but nothing sounds quite right in my head.

  “Kelly said she’s worried you’ll get—”

  “So how about filming—”

  “She’s worried I’ll get what?”

  “Fired.” She exhales the word. “If we look like we’re canoodling.”

  “Fired? Not a chance.” I grin, but it falls flat as I consider the source. I doubt Kelly would have told Evie that I could get fired, but she must have said something for Evie to be concerned. “What did she say to you?”

  “Well, she said that I could be sued for breach of contract for behaving inappropriately with you. Which means that you can be too, right?”

  “Our contracts aren’t the same.” What’s one more small white lie? Just so she doesn’t have to worry about me. “She said that? That you could be sued?” I need to call Deanna and find out how serious this is.

  “Yes. And that my employer might take issue with it since he’s been working to clean up his image for a while now.”

  “Who’s your employer? Tiger Woods?”

  “Close.” She presses her lips together. “Garrett Frost.”

  “Oh. Same thing.” Both of them are golfing legends. Both of them have been in the media because of their relationships with women.

  “He’s cleaned up his image and it’s really important to his career that he’s not associated with any sort of scandal. So we can’t be friendly. You can’t flirt with me anymore.”

  “That’s probably for the best,” I say, trying to work out who was at filming that would have filled in my sister. One of the film crew no doubt. Not Kelly. She might not always agree with my decisions, but she’s always had my back. But why hasn’t Deanna harassed me herself?

  “Which is why this was good,” Evie says, dropping the blanket and climbing to her feet so she can finish dressing. “Now that we’ve had sex it should be all out of our system, right?”

  “What?” I tune back in. Deanna can wait when Evie is talking to me.

  “We’ve done the dirty deed. You’ll lose interest now. We can both go back to normal.”

  Maybe that’s how it usually works, but not this time. Far from it. In fact it’s almost the complete opposite. More like she’s only just whetted my interest, and I want to spend a lifetime learning more. “Evie, I don’t think that’s how—”

  “Look, that’s all I wanted.” She drops her feet into each boot and zips them up. “A good time with a very, very bad man. And a date with a nice guy to this ridiculous party I have to attend on Valentine’s Day. I don’t have time for anything else anyway.”

  “Are you scared?” I am. I’ve never spent this much time on one girl before. It’s always been a matter of circumstance or necessity, but with Evie I don’t want to be anywhere else and that terrifies the shit out of me.

  “Scared?” She has one foot in the air as she notches the z
ip tag under the knitted rim of her boot, drops it to the floor, and straightens up. “Of what?”

  “The fact you actually do like me, and that you don’t want me to get bored with you.” I get to my feet and go to her. “Because it isn’t going to happen.”

  She shrugs into her jacket. “Let’s not make this into anything. I had fun tonight. And tomorrow we’ll be able to work together without all this pent up sexual frustration.”

  “Speak for yourself,” I tell her, dropping the blanket to grab my pants and put them on.

  “I am.” She shoves her beanie back on her head, carefully tucking her tangled hair behind her ears. “Tomorrow we’ll concentrate on finding me the right date for Valentine’s, and you’ll stop trying to woo me. It’s the logical solution.”

  “Yeah,” I agree as I walk her to the door. I need to call Deanna and find out how serious she is with this threat to sue. Would her boss really fire her over something like this? Opening the door, I hold it for Evie while she passes me.

  “Evie?”

  “Yes, Max?”

  She turns one last time, and I don’t hesitate to curl my hand around her neck. “Valentine’s Day is only two weeks away.”

  “Just another reason we can get through this without getting close.” She smiles, but the wistful curve of her lip doesn’t light her eyes.

  “Okay.” I press my lips to her forehead. Not sure how to proceed. I’ve never been in this situation before. “If that’s what you want.”

  “It is.” She steps out of reach and out the door onto the porch, before turning around and hurrying down the steps. “Bye, Max.”

  I drink her bottle of wine while sitting on the rug on the rug in the foyer, staring at the orange tulip Evie left behind. Can’t say I know what else to do. This frustration at my sister is new. My inability to talk Evie into spending more time with me is disappointing. She’s so certain I’m that guy, the one who only has one night stands and never commits to anything. The playboy. The boy in general. Immature and full of himself. Worse, she’s partly correct. She’s nailed me with who I used to be, who I was before her. Was that only a few short weeks ago? I can’t argue that I’m no longer that guy because I met her. The idea is preposterous, and yet...

 

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