And that thought right there, that she had no idea, was what did it. What pushed him from frustration of the purely physical variety to a frustration that originated from a place significantly higher than his jock.
His sweet and surly Maggie had no freaking idea that she was absolutely killing him with this talk that he supposed was her best effort at putting them back on familiar friendly ground. Because while she didn’t seem to know she was torturing him, she did know that they both wanted this friendship, and while he was standing there staring and swearing and probably sweating and twitching, too, he also wanted this friends thing to work. Because the only thing that hadn’t changed since last night was that he still couldn’t have her in any other way.
“Sorry, Maggie, I uhh—” He cleared his throat, looked at her again, and realized the image of Maggie’s teeth sinking into her bottom lip as her hand snaked down between her legs wasn’t going anywhere. “It’s the talk about you taking Rosie out for a date. You gotta stop or I’m going to need to step into the shower for a few minutes before I’ll be able to come back out here and actually pay attention to a word you’re saying.”
Her eyes went wide. “For a cold shower?”
Good one. “Safe to say we’re beyond any cold-shower remedies.”
And damn if that lip-biting fantasy didn’t become a reality right before his very eyes. Only instead of the hand-snaking accompaniment into panties he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about, it was Maggie’s smoky gaze burning down his body to the hard-on there was no hiding.
She took an unsteady step back. “Okay. I get your point. No more talk about Rosie. For either of us.”
Because she thought it was hot, too. Jesus.
Determined to pull back from the Rosie-centric vortex of doom, Tyler waved her in toward the couch. He took a few deep breaths, thinking about the Port-O-Lets at the end of Taste of Chicago until he’d gotten himself mostly under control. Feeling stronger, he copped a seat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her and over to the side just enough so their legs didn’t touch.
Meeting her eyes, he cut to the chase. “Last night wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your desperately, tragically neglected libido getting away from you, any more than it was my sheer, overwhelming, masculine charisma luring you in. It was…us. There’s something between us. And when it goes unchecked, I guess it can get pretty hot. But it can’t happen again, because it can’t go anywhere.”
“Right.” She nodded, tucking her hands between her knees—which were way too close to where he’d been thinking about them playing a few minutes before. “It didn’t mean anything. Or at least it didn’t mean I was interested in you as my boyfriend. I think it’s obvious I was interested in something else—”
He winced. Reached for her hands and gave her an apologetic look as he moved them to the tops of her knees. “Sorry, go on.”
Offering a questioning glance, she looked down, and he followed her gaze to where her fingers now gripped her knees. He flashed on an image of her using them to spread her legs for him, and then let out a low groan as he quickly repositioned her hands on the couch beside her legs, but then all he could think about was her fingers digging into the leather as he knelt between her legs and licked her until she came all over his tongue.
So not the right direction.
“Shit, Maggie, that’s not going to work either.”
“Oh, ummm, okay. How about this?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Better?”
It was the least suggestive position so far, so he nodded and tried to get his brain back on track. Back to what she’d said. “Right, you don’t want a boyfriend. You thought maybe you wanted something else, which I get. I do.”
“And, I can totally get past that wanting thing. We both can. Because I want us to stay friends more,” she said, but once again her eyes started a southern descent. “I don’t want to lose what we’ve got. It’s good. And not in a sexual way. I mean not just in a sexual way.” Her voice cracked, and she wrung her hands. “Gah, you know what I mean.”
He did. “We both want to be friends.”
Only, right then, what he was thinking about didn’t come close to friendly.
And it didn’t help that Maggie was still staring at his jock, either.
But then she burst up from her seat, a nearly manic smile on her face as she started for the door. “So, excellent. We’re good, then. Friends it is!”
Staying where he was, he watched her go, offering a nod when Maggie stopped and gave him a thumbs-up from the hall.
“Later, Three.”
“See you, Maggie.”
Chapter Sixteen
The dart sailed through the air, sinking deep into the centermost circle on the board. Tyler ducked his head, knowing what was coming next. Closing one eye, he left the other open, unwilling to miss out on Maggie’s gloating spectacle as she jumped up and down, cackling over the “total righteous ass-kicking” she’d delivered…handing him a few cocktail napkins she’d snatched off the bar “for his tears”…and then flashing the smile that still had the power to catch him unprepared for its impact. She was giving him all her naughty and nice in one victorious, taunting grin, whisper-singing Queen’s “We Are the Champions” without the first clue as to how it was affecting him. Without the first clue that, suddenly, all he was seeing was his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her hard and close against him, hearing her breath catch as he backed her up against the nearest wall, feeling the moment all that jacked-up-on-triumph energy turned soft, and pliant, and—shit.
Not happening. But she was a temptation.
And the fact that she was a monumentally bad winner—yeah, he liked that a hell of a lot.
Still, this wasn’t a date.
They were killing time, waiting for Ava and Ford to show up. Just a couple of friends with one slip over the line behind them and a firm commitment not to let it happen again, ensuring a friendly future.
“So what do you think?” Maggie asked, her eyes dancing. “Shall I shame you again, or have you had your fill of abject humiliation tonight?”
Tyler let out a gruff laugh, stuffing his hands into his pockets so he didn’t sift them through her hair.
“Oh, we’re going again. You beat me by one toss; I’m after the rematch.”
“Sure you are. I think you’re after another beat-down. Come on,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially, “you can tell me. Shame’s your special kink, isn’t it?”
Oh man, and when her eyes were flashing like that. He knew better than to start taunting about kinks.
Way better.
One slender blond brow arched his way.
Don’t. Don’t do it, man.
But hell, that challenge in her eyes.
“As it applies to this game, spanking is my kink. So sweetheart, you’d better brace yourself as I’m about to indulge it in a no-holds-barred, exhibitionist’s wet dream kind of way.”
Nice. Way to control yourself.
At least they had Ava and Ford showing up in the next few minutes to act as a buffer.
“Yeah, yeah, spanks. Whatever.” But then she was digging in her jeans pocket and pulling out her phone, the screen illuminated with a new message.
The whole temptation thing was definitely easier to manage with an audience. When they were alone, though—not so much. Because when he was with Maggie, everything was so easy, he had a tendency to say what he meant before he thought about whether it was a good idea or not. So yeah, it was a good thing they had some unknowing chaperones on the way. Because that challenge, that fire…that mouth of hers was pushing too many buttons at once.
Maggie frowned, pocketing her phone and looking around uncomfortably.
“What’s up?”
“Their meeting went long and the Trust lawyer invited them for dinner with his family.”
He nodded.
She smiled, looking away.
They were adults. They could do this. They’d been doing it for the past hour.
Of course with every minute that passed, the awareness had grown stronger. The innuendo more daring. And now, no one was coming to defuse it.
Hell.
—
Maggie couldn’t remember a dinner more awkward and uncomfortable than the one she’d spent with Tyler. Which sucked, because that wasn’t how it was with them. She’d been banking on Ava and Ford to friend-up the outing, and when they hadn’t shown—yeesh.
Tension.
They’d ordered some food. Had another beer. But every time their eyes met, it was like a couple of magnets snapping together in a hold nearly impossible to release. And then the words that were always so easy between them wouldn’t come, because all she could think about was the way his kiss tasted and how hungry they’d both been for more.
Once the bill was paid, they’d ridden back to the apartment at opposite ends of a cab backseat. Exchanging only enough small talk to keep the silence from screaming at them. And then it was a simple goodbye. Tyler not even stopping by her door, barely slowing as he walked backward to the third-floor stairs, telling her to have a good night and making a last halfhearted crack about the darts.
She’d gone inside, expecting relief once she’d put a door between them. Only that wasn’t what she’d found.
—
He’d been wearing a hole in the floor pacing back and forth, staring the door down on every pass while he listed all the reasons not to walk through it. Not to take the steps four at a time down to Maggie’s and do something they’d both agreed would be a mistake.
Shit.
He should go for a run. Only if he did that, he’d have to pass her door. What if she was making cookies again? Every time he smelled warm chocolate his mind went to all the places it shouldn’t. Places where Maggie leaned against the door to his apartment wearing nothing but his button-down shirt, a smattering of crumbs decorating her neckline, and a glob of warm chocolate on her bottom lip. Places where he didn’t have to force himself to keep his ass in his chair, or put a table, a counter, a door, or even a floor between them to keep himself from pulling her into him. Putting his hands on her waist and hips, letting his thumbs rest across her belly as he dotted his tongue over the creamy skin of her collarbones, the hollow at the base of her throat, and lower, collecting the crumbs as he went until the only thing left was that one molten bit of semisweet temptation waiting for the slow lick of his tongue.
No, better to keep as much distance from any potential cookie fantasies as possible.
Damn, his body ached and his heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears.
No.
That was his door.
And the pounding was a soft knock he knew could only be one person. Someone who was making a huge mistake by coming up here, even though he’d bet she thought she was on some peacemaking, ruffle-smoothing mission of friendship.
Stalking to the door, he planted one hand flat against it. Holding himself back, he answered her through the thick panels of wood. “Go home, Maggie. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Or the next day. Or the day after that, if he hadn’t gotten himself under control by then.
“Tyler, please.”
It was the soft quality of her voice that did it, unraveled his fraying control until the door was jerking open beneath his hand and only a single thread of restraint kept him from pulling her into him and taking the mouth he hadn’t had nearly enough of the week before.
“Maggie, you’re killing me,” he said, the air crackling between them.
“I’m sorry. It’s just—” She wet her lip with the pink tip of her tongue and he fisted his hands to keep from reaching for her. He was so focused on not giving in to the compulsion to sweep his thumb across that damp path she’d laid, he almost didn’t hear the rest. “Maybe we’re missing what’s right in front of us. Maybe we’re so hung up on not blowing our friendship and being careful of each other’s feelings and remembering what our priorities are outside of this sizzly thing we have going…that we’re ignoring an obvious solution to a mutual problem.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we’re already clear on all the rest of that stuff. Neither of us wants or is available for a relationship. You’re waiting for an opportunity with Gina so you can get your son back, and honestly I think that lack of availability might be the only reason I feel safe enough with you to want this at all. We’re friends, yes. But maybe, this once, we could be more. Get it out of our system and then start fresh.”
He shook his head, mostly because he’d been telling himself “no” for so long he didn’t know how to stop anymore. But even as his head swung in that negating denial, he was asking, “Just once?”
“Just once. Wouldn’t it feel good to let go? Knowing we’re on the same page about tomorrow?”
“Maggie. I don’t want to use you.”
“What if I use you first?” And there was that single arched brow, the teasing smile, and challenge mixed with a breathless sort of anticipation he couldn’t ignore. “What if I use you harder?”
“Maggie,” he warned, though the only thing she was going to get if she kept it up was exactly what she was asking for.
“Tyler,” she mimicked sternly. Then, meeting his eyes with the calculating look that had gotten to him all those months in the hallway, she added, “I’d totally use you harder.”
And that was it. He was done.
Because Maggie challenging him with that demon glint in her eye and her whole body exuding a sensual need with his name on it—yeah, she’d hit his button and there was no going back.
“You want hard, Maggie?” he asked, reaching for her as she reached for him, meeting in the middle of a bad idea that suddenly didn’t seem so wrong at all and, holy hell, felt all too right.
“Yes.”
“And you seriously believe we can do this without it screwing up our friendship?”
He might have put a little more faith into the nod she issued if it hadn’t come on the heels of a shuddering breath following the press of his thigh high between her legs. But then maybe he’d gone too far for something so trivial as the truth to matter.
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t.”
Christ, she was so pretty, staring at him with those sex-hazed eyes and parted lips.
Palming the firm curve of her ass, he pulled her higher over his thigh, rocking it against her heat. He kissed her, getting lost in the pliant give of her lips and the soft moans escaping them. Fisting the mess of hair at the nape of her neck, he urged her head back so she opened to the hot thrust of his kiss.
—
Yes.
Maggie knew what she was doing. This was what they wanted. What they needed. The no-strings solution to an itch desperate to be scratched.
It wasn’t a mistake.
“God, Maggie, are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure,” she gasped, her hands sliding up and down the hard contours of his chest. “This is sex. No expectations. Just two people taking advantage of an opportunity they seldom see.”
She was reaching for his mouth with hers when he pushed her back. Searched her eyes.
“I’m pretty sure this is an opportunity available to you any day of the week.”
She shook her head. “You know it’s not.” For too many reasons. She never felt this kind of attraction, this kind of need and draw. And more than that, she never felt the trust.
And maybe the two went hand in hand. Maybe after what happened with Kyle, she couldn’t have the desire without the sense of safety she found with Tyler.
The hand at her ass pulled her in tight against him, so she could feel the hard ridge of his cock unyielding against her belly.
“I want this,” she whispered. “I want you.”
His mouth landed hard over hers, his tongue thrusting between her teeth, filling her with the hot, wet promise of what more there was to come. He kissed her like he couldn’t get enough. Like she was his next bre
ath. Like she was the question, the answer, the everything.
He kissed her like she was kissing him.
And then he was bowing her back, devouring her mouth as his hand slid down her thigh, catching her at the back of her knee and pulling her up against him.
She was tugging at his shirt, her hands everywhere—under it, over it, fisting the fabric at the side of his ribs as she pulled, desperate to get him naked. Desperate for the hot press of his bare skin against her own.
“Tell me what you want,” he growled against her ear.
She wanted the taste of his sweat when she ran her tongue along his collarbone. The brush of those crisp hairs trailing down the center of his abdomen against her belly. The hard bead of his nipples against her lips.
“You, naked.”
Tyler reached behind him and, grabbing a handful of shirt, wrenched it over his head.
And then he was back, only Maggie was pulling away, keeping the distance between them with her palm against Tyler’s stomach because—wow—just wow.
She’d seen him shirtless before.
That first day, even.
But this. Now.
“Maybe we weren’t talking about the same thing with the no-shirt business,” he said with that deep, melty voice that was doing crazy things to her belly as it poured over her. “I was thinking no shirt meant we got closer. And possibly some reciprocal action on your part.”
Tearing her stare from where she’d begun a rather shameless caress, she met his eyes. “You’re amazing, Tyler.”
The ridges of his cheekbones darkened and he gave her a lopsided grin. “You don’t get out enough.”
He reached for the hem of her top at either side of her hips and dragged the stretchy fabric up over her belly, pausing to brush his thumbs against the bare skin there before continuing to pull it up over her ribs until he was playing at the bottom swells of her breasts. “Which happens to work just fine for me.”
“Yeah?”
He pulled her shirt the rest of the way off, tossing it aside by his own.
And then he caught her up against him. Her legs locked around his waist as her arms linked tight around his neck.
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