Page 6

CHAPTER FIVE

Ainsley stepped into Coulton’s condo for the second time in two days. When she left this morning, she never expected to return. Mainly because she’d told herself one night of weakness was all she could afford when it came to the sexy goalie.

If she hadn’t been so shaken up and terrified after the attack, there was no way she would have agreed to come home with him last night. She knew better than to follow some rich guy home. Not that she’d had a clue just how loaded Coulton was when she got into his truck.

This morning, after he dropped her off, she’d been determined to toe the line, hold steady to her “no” should he ask her out again. She’d walked this path before, so she knew it was a minefield.

As she drifted over to the large windows, taking in the incredible view of the water, she gave herself a mental headshake.

Because…Jesus.

She hadn’t even managed to stick to her guns for a full day.

Personally, she blamed the hockey game. She’d never been interested in the sport before, but knowing Coulton was out on the ice had drawn her in, and once she’d started watching him, she could not look away. As she watched him play, her determination to resist him had given way to something much more powerful.

Desire.

Sex had become a solitary affair for her after Montgomery, because he’d really taken her down a peg and destroyed her self-confidence even more than Jagger had, which was saying something.

At least vibrators didn’t hurt her, didn’t say cruel things, didn’t break her heart. And she hadn’t felt a single drop of temptation to break her vow of chastity.

Until Coulton walked into the bar.

She wouldn’t have thought the guy could get any sexier, but damn if he didn’t prove her wrong tonight. Watching him in front of that net, seeing his agility, his strength, his toughness, had lit a fire in her that no vibrator in the world could put out.

“If you’re having second thoughts…” he murmured, wrapping his arm around her waist, his chest pressed to her back.

“I’m not,” she hastened to reassure him, aware she’d probably given him that impression by standing by the window for so long.

“I’m just saying. I would understand. After last night…” He ran a hand through his hair as if he was the one having regrets. “Maybe we should talk first.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Ainsley,” he started, using that tone that said he wasn’t convinced she was okay.

She turned around, hating that the movement meant he was no longer holding her. “Erase it,” she said.

His brows furrowed in confusion.

“Give me a good memory to replace that one,” she clarified, her gaze holding his. “I need a good memory,” she added with a whisper.

What was it about this man that had her dropping her guard? She kept giving him peeks of her weaknesses, and she should hate it, but she couldn’t. Because he didn’t look at her like she was frail or helpless. He just…

God, right now was the perfect example. He was looking at her like she was strong, like she mattered.

Coulton cupped her cheek, his expression softening. “I’d like to be a good memory for you.”

“I want to be here,” she reassured him, turning her head slightly to press a kiss to his palm. “With you.”

Despite this being a risky decision on her part, she couldn’t help but feel like last night in Coulton’s amazing home had been similar to one of those vacations he’d talked about. He’d given her just what she needed. An escape from reality, from the horror of the night, from the hell that was her life.

He’d given her a bath, a healthy dinner, a soft bed, breakfast, and one whole night where she didn’t have to be on guard. Hell, he’d already given her a good memory.

“I feel safe here,” she added, feeling stupid the minute the admission crossed her lips.

Coulton nodded, the clouds in his eyes clearing. “You are safe here.” Stepping closer, he ran his finger gently along the bruise on her cheek. “Does it hurt?”

She shook her head. “No. Between last night’s bath and that ridiculously comfortable bed in your guest room, I’m feeling no pain. I can’t remember the last time I haven’t felt…” She paused.

What the hell was going on with her? Where had this Chatty Cathy come from? Ainsley always played her cards close to her chest. Always. But with Coulton, she’d lost her filter, her thoughts and feelings tumbling out of her.

“Haven’t felt what?” he prodded.

“Tired.”

She’d slept so well that even Mick’s shitty attitude hadn’t bothered her this morning. True to character, he’d taken one look at her face, asked how much the thief had gotten, then raged for a full twenty minutes about the stolen two hundred bucks. His insults and ire hadn’t touched her because she’d felt refreshed in a way she hadn’t experienced in years.

Regardless, she hadn’t looked forward to opening the tavern, because there wasn’t enough concealer in the world to completely cover the bruise on her cheek and her cut lip. Which meant she couldn’t escape rehashing the attack.

Luckily, it hadn’t been as bad as she’d anticipated. Maren, Petey, and the other regulars had expressed genuine concern for her well-being. She’d needed their bolstering words and swaggering vows to protect her in the future more than she realized. Like her, most of the patrons of Mick’s Tavern had lived in Cherry Hill long enough to know the score. She’d bet every single one of them had been victim to some sort of robbery or assault.

Initially, she hadn’t planned to go into much detail, intending to simply say it was a robbery and move on. However, the moment she mentioned it had been Coulton—she’d called him Thor to jazz up the tale—who’d scared the assholes away, she’d been inundated with questions. That was when she realized her childhood spent at Mick’s hadn’t been all negative. Turned out, she could embellish the hell out of her stories too.

Ainsley had even gone so far as to drop Coulton’s position on the Stingrays, since he’d assured her he didn’t care.

Thanks to her story, tonight had been her best night in years financially. Because word spread fast in Cherry Hill. Quite a few people had shown up, asking if the famous athlete would be there. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Ainsley said he’d mentioned dropping by. So, everyone stayed, drinking pitchers and pints and ordering Mick’s shitty microwaved apps. She’d more than made up for the lost two hundred dollars.

However, by the time the hockey game ended, Ainsley had convinced herself she would never see Coulton again, despite his assurances he was returning. There was no way he’d be in a hurry to return to Mick’s Tavern…no matter what he said. Guys said shit like that all the time, simply so they could make an easy getaway.

Then, he’d arrived. And invited her to come home with him.

It had been on the tip of her tongue to say no. That would have been the smarter answer, but no one had ever accused her of being too bright.

Apparently, her strengths lay in self-delusion. Because she’d convinced herself that this Ainsley was wiser and stronger, and her eyes were wide open. She promised herself she wouldn’t fall victim to whatever Coulton’s game was, since she wouldn’t stick around to play for long.

Feeling overly confident in her abilities to remain aloof, she decided to be selfish. To steal another night in Coulton’s condo. To treat herself to one night in his bed, because she didn’t doubt for a second that he would know his way around a woman’s body.

As long as she kept her expectations low—as in, nonexistent—in regard to Coulton, she would grab one night of incredible sex and use it to feed her masturbation fantasies for the next fifty years or so.

Firming her resolve, she studied his face. She could become addicted to the way he looked at her, the way he truly seemed to like what he saw.

That stupid resolve began to falter, so she turned around once more, trying to fortify her walls. “Some view,” she said lamely.

Coulton remained behind her, but he didn’t wrap her back in his embrace. Instead, his eyes met hers in their reflections in the window. “It is,” he agreed, looking at her rather than the water.

She tilted her head when he lowered his, his lips finding the side of her neck.

“I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you,” Coulton admitted.

If that was a line, she didn’t care. It was nice to hear, because God knew her attraction toward him had been instantaneous as well. She shivered as his tongue drew a path from her ear to her shoulder. Her nipples budded and her pussy clenched with need.

“Turn around,” he commanded.

Ainsley twisted in his arms without hesitation, lifting her hands to his broad shoulders.

Ordinarily, she felt threatened by large men because the issue of size left her at a disadvantage. She was five foot four, and she weighed a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. She might be scrappy, and she might swing a hell of a bat, but there was only so much she could do to defend herself against someone larger and stronger. As last night had proven.

She wasn’t threatened by Coulton though. Even now as his hands drifted lower, cupping her ass, she didn’t feel an ounce of fear. She shifted onto her tiptoes, allowing him to lift her so that she could wrap her legs around his waist, her back supported by the cool glass of the window.

Ainsley moaned, a low sound coming from the back of her throat, when Coulton pressed his crotch against hers, letting her feel the large bulge beneath his jeans.

As their bodies melded together, they looked at each other. She expected Coulton to resume the kissing, but instead, his gaze remained locked on hers.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his expression matching his tone, almost making her believe he meant it.

“You don’t have to say things like that.” She ran one hand down his chest as she gave him a playful grin. “I’m definitely going to sleep with you.”

She expected Coulton to laugh, so she worried when he scowled instead.

Too many times, it felt like she and Coulton spoke different languages. Though when she considered that, she realized she was using the wrong word because it wasn’t a language barrier so much as a cultural one. While she didn’t know a great deal about his upbringing, she’d heard enough to know it was quite different from hers. As such, their reactions never seemed to quite line up.

“That’s not a line, Ainsley,” he insisted. “You are beautiful.”

Don’t fall for it.

Guys only say stuff like that because they want to get in your pants.

This Ainsley is wiser…stronger…

This is just going to be one night.

Tomorrow she was walking away. She had to.

Rather than reply, she lifted her face, placing several kisses on his jaw, his beard scratchy yet soft at the same time.

Coulton began kissing the side of her neck again, until he found her earlobe. He nipped at it playfully, teasing her earrings with his teeth, and she squeaked.

“Are we going to move this party to the bedroom?”

Coulton rested his forehead on hers. “Still trying to decide. Sort of like the idea of stripping you naked and fucking you against this window.”

“That,” she said breathlessly. “Do that.”

He chuckled but made no move to release her or take off her clothing. “Or maybe I should bend you over the back of the couch, drive into you from behind while those gorgeous tits of yours bounce against the cushions.”

“Changed my mind,” she whispered. “That one.”

“Or I could always carry you to my room, tie you spread-eagle to my bed, and go down on you until you come on my tongue a dozen times, begging me to take you.”

“Shit. Too many decisions.”

He grinned wickedly. “Who said I was going to let you choose?”

Well, that was ridiculously hot. And also a challenge.

Ainsley tightened her grip, scaling the mountain of him, just as she’d fantasized about, until her lips brushed the shell of his ear. “All of it. I want all of it.”

“As you wish.” Coulton released her ass, slowly guiding her down his body until she was standing on her own two feet again.

After that, it was on.

He quickly divested her of her shirt and bra, her jeans and panties only seconds behind. Then the two of them worked together to undress him, Ainsley unfastening his jeans as he tugged his shirt over his head.

She was momentarily distracted by his chest. She’d seen him shirtless last night, but she hadn’t been in the best frame of mind to fully appreciate the view. Right now, she was going to take her time and savor. After all, she needed to catalog and file this away for future spank bank material.

Coulton placed his hand on top of the one she rested against his pec. “I love your hands on me. Can’t wait to feel these fingers wrapped around my cock.”

Of her three previous lovers, none of them had been dirty-talkers in bed, their sex language limited to grunts, curses, and the occasional call out to a deity.

The pictures Coulton drew in her mind were as sexy as the way he was cupping her breasts, his forefingers and thumbs rolling her tight nipples.

He had a way of engaging all the senses, something she’d never experienced. He was a visual masterpiece, and she didn’t know what cologne he wore, but she wouldn’t be surprised if it was made of pure pheromones. His breath was hot against her neck, his chest felt like velvet steel, and his dirty talk was a fucking symphony. When he kissed her, she tasted the slight tang of the beer he’d drunk at the tavern. It was barely there, but when his tongue stroked hers, Ainsley could swear she was getting drunk.

“Don’t stop,” she complained, when Coulton disengaged.

He grinned as she tried to pull him back to her. “Two seconds,” he said, quickly dropping his jeans and boxer briefs. He must have kicked off his shoes when they entered the condo because, just as he promised, in mere seconds he was completely naked.

And she was awestruck.

“Jesus Christ,” she whispered, as her gaze slid down to his cock and stuck there. Coulton was oversized…everywhere.

“You know what I want,” Coulton said, reminding her of the comment about her hand on his cock. “Touch me,” he urged.

Ainsley reached out, offering him a teasing brush of her fingertips, barely stroking the head of his thick cock. Her pussy clenched at the thought of him stuffing all of that inside her. She was going to feel this tomorrow. Maybe even into next week.

“ Really touch me, wildcat,” he demanded, his voice darker, all semblance of gentleness gone. She liked that. She wasn’t the type of girl who wanted soft or slow missionary with a bunch of sloppy kisses.

She wanted exactly what Coulton offered. Dirty, hard sex with a demanding alpha, who knew exactly how to get her off and didn’t need her to draw a diagram of how to find her clit and G-spot.

THIS was why Ainsley had come tonight. She’d lived a lifetime of shitty days, dealing with assholes, while working a job she didn’t want but couldn’t leave.

She’d earned tonight, goddammit.

Coulton hissed when she gave him exactly what he asked for, gripping his cock with both hands, squeezing the hard flesh as she stroked him.

His fingers closed around a handful of her hair, tugging on it until it stung, until her head was pulled back, her face lifted toward his.

“Harder,” he said through gritted teeth, before he pressed his lips to hers.

This was no kiss. This was primal possession, feral control, an outright claiming. While he destroyed her lips, Ainsley tightened her grip, drawing her hands up and down his dick with so much force, she was scared she was hurting him.

Until Coulton growled. “Good girl,” he praised.

Sweet fucking hell.

Ainsley jerked Coulton harder still, her head flying back against the glass when he lifted her breast, sucking her nipple into his mouth. Her grip slackened in the face of his outright assault on her breasts. Her back arched as she tried to give him better access—to suck, bite, lick—because yes, fucking please.

Her breasts were a huge erogenous zone for her, one her past lovers failed to recognize.

“God!” she cried out.

Coulton released her nipple with a pop, his eyes black with desire, pupils blown. “My name, wildcat. Only say my name.”

Ainsley had never been a fan of nicknames, because the ones tagged to her were always insulting and meant to wound. Painsley. Cunt. Bitch.

Wildcat, however, she could get behind.

“Fuck, yes,” she cried, when he increased the suction on her nipples, stars exploding behind her closed eyelids. Ainsley had been wet since the moment Coulton invited her back to his place, but right now, she was literally dripping, her arousal sliding down her inner thighs.

“My name,” he demanded. “Open your eyes and look at me when you say it.”

Resistance was futile. She blinked several times, fighting to clear her vision. “Coulton,” she said on a gasp, when he bit one of her nipples as he pinched the other. The sharp sting of pain shimmered down her spine, her pussy pulsating with need.

He continued to abuse her breasts in the best possible way, until she was whimpering, hungry to be fucked.

“Please,” she said, her voice hoarse from her cries.

Coulton’s hands slipped under her ass again, lifting her until her opening was even with his waist, his thick cock resting between the drenched lips of her pussy.

“Guide me inside,” he demanded.

Ainsley grabbed him, placing the head of his dick right where she wanted it.

Coulton pressed in until the tip was buried, then froze.

She remembered at the same time he did. “I’m on birth control.”

Coulton didn’t say more, taking that information as permission, which it was. He slammed into the hilt as she screamed, his cock buried deep, her pussy stretched tightly around it.

“ Goddamn ,” Coulton groaned. “You feel so good.”

“Fuck me,” she said, when he held steady. She needed him to move. Now.

“Take a second. Let your body adjust.”

“Coulton,” she whined.

He teased her earring with his tongue, then his lips pressed to her ear. “I’m going to fuck you hard, Ainsley. Going to give you everything you want. But only as soon as you’re ready. Because I made a promise. You’re safe with me, and I’m not going to hurt you.”

She blinked rapidly, shocked when her vision was suddenly clouded by tears.

She knew what he meant, knew he meant he wouldn’t hurt her physically. Her head had interpreted it correctly.

But her heart. That fickle organ heard his words a different way. The wrong way.

Every man she’d ever known had hurt her.

Every.

Single.

One.

So the idea that Coulton wouldn’t…

That isn’t what he meant, Ainsley.

So much for her wiser, stronger heart.

“You’re crying.” Coulton ran his thumb under her eye, frowning. She caught the shimmer of wetness there.

“You aren’t hurting me,” she quickly reassured him, when he started to lift her off him, her words coming out louder and harsher than she intended as she wrapped her ankles around his waist tightly, refusing to let him go.

Her words had two meanings as well.

Physically, she wasn’t feeling any pain.

And as for emotionally, he wouldn’t hurt her. Because she wouldn’t let him. Couldn’t let him. She’d had enough heartache to last her a lifetime.

He studied her face for a beat or two longer, and she sensed his hesitancy.

“I swear,” she added.

Coulton nodded, kissed her, then gave her exactly what he’d promised.

Ainsley’s back slammed against the window as Coulton took her with the kind of passion she thought was restricted to the pages of dirty romance novels. He didn’t hold anything back, and neither did she, meeting him halfway, thrust for glorious thrust.

She came within minutes, her body disintegrating as she was blinded by a white-hot flash, the sounds around her muted by the deafening pounding of her heart.

Coulton was mere seconds behind her, jerking roughly as he came, jets of hot come splashing against the walls of her pussy.

As the last remnants of their orgasms faded, Coulton stilled, his grip on her ass tight enough that he was adding new bruises to the ones she’d gotten last night. These, however, felt like a gift, a badge of honor.

The two of them remained there, fighting to regain their breath, their strength.

Coulton was the first to move, slowly releasing her, even while holding her steady.

“Okay?” he asked.

Ainsley nodded. “So fucking okay.”

He smiled, then kissed her. “Ready to move to the couch?”

She laughed. “So fucking ready.”

* * *

Ainsley opened her eyes, squinting through the darkness. It only took her a second to recall where she was, and then a second more to figure out what had woken her from the deepest sleep of her life.

No. Not what.

Who.

She peered down her naked body, grinning when she spotted Coulton kneeling between her outstretched thighs. He ran his tongue along her slit again, and she hummed, arching her back like a well-loved kitten.

Coulton lifted his gaze to hers. “We haven’t finished our list.”

Ainsley shivered with expectation and need. After their sex against the window, they’d retreated to the couch, alternating between making out and cuddling for a half hour before Coulton lifted her, draping her over the back and fucking her from behind through not one, not two, but three orgasms.

Three.

Ainsley still couldn’t quite believe this night was real. Amazing things like this didn’t happen to her.

Which meant she had to be at home, in her own shitty bed, having the greatest sex dream in the history of dreaming.

If so, she never wanted to wake up.

Coulton stroked her again, his tongue making the long journey from her anus to her clit, and she closed her eyes, blinded by stars.

From the couch, they’d made their way to Coulton’s master bath. His tub was even bigger than the one in the guest room, and it had jets. He’d run them a bubble bath, the two of them soaking together in silence, speaking only through touch and kisses.

They’d fallen asleep after the bath, but it looked as if Coulton had gotten his second wind and was ready for round three.

Ring the bell, she thought. Because she was ready too.

Coulton drew a circle with the tip of his tongue, going round and round her clit, teasing her mercilessly. If he hadn’t already proven he was thoroughly well-versed in the female body, knowing exactly what to do, she’d think him a lame lover like her past three.

“Need instructions?” she taunted, loving the way his eyes darkened whenever she dared to challenge his alpha male.

Rather than reply, Coulton nipped her clit with his teeth, applying enough pressure to make her squirm. She’d long ago given up trying to understand why pain was such a turn-on for her. For a while, she wondered if it was the result of something from her childhood. If it was, she’d never managed to connect the dots, and in the end, she decided she didn’t care, accepting that she was just wired that way.

“Any other critiques?” he asked, releasing her clit.

She wanted to come up with some smart-ass reply, but Coulton had fucked every brain cell she had to a state of exhaustion. So all she managed to do was give him a breathy huff of a laugh.

Coulton winked, then lowered his head, getting more serious about the task at hand. His large palms held her thighs open, pushing her to his soft mattress as he used his lips, teeth, and tongue like a pro.

“Oh my God!” she cried out, when he pushed two fingers inside, fucking her with them while he used his tongue on her clit with a deadly precision.

“My name,” he demanded.

“Coulton,” she yelled. “I’m going to…going to…”

Her body jerked as if electrocuted, every muscle in her body tensing, then releasing.

“Holy shit,” she gasped.

She expected Coulton to smirk—he deserved it—but instead, he slowly started thrusting his fingers inside her again.

Ainsley realized just how badly her past lovers had been, merely phoning it in, now that she had Coulton to hold next to them as the gold standard. Tiger had never gone down on her, claiming in his charming eighteen-year-old boy way that it was “gross.”

Jagger seemed to hold the same opinion, only giving her the weakest of efforts before demanding quid pro quo.

Montgomery was the first to show her the potential of the act, and while he’d done it, he’d never brought her to orgasm that way. Instead, he used it as a way to get her aroused, something that sadly happened quickly enough he never lingered below her waist for more than a couple of minutes.

“Coulton,” she whispered.

He looked up at her. “A dozen times,” he reminded her.

She shook her head. Twelve of those and she’d be dead. Then she remembered something else he’d said. She lifted her unbound hands, wiggling them jazz-style.

Coulton’s expression turned serious. “After last night…I wasn’t sure…”

She stared at him, her heart doing that stupid flip-flop thing that told her she was doing a shitty job at remaining aloof.

He just kept saying sweet things. Making her feel safe and protected. Giving her an awesome nickname.

Wiser…stronger…

What a crock.

Ainsley appreciated his concern, and while the idea of bondage had sounded hot when he said it, she knew he was right. She was still struggling with the feelings of helplessness she’d experienced last night, so the thought of being restrained…

“Thank you,” she murmured, letting him know he’d been right to cross that off the list.

For tonight.

Ainsley quickly tried to erase those last two words because—dammit—tonight was all she was giving herself.

Mercifully, Coulton saved her from her wayward thoughts when he added a third finger to the two still inside her and flew her back to paradise—first class.

After the third orgasm, she was shamelessly begging him to fuck her.

He climbed over her body, his thick, hard cock bumping against her stomach.

“You want this?” he taunted.

She nodded, not even bothering to be coy or play it cool. “Yes,” she hissed. “Please, Coulton. Please fuck me.”

He gave her a hot, deep kiss. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Coulton gripped his cock, guiding it—uncovered—to her pussy.

She’d never let her former lovers fuck her without a condom. In high school, she wasn’t on the pill, so Tiger always wore one. With his infidelity still fresh in her broken heart, she’d demanded Jagger use one. Then Montgomery had been the one to insist on using condoms, even after she offered to go without. His reasoning for that had become apparent at the end.

Ainsley gasped when Coulton pushed in, right to the hilt. After so much foreplay—and sex—she was more than prepared for him and his deep, powerful thrusts.

He lowered his upper body, supporting it with his elbows on the mattress by her sides. They were closer this way, his face inches from hers. They’d done stand-up sex and doggie style, tearing into each other like they’d die if they didn’t come.

This time was slower, closer. More intimate.

Especially when he started kissing her as he rocked inside her.

All her senses were on overload again, until all she could see, hear, taste, smell, and touch was Coulton. He was overwhelming her in all the best ways, and despite coming…well, she’d lost count of how many times she had come, he brought her back to the precipice again, more quickly than she would have expected.

“I’m there,” she said, her voice more air than sound. “Come with me.”

Coulton nodded, his lips traveling over her cheek, along the side of her neck. With one more hard thrust, he bit her shoulder and Ainsley fell from the cliff. And Coulton, bless him, jumped into the abyss with her.

* * *

Ainsley lay awake an hour later in the darkness of Coulton’s room, her eyes darting toward the clock on his nightstand. It was nearly four in the morning, but she refused to let herself get too comfortable here.

Coulton had delivered on all three of his sexual promises, so the smart thing to do would be to cut and run. Sleeping together would only muddy waters that were already as murky as the Mississippi.

Glancing to the side, she studied his face. He looked so peaceful and boyish with his hair mussed and hanging over his forehead, almost covering his eyes. He was on his stomach, his face turned toward her, his eyes closed, and his arm was wrapped around her waist.

Ugh. Time to stop looking.

She slowly and carefully lifted his arm, trying to wiggle her way to the side of the bed.

He stirred, his grip tightening as he drew her body against his.

“Where are you going?” he asked sleepily.

“Home.”

“No. It’s too late. Spend the night.”

“I wasn’t sure…”

Coulton came more fully awake. He cupped her cheek, looking at her with something like…

God, was that what affection looked like?

“Stay,” he insisted.

“Are you sure?”

He gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek. “You’re staying.” He cemented that proclamation by turning her until he was the big spoon to her little one, sighing softly, as if all was right with his world.

Ainsley had never experienced that feeling, but she couldn’t help but share the sentiment. Because right now, in this moment, her world felt very, very right too.

* * *

Ainsley stretched her arms above her head, wincing slightly as unused muscles reminded her of exactly what she’d gotten up to last night.

She grinned, squinting as a strip of bright light shone through a crack in the curtains. A quick glance at the clock told her it was just after nine a.m.

Ordinarily, she didn’t even roll over until eleven.

But this morning, like yesterday, she had incentive to move.

Because she could smell bacon.

Again.

A girl could get used to this.

She sat up, touched when she noticed that Coulton had retrieved her clothes from where she’d stripped them off in the living room, folding them and leaving them on a chair near the bed.

She got dressed, then stepped into the bathroom, trying to finger comb the bedhead look from her hair, fluffing it as best she could.

Then, she followed her nose to the kitchen.

Coulton frowned when he saw her standing in the doorway. “Why are you dressed?”

She laughed. “Because mornings are usually when the one-night stands end.” Ainsley had meant her comment as a joke, but damn if Coulton’s frown didn’t deepen to a scowl.

“Last night wasn’t a one-night stand,” he informed her.

Now it was her turn to frown. “What was it?”

“Our first night together. First of many.”

She shook her head, ready to reassure him that was not what it was, but his next words distracted her.

“And you ruined my surprise.” Coulton gestured to a tray on the counter next to him. It held a glass of orange juice, as well as chocolate croissants and strawberries. He added a pile of bacon to another plate and placed it on the tray as well. “Breakfast in bed.”

Her eyes widened. “For me?”

He laughed. “Of course, for you. Unless you left a few friends back there in bed.”

She wanted to respond to his joke, but her throat was suddenly very tight. Because no one had ever done anything so nice for her. “I…” she said, her words failing her.

Coulton studied her face, then walked over to her, cupping her cheek with one of his large hands. “Another first?”

He’d been shocked by the fact she’d never had a bath, but surely he couldn’t feel the same way about breakfast in bed…could he? Because she didn’t know anyone who’d ever had a tray with the most delectable treats she’d ever seen delivered to them in bed.

“You and I have lived two very different lives,” she finally managed to choke out.

“I guess we have.”

“Which is why last night should just be a one-night stand, Coulton,” she forced herself to say. The more time she spent with him, the more danger she faced in terms of having her heart broken again. Montgomery had said sweet things too. Things she’d allowed to work their way into her heart before it became obvious they’d all been lines, things he’d said simply to get her into his bed. “I don’t fit into your world, and you sure as shit don’t want to fit into mine.”

Coulton gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Agree to disagree on that. Hey. I was wondering. Is the tavern ever closed?”

His subject changes were giving her whiplash.

“On Mondays.”

Coulton glanced toward his refrigerator. She followed his gaze and realized he’d tacked up his monthly schedule with a Stingrays magnet.

“Great. No game that day. Just afternoon practice. I’ll swing by your place at six.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m taking you out.” Ainsley clearly sucked at hiding her confusion, because he quickly added, “On a date.”

“A date would be a bad idea,” she said softly. What she should have said was “no,” but that word apparently was missing from her vocabulary whenever she was with Coulton.

“It’s a great idea,” he amended.

She crossed her arms, fighting to keep this thing between them casual. “You realize you don’t have to wine and dine me for sex.”

Coulton sighed. “Not taking you out because I want sex. Taking you out because I want to spend time with you. So I’ll pick you up at your apartment at six.”

“What if I just meet you somewhere?”

Coulton shook his head. “Nope. I’m picking you up.”

A date.

With Coulton.

This was a major step in the wrong direction.

And yet, she knew she was going to take it.

“Okay. Fine.”

So much for saying no.