Page 14

Three of the eight pictures are perfect. The food looks spectacular, a branded napkin gives Second Chance the shoutout it deserves and the gentle caress of our hands is the ideal juxtaposition to the tangle of our blurry legs, like a dirty little secret hidden under the table.

I have to grab my coffee to snuff out the humming sensation that Dalton’s touch leaves behind when we sit back in our seats.

While I sip, he’s flicking through the pics one-handed.

His other hand yet to release my leg, thumb still moving absentmindedly.

It’s almost enough to distract me from the amazing food.

I pop another piece of a raspberry croissant in my mouth, relishing each bite. Dalton said this is one of his favorites. I can see why.

“Thank you for throwing the shitty hunk of bread I called a bagel on the ground this morning. This is way better.”

“Technically, you threw it.” He doesn’t look up from the screen. Then settles the phone between us for my approval. “This one?”

I dip my chin in agreement. It’s the same one I would have picked.

“Semantics. I’m trying to say thank you over here.” I shoot him a glare.

“In that case, you’re most welcome.” Dalton sips his coffee, nibbling on something that appears to be filled with egg and spinach.

The circles of his thumb pause, the seriousness in his gaze causing a lump to swell in my throat.

“With the aspiration to keep this agreement between us balanced, tell me about your ex.”

I nearly choke on my coffee. “Excuse me?”

“Last night, we talked a little about our exes. Then you got to see firsthand the circus shit show mine is. I want to know more about yours. Not the gritty details, nothing you’re not willing to share.

But it’s clear he hurt you. I want to know if I need to add defending your honor onto today’s agenda, seeing as you protected me from my ex last night.

Annnd again this morning. It only seems fair. ”

“Only if you’re willing to tell me more about your family later. In the name of balance and all.” Regret flares before the sentence is even complete, as I think of how sick his mother looked in that photo on the wall, but Dalton doesn’t flinch.

“Deal, but first tell me about your ex.”

“I don’t really talk about Steve. Honestly, last night is the most I’ve talked to anyone about him, and that was only because we agreed to forget each other.”

“Still do. We just extended the deadline a bit,” Dalton says, taking in my pinched expression. “I won’t push, but my therapist says it’s good to talk about things. And yes, I have a therapist. Everyone should have a bad ass like her in their corner. So, the cheater’s name is Steve.”

His thumb begins moving again, as if trying to soothe the truth from me. Damn him, it’s helping to do just that.

I stare down at my now half-empty cup, giving it a wistful smile that’s more of a wince.

Last night, the alcohol had numbed my feelings about Steve.

Talking about him soberly feels raw. “There’s not a lot to say.

You know the bullet point version.” I snort, hoping that’s enough, but Dalton waits patiently for more. I sigh, chewing my bottom lip.

“He was my college sweetheart. We were together for four years. It was a very… safe relationship.”

“Safe?” Dalton asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure you know the type. You hardly fight. The next steps of moving in together and then talking about marriage seem natural. Expected even. It all seems logical and easy. Building a future is plug and play…”

“But?” Dalton presses.

“But that was it. There’s no sense of passion or support.

The sex was okay, but there was barely a spark.

Definitely no fireworks. Over time, that fizzled until we were just going through the motions.

Then he cheated, using my lack of being around while I was trying to build a career and pay our rent as an excuse to fuck my roommate—then best friend.

Bastard didn’t even have the balls to tell me.

Steph was the one who felt guilty and confessed.

Came into my room one night a crying mess of snot and apologies.

It was a huge fucking blow. In one night, I lost a boyfriend, best friend, and a great rent-controlled apartment.

Apparently, they’re engaged now. Steph private messaged me so I would hear it from her first—like that was better somehow.

Wasn’t the best way to start my day yesterday. ”

The hand on my calf squeezes. “That’s why you were drinking at the event.”

“Yup. Not a proud professional moment.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, but like you said, don’t be. I dodged a bullet. I wouldn’t have been happy if I had married Steve. In hindsight, he was low-key selfish. Not a total dick, but he wasn’t supportive and didn’t want to put in the time to make sure we were both happy. To be honest, the sex wasn’t great.”

“Hence the need for a good hand-held shower head.”

“Best investment I made during our relationship.”

We both laugh and damn, it feels good, like shedding a heavy, suffocating cloak I forgot I was still wearing.

I have cried a lot over losing Steve. First, blaming myself, then raging at him and Steph for the betrayal.

But saying it all out loud to Dalton only solidifies that we weren’t good together. Not where it matters.

A crease appears between his brows. “When is the last time a guy made you feel sexy?”

“Seriously?” I ask, half expecting him to be kidding. His expression, however, is dead serious, as if the idea of me not feeling sexy offends him.

“Yes.” It’s almost a purr.

I can’t keep the burn from creeping into my cheeks. “Last night. With you.”

Dalton’s lips purse, and I can practically hear the gears grinding behind those beautiful eyes. I have a feeling where this conversation is going, and move to derail that train of thought.

“When’s the last time you had a genuine connection with a woman? Not a sexually driven panty-sacrificing kind of connection. But a real one.” I ask.

There’s no hesitation in his response. “Last night.”

Shit… Train not derailed.

“And the last time a man got you off?” He asks, leaning in.

“Bold question, Ward.” I smother an awkward giggle as he flashes a full-blown panty-wetting grin. “But since we’re being candid and the clean slate rule still applies… Over six months ago.”

“You haven’t had sex in six months!?” Dalton’s jaw pops open with such force it cracks. His hand tugs on my leg, pulling me closer like he wants to correct that problem right here and now.

I suppress a cackle of laughter. “No, you asked when was the last time a man got me off. It’s been two months since my last hook-up. He’s one of the reasons I gave up on dating for a while. Tried some weird shit with his fingers. I’m not even sure he knew where or what a clit is.”

Dalton lets out a deep chortle that hits me in the gut. It’s a sound I’d do almost anything to hear again. “Ouch. Poor show for mankind,” he says.

“Your last hook up?” I pry.

“Five weeks ago. Not since Ellie. Honestly, I haven’t wanted to date anyone after dealing with her.”

“Poor show for womankind.”

“That feels like an understatement.” The crease between his brow is back. His jaw works like he’s chewing on the words until he can find the right ones. “I want to add a clause to our agreement.”

It’s my turn to wait for him to elaborate. Dalton’s gaze steadies, his chest rising in measured breaths.

“I’m sure you know that to be a bachelor, we’re required to provide a clean bill of health in order to attend.”

Of course I did. I helped set up the screenings. It’s how I know Dalton’s clean. In a room full of attractive consenting adults, sex is bound to happen. It was Ramona’s idea to have people tested prior. Nothing could ruin a charity faster than spreading the clap.

“I am aware. Actually, got a free screening at the same clinic as you.” Did I seriously just hint that I’m also clean and DTF? Well, shit.

“So you’ve heard the rumors about the… services most men perform on these dates?”

I try to keep my voice even, but every muscle in my body tenses.

“I didn’t pay for this date. So you’re not obligated to put out.”

“What if I want to?”

Oh, I want him to want to. Even while my head is swiveling toward a slow “no,” the words coming out of my mouth are anything but a rejection. “With no strings attached?”

Dalton’s thumb resumes its maddening circles. “No strings.”

“There’s obviously chemistry between us,” I say as if this is a possibility.

“Obviously,” he agrees, shifting back in his seat like he’s already won. “Seems like a waste not to act on it.”

Agreeing to this date is already a huge mistake.

Hell, getting drunk last night and accidentally bidding on the gorgeous man sitting across from me was idiotic at best. But knowing all that doesn’t stop my body from remembering the weight of him over me, the swirling caress of his tongue, the way his touch set me on the fast track to climax.

With less effort than all my dates this past year, Dalton had me primed and ready to beg for more in minutes.

But more is not an option. No matter how much my body reacts to his, or how badly I want to see all the ways this man can make me come apart.

Last night, this date, that’s all we will ever have.

If we both value our professional names.

I also don’t have time for a guy like Dalton Ward—the kind of guy you want to drown in.

I have a career to focus on. Obscene bills to pay.

A parent to support. Still… we have today.

“ No future.” I remind, scrutinizing his face. He gives nothing away, his expression shrewd.

“No future, according to our agreement.” He agrees.

“So today would be like a Cinderella date. Twenty-four hours, no holding back and just see where the day takes us without the worry of a future or emotional attachments. Tomorrow, we can pretend it never happened.”

“The clock strikes midnight, the spell breaks, and we go our separate ways. No glass slippers to stalk, and no unrequited love.”

I give him a surprised look.

“What? I have three sisters. You do not know how many Disney princess movies I was forced to watch while babysitting them. On repeat. Daily. My sisters are lucky I love them so much, or we would have had a fire pit filled with charred DVDs.”

“That’s kind of adorable.”

“Yeah, well, when your dad skips out, I figured the Princes and I were better role models than he could ever be.”

If it’s at all possible, the man across from me just got hotter. Not only does he love his sisters, but he also helped raise them.

“If—and I’m emphasizing the if here—if we do this, what exactly is on the table?” I ask.

“We agree to see where things go. To be open-minded. No attachments and no holding back when we want something. We simply enjoy each other fully.”

“So sex?”

“Only if it feels right and we both agree in the moment. Remember, I’ve already seen your ass.”

I poke him in the stomach with the foot he still holds hostage. “And what are you getting out of this?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Aside from the obvious potential of sex with a beautiful woman, I think we both need a palate cleanser of sorts. You deserve to feel sexy, to let a man remind you how you should be treated in bed and out. I get the feeling you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be worshiped.”

I flush at his words, that heated coil building in my stomach at the thought. He’s right, I can’t remember the last time a guy put my pleasure first in the bedroom.

Dalton continues. “And I need to remember what it feels like to connect with someone, to fight a little for something I want instead of having it handed to me. I’ve spent so much time being chased by women these past few years, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to worship someone else for a change.

I need to work hard for something I want again, and I want to worship every inch of you, Jenna. If you’ll let me.”

Well, shit. The use of my name instead of the playful forty-eight nearly undoes me. I have to remind myself to breathe.

“And what if I’m a bad lay?” I joke, trying to let some of the sizzling atmosphere between us dissipate.

“Judging by the way your body moved under mine last night, I doubt you’re anything short of spectacular.”

“And if you’re a bad lay?” I ask, aiming for a teasing smirk but falling short at the memory of his mouth on my breast.

Dalton leans in, dropping his voice. “I may be rusty in the effort level, but unlike your last date, I know my way around a clitoris.”

I fixate on the table, trying to hide the blush racing up my throat. “This will be the most expensive one-night stand of your life.”

“Worth it. On several accounts.” Dalton squeezes my calf, holding firm until I look up. “So, do you agree to my amendment? Sex is on the table.”

The molten steel in his gaze sparks something deep inside me. After years of neglect, I prioritize my desires and look him dead in the eye.

“I agree.”

Dalton’s phone pings. “Charles says we have to leave in five minutes if we want to make it to our next location on time. Well, forty-eight, let’s see where this day takes us.”

I swoon at the devilish sheen in those eyes. Unlike last night, tonight may have me fucked in all the right ways.