Page 8

This is a bad idea. I know this is a bad idea.

But every stroke of Dalton’s hand has me reeling closer to the edge of unreason.

Fuck, he feels good. I grind against him again, feeling his hard cock press back against my thigh.

The bulge in Ander’s pants on stage has nothing on Dalton.

The slickness at my core grows, and all I want is him inside me.

To feel him quiver as we lose control, to disappear into the release my body has been craving for months.

My hands are already on his belt, the buckle undone and the top button of his pants half free, when the banging against the headboard wall starts.

My fingers still. Dalton’s lips release my breast as we pause to listen. Were we being too loud? The banging holds a steady pace. As our breathing quiets, a woman’s moans of pleasure join the rhythmic thumping. They morph into screams of pleasure punctuated by a name.

“Anders! Oh God! Anders, fuck me. Fuck me harder!”

Dalton and I burst out laughing, trying and then failing to stifle ourselves in the crooks of each other’s necks. The sexual tension that had been building between us evaporates.

“Go, Mrs. Donner,” I say, earning another muffled laugh from Dalton.

Without his lips on my body, clarity finds its way back in like a bucket of cold water.

“Dalton,” I say his name like it’s already a regret I don’t want to admit to.

He fills in the rest. “This isn’t a good idea.”

I shake my head. I can’t say those words aloud. But this is not a good idea, no matter how much my body needs it. Wants it. Wants him .

“Not if we want to keep this simple,” I say instead, reminding myself. “Sex complicates our deal.”

He closes his eyes, defeat evident in his wilted expression.

Extracting himself from our tangle of limbs, Dalton flops next to me.

I expect him to grab his things and leave, spurned and sexually frustrated.

Instead, he eases me onto my side and then pulls me into his chest, assuming the position of big spoon.

“Does this complicate our deal?”

I hold back a sigh. Of course it does! I want to scream.

I can still feel his erection pressing against my ass for ever-loving sake.

But his arms feel so good that I find myself melting into the touch.

I haven’t been held like this for almost a year.

Steve was never a cuddler. He was more of the hit it and then roll back to his side of the bed kinda guy, whether or not I got off.

What I ever saw in that man is still a mystery.

Three years wasted on that jackass and then he cheated on me.

Dalton’s breath washes over my ear, still smelling sweet. The clock on the nightstand reads two thirty-two am. With unreasonable speed, the entire day comes crashing down, dragging me into a smothering exhaustion.

“Thank you for tonight,” I say and mean it.

“As weird and messed up as it was?”

I can’t keep the smile from my lips. “As weird and messed up as it was. And still not the worst date I’ve had. I guess I didn’t realize how nice it was to spend time with someone and just enjoy myself.”

“I know the feeling.”

Shutting down the thought of rolling over and picking up where we left off before Anders started railing Mrs. Donner, I get back to the business side of our agreement.

“So tomorrow, we walk away, and no one owes the other anything. You find a nice lady to take on your date. We wipe our slates clean.”

Dalton hesitates long enough that my eyelids droop.

His lips graze my neck when he finally speaks. “Go on the date with me tomorrow, Jenna.”

The words come out a little mushy. “No. We had a deal, drinks, and then we forget each other ever existed.”

“I’m only asking for a twenty-four-hour extension.

Then we go our separate ways. Just like we agreed.

” He nuzzles against my neck and, despite myself, I arch into him in response, earning a throaty groan.

His voice comes out gruff, laced with gravel and desire.

“Let me take you on a proper date. One you deserve. To say thank you for helping me out tonight. Please.”

“We’re square. You rescued me from Wall Street.”

“Wall Street?” He asks, then chuckles. “The douche downstairs?”

“Mmmm,” I murmur in agreement. “Huge douche.”

“Yeah, that’s not even close to you taking me in like a stray dog while my ex tried her damnedest to ruin the entire floor’s night. Apples and watermelons, forty-eight. Please, let me repay you.”

Sleep laces with desire, the way Dalton’s hands hold me close, his touch gentle and pleading. I’ve half a mind to tell him to just repay me with an epic orgasm right now, but I have just enough wherewithal to keep that thought to myself.

“You’re trouble, Dalton Ward.” The words are almost a mumble.

“I know.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “So, is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no,” I admit, sleep is creeping in.

Dalton releases me for a moment. The TV turns off, then the room goes dark with a click of the bedside lamp. We lay in silence for what could be minutes or an hour.

“I can work with not a no.” Dalton’s words barely register as sleep pulls me under.