Текст книги "Playing with Fire "
Автор книги: Kate Meader
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“May I?” She wanted to be the one to unbutton his shirt. Expose him like he had done to her. For a moment, she imagined they had just come home from a dinner party with friends. In her domestic fantasy, they’d had a good time with convivial company, but all night they had stolen needful glances at each other. Knowing that this moment would come, when they would strip each other slowly.
She kicked that ridiculousness to the curb. One-night stands didn’t do couples dinner parties.
He cupped her hips as she undid each shirt button. One, two, three . . . All the time, he burned her alive with an intense regard, while she kept her eyes at chest level. Meeting his stare felt too raw. Too real.
She got to the last button, spread his shirt, and pause for the national anthem because, daaamn, the man was heart-stopping in his perfection. The scars on what had to be painted-on abs, wounds he must have picked up during his time in the Marines, only added to his animal magnetism.
With greedy fingers, she traced the geography of his hero-ravaged skin, remembering his military accomplishments and what he must have faced over there, remembering his parents, and what had happened in this house. A sobering thought, but that was his pain, and it would be presumptuous of her to take it on. Shucking his shirt entirely, she ran riot over his chest with her hands. Touching, shaping, planning a course of attack for her hungry mouth. His beauty had shocked her into an awed silence.
“I’ve wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you,” he said quietly.
Her heart missed a beat. Then another. She swallowed and it started up again.
“You had a funny way of showing it. You were rude. Chauvinistic.”
“I was,” he conceded. “I saw you standing with Gage at the bar in Smith & Jones, wearing that Gandalf Hates the Yankees T-shirt, all hair and fire and attitude, and it stunned me that someone could crash through me like that.”
“Gage has that effect.”
He didn’t smile at her poor attempt at diminishing the moment. Because it felt like a moment. Too large for her to comprehend.
“You were rude,” she repeated, her voice unsteady, her hands shaky from the force of her feelings as she unsnapped his tuxedo pants.
“Pigtail pulling, honey. Inside every man struck clueless by a woman is a snotty little schoolboy on the playground.”
She battled a smile. Lost the fight. “You liked me.”
“To my horror.”
“And when I carved up Sam Cochrane’s car, did you still like me?”
“It was a stupid move, wild and crazy, but damn it if a part of me didn’t love that you stood up for your people and your comrades. For yourself. Not enough people do that.” He kissed her, long and sweet. “But officially I was pissed. Baby, I had to be.”
She drew down his zipper, taking note of a very impressive bulge. “I’ve been nothing but trouble for you, haven’t I?”
“Yes, you have, and now I’m going to make you pay. You’re going to find out what happens when you poke the beast.” He pushed her onto the bed, and she watched with her mouth watering as he stripped to his boxer briefs. Magnificent, powerful, and tonight he was all hers.
“Now, turn over.”
The words were a low-voiced command, issued with Eli’s typical certainty that they would be obeyed. Still, she hesitated, partly to prolong the moment, but more so he wouldn’t think he was getting his own way.
He gentled her jaw. “Do you trust me to make you feel good?”
“You’ve always made me feel good. Even when you make me mad, piss me off, and drive me to distraction. Everything you do turns me on.”
“Just goes to prove orneriness is a natural part of your makeup.”
She hooked a finger in the band of his boxers. “I want to give you pleasure, Eli. It’s been much too one-sided.”
“There’s nothing I want more than to see those beautiful lips of yours wrapped around my cock, sucking me hard before I drive in deep. But first, I’ll be taking care of you. Making you come several times is my only goal tonight, Alexandra.”
“Is this the Chicago way? Come early and come often?”
His smile could end wars. “Knowing how responsive you are to my touch, that would be a yes. Now, turn over. Won’t tell you again.”
Yes, sir.
She rolled to her front and crawled about halfway up the bed. She knew her ass looked pret-ty fine in these panties, and his full-throated growl confirmed her confidence.
“Lie flat.”
He lay down beside her, propped on an elbow, and she turned her head so she could admire the view. Then it started.
At first, just the softest touch of his finger pads along the ladder of her spine. Teasing, igniting her skin to sun and flame. The sensory onslaught built and took hold as he trailed fingers down to the border of her panties.
“Eli, please.”
“What?” He sounded leisurely, unbothered by it all.
“Please don’t wait. I need you so badly.”
Her legs had started to shake with the anticipation, even before he parted them with those large, blunt hands. As though he worked for a living instead of sitting in his ivory tower, making decisions that affected millions. It was like this secret part of him that only she knew. How rough and brutish and filthy-minded he was under that golden facade.
He dragged on her panties, a slow, erotic rake down to her thighs.
“God, you are perfect. I could spend forever exploring this patch of skin right here.” With hot kisses, he christened the spot where the crease of her thigh met the round of her ass. Exquisite—and exquisitely frustrating.
“It’s been so long, Eli. If you don’t—ah!” He slipped a finger between her thighs. She bit back the scream of pleasure on her lips, refusing to give it to him.
He rubbed through her folds. “How do you want to come, honey?” Continuing to saw his fingers back and forth, he kissed every inch of her booty. Her body undulated, chasing the motion of his clever digits.
“How about sometime soon?” she gasped.
In a split second, he had flipped her on her back, and had those panties off and her thighs spread wide. Totally exposed, all she could do was get wetter and wetter while he stared at her like the mysteries of the universe lay between her legs.
“Wider.”
Was that even possible? She moved her thighs apart until her knees practically touched the edges of the bed. The glow from the fire lit up the hard planes of his cheek, the rigid line of his jaw.
She rolled her hips in blatant appeal, craving the grind, some small measure of relief. Her hands grasped at the bed cover. “I hate you right now.”
That earned her an evil chuckle followed by a stroke of a solitary finger along her outer lips. Any second now and she would fly apart, lose herself in the oblivion she was hurtling toward. He heeled his hand against her entire sex and gave a lascivious rub.
“I—I don’t think I can hold on, Eli.”
“You don’t have to. Let go and then let me do it all over again.”
She exploded, and the fact that it had been precipitated by his giving her permission to come was something she would store and unpack later. That wasn’t her. Was it?
He sucked on the finger he had bathed in her juices. “You taste so damn good. Need more. Need you.”
She squeezed her core, holding on to the sparkling quivers, determined not to allow a single whispering touch unravel her again so soon. But this time, he went even slower. Maddeningly so, as if he knew her job would be to resist. He placed a feathery kiss on the inside of her thigh, then one on the other.
Then in between.
She clamped down on her bottom lip until it hurt enough to overpower the glittering sensation below. She’d always thought Eli Cooper was a smooth talker, but now she realized that slick mouth was wasted on politics. It was made to bring bordering-on-painful physical pleasure.
His tongue traced the outer lips, dipped inside, but never hit the hot spot of her clit. Every lick slickened and teased, maddened and aroused. Another skill to add to his sex ninja résumé: Eli Cooper, Tongue-Fucking Master.
“Touch those gorgeous breasts, honey,” he ordered. The rumble of his voice, husky with desire, all boss against her throbbing pussy, nearly sent her over.
She undid the front clasp and let her aching breasts spill free, but not for long. Soon, she had cupped them in her hands, massaging them until her nipples peaked to hard tips. She heard his groan of appreciation against her sensitized sex.
His dark head bobbed between her thighs as he sought untrodden paths of ecstasy. She’d had no idea it could feel like this, that the long, obscene licks through her sex could ignite something more than a coming orgasm. Seeing this powerful man tending to her with such absolute absorption wrapped her up in a crazy kind of joy.
She felt beautiful under his tongue. She felt loved in this moment. She felt . . . on the brink of something terrifyingly real.
He applied an unbearably arousing suction to—at last!—her sizzling clit and she erupted.
“Eli!” Her hands grabbed his hair and held him fast in a glorious grind through her greedy, wracking orgasm. He stayed with her, lapping up her feminine satisfaction, pinning her with hands on hips until it was nothing but twittery aftershocks and his hot breath keeping the embers stoked below.
Watching—and feeling—Alexandra come almost did Eli in. He was granite hard, so close to going off, but it was important that he treat her right. After her rotten year in the man-trenches, he wanted to worship her.
He knew he’d have to sate his need soon, but first he took a moment to absorb this woman in all her postorgasmic glory. Her skin was flushed, her eyes as bright as jewels. Freed from the restraint of the demi bra, her perfect breasts begged for his greedy touch. She was like a spirited thoroughbred straining at her harness, but this woman could never be mastered and he would be a fool to try. Much better to enjoy her earthy life force and let her glow rub off on his darkness.
“Is that it?” she asked, her voice thick with need.
He laughed. “Two orgasms not enough?”
Her gaze did a slow meander down his body and fixed on his tented boxers. “I need all of you inside me, Eli, and I know you need it, too. Please don’t make either of us wait any longer.”
Her honesty unraveled some tangle of emotion inside him and he responded the only way he knew how: he stamped his mouth over hers and took what was his right. This slow-burn plan he’d had died a quick and necessary death. Primal urgency ruled their movements. Fueled by desperate hands and frenzied mouths, they kissed their way to total nakedness.
Her mouth dropped open.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’re gonna need a bigger condom. If the female voters could see you now, that election would be a slam dunk.” She circled his swollen cock and with slow, rhythmic strokes, moved her hand up and down, the slide progressively easier because of the pre-cum slicking the head.
He had trouble getting the words out. “Only one voter gets to see this, honey.”
“I knew this was all a scheme to get me to check that box on Election Day.”
“We do what we must.”
Her hands explored, caressed, pumped him until he just about lost the power of speech. He wanted to do a million filthy-gorgeous things to her: fuck her saucy mouth, drag his cock between her beautiful tits, sink into that sweet pussy he could still taste on his lips.
“You can do it all, Eli. Tonight, I’m yours.”
So much for losing the power of speech. Apparently, he was so far gone he didn’t even realize when he was verbalizing his wildest fantasies.
She continued to palm him, her green eyes sparkling jewels of temptation, her olive skin lustrous in the firelight. “Tell me what you need. And be specific.”
Be specific. He had hit the fucking mother lode—the woman of his fantasies craving his demands. And he had so many.
“Suck me off. Start slow.”
A slight hitch at the corner of her mouth disappeared as she scooted down the bed and parted her lips to take him in. Tentative inches at first, then a methodical suckle, each return taking in more. Needing an anchor, he tunneled his fingers through her wild hair and held her in place, as if that one motion could convince him who was in control. Around her, control was a slippery thing, likely to elude him with each passing second in her presence.
He might be giving the orders here, but she was the one in charge.
Just as he felt that sizzle of impending orgasm, she released him with a pop. God, he’d been so close, but she had other plans, and hell, he didn’t mind. Taking his cock in her hand, she rubbed the swollen head around the dark nipple of one gorgeous tit. Like she was using his dick as an instrument, writing a story on her body. Pre-cum leaked on her olive skin, and she—oh, good fuck—massaged it into her puckered nipple.
“Jesus, Alexandra.” Hands down, that was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. Her eyes, heavy lidded with a mix of dark desire and strange innocence, held his captive.
“Eli, I need you to fuck me. Now.”
He lost it. Just lost his mind. He pulled her up level and lay over her, settling into the welcoming embrace of her thighs. Their mouths met in a crush of want and heat, unlike any kiss he’d ever given or received. He captured her moans. She caught his right back. Against his rigid cock, she felt so wet and accepting, the only place he wanted to be, and she rolled her hips, begging, willing him to thrust all his tension inside this woman who made him feel like a god. Or more of a god than he usually felt, which was saying a lot.
“Please,” she moaned. “Oh, God. Condom. We need—”
Fuck. He had been about to slip in unholstered. This was what she had reduced him to.
“On it.”
Two seconds later and he had a condom out of its packaging, but his hands were . . . shit, his hands were shaking like he was a randy teen his first time out, and it took him three tries to get everything secured.
“Been awhile, huh?” she asked with that smart-assed grin, a nice call back to that first time he’d made her come in the hallway of her home. After sixty seconds, he was about to shoot back at her, but then all coherent thought fled as he gripped her sweet ass and drove in balls-deep.
She arched into him, screaming her pleasure at taking all of him.
“Yeah, it’s been a while,” he gritted out as he withdrew, “and you’re going to benefit, honey. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll see stars.” He plunged again, loving how her lusty moans set off vibrations throughout his body.
“Hockey stars, perhaps?”
Jesus, this woman’s mouth. “I will fuck the ever-loving smart-assery out of you, Alexandra.” He got started on that, pumping in and out, in and out. Deeper, harder. “I’m going to fuck you so good the only word on your lips will be my name. The only answer to every question will be my name. Now say it.”
He claimed her mouth, kissing her fiercely to let her think on it awhile. The coil in his gut tightened with every thrust into her slick channel. Her hands were everywhere—his shoulders, raking his back, squeezing his ass to seal their connection.
When he released her mouth, she murmured on a blissful sigh, “Asshole.”
“My other name, honey.”
She squeezed him like a satin fist, dug her heel into his ass. “Prick.”
He stalled. Dawdled. Started again. More languorous this time because he suspected that might piss her off.
“Don’t slow down!”
Bingo. “My name.”
He kissed her again, loving the tangle of their tongues, pouring every ounce of feeling he could into it. Emotion he hadn’t realized he had, or had to spare.
“Eli,” she screamed as she crested toward that peak of pleasure.
He started up that driving rhythm again, long, possessive strokes designed to pleasure her for making him feel and punish her for making him fall. And when her pussy fluttered, gripped, and locked him through the onslaught of her orgasm, she said his name again.
Softly now, and that word had never sounded sweeter or more freely given. He didn’t want to think about why he needed that or why being buried inside her was his personal heaven. He didn’t want to think.
So he let the sensations claim him and trigger a climax that knocked out the power grid that used to be his brain. And his last thought as he emptied all he had inside her was that he knew what he was doing here.
Mostly.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Alex unhinged one uncooperative eyelid, then the other, and her hand moved instinctively to find him. Gone, the sheets cool. He’d been up for a while.
The clock said 6:08 and her fuzzy head agreed. The Cheshire cat grin that stole across her face was inevitable. She was in Eli Cooper’s bed.
Last night, Eli’s dominance of her body had been like something shifting into place. It was as though he knew something about her that she didn’t—a disturbing thought indeed. She had always assumed she should be the aggressor, and given her sassy mouth and Amazonian frame, men expected it of her. Tough, strong women like Firefighter Alex Dempsey were supposed to be getting it done between the sheets, yet it had never seemed as satisfying as it should have.
With Eli, she loved obeying his filthy, inventive demands. Did that make her submissive? She didn’t know and she didn’t care. She just knew that this dynamic worked for her and she wanted to explore it.
If only he was here so she could explore it without leaving these warm, sex-rumpled sheets. She’d read somewhere that he was an early riser because he had so much to do and didn’t want to waste a single minute. She guessed it was time to go waste some of those mayoral minutes. But first, a little poking around was in order.
The bathroom was big, bemarbled, and filled with—yep—beauty products. He probably got crates of L’Oréal hair gel sent to him with Amazon Subscribe & Save. She squinted in the bathroom mirror to minimize the horror. Makeup smudged, hair as big as Wisconsin, body feeling appropriately used after multiple orgasms.
In the bedroom, she shuddered at the idea of redressing in her evening wear, so she rooted around for something more comfortable. Ransacking a dresser, she found and threw on a U of C T-shirt, inhaling it to tide her over until she encountered coffee or man (either would suffice). Last night, she hadn’t had time to absorb her surroundings because she was too busy being walk-ravished into the bedroom. Now she took a moment. Assorted artwork and photos dotted the walls on this floor, but there were conspicuous blanks, perfectly spaced-out squares that were slightly discolored, as though they’d once housed frames that had since been removed. She counted five of them on the landing.
What remained were pictures of Eli as a kid with family members: his mom, grandparents, what looked like cousins.
But, Alex couldn’t help but notice, none of his father, the revered Weston Cooper.
Were those the photos that were missing? He hadn’t spoken much of his dad, though in interviews, whenever his name came up—and inevitably the manner of his death—Eli was always respectful. Distantly respectful, if she thought about it. His face only seemed to light up when he talked about his mother. At that Women in Business luncheon last week, he had told a voter-baiting story about how his mom put his dad through law school. That personalized insight into the sacrifice of a modern marriage had gone down a treat with the crowd, but she suspected there was more to it.
She thought back to his odd reaction on getting that award and his ambivalence about Weston Cooper’s heroism. His hand gripping that steak knife.
Slowly, she moved downstairs, noting that the first-floor walls still had all the pictures intact, including several with his father. The public area of the house. Finished with her nose-dawdle, she padded into the living room and just about doubled over with lust.
Eli sat on a paperwork-strewn sofa, laptop open, Shadow at his bare feet, the epitome of “Ralph Lauren invades the Hamptons.” A faded blue Henley did a terrible job of hiding his stunning musculature. Soft, touchable jeans had clearly been washed far too many times if the rips revealing peeks of his tree-trunk thighs were any indication. And the coup de grâce—he was wearing glasses.
She didn’t think it was possible the man could get any sexier, but here he was, yet again making a mockery of her ridiculous preconceptions. He looked up, and his glass-rimmed eyes traveled over her body, foretelling a wicked plan to take her before she’d had her coffee. Yes, please!
“Morning, Alexandra.” All raspy and sexy. God, she couldn’t stand it.
She held up a finger. “Just a sec.”
Three steps back the way she came took her out of his sight. In the hallway, she did a little dance, thanking the sex gods for blessing Alex Dempsey, a mere mortal, with a night in the bed of one of their own. Oh, great ones, I will use him well.
Done with her homage, she looked down to find Shadow gazing up at her with eyes aglow and tail a-wagging. Bending to doggy level, she whispered in his ear, “Not a word to your master about what you just witnessed here, buddy. His ego is already as big as his dick.”
She swore the dog winked at her.
Back in the living room, she was on him faster than double-struck lightning. Between blistering lip locks, she said, “Your morning-after care sucks, Cooper. I wake up and there’s no hard peen nudging my butt demanding attention.”
He laughed. “I meant to come back before you opened your eyes but I got distracted. Paperwork.”
“So flattering. But I forgive you because I now get to do the deed with nerdy eyeglass-wearing Eli.” She drew back. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen you in glasses before. Why don’t you wear them all the time?”
“Because I’m already hot enough. I put these on and I’d be lucky to walk ten feet without losing all my clothes to Eli-mania.” And while on the lovely subject of losing clothes . . . He peeled off her shirt, raising his glasses to get a better look. Then he made a colossal error.
He pushed them up to the top of his head!
“Don’t even think about it, buster,” she ordered as she replaced them on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t care how blurry, or clear, I look to you. I demand my early morning sex nerd-style.”
Sighing his acquiescence, he moved a folder aside, and her gaze was drawn to the cover with the seal of Veterans’ Affairs. “That doesn’t look like campaign stuff.”
“It’s not. I’m working on a new program with the Veterans’ Court.”
She’d heard of this, a court system designed to administer cases of military vets. Momentarily distracted from the Cooper glory, she said, “I don’t really get why there has to be a separate system. Isn’t crime the same regardless of who commits it?”
“Yes and no. One in ten prison inmates in the U.S. has a military background, and a lot of the behavior that gets them in trouble can be traced to inadequate services for PTSD and long wait times for counseling. Many self-medicate with alcohol, drugs, have poor employment rates. It’s a perfect storm for sending vets into the criminal justice system. The veterans’ court looks at ways to keep vets out of prison for nonviolent offenses and help them get their lives back on track—before they derail completely.” He picked up the folder. “I’ve been reading some of the cases because I plan to give it more funding for mental health and mentoring services.”
Her memory strayed to the scars on his body, the stamps of his heroism and his duty to country. With two brothers who were ex-military, she understood the difficulties with reacclimation stateside. Luke, especially, had been a terror. “How did you get through it, Eli?”
“I kept busy,” he said, not misunderstanding her. “I went to work in the state’s attorney’s office and I powered through.” He pushed her unruly hair behind her ear. “I may have drunk too much, but that could just as easily be attributed to being a lawyer. I probably should have talked to someone, but my grandparents didn’t believe in therapy and I guess I internalized that.”
“You’ve had to work through a lot of stuff.”
His smile was grimly beautiful. “The human condition. If it ain’t painful, it ain’t interesting.”
True, that. “So, when your parents died you didn’t see a shrink?”
He shook his head. “Shrinks were for crazy people. In Lake Forest, traumatic events are overcome with stiff upper lips, a double scotch, and a round of golf. I’m a black belt in all three.” He skimmed his hands down her sides, seeking and finding all her curves. “I think I turned out okay, but I recognize that’s not the solution for everyone.”
“Like Brady? Gage said it’s been slow going, but getting better.”
A shadow crossed his face but quickly brightened to a smile. “I don’t worry about him as much anymore. Your brother’s been really good for him.”
Brady had been just as good for Gage, who went through a tough time with his biological mom in the fall. “That’s why you introduced them. You hoped Gage would heal Brady.” And this man didn’t believe in the fairy tale? She dropped a kiss on his lips. “Sounds like you’ve been a good friend.”
“To be honest, I was sick of all his doom and gloom. Someone had to take charge and make something happen.”
Eli’s grip on the reins, even when it wasn’t his horse to ride, always had to be absolute. Great for her in the bedroom, but she could see that it might be troublesome in other rooms in the house. Fortunately, she wouldn’t have to worry about that. Soon she wouldn’t have to worry about any of it.
Just enjoy the cock ride, Dempsey.
Needing the distraction that she knew only his hands could give, she squirmed in his lap, loving the bite of the denim through her erotically thin panties. His thumbs veed over her mound, then trailed farther south and under until they encountered soft, soaking flesh.
“You a little sore, honey? I worked you good.”
She wished she didn’t blush around him so much. “I like it. I like the reminder of how good you feel inside me.”
“You did say it had been a while,” he said with a sly bent to his tone.
“Fishing for tales of my past misdeeds?”
“If I was to believe you, you’re as untouched as the driven snow because no man can see past your startling honesty and tough-girl attitude to the real woman underneath.”
She felt her bones go stiff. He felt it, too.
“I see. Just give me a name. I can have him taken care of within the hour.”
She smiled, though she really shouldn’t enjoy that Eli had that kind of power and was unafraid to use it in her defense. “I believe you, which reminds me. You are not to retaliate against Michael Martinez because he informed me of your Neanderthal behavior.”
Glowering ensued. “He was supposed to keep that information to himself.”
“I mean it, Eli. No payback. You got what you wanted.”
He rubbed his thumb over her nipple, inducing delicious shivers. “Yes, I did. I suppose I can be magnanimous in victory.”
“Ass,” she muttered.
Smug grin. “Tell me about the last guy. Maybe I can transfer my wrath to someone who’s more deserving.”
She should never have opened this can of wormage. “Only my pride was the casualty here, Eli. I’d been dating, once a week, all duds, and then after one encounter with a dickhead in a four-hundred-thousand-dollar luxury vehicle, suddenly I was interesting.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah. Ah.” She squirmed, not a sexy writhe this time. “I let myself get picked up in my own bar by some stockbroker type. Just sex while under the influence.”
He stared at her with that immovable gaze. “So, he didn’t call you?”
Typical man, assuming that a woman’s ultimate goal was to get that follow-up call. She fixed him with a disapproving glare, letting him know what she thought of his stereotyping. “No, he didn’t. Instead two nights later he came back into the bar with a bunch of rowdy friends and I overheard them taking bets about who would be next to tap America’s Favorite Firefighter.”
His fingers gripped her waist. “How rude.” He said it with a lethal quiet, as if this type of rudeness deserved the death penalty. At his hands.
“I knew what I was doing. But I did feel foolish, and then I felt . . . careful.” She needed him to understand that she had no expectations here. Eyes open, fun times ahead. Next topic. “So what about you?”
“I told you, I don’t date.”
“Well, no one said you had to date to get some.” She made a flourish with her hands over her very naked breasts, a gesture of acknowledgment that not dating could be very rewarding indeed.
His gaze turned molten. “Honey, you had your chance to extract my secrets last night in the postcoital afterglow, but instead you chose more sex.”
She raised a fist to the ceiling in triumph. “I will always choose more sex. But now I want to know how long it’s been for you. Who was it? Lemme guess. Some campaign intern whose panties get wet whenever you walk in the room?” Ugh, she hated this skank already. She needed to stop talking, but a part of her had to know what the competition was like.
Not that it would make a difference to Eli. He’d made it abundantly clear that she should keep her expectations as low as dirt.
“No interns.” A sharp look said the suggestion was beneath him.
“Who, then? Do I know her? It’s that Whitney chick, isn’t it?”
“I would never sleep with an employee.” At her arch smile, he added, “A direct report.”
“So that leaves Madison,” she joked.
And . . . there it was. The air heaved with the weight of his nondenial.
“You mean the last time you had sex was twelve years ago with your ex-wife?” Rather wishful, but laughing it off seemed like the only way to play this and not look like a lovesick, jealous harpy.
“When neither of us is seeing anyone, we have an arrangement.” Those all-knowing eyes measured her reaction. “Just to scratch an itch. Like divorced-with-benefits.”
Her stomach whirled in a slow, sick spin. This was . . . oh, God, this was awful. You wanted to know, dummy.
Maybe she was overreacting and it was truly ancient history. Seeking clarification was on the tip of her tongue when he said the one thing she might have been able to survive this conversation without hearing. “It’s just sex. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Anger rose swift and sharp. “She’s your ex-wife and you have an arrangement to have sex with her when the need arises.” When he had an itch to scratch. “I would say it means a great deal.”
