Bedding The Bad Boy (Dalton Brothers Novels) Page 14

  Grace couldn’t imagine Max being insecure about anything, let alone whether he’d be a good father. Then again, she’d implied the same thing several times. She’d used Max’s playboy reputation and celebrity status to judge him even as she’d selfishly sought to use them for her own pleasure.

  Grace handed the quilt back to Rachel, who was looking at her out of the corners of her eyes. Why? Because she wanted Grace to help convince Max he’d be a good father? Or because she wanted her to convince Max to be the father of her child?

  She obviously had the wrong idea about them, just as Max had predicted.

  “You know we’re just friends,” Grace said quickly.

  “Oh, I know, dear. And sometimes that’s often the best way to start. Friends first, lovers second. Of course, the opposite happened with Jack and me. We were lovers first, friends second, and it’s turned out to be a fantastic relationship that’s lasted forty years. Whatever it is you have with Max, don’t underestimate it. I certainly won’t.”

  Before a completely flummoxed Grace could respond, Rachel squeezed her arm. “Now, let’s go see what the guys are up to.”

  ***

  Less than an hour later, Max and Grace were on the road back to Vegas. The more miles they traveled, the more intense the buzzing in Grace’s stomach became. She squirmed in her seat, feeling jittery and hot. Somehow seeing Max with his parents, but also with Houdini and Chloe, made her feel as though she’d been granted a rare privilege. Exactly the type of “gifts” Rachel alluded to earlier. She suspected she’d gotten an up-close-and-personal glimpse of the “real” Max Dalton in a way most people never did.

  And what she saw, she really, really liked.

  Respected.

  Desired.

  She couldn’t keep her eyes off Max. Her gaze fondled the strong column of his throat. The graceful competence of his hands on the steering wheel. The way his hair flirted with the tips of his ears so that her fingers itched to push it back, baring his flesh so she could nibble and lick to her heart’s content.

  Good Lord, she was turned on. More turned on than when she gave him a blow job. More turned on than when she touched herself with him watching. With Max, there didn’t seem to be an end to the heights he could make her libido climb.

  She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. His rehearsals usually started an hour before his first show, which began at eight o’clock. With the amount of time the drive would take, they maybe had an hour tops to spare.

  Not long enough at all, but still time she didn’t want to waste.

  The buzzing inside her turned to tingling, and her breaths grew shallower. She suddenly felt light-headed, as though she would die if he didn’t put his mouth on her. Everywhere on her.

  “Max,” she said. “Can you pull ovah?”

  He looked over at her and frowned. “You feeling okay, Dixie?”

  “I just really need you to pull ovah right now.” She was breathing so fast she was on the verge of hyperventilating.

  She sensed the car slow but not stop. “You look flushed. Let’s find a place to get you a drink. There’s probably a—”

  “I don’t want a drink, Max. I just want you to stop.”

  “Grace—”

  “Do you want me to beg? Because if that’s what you want, I will. I’ll do anything’ you want if you’ll just kiss me. Because I really want you to kiss you right now. I need you to kiss me.”

  His body jerked and his knuckles whitened as he clutched the steering wheel. “Is kissing all you want?” he asked slowly, his voice deeper and rougher than just seconds before.

  “I want whatevah you’ll give me.”

  His jaw flexed. The car suddenly swung to the right. Max slowed, edged the car off the highway, and came to a stop, sending dust in their wake. He glanced around until his gaze settled on a dirt road about a tenth of a mile up. “Hold on.” Hitting the gas hard, he sent the car whipping forward. They careened down the dirt road for a few minutes until trees and brush hid them. Max slowed to a stop, put the car in park, then turned off the engine. Only then did he turn and look at her.

  His eyes were feral.

  His chest heaving.

  His jaw clenched.

  Faster than a hot knife through butter, she got her seat belt unfastened and practically threw herself at him.

  Within seconds, they were outside the car, pressed against the hood, his mouth on hers, his hands buried in her hair, adjusting the angle of her head so he could kiss her deeper. She tugged his shirt out of his pants and immediately shoved her hands underneath, sighing with relief as she caressed the hard planes of his chest and brushed his nipples with the pads of her thumbs. He didn’t bother taking anything off her, just shoved her skirt up and ripped off her pink thong. She gasped and he paused, lifting his head to stare down at her with hooded eyes.

  “If you want something more romantic than this, tell me now.”

  Fast and furious, she thought, remembering what the brunette at Lodi’s had told her.

  “Do you—do you you have a blanket in your car for this type of thing?”

  It was the wrong thing to say. He jerked down her skirt then stepped back and ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck, Grace, regardless of what you think of me, I don’t make a habit of pulling to the side of the road and having sex with women. In fact, this will be my first time.”

  He’d had a threesome but never…? She stepped closer and placed her palms on his shoulder. Went on her tiptoes to kiss him softly. “Well, I’m honored to be your first. Again. Now fuck me, Max. With your fingers. With your tongue. With everthin’ you have.”

  “You mean that? You’re going to take everything I have to give you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then tell me what your safe word is, Grace. I need to know you remember.”

  “Mango,” she whispered.

  Abruptly, he moved around her. Her heart squeezed with disappointment.

  Until he opened his trunk and pulled out a snazzy-looking aluminum sun visor that was the size of a small blanket.

  Grinning at her, he grabbed her hand and led her deeper into the trees until he found a spot he liked. He placed the sun visor on the ground.

  Then he swept her up into arms and laid her gently on top of it.

  “What do you want to do first, baby?”

  “I thought you were in control?”

  “I am. And I’m choosing to ask you what you want to do first.”

  “Well, in that case, the first thing that comes to mind is you kissin’ me… in more than one place.”

  It started with stealth moves, soft and slow, but progressively became deeper and longer and harder until she was clawing at his clothes and her own. Soon nothin' was between them and the sun but a smile, with him on his back and her positioned over him so they had their mouths on one another.

  Lying outside naked, with his fingers and tongue inside her, with his cock in her mouth, she should have felt awkward. Self-conscious. All she felt was good. So good she never wanted it to end.

  But it was going to.

  Soon, if the tensing of her body was any indication. She was close.

  And then she wasn’t.

  She got cold. She couldn’t breathe. She pulled away from him. “Max, wait. You need to stop.”

  He didn’t stop. He kept his face buried between her thighs, working her with fingers, tongue and teeth.

  The cold started to recede. Her head fell back. She knew there was a reason she needed that cold. A reason to hold herself back from this man who had the power to hurt her more than any other man ever had.

  She twisted, reached down, thrust her fingers in his hair and pulled hard. “Max. Stop.”

  Twisting around so he was kneeling over her, his face above hers, he grabbed her wrists, and pinned them over her head with a one-handed grip. “I’m not going to stop, Grace, because you don’t want me to stop.”

  “You have to—”

  “You’re scared. You’re pullin
g back into your shell. But I’m not going to let you do it. I’m going to make you come.”

  She shook her head wildly even as a voice inside her head whispered, Yes, make me come. Don’t let me stop you. Give me what I really want, Max. Give me you.

  As if he read her mind, he said, “I’m going to force you to come.”

  Her pussy contracted at his words and a gush of liquid trailed down her thighs.

  He saw it. He felt it when he inserted his hand between her thighs and began fondling her. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me, Grace. You know why? Because it’s what you want, but it’s also what I want. What I want for you. And you are going to give it to me.”

  He said the last sentence in short staccato beats, loosening his hold on her at the end. Then he slowly let go of her wrists altogether, his eyes daring her to move them. She didn’t. It was as if his words and the sheer power of his gaze and proximity continued to pin her down. Her body, bare from the waist down, was spread open for him, and she didn’t have the energy or the brainpower to fight what was happening. He scooted down her body, keeping eye contact with her the whole time.

  “Spread your legs wider,” he commanded, then blew on her bare belly and pubic area. She jerked and whimpered, doing as he said, offering herself to him.

  He gazed at her flesh until she was biting her lip to stop from screaming. Then he moved, burying his face between her thighs again, and she did scream.

  Then he did exactly what he’d sworn he would.

  He did everything she needed.

  He sucked and nibbled on her clit. Licked her with long, strong strokes of his tongue and penetrated her with deep, slow thrusts of his fingers. He groaned and whispered to her as he did it, combining his beautiful voice with the sounds of raw, primal sex.

  Her mind blanked, her body transforming into a fireball of pure sensation.

  She forgot everything but what she was feeling and the fact it was Max making her feel it.

  Before she even knew it was going to happen, he pushed her over the edge.

  He made her forget her past and her insecurities, and all the times she’d told herself she shouldn’t want or need things that normal people didn’t want or need. He made her forget everything but him and the pleasure that built and built and built until she finally exploded into a million pieces.

  Later, when she was able to breathe and move again, Grace scooted out of Max’s embrace. He let her go, watching her warily as she pulled on her clothes. When she was done, she stepped toward the car. Suddenly, his arms were around her waist, pulling her close so her back was pressed to his front. His naked body pressed eagerly against hers, and she barely stopped herself from moaning in anguished delight.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and hesitant.

  She immediately felt like a bitch.

  “Was I too rough? Did I—did I do something you didn’t want?”

  She twisted to look at him over her shoulder. “You did nothing wrong. You gave me exactly what I wanted, Max, and it was wonderful. I’m just… I’m just feelin’ a little shaken is all. You pack quite a punch.”

  When she turned to stare straight ahead again, he sighed and rested his chin on the top of her head.

  She crossed her arms over his, then took one of his hands, brought it to her lips and kissed it.

  “You were right,” she said quietly. “Even though we didn’t string things out for long, the wait was well worth it.”

  “I second that,” he said. He kissed Grace behind her right ear and continued to hold her. “Dixie—”

  “I guess I can fly back to California earlier than I thought.”

  He stiffened. Then he turned her in his arms to face him. “We’re not done, Grace.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You planned to stay the week. There’s no reason you shouldn’t.”

  “But you made me come,” she said.

  He smoothed her hair away from her face, then touched her lips with his fingertips, which still smelled and tasted like her. “I made you come with my fingers and tongue. But I haven’t done my job until I’ve made you come every single way there is to do it. That didn’t feel half as good as much as it will when my dick is inside you.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Max’s Magic Rule #11:

  Perfect the art of looking happy even when you’re miserable.

  By the time Max pulled up in front of Grace’s hotel, he had less than fifteen minutes to get to the theater and prep before the show. It was probably for the best, anyway. Grace was silently staring out the passenger window, just as she had been doing for the last half of their drive. Granted, she’d done it while he’d been holding her hand—mainly because every time she tried to pull away, he refused to let her—but he knew despite allowing that physical closeness, she was freaked out and scrambling to reinforce all the walls he’d managed to partially break down.

  Partially, he thought, because he knew he hadn’t even begun to break down Grace’s walls or see all of her.

  Hell, this morning he didn’t have a clue he was going to see her, yet since then she’d pole- and lap-danced for him, dry humped him, given him a blow job, touched herself in front of him, and let him go down on her until she came. All that from and with the woman who’d not only never had an orgasm with a man before, but proclaimed sex wasn’t the be-all-end-all—and was determined to devote all her future time and energy toward having a baby rather than finding a man who could satisfy her sexually, emotionally, romantically and in every other way that counted.

  So now what?

  Other than what he’d already told her, he had no clue. Other than intending to spend more time with her—making her come every way there was, and maybe even some ways that hadn’t been thought of yet—Max wasn’t sure what role he was going to be playing in Grace’s life.

  But he knew one thing.

  If he had anything to say about it, he was damn well going to have a bigger role in her life than her best friend’s brother-in-law.

  He wasn’t kidding himself. What they had right now—the passion and intoxication he felt just being with her—that wasn’t going to last. Their intense sexual connection was going to burn out just like it had with every other woman he’d been with. But he liked and respected her. When this week was over, he didn’t want to go back to being strangers who saw each other a couple of times a year then made polite small talk. He wanted a relationship with her, even if that relationship was friendship. It worked with Melina long before she married Rhys. It could work with Grace, too.

  She’d have been his friend a long time ago if he hadn’t been so damn determined to stay away from her. And as her friend, he was more determined than ever to make her see how Operation Baby was the coward’s way out.

  If he failed? If he had to watch Grace grow plump with someone else’s baby, and know that man was going to spend the next several decades sharing beautiful moments with her? He didn’t want to think about that.

  Because thinking about it pissed him off. It also made him feel sad. And he couldn’t let himself feel either of those things.

  About a half-hour ago, when he’d mentioned stopping by her hotel after his performance, she’d told him she was tired and needed a good night’s sleep in order to be ready for her Skype appointment with a baby daddy candidate. His first instinct was to ask if she was crazy. Even after proving you can have an orgasm with man, you’re still going forward with your ludicrous plan? His second instinct was to ask why she hadn’t told him about the appointment earlier, but he didn’t ask either one. Doing the first would just piss her off and likely make her bolt, something she was obviously far too willing to do. As for the second, he already knew why she hadn’t mentioned it. She either didn’t have an appointment, or she had an appointment and hadn’t wanted to mention it, but changed her mind because doing so would now would buy her the time her panic wanted.

  Of all these possibilities, it was the last that made the most sense
. Since he was shell-shocked himself from what happened between them, giving her space now seemed like the right thing to do. But that was only for tonight. Tomorrow he’d be back in her face, and that included talking to her before that Skype conversation.

  Grace deserved better than an online-ordered baby-daddy. Both Grace and whatever child or children she’d have deserved a man in their lives who wanted to be there out of love and desire—not because of some prearranged coldly calculated bullshit. He should know. He’d been blessed with the best parents in the world. They modeled the type of relationship Max wanted if and when he ever found the right woman. The same type of relationship Rhys and Melina had.

  Grace turned, looked at him and hesitantly smiled. “Thanks for everthin’, Max. It was fun.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she rolled her eyes and laughed. “Well, I think we both know it was more than fun. I’ll be busier than a cat on a hot tin roof tomorrow, otherwise I’d go to the theater with you.”

  “You saw the show the other night.”

  “You’re just that good, Sug—I mean, honey.” She lifted a hand and touched his lips, smiling when he kissed her. “Anyway, I know you’ve got to run. Have a great show tonight

  “I’ll try,” he said. “Usually I love being on stage, but something tells me it won’t compare to anything else I’ve done today.”

  She opened the car door, but when he moved to do the same, she placed a staying hand on his arm. “No need to get out. Goodnight, Max.”

  “Goodnight,” he said quietly. He watched her make her away into the hotel before he forced himself to drive away.

  Later, backstage in his dressing room, Max took a quick shower and changed into his special show-ready tuxedo, still unable to get his mind off Grace. He replayed everything they’d talked about and done in and out of his car. How shy and wistful she’d looked at his parent’s house. How afterwards she’d been literally shaking with her need for him. And how she’d initially fought her orgasm then surrendered herself to it so powerfully.

  She’d exploded like fireworks on the Fourth of July—bright, beautiful, soaring and full of sparkle. He’d been so fucking turned on by how intensely she’d come, he’d almost come himself. But as amazing as her climax had been—and even though he’d been the one to give it to her—he couldn’t wait to give her one when he was inside her. Sure, mouths and fingers and toys could get someone off, but what Grace wanted, what she needed, was to come with a cock rooted deep inside her. She needed to come the way nature had built her to come.