Bedding The Bad Boy (Dalton Brothers Novels) Read online

  When Grace imagined it was her touching him, a current of desire zipped through her chest and settled low in her tummy. Good Lord, he did it for her, but who didn’t he do it for?

  He dressed formally when he was performing on stage. Now that the show was over, he’d lost the jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his button-down shirt, exposing the corded length of his forearms. Even with most of his body covered, it was apparent he was strong, with broad shoulders, hard thighs and a sexy ass. He moved with confidence and, despite his sandy brown hair and sparkling hazel eyes, he exuded a tall, dark and handsome vibe.

  Experienced and more than capable of giving a woman exactly what she needed in bed—and then some.

  Last year, Melina had even asked Max for sex lessons. Granted, he and Melina had been friends for years, and Max had only pretended to agree as a ploy to finally get Melina and Rhys together. While Max and Melina hadn’t had sex at the appointed time (the same couldn’t be said for Melina and Rhys), Grace would bet he’d had sex with someone that night. Sex for Max was like breathing was for most people. Natural. Comfortable. Bountiful.

  She faced the bar again. As she did, the fabric of her blouse rubbed against her nipple piercings. The friction caused by the small gold hoops with small silver balls exacerbated the tight achiness she already felt staring at Max. The piercings, including the one between her legs, had been one of her more desperate attempts to feel sensual and maximize her sexual pleasure. They turned men on plenty. As for the pleasure they’d given her, the piercings actually lived up to their promise. Manipulating them brought her to orgasm much faster when she was masturbating. When she was with a man, however? Great for ratcheting up her arousal but just like everything else she’d ever tried, useless when it came time to bringing it all home.

  She turned back to look at Max.

  He was finally alone. Now was her chance. But still she hesitated.

  That’s what came with being a little too self-aware.

  What made her hesitate was fear of rejection, yes. But more than that, it was the knowledge that while she was here to ask Max for an orgasm, that was the least of what she really wanted from him. In her heart of hearts, she knew asking him to get her off was just an excuse to get closer to the man who had steadily begun to fascinate her more and more. And that man wasn’t the one with the playboy reputation or the electric charisma on stage. It was the man she’d gotten glimpses of over the past year. The one who was so affectionate with Melina. The one who pumped his fist in the air when Melina and Rhys walked down the aisle as man and wife, and danced with his mother at that same wedding, then boogied with the crowd to “YMCA.” The man whose gaze she sometimes felt on her and wondered if perhaps… just maybe… he was as attracted to her as she was to him.

  He was the man she wanted to get to know better, but she knew it was dangerous to think that way. No matter how many layers he seemed to have, Max was the quintessential playboy. He wasn’t going to magically transform into a monogamous family man who fell hopelessly in love with her simply because she had sex with him. If she was going to do this, she was going to have to do it knowing the most she would get out of the experience was release, not happily ever after.

  She could do that, right?

  Finally, when she was able to answer that question in the affirmative, she braced herself to stand. Just then, someone sat on the stool next to her and touched her arm. It was the brunette.

  “So you decided to go for it?” The woman didn’t even try to flag down the bartender. She just looked at Grace, a definite challenge in her eyes.

  “Excuse me?” Grace asked, even though she knew exactly what the woman was referring to. Who she was referring to. Good Lord, had she been that obvious? Stalking Max like he was some kind of prey?

  The brunette smiled. “Don’t worry. He hasn’t noticed you.”

  Right. Gloves off, Grace thought, as her spine stiffened.

  “Chill out. I didn’t mean it that way. You’re gorgeous and Max does like variety. He’s obviously done with me. I just want to make sure you know what you’ll be getting into, that’s all.”

  Hmm. Still on guard, Grace remained quiet. The brunette was going to have her say, so what was the point? Besides, Grace always did have too much curiosity for her own good.

  “See, Max only has one speed. Fast and furious. He’s really good at showing a woman a good time. Multiple times. All night long, if you get what I mean.”

  A rock would get her meaning and the woman’s words were making her regret coming. Which was undoubtedly what the other woman wanted. Max might be done with her, but she was obviously not done with him. Her next words confirmed it.

  “You seem a little… delicate… for what Max dishes out. I’d think twice about taking him on. But even if you can handle him, don’t expect it to last long. It never does with Max. Just thought I’d do my duty for the sisterhood and let you know.”

  Mentally, Grace told the woman what she thought of her advice in southern terms: Opinions are like assholes, some are just louder and smellier than others. What she actually said was, “Well, bless your heart,” while deliberately exaggerating her southern drawl. “You must think I don’t have the sense God gave a goose to be makin’ a play for Max. Good thang I’ve always relied on the kindness of strangers.” Her tone was sugary sweet, but as she held the woman’s gaze, it was apparent they understood each other. The brunette had warned Grace off. Grace wasn’t about to give the other woman the satisfaction of listening.

  After the woman left, it took Grace a couple of minutes to gather her courage again. The fantasy of Max doing her—hard and fast and furious, all night long—was both a temptation and a deterrent. If things went as usual for her, he’d spend the whole night not getting what he normally did out of a woman. But…

  She took a deep breath and spun her stool in Max’s direction yet again.

  Instead of catching his eye, she caught him staring at the ceiling. The energy he’d had while talking with the brunette earlier had seeped out of him. Unsmiling, he tilted back his head and seemed to let out an audible sigh. His facial muscles relaxed and he appeared to be relieved. Grateful to finally have a moment alone.

  It was yet another layer to add to the others she’d already witnessed.

  Max Dalton might very well be a celebrity and a player, and a man who could give a woman multiple orgasms, but at that moment he was just a man craving some peace and quiet, something he obviously didn’t get enough of.

  Who was she to intrude?

  He glanced over and met her eyes. Surprise flickered across his face—he knew she was in town visiting Melina but he was probably wondering why she was here alone—just before he lifted his chin, his facial muscles tightening. She saw the tension come over him and she heard his thoughts loud and clear.

  What now? What the fuck does someone else want from me now?

  Grace’s belly heaved to and fro.

  Her cheeks heated and she shot him a small smile before spinning around. Her crush aside, she didn’t know the real Max Dalton. She’d only met him a few times. Melina asking him a favor was one thing, but her? She’d been viewing him as some kind of sexual object, expecting him to do her an insanely intimate favor just because he happened to like sex in general. The brunette’s words proved there were some who viewed Max as a means to an end, and she was no better.

  “Hey.”

  She glanced up at the bartender.

  “Were you waiting to talk to Max? He’s alone now, but that’s not going to last. If you want a shot at him—”

  She nearly winced. How much of her conversation with the brunette had the bartender overheard? Shaking her head, she smiled slightly. “He looks tired so I don’t want to disturb him. I’ll chat with him some other time.”

  “You sure? Because he’s actually coming this way.”

  “What?” She glanced over her shoulder and stiffened. Max Dalton was indeed headed straight for her.

  Damn, damn, damn. Wha
t was she going to do now?

  Her heart pounded, pushing her into panic mode. Jumping to her feet, she searched her bag for her wallet, then dropped a few bills on the counter.

  Suddenly, a redhead with boobs spilling out of her strapless sequined top grabbed Max’s arm. He glanced at Grace, his jaw tightening and his eyes reflecting impatience as the woman blocked him.

  Grace used that opportunity to escape. Holding her purse tightly against her, she wove through the crowded nightclub, feeling Max’s gaze on the back of her neck.

  “Grace!”

  She stumbled slightly when she thought she heard Max call her name but didn’t stop. Finally, she pushed out the door, her heels clicking along the crowded Vegas sidewalk. Her heart pounded wildly as tears burned behind her eyes but she blinked them back.

  Then strong fingers gently clasped her arm and she swung around. With a feeling of dread, Grace looked up and met Max’s gaze.

  “What the hell, Grace? Why are you running from me?”

  She gulped. The feel of his hands gripping her arms—gently, but firmly—made her shiver. She pasted a smile on her face. “Oh, hi Max. I’m not runnin’, Shugah. It was just time for me to leave.”

  He let her go and crossed his arms over his chest. “Uh-huh. And you didn’t hear me calling you?”

  “You called me?” she asked, eyes wide, her tone obviously forced. Lord, she was such a horrible liar.

  Slower than molasses going uphill in January, his gaze traveled down her body, taking in her outfit. A rose-colored halter, black skinny jeans and heels. Definitely club worthy and sexier than anything he’d ever seen her wear. When his eyes finally met hers again, she couldn’t help but gasp.

  His expression was hot. Scorching. And unless she was mistaken, he looked like he wanted, really needed, what the brunette had said he was very good at providing. Fast and furious sex with a woman all night long. Sex with her.

  Before she could stop herself, her gaze traveled to the front of his pants where sure enough…

  The evidence of his obvious desire ignited her own.

  She’d come here for a reason and now she had her opening.

  The question was whether she was going to reach out and take it.

  The answer was a resounding no.

  She couldn’t.

  Couldn’t endure being in Max’s arms only to have him witness her inability to do what so many other women seemed to do so easily. Besides, although he’d checked her out and seemed to like what he saw, it was probably just reflex. She was dressed up. He was on the prowl. More importantly, she’d actually been running from him. His hunter instincts had kicked in was all.

  She started to back way. “I’m sorry, Max, but I have to go. It was good seein’ you again.”

  “Damn it, wait.”

  At the commanding tone in his voice, she instinctively stopped. She held her breath as he walked toward her. That breath whooshed out of her lungs when Max lifted a hand and cupped the side of her neck. She gasped at how delicious his touch felt, how it was both tender and inescapable, and his eyes darkened to a deep burnished gold.

  “What’s going on, baby? Why are you here?”

  The way he stared at her, intense and deep, coupled with the way he called her baby, almost made her knees buckle. They certainly quivered, as did that tender spot between her legs. Heat washed over her then exploded when he skimmed his thumb across the line of her jaw. The way he was looking at her… as if he saw something in her that others didn’t, as if he liked what he saw and wanted to spend some time exploring it and hoped that’s what she wanted too… made a foolish hope start to bloom.

  “Grace,” he said. “Answer me.”

  “I—” She licked her lips, noting how his gaze dropped to her mouth as she did so. “I came to ask you…”

  When she paused again, he leaned closer, until she could feel his breaths on her mouth, like tender air kisses teasing her with all that could come next. “Grace, I know you’re having a problem with something. You don’t know me well, but I think you know I’ll help you if I can. So tell me. What did you come to ask me?”

  She took a deep breath and wondered if she was really going to say it, right here on the street. But the way he was looking at her, the way he was touching her… she wanted more of that. She wanted it too much.

  Her gaze flitted away from his. “Max, I can’t…”

  He raised his other hand so he was cupping both sides of her neck now. It made her feel boxed in. Trapped.

  And she never wanted him to let her go.

  Instinctively, she gripped both his wrists.

  “Grace. What did you want to ask me?”

  “You’re being far too bold, Max. I’m not goin’ to—”

  “What did you want to ask me, Grace?”

  “Will you please stop—”

  “Dammit, just tell me.”

  “I want you to give me an orgasm!”

  They both gasped.

  Oh God, she’d actually blurted it out.

  Max looked shell-shocked. But she had to admit, he didn’t exactly look turned off by the idea.

  His expression softened, if softening and burning could happen simultaneously, and he moved even closer, covering the throbbing pulse at her neck with his thumb. “Baby—”

  “Max.”

  They both jerked at the sound of someone calling his name.

  Grace looked over Max’s shoulder at the gorgeous blonde gliding toward them while a bevvy of what appeared to be reporters trailed after her. A few people on the street stopped. Stared. Pointed.

  Max cursed under his breath, stepped back, dropped his hands, and turned away from her. Grace felt the loss of his touch like a slap. He cursed again and said over his shoulder, “I’m sorry, Grace. I have to—” His words cut off as the blonde threw her arms around him and kissed him. Grace felt like she’d been run over by a train. Twice. Mortification flooded through her flattened remains and her skin turned as cold as a cast iron outhouse on Christmas day.

  Oh God. Oh God.

  She’d just said she wanted him to give her an orgasm and he was obviously dating this gorgeous woman.

  Oh God.

  Camera flashes went off.

  Paralyzed, Grace waited for Max to pull away and acknowledge her. Waited for his attempt to ease the embarrassment and humiliation he had to know she was feeling.

  Instead, he wrapped his arms around the blonde and kissed her back. Passionately.

  The crowd hooted and hollered, and more camera flashes went off.

  Finally, the couple pulled apart. The blonde buried her face in his neck, now seeming embarrassed by the attention she garnered. Max darted Grace a quick glance, a slightly strained smile on his face. But then he turned back to the blonde, shielding her even as he maneuvered her through the reporters hurtling questions at them and towards Club Lodi.

  Even after they disappeared into the crowd, Grace stood there for several minutes. People on the street bumped her as they passed. Abruptly, she began to laugh.

  It was either that or cry. And she’d already made a big enough fool of herself. Despite what she’d tried to convince herself, she’d obviously still harbored hope that there was more to Max Dalton than met the eye. That he could give her more than sex.

  That she could give him something special in return.

  That he could at least be a decent human being.

  All it had taken to get her there was him coming after her, calling her baby, and asking her what she’d wanted and she’d virtually stripped herself naked in front of him.

  At which time he’d kissed another woman and left.

  She was such a fool.

  Without looking back, she walked away, checked Operation Orgasm off her mental list, and forced herself to contemplate what came next.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Max’s Magic Rule #3:

  Cover up mistakes and turn them to your advantage.

  The day after seeing Grace at Lodi’s, Max droppe
d by Rhys and Melina’s house. When he got there, the newspapers on the dining room table jumped out at him. Each one folded to reveal a photo of him and Elizabeth kissing outside Lodi’s. Their plan had worked. He was now being heralded as the actress’s new love, the one destined to heal the wounds recently inflicted by her cheating husband, a famous Hollywood director. Another paper had gone with pictures of Max and Elizabeth walking into his condo later that night.

  Soon, the Internet would probably be flooded with pictures of him kissing her goodbye at the airport this morning. Their hope was the photos would go a long way towards giving Max, and thus his show, the increased sales Jeremy wanted, as well as giving Elizabeth’s husband the impression his wife was moving on. In truth, she was still grieving their separation. Temporary solutions, both of them, but enough to buy them more time so that better alternatives could be explored.

  Nothing to feel guilty about. He was single. Elizabeth was legally separated. There was no reason kissing Elizabeth in front of Grace should have made him feel like shit.

  But that’s exactly how he felt.

  Max helped himself to some beer from the fridge. He still couldn’t believe Grace had come to him for sex in the first place, let alone that she’d admitted it to him. But the fact that she had, and the memory of how vulnerable she’d looked when she’d said it, told him he was an asshole for walking away with Elizabeth last night.

  His only excuse was he’d been shocked by Grace’s admission and feeling pressured to fulfill the bargain he’d made. How would it have looked to those reporters if he’d pushed Elizabeth aside to continue his conversation with the beautiful Grace Sinclair?

  So he’d stuck with Elizabeth, showed her to his guest bedroom later that night then tried calling Grace at her hotel. She hadn’t answered. When he’d gone by the hotel to see her after he’d dropped Elizabeth off at the airport this morning, she hadn’t been there.

  Which was part of the reason he was now here.

  According to Rhys, who had called him early this morning to grill him about Elizabeth, the women were out shopping. He’d told Max to use his spare key and meet him at the house.