The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(55)

She felt her face heat as memories flooded her. Them turning to each other for hours: him over her, under her, murmuring the sexy nothings in her ear as he’d taken her outside of herself again and again and again, until they’d been nothing but exhausted, sated husks of human beings.

He took her hand in his. “Tell me what’s really going on, Maze.”

She blew out a breath. What the hell, she had no pride left anyway. “I knew you were coming, and I also knew if you showed up without a date, I’d be tempted. Just like I always am.”

She’d never seen Walker surprised or off-balance, but he was both now. He just stared at her, eyes a little wide, and she almost laughed. Nothing got past his guard, but apparently she just had.

“You’re . . . tempted by me,” he said, heavy on the disbelief.

“I thought you knew everything.”

“Well, I didn’t know that.”

She had to laugh. “I figured the way I kissed you might’ve been a big clue.”

He turned her, putting his hands on her hips to maneuver her to face him. Then he slid his hands up her body and into her hair to hold her still. “You’re tempted by me?”

“You want me to say it again?” she asked, amused.

“Hell, yes.”

She stared into his blue eyes. “It started a long time ago but really kicked in when you flew me to Vegas.”

“Where I got you drunk and married you,” he said, not looking happy with himself for that.

“Hey,” she said. “I gave as good as I got. If anyone took advantage of anyone that night, it was me.”

“I did try to resist you,” he said with a flash of amusement. “I’d been trying to do just that for forever. Clearly not hard enough.”

“As I remember it, you were plenty . . . hard.”

He laughed a very sexy laugh that made her extremely aware of what she was wearing. And what she wasn’t wearing. She let out a long breath. “Our bodies seem to have this weird . . . chemical reaction to each other.”

“Yeah. It’s called simple animal magnetism. So on a scale of one to gotta have me now . . .” He shifted closer and ran a finger down her throat. “Just how tempted are we talking?”

She shivered. “Three . . . -ish.”

Lowering his head, he nudged the towel clear and kissed her shoulder. “Liar.”

“Okay, a solid four.”

His mouth found its way to the swell of her breast above her towel.

She sucked in a breath and her head fell back a bit, giving him more room to work with, along with tacit consent. “Make that a twelve.”

He let out a low laugh against her skin. “Maze . . .”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a whole houseful of people.”

“And . . . ?”

He cupped her face in his strong hands, and when his lips touched hers, the rest of the world faded away. It was insane how every nerve in her body pulsed with need, how she craved him, and she scooted in even closer, moaning as his hands headed southbound on her towel, which was an inch from revealing a whole lot of Maze.

Walker groaned. “You’re gorgeous. And you’re killing me.”

“Why? What’s stopping you?”

“The fact that if I ever get lucky enough for a second chance with you, I’m not going to stop until you’re panting my name.”

“Again . . . what’s stopping you?”

He dragged her into his lap, sank his fingers into her hair, and had her halfway to indeed panting his name when someone pounded on the door behind them. “That,” he muttered. “That’s what’s stopping me.”

“Breakfast!” Dillon yelled through the door. “Caitlin made pumpkin pancakes and says that the last one of you downstairs has to do all the dishes. In perpetuity.”

Maze scrambled to her feet, making Walker laugh. “Nice to see you’ve got your priorities straight,” he said. “Food over nookie.”

“Hey, you’ve tasted her pancakes. It’s no contest.”

He caught her and pulled her to him, sliding his fingers into her still-wet hair. “I’m going to make you take that back later. When we’re alone.”

“We’re never alone.”

“Trust me. I’ll make it happen. Later,” he said again, meeting her gaze with his own heated one.

Her breath caught. “Later,” she promised.





Chapter 15


Caitlin’s to-do list:

—Make it through the week without becoming an alcoholic.

Caitlin was late. Not to a meeting, because please. She’d never been late to anything in her whole life. Nope, this was a different kind of late altogether. Like nine months of getting a big belly late. It had her both excited and terrified as she went through the motions at the coed wedding shower luncheon with Dillon’s coworkers. The whole thing was a stuffy, overdone waste of time and her face still hurt from fake smiling. She’d been asked at least ten times by ten different people what she did for a living, and when she said she managed a deli and prepped all the food, inevitably the follow-up question was what were her career goals.

Implying, of course, that she was surely working on bigger and better things.