Sugar on the Edge (Last Call #3)(36)

“Thank you,” I say with a smile, and then I try for a little cheekiness. “You look pretty hot yourself.”

He steps forward, across the threshold, and invades every bit of my personal space. Running a finger along my jaw, he murmurs, “Not as hot as you bent over my kitchen table this morning.”

Oh, geez.

My insides instantly melt, my bones liquefy, and I have to take a step back to clear the fog from my brain. Gavin is all too aware of the effect he has on me because he laughs softly and then grabs my hand. “Come on. I’m starved.”





We’ve been making small talk, and I think it’s because we’re both nervous. Well, because I’m nervous. I don’t think Gavin has an apprehensive bone in his body. He exudes confidence and control. He humors me when I ask question after question about his writing career, even admitting that he’s changing the character he based on me in his manuscript. He named her Honey, which is a stupid name in my opinion, but he said he wanted it to be clear she was “sweet” …like me.

I thought that was kind of sweet, so then the name Honey grew on me a bit.

We’re eating at one of the better seafood restaurants in Nags Head, and I just ordered the fried oyster platter. Gavin wrinkles his nose and says, “Why do you North Carolinians fry all your seafood?”

I shrug my shoulders and say, “Everything tastes better fried.”

Gavin disagrees and orders a baked sea bass entree with a grilled veggie mix on the side.

When the waiter leaves, I decide a change of subject is absolutely necessary. “We had unprotected sex.”

Sighing, Gavin takes a sip of his water and sets it back down. “I know. It hit me the minute I slammed home but f*ck if I could stop.”

His words… his dirty, filthy words that remind me of how unbridled his passion was, shock me for a moment, and then fill me with a weird warmth. Because it speaks to the fact that he wanted me so badly, that he was out of control. I never thought I’d incite such desire in a man… let alone a man like Gavin Cooke.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Gavin continues. “I swear I’m clean.”

“Always kept it wrapped up?” I quip nervously.

“Always,” he says firmly, his eyes boring into mine. “I’ve done a lot of stuff that would put a permanent blush on those pretty cheeks, but I’ve always been careful.”

“What kind of stuff?” I ask, na?vely… jealously.

“You really want to know?” he asks.

No. “Yes.”

“Let’s just say… over the six months I was writing Killing the Tides, I did a lot of experimenting. You can call it research if you want.”

I give a nervous laugh. “Like bondage or something.”

He never drops his eyes from mine, and his voice is hard when he admits, “BDSM, multiple partners, orgies, anal, voyeurism, sex in public. You name it… I probably tried it. Does that turn you on or off, Sweet?”

My mouth falls open in disbelief, and a strange feeling takes hold. I’m slightly disgusted by this, but at the same time, a little bit turned on. I realize without a doubt that I’m completely out of my league with him, and that what we did this morning… while it was the most erotic thing that’s ever happened to me… it’s probably on the tame side for him.

Sadness overwhelms me as I realize and think to myself, How could I ever be enough for him?

“What about you?” Gavin asks, not bothering to wait for my answer. Not that I’d ever admit that what he said turned me on or off.

I blink at him. “What about me?”

“The unprotected sex,” he says with a smirk. “I’ve assured you, now you assure me.”

My face burns hot, and my eyes lower to the table. I fiddle with my napkin on my lap, because how presumptuous of me not to have immediately put his mind at ease.

“Sweet?” he calls to me softly. “I can tell you don’t have much experience, so I’m not too worried about catching anything from you. Am I right?”

My eyes lift to him, and I nod in assent.

“But—”

“And I’m on the pill,” I say hastily.

Gavin’s breath comes out in a rush of relief, and he says, “Thank God.” I find it interesting that he was clearly more worried about me getting pregnant than getting a dose of the clap, although both seem equally disconcerting to me.

He smiles at me then, and it’s the most brilliant smile I’ve seen on his face yet. He reaches his hand across the table at me, and I release my napkin to take it. “Now that that’s out of the way, tell me your secret.”

“My secret?” I ask in confusion.

“The secret you said you would tell me maybe someday,” he reminds me while stroking his thumb over the back of my hand.

“Oh, that,” I say with immediate understanding. “It’s not all that interesting.”

“It must be if it’s a secret,” he prompts.

“It’s not really a secret. It’s public knowledge, just not something I talk about.”

“Yet, you told Brody about it.”

“He’s my friend… my closest.”

“I’m betting Brody was never as close to you as I was this morning… when I was deep inside your body.”