Night with Sole Regret

TAKE ME XX

He put on a pair of swim trunks and headed for the pool. There was nothing like an hour of vigorous exercise to get a woman out from under his skin. But he wasn’t even a half a lap down the pool’s length when he realized that busying his body had freed his mind to churn over images of Amanda’s body as he took her, Amanda’s face as he made her come, Amanda’s eyes as she gazed into his soul.

Shit. s**t. s**t.

What was he going to do? He could handle being used for s*x—woman used bedding him as some sort of ego trip on a regular basis—but this was Amanda. Amanda. Even though she’d said that she was good with s*x for the sake of s*x, he didn’t really believe it because for once, he wasn’t okay with it. He couldn’t push her away and forget she existed, because she was already too close. She’d been too close even before her soft lips had brushed his throat and every bit of common sense between them had spontaneously combusted.

After several laps, he stopped at the shallow end of the pool and stared blankly at the blue water. Maybe they could pretend last night had never happened and go back to just being friends. Maybe he could pretend that all they’d shared was physical intimacy.

No, he knew better. It hadn’t been just-s*x. Not for him. For him, his time with her had been more. He wasn’t afraid of her getting hurt by a night of unrestrained passion. He was concerned for himself.

He’d just have to deal with these feelings in private. He had to be careful not to hurt her. He didn’t like to hurt the women he cared about, and yeah, he cared about her. He wouldn’t deny it, not to himself. He’d cared for a while now. Even before he’d started to lust after her, he’d known she was special. He liked her as a person first and a woman second. And that was the entire problem.

He didn’t know if she felt anything for him beyond friendship and temporary s****l infatuation, but if she fell for him, he’d eventually end up doing something that hurt her. Something he’d regret. Because when it came to women, he could play them, but he had no idea how to forge a serious and lasting relationship. He was too easily distracted. That’s why he’d sworn off relationships. And it had been a smart move on his part.

So why was he sitting here shivering on the edge of the pool with a full head and an empty heart? He’d just treat Amanda the way he treated all of his lovers—as temporary and exchangeable diversions.

And he hoped like hell she fell for his ruse because if she called him on his bluff, he wouldn’t be able to deny that he thought of her as more than a bedmate. And that, being honest with her about his feelings, was a truly terrifying proposition.

Shade returned to the house and went to the kitchen to make breakfast. If he started to act unlike himself, she’d figure out that he was hiding something. She was a smart woman and for some reason, she read him like a book. Most people believed his devil-may-care act, but not Amanda.

He’d just finished frying turkey sausage and was adding pancake batter to a hot griddle when she entered the room. She’d borrowed one of his white dress shirts, but her legs were bare. He pretended she wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen just so he wouldn’t intensify the morning-after awkwardness between them by staring at her. By stalking her across the kitchen By pressing her up against the counter and f*****g her senseless again.

“Good morning,” he said. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Morning. And yes, I’m starving.”

Shade’s belly tightened when Amanda’s hands slipped around his waist from behind.

“I didn’t know you knew how to cook,” she said in a sleep-slurred voice. Her hands roamed his abdomen. “Do your talents know no bounds?”

“I’m sure there’s something I suck at,” he said with a grin.

“I could figure out something for you to suck on.”

He was surprised she was still capable of playful banter; he’d expected her to be embarrassed and ashamed. But he should have known better. Amanda always went with the flow. If she felt any awkwardness at all this morning, she hid it well.

“If you don’t stop coming on to me,” he said, “I’m going to think you’re attracted to me or something.”

“An amazing voice, gorgeous body, great in bed, a talented cook and smart. Who wouldn’t be attracted to you?”

Shade scowled. Smart? Not even. He’d take credit for those other traits—they happened to be true—but he wasn’t smart. He could barely read.

“What did I say?” Amanda said.

God, he kept forgetting he wasn’t wearing his f*****g sunglasses. “Nothing.” He shoveled several pancakes onto a plate and added more batter to the pan.

“I said something. You’re broody all of a sudden.”

“Your pancakes are ready.”

She sighed. “You don’t have to be guarded with me, Jacob. I’m not going to poke holes in your oversensitive ego.”

He chuckled. He’d never had anyone accuse him of being oversensitive. Just the opposite. Cold. Self-centered. Hard. That’s why the sunglasses came in so handy.

“Go eat your pancakes.”

“I want to eat with you. I’ll wait.” She pressed her forehead to his shoulder while he flipped the pancakes in the pan.

“You’re not supposed to get attached, Amanda.” And neither was he. Damn. What had he started here? Something he couldn’t possibly finish. Boneheaded move, Silverton.

“I’m not.” Her hands slid up over his belly. “My hands just refuse to trade the feel of this luxury for something as ordinary as a fork.”

He smiled. How did she do it? Make him feel so good about himself? Just being in her company made him happy. And had him contemplating ways to see her again.

See? Not smart. He turned off the burner and scooped pancakes onto a second plate.

“I suppose this means I have to let you go now.” Her hands wandered up his bare chest.

“I did go to the trouble of making you breakfast.” Which went against all his rules about morning-after routines. Get them up and out of the house as fast as possible. Or better yet, leave on the tour bus as soon as the sun rose over the horizon.

“I appreciate that. I definitely worked up an appetite last night.” She stepped away and smacked his ass.

He sat across from her at the small round table in the breakfast nook. It overlooked the pool, so he stared out the window instead of meeting her eyes.

“You regret it,” she said after a long moment of uncomfortable silence. Neither of them had even touched their meal.

He jerked his gaze from the pool and concentrated on his breakfast.

He did regret it. Not the amazing time they’d had together, but the complications it brought. He wasn’t sure how to proceed, because all signs pointed to getting her out of his life as soon as possible, but his foolish heart was breaking at the very idea. He could get by without ever having s*x with her again but never seeing her smile or hearing her laugh or having her tease him mercilessly in a way that no one else dared to? Those were the things about her that he couldn’t do without. And by making things physical between them, he was certain that he’d have to give up everything else he adored about her.

“What in the f**k is your problem this morning, Jacob?”

He didn’t look at her. Didn’t want to see her righteous anger. “No problem.” He took a bite of his pancakes. He had a hell of a time chewing and forcing himself to swallow.

“What? Do you think I’m going to try to force a commitment out of you? I know you don’t have it in you. I knew that from the beginning.”

Her words should have appeased his fears. Instead they slashed his soul. But she was right. He didn’t have the ability to commit, so why did her saying it hurt? He should be relieved. He had a powerful need to put on his sunglasses. She had to be able to see the turmoil in his eyes. He supposed he should be glad that she’d misinterpreted it for once.

“That’s a relief,” he said and forced a laugh that he hoped didn’t sound as false to her ears as it did to his.

“You don’t look relieved.”

So much for fooling her.

“I didn’t mean to get intimate with you, Amanda. It just sort of happened.”

“Well, I meant to get intimate with you,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to bone you for years.”

She grinned at him, and his heart took its first unrestricted beat since he’d opened his eyes that morning. He attempted a smile. It felt slightly more natural. His shoulders and back, however, were still all sorts of tense.

“So where in the world did you come up with the idea for making your bed into a stage?”

He blushed. Lord, no one ever made him blush. “Uh, Adam and I used to frequent this s*x club in New Orleans. It’s performance based. There’s a stage and a director who tells you how to f**k your partner. People watch. It’s quite a head rush. I liked the performance part, but not having a director.”

“That’s because you need to be in charge.” She smirked at him.

The tension continued to slowly drain from his body. He found he could chew naturally and even swallow without activating his gag reflex.

“Yeah, I don’t take directions well. I was told that if I couldn’t follow the director’s instructions, then I shouldn’t come back. I haven’t been back since. I think Adam still goes. He likes to be watched. I just love to perform onstage; I don’t need the audience to get off. Some woman said how her biggest fantasy was for me to f**k her onstage during a concert—to sing to her—and have every move displayed on the big screens in the stadium so everyone could see it. That’s when I decided to turn my bedroom into a private stadium. I like to please the ladies.” He winked at her.

“And we thank you for that.”

“Did you enjoy your time on stage, Miss Lange?”

“You deliver an amazing performance.”

Pleased by her compliment, he smiled broadly and took another bite of his pancakes.

“I wouldn’t mind another encore,” she said.

He choked.

“What time do you have to meet the tour bus?” she asked.

“Around noon.”

She grinned. “I’m not sure if two hours gives us enough time. I’ve never met a man who could go at it as long as you can.”

“Practice makes perfect.” He paused. Why had he said that? Expecting retaliation, he cringed and forced himself to meet her wrathful glare.

She was grinning at him. “I’m willing to volunteer my body to help you perfect your skills.”

Again he relaxed. She always put him at ease. “I thought I’d already perfected them.”

“I’d definitely give you an A,” she said.

He chuckled. She could stroke his ego all day; he never tired of it.

“But with a little extra credit, you could get an A-plus.”

“Extra credit, huh? How much work are we talking about? I’m satisfied with an A.” He c****d his head at her and licked pancake syrup off his thumb.

“I wouldn’t want to tell you what to do and stifle your creativity, Mr. Silverton, but seeing as I didn’t bother to put on any panties this morning, it wouldn’t take much effort on your part to get into them.”

He grinned, completely at ease now. How did she do it?

“So how much extra credit would I earn if I bent you over this table and f****d you from behind?”

“I couldn’t say until I saw the quality of your work.”

He moved swiftly. Her naughty teacher act already had his c**k straining against his swim trunks. He pulled her from her chair and pushed her face down on the table. He lifted her shirt up over her ass and sought the heat between her legs with his fingers. She was as turned on as he was. He yanked his swim trunks down to his knees and rubbed his cockhead against her opening.