Change of Hart(66)

“You realize we’re gonna have to disinfect your table now, right?” she asked, breaking up the moment.

I took a deep breath and pushed myself off of her. “Yeah. But it was so worth it.”

She giggled as she grabbed my hand so I could pull her up to her feet. “Yes it was.”

I pulled her to me and kissed her, grabbing her ass in the process.

“What time is it anyway?” she asked, looking around for a clock.

“Too early to ask me what time it is,” I answered, kissing down her neck again and rubbing my hands over her back. I couldn’t believe that I was up for another round already. “We still have to have sex in the shower . . .”

“Really,” she answered, putting her arms around my neck again.

“Um hmm. On a chair . . .”

“A chair?” she asked, leaning her head back to give me easier access to her throat.

“And the bed again.”

“That’s a whole lot of sex,” she said with a sigh. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.”

“That’s ok,” I mumbled into her neck. “We’ll just stay in bed all day so you won’t have to worry about walking.”

“Mmmm. As nice as that sounds,” she said, pulling away, finally finding the clock over my stove, “Mick is supposed to meet me at the house at ten. If I’m gonna be there on time, we need to leave in about forty-five minutes.”

“Fine,” I sighed as I grabbed her hand to lead us to the bathroom. Let’s get you all soaped up before we have to go.”

We probably got more dirty in the shower than we got clean after all the hot sex we had in there. It was only one more time but it was amazing. Once she realized my body was raring to go again, Addison just turned around and bent over at the waist, willing me to take her from behind.

I was the luckiest guy ever. Three times we’d had sex so far. All three times were in different positions. All three times were amazing. She was way more than I had even dreamed of when I was getting myself off thinking about her for the last couple of months.

She was shy, which made me feel like an alpha male. But she wasn’t reserved at all which was sexy as hell. Once she got over the hump of being nervous about her body, it seemed to make her happy how much I wanted to look at her. And I did. It was impossible, but I wanted to look and touch and kiss every inch of her body all at the same time. It was frustrating because I couldn’t do everything at once. What a great frustration to have.

By the time we made it to my car, we didn’t have time to stop and eat. Addison promised she’d make me brunch when we got to her place, so I figured I could wait.

“How many models and actresses have you dated, anyway?” she asked as we sped up the highway. Traffic was thin with it being a Sunday morning, so we were making great time.

“Do you mean, dated dated?” I asked. “Or just sex?” I was trying to be honest but was also holding my breath that I hadn’t just said the wrong thing.

“I knew better than to ask that question,” she said, shaking her head. “Never mind. I don’t think I want to know.”

“Why are you so worried about how many famous people I’ve dated?” I asked, glancing back and forth from her to the road in front of me.

“I’m just curious,” she said nonchalantly. I looked at her like I didn’t believe her. “No really. This is not an ‘emotional mess’ sort of question. It’s an honest to goodness ‘curiosity’ question.”

“Ok then.” I quirked my mouth to the side, thinking about it. “I’ve only really dated Sara Perez and Darcey Janes.”

“You dated Darcey Janes?” she yelled, turning her entire body toward me. “She’s so beautiful!”

I shrugged. “No more beautiful than anyone else.” Darcey was a runway model who did most of her work in New York. She had quite a few famous spreads in different magazines. She’s was also an extremely high-maintenance diva. Not my style at all.

“How can you say that? She’s one of the most beautiful women in America.”

“Babe,” I said seriously. “She’s no different than any other woman. Believe me, I’ve seen her without all her make up on and her hair done up. Sure, she’s pretty. But she doesn’t look the same as in the magazines.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said crossing her arms.

I smirked at the fact that she kept arguing with me. “I’m serious. There are only two differences between a runway model and an everyday woman.”

“Go on.”

“A real woman actually eats.” She chuckled at that statement. “And a real woman doesn’t have daily access to a hair stylist, makeup artist, manicurist, clothing stylist, personal trainer, personal chef and maid. Because that’s how many people it takes to create the image that is Darcey Janes.”