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Joy Ride(71)

By:Lauren Blakely


“Feels so fucking good,” I rasp out as I reach a hand to her hip, hiking one leg up higher.

“So good,” she moans, pressing her hands against my back, bringing me closer, even closer, so the full weight of my body settles onto her. I move to my elbows, but then she takes my right hand and slides her fingers through mine. And hell, if I wasn’t already falling in deep, that does it for me.

I’m barely aware of where we are, except that we’re all tangled together—arms, legs, limbs, sweat, and heat. And like that, I fuck her while holding her hand, our fingers tightening together as she nears the edge. She flies first, crying out my name as she comes. I follow her there with a long, low groan that doesn’t seem to stop.

At last, I move off her, but I don’t let go. I pull her close to me, spooning her the way she likes it. “For the record, that wasn’t monkey sex. Next time it will be, though.”

“Funny thing, Max. I like all kinds with you. Non-monkey sex and monkey sex.”

“Good. Because you’re going to get a lot of both.”

Tomorrow we can figure out the details. Tomorrow we can hash out how this whole thing works with business and secrets and deals.

Tonight, I just want to be at peace with the woman who tattooed her name on my arm, and deep in my heart.





44





On the train back to Manhattan, Henley invites me over for dinner.

At last, I’ll get to see her place.

“I make the most incredible mac and cheese from scratch. You’ll pretty much never want another woman ever again once you have my mac and cheese,” she says, tapping her fingers against my chest.

“So mac and cheese is your closing sales pitch, basically?”

“Absolutely,” she says with a confident nod. “I told you—I’m an excellent girlfriend. Mac and cheese is one part of an awesome whole.” She gestures to her purple dress and red scarf, same outfit as yesterday. “But obviously, I’m going to change before you come over tonight.”

We both showered this morning at the B&B, and by shower, I mean a spectacular blow job that stopped short of the finish line so it could turn into a screw against the tiled wall as water streamed down her sexy back. And then, there was soap and shampoo and all that jazz.

But neither one of us was prepared for last night’s sleepover, so we’re both in the same clothes as yesterday, though Henley told me she brought along a change of panties, figuring she would need it. Obviously, she needed it. As the train chugs into New York, heading for Grand Central, I check the time. We’ll arrive in twenty-five minutes, and that makes me even more aware of another countdown clock.

The one that ticks to the talk. Sooner or later, we need to discuss how this is going to work. I need to tell her about Creswell’s interest in having me do more work for his network shows. It only feels fair to tell her, even though it might upset her. But that’s part of what we’ll have to sort through. As I think on what to say, she peers at her phone for the first time in a while, and it occurs to me that she’s cut back in that department during the last several hours, and I couldn’t be happier.

She’s been happier. She’s been less tense. Though, let’s be honest, multiple orgasms probably do that to her, too. But as she scans her messages, a harsh sigh sounds. She purses her lips and stares out the window.

“Hey. Is that your business deal?” I ask, rubbing her knee.

She nods and bites her lip. “It’s my attorney. He says he’s going to call me in thirty minutes.”

“I hope it’s good news.”

She turns to me as the city rumbles by. Her eyes are big and earnest. She takes a breath and squares her shoulders. “Max, I’m trying to buy into John Smith Rides. To become a fifty-fifty partner with him.”

My jaw comes unhinged. I rub my finger against my ear. “What did you just say?”

She clasps her hands together as if in prayer. “Please don’t be mad at me. I couldn’t tell you because I signed an NDA. My lawyer made it clear this had to be completely confidential or it would fall through, but I hate keeping this from you now that we’re . . .” She trails off as if she’s afraid to say what we are.

Maybe I am, too, because I open my mouth to supply the answer—together—but nothing comes out. I’m too shocked. I never expected her business deal was this big, this competitive, this direct. When she mentioned she was working on one, I figured she was reeling in a huge new contract with a high-roller client. Never did I think she’d be getting into bed with my biggest rival.

I try to say the word once more—together—but it sticks in my throat.