“This is my fantasy, sweetheart. I get your panties around your ankles and I’m pounding you hard, your hands gripping the bike.”
“I think I’d be demanding more foreplay than that.” She sounded breathless, though.
He shrugged. “That’s one of mine. You tell me one of yours. We can compare notes.”
She hesitated. He figured the best way to get what he wanted—her—was to keep pushing. She was driven, a perfectionist and damned curious.
“You have to tell me what you want. That’s how this game works.”
“You want me to beg?” The expression on her face made it clear that begging would happen when hell froze over. Twice. That was okay by him. He didn’t want to humiliate or control her, but he fully intended to have the upper hand in bed.
“I want you to tell me what you want.”
“And then?”
She liked things spelled out. In fact, she’d probably prefer a numbered list of sex acts. He bit back a grin. God, she was fun. He didn’t know if she’d let him sleep with her more than once—he didn’t need a memo from the good doctor to understand that theirs was a temporary relationship with an expiration date—so he planned on making tonight count. And count and count.
“And then I give you what you asked for.”
“It’s that simple?” Yeah, her voice held plenty of doubt. He’d have to teach her that he always followed through and got the job done.
“Try me.”
“I’m out, taking a walk, going for a jog. Having a good time at the corner bar. It doesn’t matter where, but then I see you. You’re watching me and you buy me a drink, which is really cheesy, but you’re trying to be nice, so I buy you one back so we’re even.”
“Does this drink have a name?”
She nodded. “You’re a beer guy, but I order you something really girly, with one of those ridiculous names I can’t believe I’m saying to the bartender. Fortunately, the bartender’s a woman, so she’s on my side. She serves you the Much Fuss for the Conquering Hero with two parasols and so many cherries on top that you can’t even see the drink. And you have to use the little blue straw.”
“I’m a good sport.” She was that and fun, too.
She grinned at him. “I think so. But then you order me a shot to get even. A whole row of shots. The bartender is laughing, but she’s making her rent money off our tips alone and she enjoys a good joke, so she lines the shots up in front of me.”
“What did I send you?”
“I have four drinks to choose from. Bend Me Over, and I know you’re thinking about me, about what we could be doing. It’s not a bad offer, but it’s not my fantasy tonight.”
“Classy of me. And the second shot?”
“A Tender Touch. Tequila, peppermint and Tabasco. It’s not what I want. I don’t want sweet.”
He could feel his lips tugging upward. “At least I had enough taste not to send you anything named after body parts.”
“The third shot is Leather and Lace. Jack Daniel’s and peach schnapps. I like the bite of the first and I’ve always loved peaches.”
He leaned in, his mouth almost brushing hers. “And do you choose any of those three?”
She nipped his lower lip. “I drink the fourth shot, Gray. See You in the Morning.”
Well. Hell. While he was still processing that, she up and left him.
MADELINE AND ASHLEY were waiting for Laney when she finally staggered out of her bungalow the next day. Okay. They were lying in wait and so what if she’d slept until almost noon? She’d been up tossing and turning all night, thanks to Gray’s fantasy bombshell, and it was her vacation, after all. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept past 6:00 a.m.
Maddie waved her over to the bar. The bar had a roof made out of palm fronds and swings instead of seats, so you could dig your toes into the sand and knock back margaritas at the same time, which was pure genius.
“Did you do it?” Maddie rocked forward on her swing, almost falling off. “I demand details.”
Ashley handed her a margarita. “That’s not an I just got laid expression. That’s the I tossed and turned all night because he was a dick look.”
“Bummer.” Maddie exhaled and nudged the basket of chips over.
“He wasn’t a dick,” she blurted out, before her brain reasserted control over her mouth.
“Good to know. I’d hate to have to kill somebody.” Ashley’s mouth curved up in a smile. “So why do you look as if your puppy died?”
“I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” Laney sat down cautiously on the empty swing next to Ashley. It wobbled slightly, but didn’t dump her in the sand.
“What makes you say that?” Ashley slurped up the last of her margarita and signaled for a new one. The girl sure could knock them back.
“Because she didn’t have sex last night.” Maddie dug into the chip basket. “That makes at least two of us.”
Ashley shrugged. “Me three, but I could get some if I wanted.”
Maddie threw a chip at her. “Let’s practice our humility, shall we?”
“It’s sex...not rocket science. If you’re interested, you tell the guy. Or, better yet, you show him. Most of them need the dots connected for them and that’s where the drinks menu comes in. You point him toward your fantasy du jour and skip the awkward stage where he’s trying to figure out what you like, and you’re trying to figure out how to politely tell him it takes more for you than a little breast groping and rub-a-dub-dub.”
“Rub-a-dub-dub? Really?” Maddie shook her head. “I don’t think you’re going to be scoring in the man department if that’s how you see things.”
“Their loss.” Ashley accepted her new drink from the bartender then swung back toward Laney. “Do you want to hook up with Gray?”
“Yes,” she answered. Yes, yes, yes.
Ashley studied her over the rim of the glass. “Men aren’t that complicated. Point. Pick. If you think he needs directions or you’d find it fun, ask him to re-create a particular drink with you. Just pretend you’re at improv class and it’s your turn with the bag of props.”
Her new friend was oversimplifying things. Wasn’t she?
“Think of a drink name,” Ashley went on. “Then think of Gray. If the two go together like peanut butter and chocolate, you’ve got your green light to proceed.”
Pick a drink. She could do that. Sex on a beach? The fantasy appealed, but the practicalities of outdoor sex seemed overwhelming. Plus, sand in her girl bits? No, thank you. Up against a wall? Her inner thigh muscles screamed in advance, and she’d have sore spots the size of China from banging against the drywall.
So what did she want?
It wouldn’t exactly be mind-blowing to invite him back to her bungalow for a night of missionary-style sex underneath the covers. Not that comfort sex wasn’t appealing, especially with Gray, but this was her chance to try something new. To be bold and daring and take the new and exciting Laney out for a quick test-drive. After all, if the night turned awkward or embarrassing, she could simply hide in her bungalow until it was time to board the seaplane and leave. She never had to see him again.
Groaning, Laney took a big gulp of her margarita. When had this thing with Gray suddenly become so damn complicated? He’d asked her what she wanted—and what she really wanted was to not be the person who had to come up with the night’s creative sexual agenda. What she wanted was to be taken. To not have to plan, orchestrate or otherwise tell him where to touch and how and for how long. Because she was so sick and tired of that.
She slid Ashley an envious look. Switching places with Goth Princess for a night would be perfect. Anyone, really, other than herself. Someone sexy and confident, the kind of woman who took the man she craved and didn’t worry about her love handles or how she performed in bed. It was sex. Not a job, she reminded herself. No performance review at the end.
“I want to be some man’s fantasy woman.” Just once. Or possibly more than once, depending on how good the sex turned out to be.
“Amen.” Maddie licked salt off the edge of her margarita glass.
“Correction. You want to find yourself a fantasy man because what you want comes first.”
Ashley had a point. “I deserve a fantasy man,” she clarified. Because damn it, she did.
“Agreed. Now tell us why.” Ashley gave her the devil’s own grin. “Because I smell a story here.”
“It’s the usual story. Newly minted doctor meets handsome older doctor and falls for him. He invites her to move in to his swank city condo, pops the question, provides a Tiffany’s ring and sets the wedding train in full motion.” Her breath hitched in her throat but she forced herself to go on. “Then one day our heroine makes an unscheduled lunch stop at her doctor’s office and discovers he’s already made alternate lunch plans with a nurse. Plans that involve going at it on a gurney with his pants around his ankles.”
The mental image was burned into her head. Harlan, pants unzipped, slamming into the nurse. The nurse’s ankles digging into his butt as she held on and chanted his name. It had looked uncomfortable—and neither one of them had cared. They’d been too busy having the orgasm of the century. He’d never lost control with Laney like that, never so much as suggested they sneak off and have workplace sex.