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A conversation about sex toys and romance novels isnotwhat I was expecting when I answered his call, but I can’t denythat I like it. Hearing him talk so unabashedly and openly about something he’d be into is turning me on.
“What are you thinking about right now?” I ask.
It’s a daring question, but I’m done caring about lines and boundaries. We both know what direction this is headed, and if he wants to put a stop to it, I’m giving him the opportunity to bow out. To find an excuse to hang up and pretend this never happened.
Except his pupils are blown wide. The phone is four inches away from his face, and he’s hanging onto my every word. He’s invested in this, and my lips curl into a slow, bold smile.
“Something I’m not supposed to be thinking about.” His voice is low and strained. It cracks on the last two words, like he’s trying with all his might to step away but justcan’t. “I’m thinking about you, Maven. I’m always fucking thinking about you. How I wish you were here. How much I miss you.”
“What would you do if I were there? Would you finally touch me, Dallas?”
“I can’t touch you,” he says, and the look on his face is ragged. Desperate and irritated and mad at the world. “But fuck if that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
I roll onto my stomach and prop my phone up against the pillows. With the dip in my thin tank top and the change in position, I know I’m showing off some cleavage when I face the camera. “This is okay, right? You’re not touching me. You’re just looking.”
“You found a loophole,” he murmurs, full of praise, and I blush at the attention. “You like me looking at you, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I admit, and I play with the thin strap of my top. “It makes me feel wanted.”
“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else, Mae. In another world, you’d already be mine.”
The confessions fuel the fire in me. The slow heat that builds up my spine mirrors the heat in his eyes. He’s watching me with bated breath, like I’m giving him oxygen.
He might have called us friends, but after tonight, we won’t ever be friends again. We’re going down a road there is no turning back from.
“I’d like that,” I whisper. “I’d like that a lot.”
“Would you do something for me?” Dallas asks, and I nod. I’d do anything for this man. “Go to my bedroom.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
I pad down the hall as quietly as I can. I slide into Dallas’s room and lock the door behind me, unsure of what he’s about to ask me to do. “Please don’t tell me there’s a body in here.”
“I took all the bodies with me. Go to my closet. There’s a box on the top shelf. See if you can reach it.”
I head across the rug to the walk-in closet. I have to stand on my toes to grab it, but I finally sweep it into my arms. “Why am I looking at a box addressed to you?”
“Bring it to the bed.”
“You’re so bossy.” I jump onto the mattress and cross my legs. “What is it?”
“Something I think belongs to you.”
I frown and pull off the top of the box. My mouth drops open when I see what’s inside. “Oh mygod. You have my vibrator.”
His grin is delicious, and I wonder what it would feel like pressed to the inside of my thigh. “I do.”
“I’ve been looking for this all week! I got a refund after I claimed it was never delivered.”
“It was delivered all right. You must have left my name in the address box after you ordered something for the apartment. Imagine my surprise when I opened it up and sawthat. I thought it was a joke at first, but then I realized it was probably yours.”
I’m close to panting. My fingers grip the box so tightly, my knuckles turn white. Any embarrassment I might be feeling disappears, and it’s replaced with a white-hot need. A need to slip my hand in my shorts. A need to release this tension I’ve been carrying formonths.
“I had to get a new one. I could only live with a hot football player for so long before I gave in and ordered the top-of-the-line model.”
“You deserve the top-of-the-line model. Maybe you should use it.”
