Age is Just a Number: An Age Gap Bundle

Prologue

Prologue

~MAGGIE~

Two Years Ago

“ I ’m gonna go talk to him.” I suck down the last half of my martini, confidence bolstered by the liquor and having my friends around me. It’s a girls’ night out in my family’s pub, and damn it, I need… something.

A connection? Attention from a man that my piece-of-shit late husband was never willing—or able—to provide, perhaps?

A damn orgasm for the first time in my life.

All of the above.

I slide out of the booth and take a deep breath. If I don’t go over to the bar and talk to him now, I never will. And damn it, he’s hot.

Of course, if my eldest brother, Kane, finds out, he might be super mad at me. I’m about to hit on his best friend, after all. And, well, that’s just madness. Cameron Cox has been in my life for as long as I can remember. He’s a decade older than me, so I don’t know him well. He’s just always… there.

And he’s the sexiest man on the planet.

I’m drunk. I’m sick of being sad and embarrassed. And I want him.

“Hey,” I say as I sidle up next to him at the bar. Keegan, my other brother, raises a brow, asking if I want a drink, but I shake my head. He tips his lips in a half-grin and walks off to help other customers.

Cameron’s gaze turns down to me, and he smiles.

Fucking hell, his smile should be illegal in the presence of a slightly drunk woman.

“Hi, yourself,” he says. “You doing okay?”

It’s now or never, Mags. Let’s do this.

“Honestly? I’m great. But I could use some company, if you know what I mean. Naked company.”

That smile vanishes, and his crystal-blue eyes narrow on me. His jaw tightens. My heart beats so hard that blood rushes through my ears, drowning out everything else around me.

If he turns me away right now, I might die of embarrassment.

He shakes his head, sips his beer as if he’s trying to come up with a response—or an excuse—and then pins me with that intense gaze once more.

“I’m not one to turn down an offer like that from the most gorgeous woman here.”

I laugh in relief and lay my hand on his shoulder, which he takes and kisses. And then, without another word, we walk out of the bar.

He leads me to his car, a classic Mustang, but before he opens the passenger door, he leans in and whispers in my ear.

“Are you absolutely sure this is what you want, Maggie?”

“Yes.” Absolutely. Give me all the orgasms .

“It could open a can of worms with the family,” he warns me.

“I’m an adult, Cam. I get to make these decisions for myself. Unless you’re afraid of Kane.”

“Kane doesn’t scare me.” He sighs and drags a thumb down my cheek. “And you’re not just sad or angry?”

I know he’s asking if I’m coming on to him because of grief after losing my husband a month ago. But I’m not grieving. He was mean to me, didn’t love me, and made me feel worthless.

“No, this isn’t grief talking.”

He nods, kisses my cheek, and opens the door. “Fair enough.”

I sit in the low seat and take another deep breath. The cool Washington air helped to clear my head a bit, but I’m still floaty, my lips a little numb as he sits next to me and fires up the engine. Without asking, he drives us to his hotel, the place he stays whenever he’s in town, and again takes me by the hand to lead me up to his suite.

His hand is big, firm, and folds around mine with a comforting warmth I didn’t expect. He’s tall, muscular, and lean through the hips.

I’ve wanted to bury my fingers in his thick, dark hair for years. And when alone and lying in the dark, I often wondered what his lips would taste like.

Not that I would have ever acted on it. Not in a million years. He’s my brother’s best friend, and I was married.

But now, I’m not.

When we’re in the room, and the door is closed, Cameron rounds on me, pins my back to the wood, and lowers his head to mine. He presses his lips to my forehead, my nose, and then glides them over to my ear, sending a thrilling chill down my arms.

“Gorgeous,” he whispers, echoing his sentiment in the bar. “Fucking amazing.”

My breath catches when he skims his teeth over my skin, just beneath my ear. His hands push up under my shirt, over my ribs.

Nothing in my entire twenty-six years has ever made me feel like this.

“If you want me to stop,” he whispers before nipping at my jawline, “just tell me to, okay?”

I nod, but he pulls back to look into my eyes and takes my chin in his fingers.

“Use your words, Maggie.” I like that he’s in control. That he’s taking care of me and is so sure of himself.

“I understand.” My voice is squeaky and broken, and his lips pull into a small smile.

Those magical hands of his glide back down to cup my ass, and the next thing I know, he’s lifting me against him. With my arms wrapped around his neck, he carries me to the bed and lays me down.

The first kiss is staggering. If I were on my feet, I’d fall to the floor. His lips are soft and sure, not bruising or aggressive.

They tease open my mouth, and he takes his time. Truly just sinks in and leisurely kisses and touches and learns.

He presses one leg between mine, just over the most intimate part of me that begs for more, denim against denim, and I feel the flush move through me from my head to my feet.

My hands slide into his hair as he takes the kiss deeper, and we start to move against each other, searching for more.

“Skin,” I gasp as I grapple with his shirt. “I want your clothes off.”

“Excellent idea.” He pushes up onto his knees and tugs his shirt over his head, dropping it onto the floor. In the moonlight, I can see his chiseled muscles. His smooth flesh. I can’t help but reach out to touch him, letting my fingertips dance over his skin.

“Am I dreaming this?” He smiles, and I realize that I spoke the thought aloud.

“If you are, don’t wake us up,” he says as he helps me out of my shirt and bra. The next thing I know, his lips are around my nipple, and my hips are moving, grinding against his leg.

God, I want him. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more. And if the amazing sensations moving through me are any indication, I’ll be getting some long-overdue orgasms very soon.

He easily unfastens my jeans and pushes his hand inside, under my panties. When he finds my center, he groans.

“Christ, you’re slick,” he whispers and bites my chin.

I spread my legs wider in invitation, and he slides a finger inside me.

“Oh, God.” I arch my back, and he licks my nipple as his hand does magical things between my legs. Just as I’m about to come, he pulls his hand away. “No, don’t stop, Cameron.”

“Not yet,” he replies and kisses me again. “I want you to come when I’m inside you.”

“Then get a move on, damn it.”

He laughs and pushes his jeans down his hips, reaching for a condom. But before he can rip the packet open, his phone rings.

We still and stare at each other in the moonlight.

“Don’t answer it.”

“I have to. It’s my job, Maggie.”

I shake my head, but he reaches over and, with his eyes pinned to mine, answers.

“Cox.” His eyes narrow. “Copy that. What’s the ETA? Damn. Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it. On my way.”

He hangs up and tosses his phone onto the bed, then looks down at me with an apology written all over his face.

“No.”

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” He kisses me lightly. “I have to be at the airstrip in twenty minutes.”

You have got to be kidding me!

“Don’t leave me like this. Call in sick or something.”

“That’s not how this works.” His expression is grim as he tugs me close to him. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I’ll make it up to you.”

I’ll make it up to you.

I’ve heard those words before. More times than I can count.

“Forget about it.” I reach for my shirt and tug it over my head. “This was probably a bad idea anyway.”

He fastens his jeans and pulls his shirt on, his hair a mess as he stares at me with conflict waging war in his blue eyes.

“This isn’t over. As soon as I’m able, I’ll be back, Maggie.”

“Where are you going?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Right.” I nod and blow out a breath. “You’d better go.”

“You’re mad.”

“Bet your ass, I’m mad. But we don’t have time to get into that now.”

He crosses to me and cups my face, but I’ve already emotionally pulled away.

Men leave. They lie. Break promises and leave me hanging.

I knew better than this. I don’t know why I thought it would be different with Cam.

Cameron kisses me softly. “I promise, I’ll be back. Do you want me to drive you to the pub?”

“No.” Hell, no. I’d rather die. “I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”

He throws some things into his bag, looks back at me once more, and then he’s gone.

And I know in my heart that I’ll never be able to forgive him for this—or myself for letting it happen. Even if it’s not entirely Cameron’s fault. I know he has a job that takes him away, but it’s too familiar, too close to what I put up with from the jerk I was married to.

Cameron is the last man on the planet I should be throwing myself at.

And I’d do well to remember that.