15. Wednesday
CHAPTER 15
WEDNESDAY
M aggie won the rematch, fair and square. And although she did have to push a little harder than she had the day before, the jog back down the hill teasing Becker about the altitude was just as enjoyable. By the time they made it back to the Blue Harbor entrance sign, it was late enough in the morning that camp was beginning to stir to life. The wake-up bell hadn’t yet rung, but Maggie could smell the heavy scent of bacon wafting from the dining hall.
“Good effort, Becker,” she said, hands on her hips and breathing more heavily than she liked. “You really gave it your all, and that’s what counts.” He did seem to be a little bit less on the brink of passing out than he had been the day before. He was standing upright, at least.
“I want a rematch.”
She shot him a look.
“A re-rematch,” he clarified.
“This might go on forever.”
“I have no problem with that,” he said, in a way that made it sound like he might really enjoy spending every morning for the foreseeable future getting beaten in a race up Whippoorwill Hill. Which was absurd.
“Alright. Tomorrow morning.” She stuck out her hand. “Good race.”
Daniel glanced down, then looked around at the lonely country road and the empty parking lot like a character in an old Looney Toons short. “I think we’re all clear.”
Maggie just raised her eyebrows and waited. He sighed theatrically and obeyed her implied demand, taking her offered hand to shake. As his palm met hers, she took a step back, pulling him toward her until she felt the carved wooden “r” of the Blue Harbor sign, hard against the small of her back. She pushed off of it, flipping their positions (it was a classic for a reason), and pressed a palm against the wood on either side of his head, capturing his mouth in a kiss as deep as it was brief. Before he even had a chance to kiss her back, she’d pulled away. He was breathing heavily — more heavily than he had been a moment ago — but so was she. They stood, watching one another for a long moment in the thick summer air.
“Good race.” Maggie smirked. “See you tonight.” And she strode off toward the cottage.
Maggie made it to the dining hall while the buffet was still open. It was a good thing that she did, because she hadn’t restocked her cabinets recently, and coffee alone wasn’t going to cut it this morning. Although if she had let herself kiss Becker for one second longer, she would have dragged him bodily back to the cottage for a not-so-quick shower, balanced breakfast be damned.
But this was for the best. She would see him that night, anyway.
It was the camps’ joint Gameshow Night, though she was unsure what exactly that entailed. It had been one of the few events clearly listed on the Google Calendar she’d inherited from her aunt. She vaguely remembered some Price Is Right-like evening from her time as a camper. There were costumes, maybe? When she’d asked Becker if he needed her to bring anything, he’d told her just to bring her “sparkling self,” and that he had it under control. She was on a pretty steep learning curve generally and had the whole looming-threat-of-financial-ruin thing to address, so she’d decided to focus elsewhere and let him handle Gameshow Night. Fortunately, she wasn’t worried about it at all because she loved surprises. (She absolutely did not.)
As Maggie dutifully waited in the buffet line surrounded by chattering campers, each one heaping a plate with a more unholy combination of sweet and salty breakfast foods than the one before, her phone buzzed. She thought for a moment it might be Becker, but no. It was Teddy. Good. Better. She had been meaning to call him.
Teddy: So, mom still seems mad about the Fourth of July…
Maggie: Yeah why were you here again? I saw you for like five minutes.
Teddy: Helllllllp meeeee Magggssss
She hadn’t really thought he was going to tell her, but it had been worth a try. She hadn’t seen him or April for the rest of the day, which would have seemed like too much of a coincidence to be unrelated if the idea of them—hanging out—weren’t so absolutely implausible. Her class clown baby brother and her highly competent no-nonsense nurse?
Maggie: You must be really desperate if you’re coming to me for this.
Teddy: I know. Times are bad.
Maggie: I see. Well, I don’t know Teddy Bear…send her flowers?
Having so recently discovered the brilliant emotional crutch for herself, she was happy to proselytize. Keep the florists in business. Also, she had no other ideas.
Teddy: See that’s why everyone thinks you’re the smart one.
Maggie: I am the smart one.
Teddy: The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
Maggie: Wow that…is the correct usage of that quote.
Teddy: See?
If he had time to snark, he had time to chat. Maggie tapped over to the contact screen and gave her brother a call.
Teddy picked up on the first ring. “Look, I know it’s tough, realizing you’re not the smart sibling after all these years, and you’re going to need to form a new identity…”
“Have you ever heard of glamping?”
“Is this some sort of vocab test?”
“That’s what I thought.”
Maggie explained the basic problem (that Blue Harbor is broke) and the solution she was currently workshopping (find a way to use the grounds in the off season).
“Interesting.”
“That’s non-committal.”
“I’m processing.”
“Ok, fine, but once you’ve processed, what I need is a construction consult and a quote. What needs to happen to make some of the cabins glamping-ready? I imagine, at a minimum, insulation for the cooler weather. Do you know someone I could talk to about that?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Truly, younger brothers could be so infuriating with so little effort. “Care to elaborate?”
“ Me . I’m sorry but you are definitely not the smart one.”
“You?” It hadn’t even occurred to her. Teddy worked construction, but she didn’t really know the details. She assumed he was mostly hammering things together when a supervisor told him to. Maybe occasionally drilling. She kept forgetting that he was 27 and not 17.
“I’m a construction manager.”
This was a little out of her wheelhouse. She wasn’t entirely sure what a construction manager was, though it did sound like the sort of person she was looking for.
“So…yes?”
“Yeah.”
“Send me your resume.”
She could feel the eye roll through the phone when he took an extra beat to respond. “Fine. I will make and then send you a resume. But tell me more about what you think you would need.”
She spent the next fifteen minutes explaining and brainstorming before Teddy had to get off and deal with some concrete-related problem she didn’t understand. Maybe he was the smart one. Fuck. What did that make her?
“These people, dressed as they are, come from all over the United States to make deals here in the Marketplace of America. So: Let’s! Make! A Deal! Aaaaand now, here’s America’s Top Trader, TV’s Biiiiiiig Dealer: Monty Hall!”
The voiceover, pulled from an old YouTube clip, was loud and fuzzy over the Oak Ridge gymnasium speakers. Teens and tweens clapped and woo-ed like they were welcoming a KPop phenomenon to the stage. Campers packed the floor, sitting cross-legged knee to knee, each cabin delineated by the themed costumes they’d pulled together for what was apparently everyone’s favorite night of the summer—possibly because it came with prizes—Gameshow Night.
Amid the applause, Daniel appeared from behind a silver fringe curtain hung for the occasion. He was smiling his best cheesy 70s game show host smile, carrying a long-stem microphone like he was about to do a set at the Comedy Store, and rocking a powder blue three-piece suit complete with bell bottoms. It was obviously intended to be tacky. It was tacky. But it was also, Maggie felt compelled to acknowledge, exceedingly well tailored. That suit did not come straight off the rack at Goodwill. And the double-X-wide tie tucked into the vest made him look especially…sturdy, somehow.
Maggie watched, leaning against a column that she supposed would be considered offstage left. Or right. She could never remember. She’d just stood where Becker had told her to stand to wait for her cue. Frankly, she wasn’t entirely sure how he’d talked her into being on stage at all.
When she’d arrived to see the set-up, it had come back to her in a rush. As a camper, it had taken several years for her to realize that Let’s Make A Deal had ever been a real game show. The Blue Harbor/Oak Ridge version had, in fact, been played every summer since some time in the 60s or 70s, when campers would have recognized it as popular television. And now, even though enough summers had passed for Let’s Make A Deal to be canceled and come back on the air in a sleeker, more modern version, the kitschy vibe of the original lived on at Oak Ridge every July.
“Thank you, thank you.” Daniel attempted to quiet the cheers.
“We love you, Monty!” screamed a Blue Harbor girl dressed as a purple crayon.
“Love the suit!” screamed her cabin-mate, a green crayon.
“Thank you very much,” Daniel replied with an uncanny imitation of the real Monty Hall. He had, Maggie supposed, been playing this role for years. She remembered her own long-ago crush on Matt, the Oak Ridge director from the early 2000s, who’d been that era’s rock star Monty.
Without losing a beat, Daniel dropped into his introductory patter: “Welcome to the annual Oak Ridge/Blue Harbor co-educational edition of Let’s Make a Deal. We’ve got the loveliest folks, some might say the happiest campers, all set to make some deals right here on our trading floor. Like this cabin right here — are you dressed as the Addams Family? Positively spooky! And you, back there, are you the waterfront geese? Listen, I’ve got a bone to pick with you. No, please, don’t start honking. Why don’t you come on up and make a deal!”
And, they were off to the races.
The ten and eleven-year-olds dressed as geese turned out to be Jordan’s campers, and Jordan took the stage alongside them, also fully costumed as a goose. The cabin had, unsurprisingly, elected Mia to act as their representative. She started strong by trading in the stack of old magazines they’d collected for an extra hour of sleep the following Sunday. Then, after consulting with her cabin-mates, Mia risked it all to trade the extra hour in for a Mystery Prize.
“A Mystery Prize double swap! Bold choice!” Daniel-as-Monty proclaimed. “I’ll now ask my excellent assistant to please bring out The Basket !” That was her cue. Maggie picked up the silver spray painted basket by her feet and walked out on stage to scattered applause. From somewhere in the crowd, a camper called out “I ship it!” Another one whooped in agreement. Maggie made the mistake of making eye contact with Jordan, who waggled their feather-covered brow at her suggestively. Maggie, definitely coincidentally, almost tripped on the hem of her bell-bottom jumpsuit before managing, finally, to reach center stage.
She held out The Basket full of Mystery Prize notecards to Daniel. He stuck a hand in, then made a show of turning away and shifting the cards around and around before making his selection.
“And the Mystery Prize is…” he began, unfolding the notecard with maximum dramatics. “Drumroll please!” The audience obligingly drummed hands and feet against the gym floor. “Double dessert for a week!” The cabin full of geese honked triumphantly and ran to engulf Mia in a group hug.
“Congratulations all!” Daniel nodded to let Jordan know it was time to lead their campers off the stage. “And, of course, thank you so much to my trusted assistant for her very generous cooperation!” He said, smoothly cueing Maggie’s exit. “A round of applause for my second-in-command.” And then, just before she turned to leave, he winked at her.
He winked. In front of god and all of their campers. Knowing she absolutely could not do anything about it.
The brat .
As Maggie settled herself safely back against her off-stage column, she tried not to imagine the various wildly inappropriate ways that she might demand Daniel Becker’s “generous cooperation” in return later that night. She was still fully visible to the audience of campers, and her poker face wasn’t that good. So, she focused instead on the cabin of fourteen-year-olds dressed as the characters from Riverdale who were busy winning the right to DJ an hour of dancing at the next Social (with the caveat that their counselor had veto power over songs that were not camp-propriate). Unfortunately, they made the mistake of swapping their initial prize for a Zonk and ended up sentenced to spending Monday’s rest hour washing canoes.
“Tough break for Cabin 8!” Daniel-as-Monty commiserated, cueing their counselor to guide the campers off stage.
He kept the rest of the evening moving with poise and charm. He was very good with an audience of kids, which she perhaps should have anticipated since it was his literal job, but she’d never before had the opportunity to just sit back and watch him work. He joked and teased and kept everyone close to orderly for an hour and a half with a charm she couldn’t even hope to match. He was an excellent showman, self-assured and at ease.
Maggie wasn’t too proud to admit that she found that kind of competence very hot. If pressed, she might even admit that she was developing a little crush on another in the illustrious line of Oak Ridge Monty Halls.
This time, at least, she was pretty sure she could close the deal.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
Daniel had to be kidding. They were standing alone in the now-empty gym, having just dismissed the counselors conscripted onto cleanup crew. And Maggie had made a crack about his bell bottoms.
“I said I was sorry.”
“Make it up to me.”
“How?”
He smirked, a wide one that strained his cheeks and crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Let’s…make a deal.” He’d clearly been waiting to use that line all night.
Maggie rolled her eyes, but she felt herself smiling against her better judgment.
“What’ve you got to trade?” Becker meant business.
“I am trying to go back to your place and trade you some sexual favors.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“I have literally nothing on me but my phone and my keys.”
“That’ll work.” He held out a hand.
“What?”
“I’ll take your phone and your keys.”
Maggie sighed, exasperated. She supposed she wouldn’t need them for a while. That was the goal, anyway. She dug them out of the pocket of her sleeveless mustard yellow jumpsuit and dropped everything in his palm.
“ Now can I walk you back to your cabin?”
“So kind of you to offer,” Daniel said with a very game show host smile.
They walked the length of the gym in silence, Daniel flicking off the lights as they left and locking the door behind them. Outside, the subtle bite in the air hit Maggie like a shock, raising the hairs along her bare arms. She hadn’t realized how stifling it had been in the gym, even with everyone else long gone.
Becker stopped in the circle of light cast by one of the security lights, and she followed suit. As he fished around in the lining of his powder blue suit jacket, she stretched her arms up above her head, trying to ease the ache in her lower back.
“My god it was hot in there. How are you still wearing that suit?” He had, she noticed for the first time, at least loosened the tie and unbuttoned the top button on his collar. The change revealed a sliver of tanned skin beginning just beneath his Adam’s apple and ending around the subtle notch between his collar bones. He saw her watching him and swallowed. She followed the movement of his throat with her eyes.
“Commitment, McArthur. This is serious character work.” She looked up as he pulled a carabiner he clearly used as a keychain from an interior pocket. He clicked on an attached miniature Maglite, illuminating the path ahead. “After you.”
“That’s very gentlemanly of you, Becker, but I don’t actually know the way.” He was so familiar with her space, had been familiar with it before it was hers, and she had no sense of his at all, or even how to get to it.
“Excellent point.” So he started walking, and she followed.
Neither of them spoke as they crossed in front of the Oak Ridge dining hall, passed the wood shop, and took a shortcut through the tennis courts. Partly, she didn’t want to make too much noise, and partly, she didn’t quite know what to say. It was like the taxi ride home from the bar except worse. There was no music playing, she couldn’t pretend to be busy with her phone, and they were both stone cold sober. Time moved so much more quickly when you were drunk.
When they finally reached his cabin, Daniel took the three porch steps in a single stride and let himself in through the unlocked front door, holding it open for Maggie to follow.
She stepped in and closed it behind her, blocking out the porch sconce, which had briefly been the main source of light in the room. Before her eyes could adjust, she heard the satisfying click of a lamp chain and saw Becker, barefoot, straightening from where he’d bent over the side table. As she blinked, a wood-paneled living room materialized with a dark navy and green plaid couch at its center facing a mid-sized flatscreen TV. The glow from the lamp didn’t extend to the entire space, but she would bet good money that the television was the newest thing in the room by two decades at least.
Daniel walked past the edge of the light and over to what looked, dimly, like an open kitchen. Maggie heard a cabinet open, and some glasses clink. Then he turned on the faucet. “Water?”
Now that he mentioned it, her throat was very dry. She tried to swallow. “Thanks.” She stepped out of her Keds, leaving them by the door before padding carefully over the carpet into the almost black. The floor became a chilly linoleum as she closed in on the rushing water. Then, as she found the countertop with her left hand, the sound cut off. As the shape of Daniel Becker emerged from the darkness in front of her, she found she could almost hear the silence itself. The silence and her own breathing.
He handed her a glass, and she downed almost all of it before taking a breath. She was probably dehydrated from her evening in the Oak Ridge gymnasium/sauna.
Becker just watched her, his brown eyes black in the low light. “Please don’t give yourself the hiccups.” His tone was wry. He took a sip from his own glass and set it firmly on the tile counter. She set hers next to his and met his inscrutable gaze.
“I thought we could play a game.” He spoke smooth and low, with the same ease and confidence she’d seen on stage, but without the added layer of flamboyance and showmanship. She was his audience of one, right in the front row, and his performance was pitched directly to her.
Maggie wanted him so badly. It took more effort than she’d like to admit to muster even half her usual amount of nonchalance. “Becker, what—” She broke off when he raised a hand to his collar and began to ease the already loosened knot once…twice… She was helpless to do anything but watch as the tie pulled taught against the strong lines of his neck. He raised his other hand and slid the silk free of itself, then off his shoulders and onto the counter beside him.
Jesus. It was indecent.
He stood there, making no further move to disrobe, and slowly he quirked one side of his mouth into a dangerous smile. A predatory smile.
“What’ve you got to trade?”
He had planned this, she realized. He had imagined how this night could play out in advance. He’d been thinking about her, about her competitive streak, about what they’d both enjoy. She pictured him, trying to do paperwork and meet with staff, distracted, thinking about her, about this, about right now. She shivered.
“Trade for what?” She needed to focus.
“For the suit.”
“You’ve already got my phone and my keys.”
“What a shame,” he deadpanned.
He had her at a disadvantage. All she had on her was her jumpsuit, a bra, and underwear. He had on a three-piece suit. A belt, even. Rookie move, taking off her shoes. That she hadn’t been aware she was involved in any particular game was no excuse. If you stay ready, you don’t have to get ready. But she wasn’t about to back down from a challenge. Maggie McArthur came to play and played to win.
Without another word, she undid each button on the front of her jumpsuit down to the elastic waistband. Holding Daniel’s gaze, she slipped a wide strap off her right shoulder, then her left. He swallowed hard as she shimmied the yellow linen over her hips and down her legs until it fell to the floor and she stood on the cold linoleum in nothing but a pale pink bra and matching low-rise underwear. She stepped out of the puddled fabric and bent at the knees to pick it up, never breaking eye contact. She stood and tossed it to Daniel. It would be a wrinkled mess tomorrow, but she couldn’t seem to bring herself to care.
She stood there in almost nothing, with him fully clothed, his eyes playing across her skin. She felt somehow both vulnerable and powerful, wanting him and watching him wanting her. He looked… half desperate. The smirk had been completely wiped from his face. Her chest tightened at his expression and her breath came faster. She forced her lungs to slow, to take a deep breath. This was just getting started.
“Jacket,” she demanded with as much nonchalance as she could muster.
Daniel dropped her crumpled jumpsuit on the counter and shrugged out of the powder blue blazer. Maggie could hear her keys jingling in the pocket of his pants as he held out the jacket. Now in a vest and shirtsleeves, he stepped back, leaning against the refrigerator and crossing his arms over his broad chest. He looked pretty pleased with himself, waiting for her to make the next move. They couldn’t have that.
Maggie took a deep breath and walked toward him until they were nose to nose, until her body would be outside his field of vision, but Daniel would be able to feel the warmth radiating off her skin.
“Take off the vest and I’ll take off the bra.”
“Deal.”
Daniel quickly unbuttoned the vest and slipped it off his shoulders while Maggie reached behind her back and undid the double hooks. She shrugged forward and let the bra slip off her arms, catching it on her left index finger. She raised it, dangling by a strap, to eye level, drawing Daniel’s attention, and simultaneously reached her left arm behind her to the counter where he’d discarded his blazer. Maggie let the bra drop and turned, walking back to where she’d been standing earlier, pulling the jacket on as she went. She faced back to Daniel as she buttoned it closed. She was tall, but the style was designed to hit well below the hip, which meant Maggie had traded her jumpsuit for a very chic mini-dress.
“Well played.” He sounded impressed, and a little annoyed. Now he had his head in the game. Good.
Maggie raised her eyebrows in smug acknowledgement.
Waiting for her next trade, barefoot in shirtsleeves and suit pants, Daniel crossed one ankle casually over the other. He uncrossed his arms and slipped his hands into his pockets, but Maggie thought she saw his hands shake a little as he moved them out of sight. He was deliciously rumpled.
“I’ll trade you my underwear.”
“In exchange for…”
“I want your belt and your pants.”
“No deal.” He refused almost immediately, but she’d expected as much.
“No deal?”
“Doesn’t seem like a fair trade, two for one.”
Maggie waited a moment, as if considering. “I’ll let you take the underwear off.”
Daniel blew out a long breath and grazed his eyes down her covered torso and her long, bare legs. She was suddenly very aware of the tips of her breasts brushing against the rough polyester of the jacket, his jacket. Her fingers twitched, and she tugged at the hem of the blazer, which only made the friction against her sensitized skin worse. She needed him to touch her.
“Alright,” he said, pushing off the refrigerator and crossing the gulf between them in two strides.
“You first,” she said, daring him to object.
“You drive a hard bargain, McArthur.” But he unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped the powder blue slacks, and let them both fall to the floor. The silence was punctuated by the unceremonious clack of metal on wood. He kicked the pile of clothes away.
Looking up from the mess on the floor, Maggie skimmed past the sight of the light boxer briefs hugging his strong thighs, the waistband taut across his hips. She couldn’t tell what color they were in the low light, but she had a sneaking suspicion that they were powder blue. Raising her eyes to his face, she spotted a tic in Daniel’s clean-shaven jaw. She smiled, trying not to look too pleased with herself. His self-control was beginning to crack. When she dragged her focus back to his eyes, though, the concentrated force of them almost knocked her off balance. She’d been getting cocky. He wasn’t going down without a fight.
He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them entirely. She could feel his chest rise and fall, still frustratingly covered by a thin layer of polyester blend, each breath close on the heels of the one before it. Slowly, he reached for her hips and ran his hands down the jacket until they arrived at the soft skin of her upper thighs. He touched so lightly, it was like a whisper slipping back up and under the jacket, over her underwear. She could see in his eyes the effort it took him to move so gently. Smoothing up over the warm curves of her hips, Daniel reversed course again, catching the bikini waistband with his thumbs as his hands descended. Only then did he break eye contact, bending as he brushed down the sides of Maggie’s legs, pulling the underwear down. Slowly, so slowly. Maggie shivered.
As he stood, Maggie stepped gracefully out of the discarded cotton, feeling the desire coursing through her begin to form a knot in her stomach. She eyed Daniel greedily.
“You’re looking very Risky Business.” She had never really understood the appeal, but, uh, she got it now.
“Are you stalling, McArthur?”
“Strategizing,” she shot back. “Take ‘em off, Becker.”
With notable alacrity, Daniel dropped his boxer briefs, releasing his erection. Maggie let herself look her fill, let the lust show plainly on her face. Strategically, of course. He was getting harder by the second.
“Give me my jacket,” he prompted, when he presumably couldn’t stand the phantom sensation of her eyes on him any longer. His voice was strangled, like the anticipation might literally asphyxiate him.
“I think I can make you a better offer.”
“Oh?” He asked hoarsely.
“Sit.” She nodded in the direction of the couch. He looked for a moment like he might press the issue, but curiosity got the better of him, and he walked over to the plaid monstrosity. She gave herself a moment to admire what she could see of his truly excellent ass beneath the shirttails before she followed.
They were back in the pool of honeyed lamplight now, and she could see just how tense the muscles in his thighs were as he sat back against the cushions, erection flush and lewd against the bright white of the formal shirt.
Maggie situated herself between his bent knees and then knelt on the carpet, arms brushing lightly against his muscled thighs. He sucked in a breath, understanding, finally, what she was offering.
Looking him directly in the eye she could see his pupils were blown in spite of his proximity to the only source of light in the room. He nodded, and she took him in one hand, licked up his length, and then sucked the tip into her mouth. Daniel groaned.
She sat back. She had him. “More?”
Daniel nodded.
“I’ll take the shirt.”
She probably could have asked for all his earthly possessions, but she wasn’t one to abuse her power. As he began to unbutton the thin fabric, Maggie took him into her mouth again, eliciting a low moan. The sound seemed somehow to carry his pleasure, to transfer it to her. She began to feel almost drunk with it. Her body light and heavy at the same time, limbs tense and loose. Daniel undid each button as slowly as he could. Maggie didn’t care.
When he finally reached the bottom button and the shirt hung open over his taut stomach, she slid off him and met his gaze. He brushed a hand up her cheek and into her curls. It was such a small gesture, but it was…intimate, somehow. She pocketed the moment for later examination and stood. Holding out a hand, she waited for Daniel to fully disrobe.
“I win,” she teased, triumphant, when he handed her the crumpled shirt. She was still respectably covered by the suit jacket.
“If you say so.” He was looking up at her, straining muscles accentuated by the golden lamplight.
Before she could respond, Daniel grabbed her arm and pulled her on to the cushions next to him. He deftly twisted their positions so that her head rested on the throw pillows leaning against the arm of the couch. At long last, he kissed her, in turns devouring and savoring, capturing and coaxing. Maggie’s thoughts of triumph dissolved. There was only room for the press of lips and the tangling of tongues.
She barely noticed when he released the single button holding the powder blue jacket closed. But she noticed when he moved his mouth out of reach of hers. She was about to protest, when he ran his rough tongue across one bare breast, transforming her unvoiced complaint into a rasping sigh. He teased at the hard peak, and her back arched.
“I’ve been thinking,” Maggie said on a shaky exhale.
“Then I am really not doing this right.” Daniel glanced up, flashing a wry smile before redoubling his efforts. He sucked hard against her and slid his free hand under the jacket’s lapel to pinch her other nipple. Maggie gasped at the sharp pleasure of it.
“I’ve been thinking,” she tried again, “about my ‘generous cooperation’ earlier this evening.”
“Mmmm?” Daniel hummed the question so that she felt every vibration against her sensitized skin.
“You know I don’t often play second-in-command. I’m not sure I’ve been sufficiently thanked.”
He hummed again, in a way that somehow both conveyed his mock concern and sent desire shivering along her spine. Then he began to kiss his way down her stomach, shifting on the couch so that he was firmly settled between her legs. Looking up at her from under heavy lids, he said, voice husky, “I’d like to express my sincere appreciation.”
Every nerve in her body was screaming to let him. She and Becker had been teasing one another so long she was half desperate for his mouth on her. But she wanted more than that. She wanted his generous cooperation . So she raised her brows, and she waited.
Daniel stayed perfectly still, eyes on hers. Then he blew out a breath, and she saw it. The precise moment he understood.
“Please.” His voice was raw.
“Yes.”