Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Natalie
“I’ll walk you back to your room. What’s your room number?”
I told him and my insides curled into delicious nervous pops of joy.
We walked inside the glass doors to the lobby and the last thing I wanted to do was go to bed for the night—not without Max. But I had a bad feeling he was walking me back to my room to say good night, not to jump in bed with me.
The very idea made my ovaries weep with joy. I never knew a true gentleman could be so sexy. Maybe because I couldn’t remember the last time I encountered a true gentleman.
I wished I had a watch because it would be too awkward to pull my phone from my little bag to check the time. What the hell, I could make the leap.
“It’s still early, don’t you think?”
“Not if you were up at five a.m. this morning like I was,” he said. “Did you want to go back to the patio?”
“Hell no—I mean heck no.”
He laughed and said, “You’re funny. And cute.”
The warmth of his seeming compliments was shaded by the feeling that they were meant as dismissive. Weren’t these the kind of things a guy would say about a kid sister? As if.
“If you want to know the truth,” I said, “I had something entirely different in mind.” We came to a stop in front of the door to my room, or I should say the door to the suite where I was staying with Cat for a couple of nights—until Saturday night.
Then I’d be in with Kristen. But if luck was with me, or if my seduction skills were up to capturing the interest of a certain true gentleman, Kristen could have the room to herself.
“I’ll bet you did.” He stopped, close but not close enough, not quite touching me, but at least he had that look of appreciation in his eyes.
“Come inside, Max.” I whispered because my nerves stole my voice.
“I should get to bed.”
“I have a bed.”
He shook his head. “You’re a tempting young woman, you really are. I can’t lie.” He sighed and leaned in with a hand against the door and his gaze aimed above my head. “But you’re off-limits.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Coach Marini.”
“He can’t do that.” WTF?
“I agree it’s pretty heavy handed. But I—”
“You’re not going to listen to him, are you?
” I slipped my key card into the slot and pushed the door open with one hand while I clutched his arm in a desperate grip with my other.
“You should come inside just to spite the man.” I pulled him inside across the threshold.
The room was dark. Cat was still outside at her party, but I didn’t turn the lights on and pulled him to my room in a sneaking hush as if we were hiding from someone.
“You’re like a rebellious kid.”
I turned to him as we reached my bedroom door, half horrified at his words and half out of my mind with excited anticipation at dragging him to my bed. But I had some pride, didn’t I?
“Kid? Oh no. You’re quite mistaken about that. I’m more like a devilish woman than a rebellious kid.” I yanked his tie and pulled him forward.
Just as the door opened and the lights flicked on.
He chuckled low and turned to face whoever it was, but I shot out in front of him.
“Cat, you’re back early.”
She turned to me, surprised and then I saw why. Hunter was right behind her, an arm snaked around her middle, his eyes dark and dangerous and dancing.
“You are too.” We both stopped and, for a beat, took in the situation, realizing we’d both left early for the same purpose.
Before I could speak or drag Max back to my room for the privacy we needed, he spoke up.
“Let’s give the bride and groom their privacy, Natalie. They don’t need us hanging around here.” He took my hand and we walked back to the door as Cat and Hunter moved inside the living area of the suite.
“That’s mighty kind and generous of you, Max.” Hunter’s voice held the irreverent sarcasm she’d expect from him.
Max gave him a look and lifted his hand across his face, unmistakably giving Hunter the finger as he did. Cat laughed.
“You don’t have to leave, Natalie.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Hunter said. “Of course she does.”
I didn’t wait for any further discussion on the point and rushed ahead of Max for the door and opened it. Still holding my hand, he followed me outside into the hallway. The door shut automatically behind us with a solid thud and click. I stood leaning against the wall with him towering above me.
“Looks like it’s my place for the night,” he said. He looked pensive when I was hoping for more excitement to match the pulse-pounding frenzy running through me.
“Don’t worry. Hunter and Cat would be the last people who would rat you out to Coach.”
He took my hand and we walked further down the hall, though he said nothing to reassure me. The thrill in me was starting to change to fear and disappointment. So I dug in my heels. Literally. Stopped and tugged back on his hand, forcing him to stop and turn around.
He took a beat to study my face and I let him see my roiling emotions. Frustration was now chief among them.
“What is it, Natalie?” He spoke softly and pulled me forward to him, letting go of my hand and wrapping an arm around me instead, propelling me forward.
“How about if we talk about it when we get to my room?” His voice was soft, kind, and had that low vibrating quality of a man’s deep voice that gave me automatic comfort. I was easy. Too easy.
He stopped at his door and his arms circled around me.
My bare back was against the wall in a small alcove.
He blocked anyone from seeing me, his body large and tall compared to mine—compared to an average guy even though he was a QB, not a lineman.
I couldn’t wait to see his bare muscles when we got inside.
His face was so close to mine as he paused there and I had no idea what he was waiting for.
My mind skitted around, mostly dwelling on the solid feel of him, the heat of him so near me, and the scent of him, the ocean and outdoors mingling with spice and a strong tangy male essence made up of him, his sweat, his testosterone and his pheromones.
I breathed him in until I felt dizzy, drunk on desire and need.
Tilting my head, I closed the gap to his face and tasted his jaw with a kiss, a flick of my tongue in that spot where it curved around to his ear, where the dark stubble of his face met the thick hairline at his temple.
The quick intake of his breath at my move rewarded me, satisfied me deep down, and I felt my panties creaming, liquid heat overflowing from inside me.
But then he stiffened and put some cold distance between us as he backed up.
“You’re so gorgeous, Red. But that’s not telling you something you don’t already know, something every man that lays eyes on you tells you with their words or actions.
Like the rest of your admirers, I’m deeply attracted to you.
” He gave a derisive snort as if he was disgusted with himself.
I shook my head, staring into his bottomless, soul-deep blue eyes to see his struggle.
He took a breath and backed away further, holding me in place away from him.
“But the thing is, I don’t want to have a one-night stand with you. You’re not a one-night-stand woman.”
“Why is that?” I was foolish enough to ask because I wanted to know what he thought, everything he was thinking.
“Because you’re part of our football family, for one,” he said, “and I wouldn’t feel right about it.” He slipped his key card into the door and pushed it open.
I followed him inside the room. “So where does that leave us?” I can’t believe that’s all I had to say about it.
I wanted to tell him that I didn’t want a one-night stand either, that I wanted to have a lot of nights with him, to get to know every little thing about him, find out about his life and what made him tick, get underneath those mysterious and dreamy blue eyes that looked tragic and cynical while they thrilled me with their wisdom. But I didn’t.
I couldn’t bring myself to make that leap, to jump off that emotional cliff. I was acting like a coward. Me, the bold one.
But I couldn’t kid myself. I’d been a coward all along, hiding behind shallow boldness and hot flings, afraid to put my real emotions on the line. Even now, when I’d vowed I would, knowing it was time I did.
He walked to the other side of the room, shrugging from his jacket and pulling his tie loose.
“That leaves us in separate beds, Red.” He nodded in the direction of the first bed, the one closest to the door. “You take that one.”
I tried not to look crestfallen, but it wasn’t in me to hide how I felt.
Emotional coward or not, my feelings had a way of bubbling up to the surface when they were true and strong.
And unlike the last dozen or however many men I’d been with since seventh grade, since my mother died and my Dad disappeared into depression, I was far from neutral about Max Devon.
“We’ll be okay.” He spoke in a softer voice, soothing, and even though he didn’t make a move to come closer to me, I almost felt caressed by his intentions. He went to his open bag on the luggage stand and rummaged, then pulled out a folded white T-shirt.
Tossing it to me, he said, “You can wear this for a nightgown. It should be big enough.” He jutted his chin toward the bathroom door.
“You go ahead and get ready for bed. Feel free to use my toothpaste.” Then he smiled, one of those regretful, resigned smiles that could break hearts.
It put a big crack in mine in that moment, but I stiffened my spine.
I caught the T-shirt and clutched it to my chest, covering up my cleavage way too late.
Nodding, I went into the bathroom as he’d suggested and closed the door.
But I was far from resigned to playing the part of acquaintance.
Confusion about his attitude mingled with desire, hope, and a little bit of shame.
I knew he wanted me, was intrigued by me.
Even if I didn’t feel his hard-on, I sensed it, knew it was there.
I had no idea how to get past his gentlemanly barrier.
I pulled my dress over my head and slid on the shirt.
It was longer on me than my dress had been.
Looking in the mirror, I splashed water on my face.
What the hell was I going to do? I didn’t remember ever having to work so hard at seducing a man.
But that was the problem. Maybe I shouldn’t be seducing him.
He was a gentleman. Maybe I should enjoy that fact.
No matter how much my lady parts wept for him.
I refused to beg him to sleep with me. And I wasn’t about to engage in any cheap seduction tricks because that was the worst form of begging.
So when I came out of the bathroom in my makeshift nightie, I didn’t parade around for him to see the nipples clearly through the thin white fabric.
I didn’t even look at him when I headed straight for the bed he’d designated as mine, the one closest to the bathroom.
Slipping under the covers in a quick move, I pulled them up to my chin as if I were a nun.
He was propped up on his pillow with the remote in hand, flicking through channels on the nearly silent TV.
“Do you mind if I watch a little? I can turn the sound lower.”
I shook my head. He’d turned me into a poiseless mute, the least charming woman in the world. He went on as if I’d questioned him.
“It’s an old habit of mine. A bad habit, but it helps me relax, wind down at the end of the day. It’s something I find I need as a parent of two little girls. They’re very . . . exciting.”
I laughed.
“I teach kindergarten. You don’t have to tell me about how kids can get adults overstimulated.”
“Is that a PC way of saying kids can exhaust a person?”
I nodded. Still not my usual open self. Still not sure if this nervousness in me was a red flag, that maybe Max wasn’t right for me.
But when he aimed his generous, knowing smile at me, one dimple visible, and the skin around his blue eyes crinkled, my panties melted all over the place and it was all I could do not to squirm.
I think he perked up when he heard the word kindergarten.
Or maybe that was me anticipating the usual head-shaking.
“Aren’t you going to wonder how I get away with teaching kindergarten?”
“No. You have a kind, open soul, the kind that kids would love. I bet your students adore you and you have them eating out of your hand.”
“Sure. I run a regular petting zoo.”
He laughed. I was back to myself. I licked my lips and warned myself not to go crazy.
I was going to stay in this bed all night and leave him alone if it killed me.
That imperative made me gulp. Tall order.
I gave in and squirmed. I wondered if he would notice if I got myself off under the covers . . .
“I’ll set the timer for thirty minutes,” he said and turned away. “That should do it.” He put the remote back into its little folder on the night stand, took a sip of the bottled water he had placed there, and said, “Good night, Red.”
I opened my mouth, my heart spinning into palpitations. No one called me Red and got away with it. No one except my father.
Now I was left to wonder half the night what the hell that was a sign of. Nothing healthy. But damn it to hell, he was light years younger than my dad and nothing like him. So I wasn’t going to get wigged out that my interest in Max had anything to do with Daddy issues.
Besides, I didn’t have Daddy issues. I had stepmother issues. Completely different thing.
“Good night, Max.”
He looked over at my belated response and the expression was penetrating, like he wanted to find some answers in my eyes, as if he could read my face. It didn’t make me feel uncomfortable and I showed whatever I had in me on my face, as always.
Finally, his dimple showed, with those to-die-for crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and I was at ease.
All the awkwardness I’d felt at sleeping in a man’s room, but not in his bed, left me.
And that was saying something because this was unprecedented, a definite fish-out-of-water moment for me.
Now? It felt . . . exciting. Like it was the prelude for so much more, like a strange yet effective kind of very extended foreplay.
Listening to the faint sound of the television, I watched his resting profile in the flickering light as I slipped my hand down to the edge of my panties and toyed. Dare I, or dare I not?