Shay pulled her legs from his grip, propped her butt against the tiled ledge of the spa, and leaned all the way back. “Is this what you want?” She ran a slender finger over herself.
God, he loved a compliant woman. “Yeah,” he said, before his eager mouth latched onto a tight, provoking nipple.
She pushed his head away. “This is my show.”
He was so ready to claim her again. Sex-starved for months, he had a lot of catching up to do. He wanted his fill, but the sight of her touching herself ... That would definitely keep him going a little while longer. “Don't stop,” he commanded in a tone as raw as he felt.
She continued her slow exploration, eliciting moans from the two of them.
“Tell me what you're feeling,” he said, damn sure he already knew because he felt it too.
Her breaths grew ragged. “My blood is mad hot.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “This right here drives me insane.”
Dylan's gaze didn't flinch. Face held tight, nostrils flared, and his erection felt downright painful. What had he done to deserve Shay? She was the ultimate woman, and not just in the sex department. She moaned suggestively, put on a performance that would take another lifetime to forget.
“I'm almost there,” she groaned into the night.
He couldn't stop his mouth from latching onto her nipple again. He took her breasts with both hands, tongued the puckered peaks with ravenous strokes.
“Did I say you could do that?” Shay moaned louder.
“I don't need permission.” He licked rings around each nipple.
“Think you can do whatever you want?”
“Yep.” His mouth worked its way down her body.
“Only if I let you.”
“You always do.”
“Only because I want to.”
“Because you can't stop me.”
“I can't?”
“You love it too much,” he said, as her body quivered, strained for release.
“I do?” she forced out the words.
Sex with Shay was an ethereal event. Every encounter went into his library of mind-blowing experiences. Some men couldn't imagine making love to only one woman. He couldn't imagine making love to any other woman. “Isn't it better when I do it?” He cupped her hand, followed her strokes.
Her teeth bit into her bottom lip so hard it looked like she'd draw blood. “You're good.”
“Just good?” Dylan put his wet mouth over the racing pulse at her neck. He sucked in a patch of skin.
“If I say you're great you'll just get a swollen head.”
He looked down and laughed. “Already have one.”
“Two swollen heads.”
His hands framed her face. “Be honest. Who does it better?”
“Me,” she groaned. Right then her body convulsed in a delicious frenzy.
He took his wife's panting lips and rode her waves of pleasure. Wrapping her in a potent embrace, he anchored his frame against the quakes until they subsided.
Shay clasped her hands behind his neck, dug her face into his shoulder. She looked into his smoky blue eyes and smiled. “That'll be a hundred bucks,” she quipped.
Dylan drove his mass erection between her twitchy thighs. He would've paid a lot more for that performance. “Don't sell yourself short. You could easily get a grand.”
“Yeah?” She stroked his face and rocked herself against him.
“But I'm willing to pay more if you want.”
She twined her fingers with his and said, “How about you keep your money and just answer my question. It's free.”
Grinning, Dylan shook his head. And we're back on that topic. “You don't forget a thing, do you?”
She nodded. “Well?”
There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere, the light-hearted vibe that had been going on between them. He sat on the ledge, daggling his legs in the whirlpool. Collecting his thoughts, he sifted water between his toes. Sexual banter definitely came easier than expressing his feelings. “It's not that I don't want kids,” he began. “It's just...”
“That you're not ready. Yeah. I know.” Shay sat beside him. “But we can't wait forever.”
“No, but we can at least wait until my business is more stable.”
“Why is that so important? It's not like we don't have money. Stability. Security.”
“It's your money.”
“No, Dylan, it's our money.”
“No, Shay, it's your father's money.”
A clearly flustered Shay kicked at the water, causing a big splash. “You know what, I'm sick of hearing that.”
“Sorry, but it's the truth.”
“What about us? I work. You work. Everything we have, we've earned.”
“Your father thinks—”
“The hell with what my father thinks,” she snapped, and rolled her eyes. “You should worry more about what I think.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think you put too much emphasis on money.”
“Maybe that's because I never had any.”
“Yeah, and I did. So what?”
“You can't understand, Shay. You grew up with everything.”
“That's where you're wrong.”
“Am I?”
“Yeah, you are. Just because I had money doesn't mean I had everything.”
“You had more than most.”
She shot him a look he knew all too well. “So that automatically means my life was great, that I didn't have problems.”
“I'm sure you had problems.”
“Actually, it was my parents who had the problems. I got stuck in the middle of their crappy marriage. All that money, and they were miserable. They didn't even sleep in the same bed.” Shay shifted on the hard surface, putting some space between them. “Honestly. I'd rather be broke.”
Dylan preferred their bodies to be touching, but he stayed put. “No you wouldn't.”
She just shook her head at him. “That's the problem, Dylan. You think too highly of money.”
“I want a good life, nice things. What's so bad about that?”
“Nothing. But you take it to the extreme.”
“Oh, I take it to the extreme?”
“Yeah. You plan our entire life around your company. What if, God forbid, it fails? Does that mean we'll never have a family?”
He stayed quiet. They'd come from opposite sides of the fence. This was one area where they'd never see eye-to-eye. “I want our kids to have the things they deserve.”
“They deserve love. Nurturing. Support. Which they'll have.”
“I know that, Shay.” Now Dylan grew edgy. What would it take to make her comprehend? “You're just missing the point.”
Shay stood abruptly. She snatched a towel off the back of a patio chair and threw it around her dripping frame. “No Dylan, you're missing the point!”
Just like that, she stormed away, leaving him alone and naked. Baffled, he scrubbed a hand down his face. What the fuck had just happened?
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Chapter 7
Distract him. Attack him.
Oops. That wasn't in Shay's Rules of Seduction. Damn Italian blood. She needed to check herself. Short fuse? Yep, she had one. Blame Dominick Giordano for that too. She'd definitely inherited her father's temperament.
Money. Ugh! Most couples fought because they didn't have enough. She and Dylan battled because she had too much. It intimated Dylan, made him feel like she didn't need him, which couldn't have been further from the truth. How many times had she told him that money didn't equate to what he added to her life? He had all the tools to make her happy, and if anything was missing, try communication, not funds. Ah, communication, another hot button in their life, another contributor to so many headaches.
What a fool. Last night, Dylan had tried to open up, and what did she do? She shut him down! He had a right to his own way of thinking. What if they agreed on everything? How boring would
that be?
Headstrong, but not stupid, this time she would tackle her gaffe head-on. She couldn't blow the progress they'd made. Nope. She'd step up and admit that, once again, she'd overreacted.
Shay put the pedal to the metal and headed for Dylan's worksite. She'd stopped by his office first—she could've called him on his cell but preferred the element of surprise—and learned he'd taken off to check on his men.
The ride was twenty minutes in the other direction from Shay's work. So what if she took an extended lunch? Though a dedicated employee, right now she needed to dedicate some time to her marriage. Erin, her best friend and right-hand woman, could handle Shay's load. Erin knew the deal. She'd encouraged her boss to go fix things with Dylan. Erin would cover her butt, because that's how they were.
Not just anyone could run a dozen branches. But she and Erin were a dream team who made it look simple. Their region's performance surpassed all of the others. Shay was a stickler for outstanding customer service. That's what gave them the edge, the secret to their success. Treat customers well and they'll come back. It worked—they did.
The branches were in Erin's capable hands. Shay had more pressing business to attend to, like damage control. What must Dylan be thinking? That he'd married a nut job? Crazy wasn't always a bad thing. She'd put herself out there, throw herself at his mercy. Poor guy. Her actions were so conflicting. She yelled when he didn't share his feelings. She blew up when he did. He couldn't win.
Tonight she'd make sure that he came out on top. What prize would he get for forgiveness? Shay smiled sheepishly. She already had it all planned out. But first she needed to find him, apologize to him, face-to-face. He needed to see her sincerity, needed to know that Booty Camp was still in session.
Ha! She spied his rugged Dodge Ram pickup truck exactly where they'd said it'd be. He'd parked between two other familiar cars. The silver SUV belonged to Christian. Of course, the sonic blue, pimped-out Cobra Mustang had to be Nico's, Dylan and Christian's wild-ass cousin.
Shay's tires slid across the loose gravel, spitting pebbles into the air and clink-clinking against her chrome rims. She came to a choppy stop, parking beside the Mustang. Damn. She didn't need scratches on her pampered beauty. She treasured her Lexus sport coupe, the one thing in life where she'd actually splurged without any regret.
Cutting the engine, she sucked in a lungful of air. She calmed her savage heartbeat, collected her scattered thoughts. Unlatching the car door, she slipped out into the gorgeous day. The sun shone bright, warm and all encompassing. She forgot about her car and gazed up at the cobalt sky. The sun's rays washed over her face and she smiled. It could only get better from here. She smoothed her hands down her black pencil skirt, and re-tucked her silky blouse.
Be sincere. Be open. Be really apologetic. Shay went over the plan. She caught a shadow in her peripheral vision and her head automatically turned toward it. Her heart rate spiked. Dylan. Headed her way, he wore a bewildered look on his face, carried a clipboard in one hand.
“What are you doing here?” he asked genially, yet questioning. He looked her up and down, but mostly up, especially her breasts. His gaze was glued to the tiny wedge between two of her blouse buttons. He seemed very preoccupied with the inadvertent peek-a-boo space.
“Hey,” she said, smiling sweetly. “Working hard?” His coming outside had caught her off guard. She couldn't think of anything else to say at the moment. So much for an elaborate speech. Oh, well.
“They are.” Using his chin, Dylan indicated the large house behind him. “I'm just supervising.”
“Supervising is good.” She laughed.
“Did you drive out here to chat about work?”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “I came to apologize for last night.” There. She'd said it. What a relief.
“You could've called.” He shook the cellphone in his other hand. “Instead of coming out here and getting all dirty.” His finger smoothed her open collar.
“I could have. But I wanted to surprise you.”
“That you did.”
“Anyway ... I was out of line last night and I'm sorry.”
His lips peeled into a sexy grin. “All this way to deliver that message in person?” His finger dipped between her buttons. It searched and prodded creamy cleavage. “Must've meant a lot to you.”
Her eyes dropped to the gravelly ground. Thank you for letting me off so easy. Her hand brushed the front of his dress shirt. “It does.”
“Maybe later you can show me how much.”
Nice. They were back on the same page. Shay chewed the inside of her cheek. “That's the other reason I stopped by.”
His dark brows pulled together. He displayed a mouthful of even white teeth. “Oh?”
She leaned in close and took a long whiff of woodsy cologne. “Tonight I'm going to give you a slow massage.” She licked his manly throat. Then she laid a mind-shattering kiss on those gorgeous lips.
Dylan gave it right back. Even with his hands full, he still managed to press her body up against his, raising the heat to a combustible level. Every part of her shuddered. God, she missed making out with him. Their relationship had always been physical—touching, kissing, holding hands. The hunger from their early days had yet to wane.
Packed with emotion, with breathless moans and whimpers, the kiss went on for days. Shay knew she needed to save some for later. Reluctantly, she broke the spell. Dreamily, she locked her gaze with his. Shay cleared her throat, found her voice. “Then I'm going to give you a slow something else.” She tucked loose hair behind her ear and watched his expression go from high interest to outright lust.
He took her fingers and kissed her knuckles. “How the hell am I supposed to get through the rest of the day?”
“Just think,” she said, with a fierce smile. Shay twisted her hand to look at her wristwatch. “A few hours from now, you're going to be...” She let the words hang in the air.
“Dylan!” An urgent voice screamed out.
They both spun at the same time. Dylan's baby brother had a distressed look on his face that couldn't be good. “Hold that thought,” he said to her, and hurried toward Christian.
Christian ran full speed ahead. “Nico broke his ass.”
“What?” Dylan stopped suddenly. He grabbed Shay's hand when she caught up to him. “How?”
“He fell off the scaffold,” Christian said, through choppy breaths. “He looks pretty bad, man.”
“Shit! How'd he fall?”
“I don't know. But hurry. We already called an ambulance.”
Shay's heart thundered as the three of them charged to the worksite.
* * * *
One minute Shay had been whispering sweet promises to Dylan, the next she was pacing shiny white floor tiles. No word yet on Nico's condition. They knew he'd been conscious throughout his ordeal, so that had to be a positive. He was also coherent, and it appeared that he'd broken the fall with his body, not his head. Right now the doctors were doing a battery of tests to assess the damage.
Dylan and Christian marched back and forth, up and down the sterile corridor, worrying, waiting for news. It'd been a frightening experience for Shay, who didn't scare easily. The sight of Nico sprawled out on the floor in agony with an open gash above his left brow, blood gushing out and streaming down his face, had been disturbing. One arm had been twisted beneath him, noticeably fractured in a god-awful way. Judging by the distance he'd fallen, it'd be a miracle if he didn't have internal injuries.
She was fond of Dylan's cousin, a dedicated, hard working, decent guy. He was also like a brother to Dylan and Christian. Dylan always spoke about work, and how Nico kept the men entertained with his brash sense of humor. At family gatherings, he brought life to the party. Spontaneous, rambunctious, somewhat unruly, he'd been a fixture in Dylan and Christian's lives ever since they were kids.
Uh-oh. She heard the exaggerated Spanish accent that belonged to none other than Nico's outlandish mother. “Ay, Dios mio,
que paso?” The buxom blonde approached with clanking wooden heels and a wildly troubled face.
“Tia, it's okay,” Christian said to his aunt.
Dressed in denim capris and a tight hot pink top, her shoulder-length hair layered in a shaggy style, she grabbed Christian's forearm to steady herself. Charo's heavily made-up eyes searched her nephew's face. “Is that what the doc-torr said?”
Dylan stepped forward and hugged his aunt's shoulder. “That's what he's going to say as soon as he comes out.”
Charo measured her nephews. Shay knew how well she got along with them, sometimes better than with Nico. Dylan had the most patience with her, probably since he was the oldest. Charo looked from Dylan to Christian. Both men wore the same hard expression. “Estas seguro?” Charo seemed unconvinced. She dug in her purse and pulled out a pack of gum.
“You know Nico,” Christian said.
Shay leaned into Dylan, resting her weight against him. “Yeah, I bet he's got everybody laughing in there right now,” Shay added.
Charo gave her niece-in-law a sad grin. “Espero que si.” She sure hoped so.
Thanks to Dylan, Shay understood a little Spanish. “Would you like some coffee?” she offered Charo, who was fully bilingual, yet spoke in Spanglish. At first it had seemed comical. But hanging around Dylan's family, she'd quickly gotten used to the interesting way they blended two languages. “I'm going to get a cup for myself.”
“No gracias, mi amor. I'm already too shaky.” Charo turned back to Dylan and Christian and said, “How did my hijo get hurt?”
“Anyone else for coffee?”
The brothers nodded their heads. As Christian recounted the incident to his aunt, Shay went to get a refill. And call Erin. Again. She didn't have to, though. Erin told her chill out about work. She had it covered. Shay was a worrywart. She couldn't help it.
On the phone with Erin, who of course had nothing new to report, she could hear Charo's gasps and Spanish omigods echoing down the hallway. A little dramatic for Shay's taste, but Charo had always been a decent mother to Nico. The same didn't apply to Nico's father, but then, he'd bailed on Charo, leaving her to raise Nico alone.
She hung up after five minutes of filling Erin in on the latest, which was really nothing since the doctor still remained behind closed doors. At least Nico got his insurance dollars’ worth.
Still Hot For You Page 6
