“I didn’t want to take advantage,” she said. “It’s a nice shower. Big…enough for two.”
“I-I’m just going to go get dressed. I’ll be right back.”
When he returned from the bedroom, wearing basketball shorts and a T-shirt, Angela was still standing at the window. He stepped up behind her, then slipped his arms around her waist. “What do you see out there?”
“It’s a beautiful view. It’s so quiet up here.”
Max rested his chin on her shoulder. “The minute I saw this place, I knew I had to have it. And there was no way I’d stay at my parents’ place. My mother would drive me crazy and my father would expect me to help him with all of his household repair projects. I needed a place of my own here in Chicago.”
“So you dropped a few million on a condo? Why not rent?”
“It seemed like a good investment,” Max said. “And now that I’ve been here for a while, I like it. It feels like home.” He turned her around to face him. “What can I get you to drink? I have wine. And beer. Energy drinks and mineral water.”
“A glass of wine would be nice,” Angela said. “Red, if you have it.”
As Max walked to the kitchen, he smiled to himself. This was going well. She could have asked for a ride home. But instead, she’d stay at least long enough to finish a glass of wine and eat some mac and cheese. He found a bottle, struggled with the cork, then filled a wineglass nearly to the brim.
It would take her longer to drink a big glass of wine, giving him more time. But at the last minute he dumped half of it in the sink. She might think he was trying to get her drunk. He didn’t want to confirm all the worst things the press had to say about him.
“Take it slow,” he reminded himself. “And don’t make an ass of yourself.”
Angela pressed her hand to her chest. Ever since he’d walked into the room, dressed in a only a towel, she hadn’t been able to breathe. It had been a long time since she’d been in the presence of a naked man-or a nearly naked one. Almost a year. And she’d never been near a man with a body like Max’s. The fact that it was Max, the man of her teenage fantasies, made the entire incident surreal.
After he’d walked away, she’d thought about following him, about tugging the towel off the lower part of his body and exploring everything underneath. If she were only bolder, she could do something like that.
But Angela knew the dangers of allowing herself to surrender to a guy like Max. Though she wanted to believe that he genuinely liked her, she couldn’t help but wonder if this stop at his apartment was all part of a grand plan to seduce her. There was no ignoring the profiles on her Web site. Max did have an amazing capacity to separate a woman from her panties.
If he wasn’t interested in sex, then why had he brought her here? Angela suspected it had nothing to do with getting warm and dry. He’d probably waltzed through in a towel on purpose, just to tempt her. And she was tempted. It would be so easy to fall into his trap, to make the first move so he couldn’t be blamed for the seduction.
Angela had indulged in a few one-night stands over the years, only to regret her behavior the next day. But would she regret sleeping with Max? She’d finally have a chance to make her teenage fantasies come true. How many women would pass up a chance like that? If he were great, then she’d have a memory to keep for the rest of her life. And if he wasn’t, maybe she could finally consign her fantasies to the past.
If he offered, she’d accept, Angela decided. But what if he didn’t offer? What would that mean? Was she not woman enough to satisfy him? Though she hadn’t had the number of experiences that he’d had, Angela knew how to pleasure a man. She was good in bed. Not porn-star good, but she could get a little kinky when called for.
“Here. Red wine. Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes.”
Angela jumped at the sound of his voice. She turned and took the glass from his hand. “What are you cooking? It smells good.”
“Mac and cheese. I buy it in bulk from Whole Foods.”
“I love their mac and cheese,” she said. “And I am a little hungry. I haven’t stayed up this late for a long time.”
“You don’t go out much?”
Angela shook her head. “No. I don’t really like the bar scene.”
“What were you doing out tonight?”
“It was just a whim,” she lied. “Ceci convinced me to go. What about you? Do you do this often?”
“Drink wine?”
“Bring a girl home?” She might as well get a few more of her questions answered. “You’re very difficult to resist. Very…charming.”
“I’m having a nice time just talking to you, Angela. I’m not looking for anything else.”
“You aren’t?”
“No. I mean, I think it’s a little early to-not that I wouldn’t want to. You’re beautiful. Any man would want to…you know. But I think we should just let things happen…”
Angela set her wineglass down on the windowsill. So how did he feel? Was he having second thoughts about seducing her? Didn’t he think she could handle it? Well, she was just as capable of enjoying it as any other woman. “Why don’t you kiss me again and we’ll see what happens?”
She’d be crazy not to take the chance when she had it, right? Forget the book, forget all the questions she wanted to ask. Her curiosity had completely overwhelmed her common sense and she wanted to enjoy what so many other women had.
It didn’t take him more than a heartbeat to change his mind. His fingers slipped through her hair and he pulled her mouth to his, steering her toward the sofa. This time, his kiss left no doubt in her mind as to where they were headed. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her lips and her tongue. Max was like a man, parched with thirst and desperately searching for a cool taste of water.
They tumbled onto the leather cushions and he pulled her down on top of him, his hands roaming freely over her body. There wasn’t much between them. Angela had left her underwear to dry in the bathroom and Max hadn’t bothered with his, either.
When he slipped his hand beneath the hem of the sweatshirt and skimmed it up her back, she moaned. It was the most delicious sensation in the world. Every nerve seemed to tingle as his touch drifted from one spot to the next.
In the past, Angela had always kept a small part of herself detached from the man sharing her bed, afraid to commit herself completely, afraid that she might be making a mistake. But with Max, she wanted to surrender, wanted to offer him every pleasure that he might find her in body. It was just one night, that’s all. Why not enjoy it completely?
She was breathless and giddy. Though Angela knew the risks, her body was on fire, the desire so hot that the only way to survive was to tear off all her clothes. Straddling his hips, she sat up and tugged the sweatshirt over her head. Her hair tumbled around her face as she tossed the sweatshirt aside. Angela watched as he slowly reached out to cup her breast in his palm. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, losing touch with reality.
Was this a dream? Would she wake up suddenly, alone in her bed, and realize that once again, her fantasies of him were just an illusion? No, Angela thought. She felt her skin tingle where he touched and she heard the pulse pounding through her veins. She smelled the scent of his cologne and heard the sound of his breathing.
If this wasn’t real, it was the most vivid dream she’d ever experienced. Angela stared into his eyes, daring the image to fade before her. But instead, he drew her down again, into another kiss, this one, more powerful than the last.
“What are we doing?” he whispered
“Touching,” she said. “Kissing.”
He groaned softly as she shifted above him, his hard shaft pressed against the spot between her legs. It wouldn’t take much to rid themselves of the rest of their clothes. Angela knew so much about him, yet all of it was purely superficial. She wanted to see him naked, to touch him intimately and to have those images burned into her memory. “Take your shirt off,” she whispered.
Max pushed up on his elbows and she pulled his shirt over his head, then dropped it on the floor. Angela ran her palms over his torso, from his belly to his chest, the muscle rippling beneath her fingers.
He was absolute perfection, his skin smooth and warm and burnished brown by the sun. Angela smiled, wondering at how this fantasy had suddenly become reality. Every time she thought it might end, it just got better and better. Perhaps this was the way it was meant to happen between them. This was the time when they’d both be at their best, the time when they could both walk away with out any regrets.
She ran her hands along his arms, then laced her fingers between his, drawing his arms up above his head. Nuzzling her face into the curve of his neck, she leaned closer, her breasts rubbing against his chest.
Max groaned, then grabbed her around the waist. Before she knew what was happening, he was standing beside the sofa, her legs wrapped around his hips. He carried her down the hall, toward his bedroom. Angela knew if she had any doubts, now was the time to call an end to this. But she wanted to go the rest of the way, to share the ultimate intimacy with him.
He stopped halfway down the hall and gently pushed her into the wall, his mouth coming down on hers for a deep, demanding kiss. She arched against him until they were nearly joined, their clothes providing the last barrier between anticipation and release.
Max groaned again, then suddenly went still. Angela waited, wondering what had happened. Then with a sinking feeling, she knew what it was. The excitement had been too much for him. “It’s all right,” she whispered, toying with a lock of his damp hair.
“We can just wait a bit.”
He drew back and a gasp slipped from his throat.
“What?”
“I understand. It happens. Things were pretty in tense there.”
“You think I…” His voice trailed off and then he laughed. “No, I’m fine. Everything is still fully…functional.”
“Then why did you stop?”
“Because I’m really not sure we should be doing this, Angela. In fact, I’m positive we shouldn’t be doing this. Not yet. Not that I don’t really, really want to do this. Believe me, I do. But, I think if we both take a step back and-”
Angela quickly unwound her legs from his waist and dropped to her feet. As her body slid against his, she noticed that the bulge in his shorts wasn’t subsiding. Oh, God. She’d just assumed he’d- “Right,” she said, nodding frantically. “You’re absolutely right. I mean, we’ve just met. And I understand you probably have women coming on to you all the time. It must be so-”
“No!” Max said, reaching out to touch her face.
“It’s not that. Believe me.” He drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I’m just going to get the rest of our clothes. Then we can-talk. We’ll talk. And eat.”
As he strode toward the living room, Angela braced herself against the wall, holding her arms over her breasts. What was going on? Didn’t he want her?
Wasn’t she attractive enough for him to take to bed?
This was not the behavior of a smooth operator.
First Alex Stamos, then Charlie Templeton and now, Max Morgan. Why couldn’t these men behave the way they were supposed to? What was happening to the world as she knew it? Every assumption she’d made about these seducers was being shattered.
And now, Max Morgan was acting all upright and honorable.
When he returned, Max was wearing his T-shirt again. He helped her into the sweatshirt, then took her hand and led her back to the sofa. He sat down next to her, then grabbed her hands and kissed the tips of her fingers.
“I had a really nice time tonight,” he said. “I want to see you again. And I don’t want to mess anything up by sleeping together just a few hours after we met.”
“Is that really why you stopped,” Angela asked. “Or is that just the story you think I’ll buy until you can get me out of your apartment?”
“I don’t know how much you know about me, or my rather formidable reputation with the ladies. But most of it is greatly exaggerated by the press.” He paused. “Well, some of it is true, but a lot isn’t.”
“So, when you bring a woman home, you usually sleep with her?”
He drew in a sharp breath, then nodded.
“Usually.”
“Why not me?” Angela asked, desperate to know the answer.
“Because you’re someone I’d like to know better.
That is, if you want to get to know me.”
She searched his eyes for the truth in his words, but Angela didn’t know him well enough to guess at what was really beneath his reluctance. No man, not even the most well-intentioned red-blooded male, would turn down the chance at sex. There had to be something more to this.
She forced a smile, then quickly stood. “I-I have to get up early for work tomorrow. I should really get home.”
“You’re not hungry?”
“No.”
Max cupped her face with his hand, his forehead meeting hers. Then he kissed her, the contact soft and fleeting. “All right. I’ll take you back to your car.”
“No,” Angela said. “I can get a cab.”
“I’ll take you,” Max insisted, his tone firm, yet betraying a hint of irritation.
“I’ll just get my things.” She stepped around him and walked back to the bathroom. When she got inside, she closed the door behind her. Angela caught sight of herself in the wide mirror that hung on the wall above the sinks. She leaned closer to examine her face.
She was still flushed, her cheeks pink and her lips red and puffy. Her hair, though mussed, didn’t look that bad. Objectively, she should have been pretty enough to tempt Max into sex.
Angela fought back a wave of anger. She knew exactly what kind of man Max Morgan was and she’d allowed herself to get carried away by his charm. It was all there in black-and-white on her Web site. What made her think that he’d be any different with her?
This was all Ceci’s fault, all of her talk about “moments” and “hope springing eternal.” Max was exactly what she knew him to be-a smooth operator. Of course, he wouldn’t want a woman like her. He never noticed the girl she’d been, so why would he even consider the woman she’d become?
She wouldn’t get her fantasy night with Max Morgan after all. Tomorrow, she’d wait for his call and it wouldn’t come. And in a few weeks, she’d find out he was dating another woman-a model or an actress, someone more befitting his status in the celebrity world.
He was everything she knew him to be-a rogue, a cad, a seducer and the shallowest man she’d ever met. But she would get one thing she wanted from this night-an end to all of her silly fantasies. She’d never have to think of him again and wonder what may have been. Though they might have shared a moment, it was the moment.
Angela pulled off his clothes and slipped into her own underwear and dress. She winced at the cold, damp fabric against her skin, the sand still caught in the seams and folds. The sooner this night was over, the better.
3
MAX GLANCED OVER AT Angela, her profile outlined by the lights from the street. They’d made a quick exit from his place and an uneasy silence had enveloped them. He wasn’t quite sure how to read her expression. At first glance, she seemed unbothered by what had happened between them. But experience had taught him that how a woman acted and how she really felt could be two completely different things.
The night had been so promising, but it was ending on a sour note. Maybe he should have taken her to bed. She seemed almost insulted that he hadn’t. But for the first time in his life, Max had looked past his urges and put aside his need for release. He wanted a good life after baseball and a woman to share it with. Seducing every woman who caught his eye wasn’t getting him there. So maybe it was time to try a different approach.
It was his mistake. He shouldn’t have started what he didn’t want to finish. They should have kept their clothes on, sipped their wine and eaten a little mac and cheese. He would have driven her
back, they would have kissed good-night and he could have looked forward to a second date. Now, he wasn’t even sure he ought to try to kiss her again.
Max glanced over to see Angela rub her bare arms and he reached for the air conditioner. “Are you cold?” he asked.
“No,” she said.
“You’re rubbing your arms.”
She forced a smile. “I’m fine.”
With a muttered curse, he shut off the air conditioner and rolled down the windows, letting the warm night breeze flow through the car. Was this what he deserved for trying to be a gentleman? That’s what women were supposed to want, right? A guy who wasn’t focused on getting into their pants? It wasn’t just supposed to be about sex. There was trust and friendship, too.
He’d wanted to explain his reasoning to her, but Max suspected he’d only make things worse. So, for now, he’d just stay quiet, get her number before he dropped her off, and they would start fresh on their next date.
As they neared the parking ramp, he began to worry that she might not give him her number at all. He pulled into the ramp and grabbed the ticket, then turned to her. “Where are you parked?” he asked.
“Level 3B,” she said. “It’s a blue Volkswagen Jetta.”
Max carefully steered up the spiral ramp and exited on the third level, then squinted in the low light, looking for her car.
“It’s right there,” she said, pointing to the left.
Max took an empty spot nearby, then turned off the BMW. She made to get out of the car, but he reached out and took her arm. “Hang on.” He grabbed his cell phone from the center console. “I don’t have your number.”
“Why do you need my number?” she asked.
She was angry. Much angrier than he’d ever suspected. “Because we have a date tomorrow and I want to call you and work out the details.”
“We made those plans before…” Her voice trailed off and she waited for him to reply.
He sent her an inquiring look. “Before what? Before I decided we shouldn’t sleep together?” He shook his head. “It isn’t always about sex, no matter what you might have read in the press.”
The Sexy Devil Page 4
