Bedding The Bad Boy (Dalton Brothers Novels)

by Virna DePaul

  She was so frustrated and embarrassed that she wanted to cry, but somehow she managed not to. Minutes passed. Eventually, she tried to pull away, but he stopped her.

  She refused to look at him, instead staring at the floor. All she could think about was escaping his intense gaze. If she’d only stuck with her plan, directing and controlling his pleasure, she wouldn’t have to deal with having another talk about her sexual defects. Maybe it wasn’t too late…

  She tried to slip away again, this time to return to where she’d been before, on her knees. His arms tightened, refusing to let her go.

  “Look at me, Grace.”

  With a sigh, she did.

  “It’s okay…”

  She laughed harshly. “Nothin’ about this is okay.”

  He shook her slightly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  “How can you say that? I was into it. What we were doin’ was hot. I should have been able to—”

  “Grind against me in a public gym for less than five minutes and make yourself come?”

  “Five minutes, five hours, it wouldn’t have mattered. It wouldn’t matter where we were, either. I was almost there. I always almost get there. I just can’t cross the finish line.”

  She used more force to pull away from him and this time he let her go. With a sigh and a teasing smile, he also stood. “Five hours? Really?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  Arms crossed, he leaned against the wall. “What I know is you’ve somehow gotten it into your head that if you can’t orgasm, sexual pleasure isn’t worth a damn.”

  “Like you think any differently? Would you be okay settlin’ for morsels that only leave you starvin’ for a full meal?”

  “I wouldn’t be okay with it. But I hope I’d appreciate what I could get. And I’d keep working toward more.”

  “I guess I’m just not as enlightened as you are.”

  “No. You’re frustrated because you’ve been dealing with the reality of this for years. I get it. But you’re also embarrassed and ready to give up as a result. Again. And I’m telling you I’m not going to let that happen.”

  “It’s not up to you. Look, I’m sorry for wastin’ your time but I can’t do this again. Not with you. Not with anyone. But thank you for all your help.”

  She moved toward the door.

  He straightened and stepped in front of it, blocking her escape.

  He stared at her.

  She stared back.

  She waited for him to give up and move aside.

  He didn’t.

  “Max?”

  “Giving over control to me scares you that much, doesn’t it?”

  “Max—”

  He stepped toward her and she instinctively backed up. He kept coming. She kept backing away. Until her back hit the wall and he caged her in with his arms on either side. He leaned in close, until she saw nothing but the pure perfection of his hazel eyes. “We had a deal. I gave it up and you enjoyed it. No, you didn’t go all the way, but I’m not a quitter and neither are you, Dixie. We’ve barely gotten started.”

  She flattened her palms on his chest and pushed, not budging him an inch. Beneath his workout shirt, he was muscled. Hard. Luscious. She curled her fingers into fists. “What’s the point in gettin’ started? You want me to admit I want you? That I see you as more than a tool to get me off? Fine. I want you, Max. Y. O. U. But that doesn’t matter. Even with you givin’ me anythin’ and everthin’ I want, I can’t even—”

  He took hold of her arms and lightly shook her. “I haven’t given you everything you want, Grace, because I haven’t figured out what that is. Despite your attempts to protect yourself, I will. You want me? Well, I want you,” he said. “I want to explore you. I want to savor you. And I want you to do the same with me. I want to prove doing those things is a reward in and of itself, and worth any frustration you might have to deal with.”

  “You’re talkin’ in circles. One second you say you’ll get me off. The next you’re tellin’ me I need to accept gettin’ off isn’t necessary to enjoy sex. You really think you’re good enough to juggle both those concepts at once?”

  “I think we’re going to be that good. You had your turn at control. It’s only fair you give me mine.”

  She stared at him. “I don’t know what you want me to say. All I can say is what I said before. I’ll try.”

  He seemed to ponder her words before reaching some mysterious conclusion, after which he released her, stepped back and nodded. “Fine. This time, I’m willing to accept that answer.”

  “Why now and not before?”

  “Because now I’m beginning to understand the reason you came to me the other night isn’t because of my reputation as a playboy, but as a bad boy.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you giving up control isn’t what you need, Grace. Me taking it away from you is.”

  ***

  “You’re high as a kite.”

  “Am I?”

  “You are if you think I’m goin’ to let you ‘take’ anythin’ from me. I’m not into the BDSM scene, Max. Whips and chains don’t work for me.”

  “How do you know? Have you ever tried it?”

  “I know.”

  He shrugged. “That’s not what I’m talking about anyway. I don’t need leather and chains to take what you need me to take from you, Grace. A private room, you armed with your safe word, and the two of us naked, preferably with a bed in the mix, will do just fine.”

  “And what if I don’t want you to take what you’re so dead set on takin’? You’re goin’ to hold me down and make me?”

  “Assuming you don’t use your safe word? That’s right.”

  “You are high.”

  “And just the thought of me holding you down and taking everything you have to give me, everything you secretly want to give me, has you turned on.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “I’m not. The piercings, that damn sexy tattoo on your back—which I am going to see before this day is over—all your talk about knowing what you like and part of that being control, hell even the pole-dancing and lap dance… That’s all part of you, yes, but mostly it’s a cover to hide what you really want. What you’re really most ashamed of. You can try to fool yourself, but you’re not fooling me. Lots of women get off on being dominated. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  “I’m not embarrassed, it’s just not true. You can think whatevah you want, but if you intend to hold me down and take anythin’ from me, that changes things. I’m leavin’.”

  “I thought we already established you’re not leaving until I’m ready to let you leave.”

  His utter gall amazed her. Her own undeniable reaction, evidenced by the moisture that pooled between her thighs and by the near-painful tightening of her nipples, shocked her.

  This time, she didn’t walk toward the door. She lunged and ran.

  Before she knew it, he had her against the wall, his body pressing into hers, her wrists pinned at either side of her head. Instinctively, she fought him. Kicked out and tried to push him away. But he didn’t budge, and she was faced with how strong he was. How his suave, sophisticated, civilized exterior was a complete and utter sham. Deep down, he was a bad boy. He just didn’t need a leather jacket and biker boots to announce it to the world.

  Fear trickled through her, but he was right—arousal was there, too. So much arousal that she had to actually go looking for the fear. But she found it, and clung desperately to it. She had to. A grown woman who got off on being dominated by a man? Forced by a man?

  “Look at me, Grace.”

  “Go to hell.” It was on the tip of her tongue to say it. Mango. But she didn’t.

  Because she didn’t really want him to let her go.

  He transferred both her wrists to one hand, pinned them over her head, then cupped her chin with his other hand and made her look at him. Even as he did, she was conscious of how gentl
e his touch was. “What did I promise you last night?”

  “You promised a lot of things,” she shot back.

  “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you, and if you didn’t like something I did, after giving it a fair shot, I’d stop. You trusted me then and you have to trust me now.”

  “I’ll trust you if you let go. This isn’t you, Max. You’re not a sexual barbarian.”

  “I already told you, Grace, I’m whatever my lover needs me to be. A sexual barbarian might not be who I am most of the time, but it’s part of me. Just like wanting to be sexually submissive is just a part of you. It doesn’t define you. Outside the bedroom, it doesn’t mean a goddamn thing.”

  What he was saying made so much sense, but the fact he was persuading her just freaked her out even more. She struggled some more to no avail. “Max, I’m not kiddin’. You need to stop. Keep it up and I swear, I’ll cancel your birth certificate. I’ll cut your tail. I’ll slap you to sleep, then slap you for sleeping. I’ll—”

  With his body pressed against hers, she felt how he shook with laughter.

  “This isn’t funny,” she snapped.

  He struggled to wipe the amusement from his expression and finally succeeded. “Calm down and look at me.”

  “I am lookin’ at you.”

  “No, Grace, really look at me.”

  She did.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “No.”

  “Then what are you scared of? Besides, as we’ve already established, losing that precious control we talked so much about.”

  “I don’t know. I’m just—I don’t like this.”

  “You’re scared of it,” he said. “Of what it’s making you feel. You came to me, Dixie, and now I see you came to me because you’re tired. You want me to take care of things for you. So let me.” He bent and kissed her neck, then nipped at her, the resulting pain contrasting sharply with the way his tongue immediately soothed the area.

  She couldn’t help it.

  She sighed.

  He pulled back, awareness and satisfaction in his gaze. “This is your last chance. Decide you’re going to trust me or we stop things now and walk away. Say the word, and this is done and I won’t bring it up again. But think carefully before you give me your answer. And study what you’re feeling right now. Is it fear or is it desire that has your pulse beating so fast?”

  It was desire. Pure desire. She liked the feeling of being pinned down by him. She liked the idea of not having to take responsibility of her pleasure, of her damn orgasm, anymore. But she still couldn’t admit it. All she managed to get out was, “Tell me what you mean by making me take what you have to give me.”

  “I mean you’re going to take everything I have to give you. Every inch. Every drop. And when the time’s right, you’re going to come. Because I’m not going to give you any another choice.”

  Her whole body trembled, all her muscles clenching, including the ones at her core. She felt empty. Achy. She wondered… if he was inside her at that moment, if she clamped down on the hard length of his cock… Would she come?

  Without loosening his grip on her or lessening the pressure he was using to hold her down, he kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth again and again until she felt drugged. His soft lips contrasted so deliciously with his hard jaw, covered with just the beginnings of stubble. She imagined that roughness against the inside of her thighs, and felt her core spasm so hard that she bit his lip. He jerked then kissed her even harder. She lost track of how long they went at it. When he abruptly pulled away, she felt dizzy and disoriented.

  She whimpered in distress and he immediately kissed her again, this time keeping the pressure light. Savoring. Comforting. Eventually, he graduated to sprinkling gentle, close-mouthed kisses across her face and throat.

  Finally, he released her wrists. Pushing back her hair, he cupped her face. “You okay?”

  She nodded.

  “You still scared?”

  “A little,” she whispered.

  He stepped back. “Too scared to take my hand?”

  He held out his hand, his implicit message clear. She couldn’t say it yet. She couldn’t admit she wanted what he said she did. But by taking his hand, she wouldn’t have to.

  She couldn’t justify it. She couldn’t rationalize it. It was just something she felt deep down in her soul. If she was ever going to trust anyone with the hidden parts of herself, it would be him.

  It was now or never.

  She took his hand.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Max’s Magic Rule #8:

  The best magicians fake it on stage, never in bed.

  After Grace took his hand, Max gave her one last light, close-mouthed kiss then murmured he was going to shower, change and meet her up front. Grace did a quick rinse off and clothes change, silently lamenting she hadn’t brought make-up or anything fancier than a T-shirt and jeans. Why would she? She’d been planning on working out, not going a few rounds with Max, but now that she had, now that she’d agreed with-no-room-for-doubt to let him take whatever he wanted—no, now that she’d agreed to let him take whatever she secretly wanted to give him, and the answer to that was everything—she was seriously nervous and longing for some feminine battle armor. If she had some mascara and lipstick, hot rollers, a LBD, and some seriously rocking heels, she’d be feeling a bit more prepared for whatever was going to come next.

  When she made it to the lobby, Max was nowhere in sight so she contented herself with sitting and thumbing through a few magazines. The selection was truly sad. A body-building magazine held no interest, and neither did a magazine on triathlons. She was thinking Cosmo and one of those “How To Be Fearless In Bed” articles would do her good. Instead, she found a magazine on parenting, dog-eared and well-worn and looking like it rolled off the printing press when flip phones were still in fashion.

  It stunned her for a second. Made her realize for all her talk with Melina and Lucy about moving on to what was important—a family—she’d been easily and thoroughly sidetracked to the point her sole focus was once again on sex. Granted, it was sex with Max, which was particularly distracting given the select samples she’d been treated to, but she needed to be more careful. Hopefully her time with Max would be fruitful, so she could pursue her goal for a baby with a truly refreshed and clear state of mind, but she couldn’t forget two things. First, despite Max’s undeniably talented hands, mouth and body, she still couldn’t erase herself from the equation, and that meant actually achieving an orgasm with him was still a long shot. Second, either way, she needed to keep focus on the true prize. While she was staying in Vegas to spend time with Max, he’d be plenty busy doing other things. She needed to do the same, starting with touching base with the surrogacy agency about the interview scheduled for tomorrow. She’d do that as soon as she and Max finished whatever they were going to do next today. It couldn’t take more than a few hours.

  The thought of doing anything more with Max—and doing it for a few hours—made her tremble with delighted anticipation. Taking a deep breath, she determinedly opened the parenting magazine. Inside were glossy photos of drooling babies, giggling babies and babies sloppily eating, food in their hair and grins on their faces. Deep in her body something tugged—as if her womb had responded to the images. One article featured insight on how to get a baby to fall asleep. The sleeping baby boy in the photo was cuter than a speckled pup and reminded Grace of how Max had looked when she’d caught him in that brief moment at the club two nights before, when he’d thought no one was looking. The same vulnerability on the baby’s face had been present on Max’s.

  It reminded her of something her mama had used to say before she’d give Grace’s daddy a kiss. Something about a man being a little boy just grown bigger. Max hadn’t always been the confident, sexy man he was today. At some point, he’d been a child. Defenseless. Innocent. Craving love. As an adult, he certainly wasn’t defenseless or innocent, but could she really say he didn’t crave love
? It was obvious his family was important to him. Melina was important to him. And Melina, who’d known him since she was fourteen years old, believed Max would make a wonderful father.

  Who was the real Max Dalton, then? If what she’d seen the other night was him letting down walls, then how high did those walls go? How much of himself was he hiding from the world? And how hard was it for him to keep those parts hidden? She kept parts of herself hidden, too, and she often struggled with the need to be seen for her genuine self. Unfortunately, she wasn’t always sure who that was. The woman who pole-danced and had one-night stands? Or the university counselor who rarely swore and enjoyed nights at home in front of the TV with her friends Ben and Jerry. Oh, she knew she was both those women, just like Max was both bad boy and good guy, but it was where the line was drawn that was the question.

  All Grace truly knew was she was lonely. Her parents had both been only children, whose own parents died before Grace was born. No parents, no grandparents, no aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins—nothing.

  From an early age, she made life decisions. She provided for herself. She pushed forward every day because she had no choice. In the meantime, except for Melina and Lucy, there’d been pitifully few people she trusted. And even then, she never shared everything about herself with her friends.

  That wasn’t Max’s problem. He was surrounded by people who adored him; family, fans and strangers alike. He seemed to truly love his life. The stage. The women. The fame.

  Whatever she’d seen in that moment in the club when he’d looked vulnerable, it didn’t mean he felt alone. It didn’t mean he was yearning for love. Not the way she was. And it certainly didn’t mean she’d ever be the woman that could give it to him.

  She looked once more at the picture of the sleeping baby and that yearning she’d been thinking of tore through her. She wanted a baby. Needed a baby. She wasn’t going to wait until she was older to find the perfect man and hope she survived long enough to see her child grow into adulthood. The others might think she was being foolish, but regardless of what she gave up to Max in bed, she was a woman in control and she had a plan.