For Seven Nights Only - Sarah Ballance Page 0,40

him asking about her dog after catching sight of her screen. Sawyer couldn’t get the dog’s name right minutes after hearing it, and this guy remembered for months.

“Listen,” he said. “I’m glad I bumped into you. I’ve been thinking about you, actually, and if you’re not seeing anyone, I’d love to take you out sometime.”

Her breath caught. This was it. She could have a date for her sister’s wedding and avoid the whole awkward let’s-pretend-we’re-friends with Sawyer.

But she couldn’t, and not just because Sawyer had said she was different.

It was because on some likely foolish level, she believed him.

She would kick herself later. She knew it. But she just couldn’t. “I’m flattered, Derek, but I’m not exactly single.”

He cocked a brow. “Not exactly? Sounds interesting.”

She sighed. “Definitely complicated, but I just don’t feel right…”

He smiled so kindly that she felt bad about turning him down. “I have mad appreciation,” he said, “for a woman who respects her man even when it’s complicated. If you find yourself back out there and you’d like to have dinner or something, look me up.”

“I’ll do that,” she said. “Thank you.”

He leaned down to scratch Marmaduke’s head.

The dog didn’t make a sound.

Derek took the first several steps of his retreat backward, a grin on his face. Then he gave a little wave and took off at a jog.

“You could have growled at him,” she muttered to Marmaduke. But the Chihuahua had only growled at one person. Ever.

Sawyer.

With a sigh, she turned and headed back home. After a hot shower, she tugged on a sweater and a long, flowing skirt that clung to nothing—Sawyer would probably hate it—then worried there’d be a dress code at his mom’s. Why hadn’t she asked? Because you were both naked.

And she still ached. But after an embarrassingly long sexual drought, it came as no surprise that she couldn’t get her knees back together after an all-night sex-a-thon. What she hadn’t expected was the incredible sensitivity of her nipples, or the way every brush with fabric made them strain, as if getting hard enough would bring back the warmth of his mouth. She hadn’t expected the tingle—or nuclear blast—of heat that jolted her when she thought of his body or the way it melded with hers. She hadn’t dreamed she could accommodate a man of his size, but they’d fit together perfectly. All that deliciously sore flesh he’d stretched now yearned for him, and she had no idea how to shake that off. Maybe there was a support group. Or a support legion.

She gave in and texted him. Dress code for dinner?

His reply was immediate. Naked works for me.

She rolled her eyes. At your mom’s?

Oh, he replied. Casual. Something I can rip off later.

She left her phone on the counter and went to dig through her closet, eventually settling on a long skirt. No sense in making a bad impression.

No point in making a good one.

Shut. Up. She was still a guest—one, she realized, without a proper hostess gift. But she did have brownie mix. Surely she couldn’t screw that up. Quickly she mixed the ingredients, then dumped them in a pan as a knock sounded at the door. Frowning, she looked at the clock. Too early to be Sawyer, and she hadn’t buzzed anyone in. She took a moment to set the oven timer, slid the pan in the oven, then went to the door and peered through the hole.

Sawyer.

She swung the door open. “You’re early. Second thoughts?”

He responded by capturing the back of her head with one hand and backing her against the wall. Before the plaster even hit her back, his mouth was on hers. The kiss was hard. Demanding. Erotic. She heard the door slam—he must have kicked it—then he was lifting her. In one svelte move, the skirt was bunched around her hips, and his finger was inside her, strumming her G-spot and bringing so much pleasure she thought she’d cry. She suddenly felt boneless, but between him and the wall, she was stuck in a tornado of bliss. Tremors took over her body, then his thumb hit her clit, and she actually screamed his name.

“Shh,” he murmured, the word tripped by quiet laughter. He eased away from the wall, but he didn’t set her down. It was a good thing, because she probably would have hit the floor. After stopping to lock the door, he carried her into her bedroom and tossed her playfully on the bed, then landed on top of her.

“Now that I