brow.
I actually jerked Macon Saint off in the bath. And it was glorious, gorgeous, hot as hell. His orgasm was the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed. Logically, I’m glad I asked to take it a bit slow. Physically? I want to fuck him and forget the world.
Cheeks burning, I take a long cool shower and then pour myself a glass of juice from the little bar set up in my room. It’s early, not quite sunup. Part of me wants to go to Macon now, tell him . . . what? Do me? Can I touch your cock again? Pretty please.
I laugh at my neediness. A little decorum, Delilah. Just a little.
But I’m happy. And slightly shy at the prospect of facing him. I mean, I jerked off Macon. Macon Saint. The world truly has turned over on its head. Butterflies go to war in my belly, and my fingers are twitchy with anticipation.
Humming “Where Is My Mind?” by the Pixies, I sit back and watch the sun rise over the Pacific. I’m almost totally relaxed when my phone rings.
Picturing Macon on the other end, having come up with some new devilry to tempt me, I answer without looking. “What now?”
I’m teasing, and I know he’ll get that. But there’s a protracted silence, then a soft, feminine laugh. “And here I thought you’d be happy to hear from me.”
My entire world screeches to a halt. “Sam?”
I almost can’t believe it. I glance at the bedroom door, my heart trying its best to pound its way out of my chest. Part of me wants to run and find Macon, tell him that Sam is on the phone. But she’d only hang up, and he’d probably blow up.
“The one and only.” Her voice is light with false bravado.
My back teeth clench. “Where are you? Where have you been? What the hell, Sam?”
“Whoa.” She laughs, but it’s tight with annoyance. “I didn’t call to get grilled.”
“You had to expect it,” I retort. “I mean, come on!”
Sam sighs expansively. “Yeah, I know. I know, okay. I’m a shit, and this is bad.”
“Bad? Macon could have been killed. This is beyond bad, Sam.”
“Hey! I didn’t know that lady was a stalker. She said she was press and only wanted to get a good picture.”
“And that’s okay? To sell him out to the press?”
There are times I can’t believe we were raised in the same house. How is it that I’m more like my parents and not of their blood, and Sam is so very off?
“Oh, please, Dee. Macon is famous. Having his picture taken is part of the job. They offered me good money for something he’d have to deal with anyway.” She pauses and has the grace to sound sheepish. “Or that’s supposed to be how it went.”
“Well, it didn’t. And as soon as you realized how badly you messed up, you ran instead of dealing with the consequences.”
“I never claimed to be perfect,” she says sullenly. “I know I’m a jerk here. All right?”
“And the watch?” My heart is thudding, hard and pained.
“I needed money. I panicked.”
Sure. Right. Great.
I take a deep breath, but it doesn’t work. I want to strangle her. Slowly. “You have to come back.”
“I know.” So very sullen.
“And return the watch. Please tell me you still have his mama’s watch.”
“I have it. I couldn’t . . . I didn’t sell it, all right.” Her pissy tone irks. “I’ll come back soon and fix everything.”
Somehow I doubt it. “Soon? Where are you?”
She’s silent for a second. “Stop asking, Dee. I’m not going to tell you. And that’s not why I called.”
“No?” I want to laugh, but I’m not at all amused. “Then why the hell did you call?”
“You said you were living with Macon.”
Don’t think of him naked in the tub.
“Because I am. I’m working off your debt.”
Do not think of the damn tub!
She sucks in an audible breath. “What the hell, Dee?”
“What do you mean, ‘What the hell?’ I told you I was cleaning up your mess. What did you think I meant?” A cold laugh escapes me. “That I had paid him back for a three-hundred-thousand-dollar watch? Jesus, even if I had that kind of cash, do you honestly think it’s okay for me to pay for your theft?” My voice has risen several octaves, and I find myself panting.
Sam’s voice is just as sharp. “I didn’t think you paid him, no. I thought . . . well, hell, Dee. I thought you’d do your thing and reason