Down for the Count (Dare Me) - By Christine Bell Page 0,32

tattooed on her brain, a live-action trailer of what could be if she stopped being such a prude. She had been right there, but for stupid Marty hanging over her head. Even now, she felt tense, like her skin was on too tight. As if her body knew that she’d left the only orgasm of her life back at that pool and was rebelling against her for pulling away. Her muscles clenched under the intensity of his gaze, but before she could stammer a response, he stepped back.

“But not until you’re ready.” He took out their key and opened the door.

Relief warred with disappointment. He was letting her off the hook. For now. He waved her through the door, following close behind.

“That was a pretty interesting way to spend an evening,” he said, his tone light as he closed the door behind them.

“Interesting is putting it mildly,” she said, happy to take the reprieve. “Cat’s not going to believe this. My first orgy. That’s even crazier than the time she and that fireman—”

He clapped his hands over his ears. “Jesus Christ, Lacey, I don’t want to hear that shit. I’m going to have to bleach my brain. And anyway, it wasn’t exactly an orgy. More like a near miss.” She frowned and he uncovered his ear. “It doesn’t make it any less awesome, though,” he assured her. “It’s an honor just to be nominated.”

Surely this was the most absurd conversation ever. She’d expected to be a married woman, exploring Old San Juan with her husband Marty all day today…or at least until his sciatica started acting up. Instead, she was here talking about her almost-orgy after nearly having sex in the pool with Galen. Her nemesis. Her tormentor. Her dream guy. The dream guy who had rocked her straight down to her toes less than an hour ago. Strange how life threw curveballs like that out of nowhere.

“You want some iced tea?” he asked, making his way to the kitchen.

“No, thanks.” She padded across the marble floor and sat on the edge of the couch, pressing her fingers to her lips. Here he was, casually talking about iced tea, and all she could think of was his mouth. How was she going to get it out of her mind now that she’d tasted it?

And his hands…God, those hands.

Hands that don’t belong on you, she reminded herself. No matter how much she wished otherwise, she was still a married woman, and what they’d done was wrong.

It didn’t feel wrong.

Suddenly, the adrenaline of the night drained from her body, and her rioting emotions came to a dead halt. The ensuing numbness was almost a relief. No more thinking for the night. She was like a dog chasing its tail and getting nowhere anyway. Once she got a good night’s sleep, she’d sit down and figure out how to handle this, and more importantly, how to handle Galen.

She flopped to the side and curled up her legs. Briefly, she contemplated changing out of her damp bra and underwear and into her pajamas but then dismissed it. A few minutes of rest first. She couldn’t hold back the loud, hippo-like yawn. “I think the last couple days are catching up with me, because I totally just hit the wall.”

“Just change and go to bed, then. Once I get out of these clothes, I’m going to get some shut-eye myself.”

She grumbled and shifted, settling more deeply into the cushions. “You go ahead, and by the time you’re done I’ll be ready to get up.” Maybe she’d close her eyes for a few minutes until he returned. Being wild was exhausting.

…

Soft snores greeted him as he reentered the living room. He shook his head, bemused. Lacey was the only person he knew who could fall asleep in less than a minute. Didn’t matter where it was, either, or what was happening around her. She’d gone on a camping trip with his family the year she and Cat were starting high school. He was going into junior year and couldn’t believe his parents hadn’t let him stay home alone. Then they’d made it ten times worse by letting Cat bring a friend. He was going to be stuck in the woods for seven days with Tweedle-Annoying and Tweedle-Even-More-Annoying. Awesome.

Up to that point, he’d made it his life’s work to mess with them both, but at fifteen, even that was beneath him. In preparation for the coming school year, he’d taken to aggressively ignoring them. Cleary, that wasn’t