More Than Dare You - Shayla Black Page 0,9

onto the ocean waves as they roll in gently. Then she sighs. “I thought I was. In retrospect, I was in the whirlwind of growing my business and trying to keep our relationship together. I didn’t really take time to think. Every once in a while, when I couldn’t sleep at night, I’d ask myself if I was where I should be in life. But I couldn’t picture where else—or with who else—I should be. So I’d silence any questions that arose.”

“He ended it, right?”

“Yes.”

When she tenses, I squeeze her hand. “Tell me how you felt about that. Not the day it happened, because I’m sure that was a shock. But after you managed to process it all.”

“Actually, I was relieved.” She slants a glance up at me and holds my stare. “Did you guess that?”

“More or less. Since Harlow set us up for the night, I figured you wanted this for one of two reasons. Either you wanted to make him jealous with some revenge sex or—”

“No.” She blanches. “I guess people do that, but it’s horrible. I’m a very loyal person, and I cared about Thom once. No matter what he did or how it ended, I would never intentionally cause him pain.”

Wow, that puts her ahead of ninety-eight percent of the women I’ve slept with.

“Or I figured you were genuinely over him and ready to move on. And the most likely reason for you to be over him now was if you weren’t completely invested in the first place.”

She looks stunned. “That’s incredibly astute.”

To lighten the mood, I flash her a grin. “Did you think my only good quality would be my cock?”

She bites her lip and blushes enough for me to see her cheeks turn rosy in the moonlight. “This will sound horrible, but I didn’t think of you beyond the sex at all. I didn’t expect you would think of me beyond what we did in the bedroom, either.”

“We can approach tonight that way. I just don’t think you’ll like it.”

“Because you’re convinced I’m the kind of girl who wants to know her partner before we hop into bed?”

It’s more than that. “Because you’re the kind of girl who needs to be emotionally connected to your partner before you let him into your body. You want safety and trust and some level of assurance that he’s not a douchebag.”

She blinks at me. “How did you know?”

I stop walking and face her. The wind lilts, and I can’t resist brushing away a reddish-brown strand of hair from her cheek. God, she really has the most hypnotic eyes—big and blue and fathomless as the ocean behind her. I could stare into them for hours. Of course, I’d like to do that while I’m buried deep inside her, but I don’t know if we’ll get there tonight. Or even if we should.

“Being good in bed isn’t about having the best equipment around or learning the most practiced technique. Not that it hurts.” I wink, gratified when I get a smile out of her. “It’s about being patient, honest, and intuitive. I’d be every kind of asshole if I took you to bed, no questions asked.”

“I didn’t think it would matter to you. That I would matter.”

Wow, her ex must have been a complete asshole if that’s her expectation. “I don’t want you to ever regret me.”

Her smile softens before turning wry. “I was prepared to, you know? I’d already scheduled my post-fling guilt breakdown about noon tomorrow.”

Masey is gorgeous, but she’s especially cute when she pokes fun at herself. “If I could free up that slot in your schedule for something more…worthwhile, I’d call that a win.”

“Do you mean doing something like you?” She winces. “Sorry. Sometimes, I tell corny jokes when I’m nervous.”

I smile. “It’s fine. You can throw me out whenever you want, but if I’m still around at noon, I hope you’re still letting me make you sigh and smile…”

“That might be nice.”

Doubt and uncertainty linger on her face. She thinks she’s hiding it, I’m sure. But I can read her. Somewhere, deep down, she believed her ex’s BS about her prowess and she’s taken it to heart.

Would I like to spend a night in bed with Masey? Um…is oxygen necessary for breathing? Of course I want her. But I also really hope she lets me show her she’s neither unsexy nor broken or whatever she thinks.

We meander down the beach a bit more, her hand still in mine. There’s silence, but it’s not awkward.

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