Truth or Dare (21 page)

They’d agreed to put the flirty attraction behind them and it wasn’t happening.

But, God, the idea of losing Tyler’s friendship made her sick. It made her belly knot and her throat tighten. And she was blowing it between them.

So when Leo showed up telling her he’d been thinking about her and asking for another chance…saying yes seemed like the obvious solution. She’d go out with him. And with a high-caliber, possibly recurring date on the books—one she met at least somewhat enthusiastically rather than grudgingly—Tyler could slide right back into the friend zone. It would be perfect.

Except for the stuttery, hard-pumping thing that happened with her heart every time she caught a glimpse of Tyler, heard his voice, or even thought of him.

“For cripes’ sake, Maggie, spill. When are you going out?”

She knew there wasn’t a future with Tyler, but until she could get her response to him under control, there was no way she could go out with another guy.

At least no one so genuinely interested in her.

“We aren’t.” And that’s when the car went stone silent.

No fucking way.

Following Maggie up the first flight of stairs, Tyler didn’t say a word. Didn’t trust himself to speak when he could still hear Sam and Ava ushering Ford back to his place, because what he wanted to discuss, he wanted to discuss privately.

Maggie didn’t bother looking back at him.

She knew he was there. He could tell by the set of her shoulders she was completely aware of his presence behind her and was counting out the steps to her place, same as he was.

At the landing, she pulled out her keys and went to her door.

Christ,
the only thing he hated more than the idea of Maggie going out with Hot Doc was the idea of her
not
going out with him. Because with pact consequences what they were, and Maggie working so hard to save for the gallery, there was only one reason he could think of why she’d pass up a perfectly good first date with a guy who’d already been preapproved.

Him.

And that was a burden he couldn’t handle.

Wasting his own life in this limbo was one thing. He’d made a commitment the day Charlie was born. But Maggie wasn’t going to do it, too.

She turned the key and from behind her, he planted a hand on the solid panels and pushed the door open, following her inside.

She faced him, their eyes locking. The seconds stretched like hours.

The door latched shut and it was on.

“What the hell are you doing passing on that date, Maggie?” he demanded, only to have her index finger meet his chest as she got up in his face with her own attitude.

“Don’t you go glowering down at me, mister. I know what you’re thinking, but I didn’t pass on that date for you.”

“Oh really? So who’d you pass on it for, Ava?” He was so pissed he could barely see straight, but on some level he
knew
he was the one acting nuts and still he couldn’t stop. “Just thinking she looked like she could use a hot stone treatment or seaweed wrap this month?”

Maggie stared him in the eye. “I passed for Leo.”

“For him? How’s that work, because from where I was standing it looked like he was completely into you!” Like Tyler was into her, only he couldn’t act on it the same way.

“Yeah, he was,” she shot back. “So how fair would it be for me to go out with him when all I can think about is what it was like being with you? When all I
want
is to be with you again?”

And that was it.

His control snapped, and then he had her by the shoulders, backing her against the door they’d just walked through, ducking down to meet her mouth and bring their bodies into hard contact.

Contact that, based on the way her fingers had knotted in his hair once her hands got free of the coat he’d jerked down her arms, was exactly what she needed.

There was nothing gentle in their kiss.

Nothing tender.

Just need and instinct and the frayed remains of the restraint that had been stretched too far, falling around their feet with their clothes.

Maggie’s clothes.

The ones that mattered. The imperative priority in the hierarchy of get-naked.

Her shirt was somewhere around the TV, her bra still secured but with the cups pushed low beneath her breasts so her tight perfect nipples rasped against his chest with their every movement.

They’d worked those slim-legged pants free and left them in a heap beside the door, where she stood in barely her underwear while he was nearly fully dressed. His fly open, the condom he’d pulled from his wallet palmed in one hand. Knicks shirt pushed up and boxer briefs down so his cock sprang free between them for the fraction of a second before he’d caught her legs and wrapped them around his waist.

And then he had her where he wanted her. Pinned against the door, their only barrier the damp of her silk panties.

Her knees tightened as she rode against his shaft, driving him insane.

Making him want into her wet heat more than he wanted his next breath. More than he wanted—

“Just this, Tyler. I know it can’t be more.” Up and down she moved, breathlessly promising, “I don’t need more.”

But she should have it. Only
more
was the one thing he couldn’t give, while this he could.

He ripped open the condom with his teeth and Maggie rolled it on him. Then, pulling her panties to one side, he lifted her so she was slick and wet and open above him.

Their eyes met.

She was waiting. Ready. And in that moment, his.

He brought her down hard over him, filling her in one thrust as she gasped his name, clenching tight around him.

Fucking heaven.

Tyler was full-length inside her, taking her so deep she felt the welcome nudge of him at her womb.

Yes, this was how she wanted him. What had kept her awake nights and distracted through the days. The need to feel him everywhere at once, between her legs, against her lips, within her arms, and teasing her breasts.

“Yes.”
God,
he was lifting and lowering her again, setting a rhythm that had her breath catching at each interval, her eyes glazed and her body spasming with every hard, penetrating thrust. So deep. So hard. He drove in and out, each kiss against her sex bringing her closer to that place she needed to go.

Pleasure spiraled throughout her center, coiling tighter and tighter. Making her ache, and need, and clamor toward that place only he could take her.

She cried out, but the sound was lost to Tyler’s kiss.

And then his arms were snaking around her, pulling her back from the door and carrying her to the couch. He laid her against the thick cushions, and catching one leg beneath her knee, widened her legs as he resumed his steady thrusts. Drawing back in deliberate measure, only to ease in inch after sensitive inch until he’d taken her as far as her body would allow. Then, reaching between their bodies, he set his thumb against her.

She was so close, nearly there. Her breath fragmenting with her thoughts as he rubbed her there, circling with firming strokes, until the air thinned and the room fell away and all the whys and why-nots for everything she wanted, but couldn’t have, ceased to exist.

There was just this. Now.

Her climax breaking over her like a crushing wave. Tyler taking her apart and bringing her back together. His hoarse groan at her ears as her pleasure screamed free against the hammering pulse of his neck.

When Maggie’s world returned, it was with the brush of Tyler’s fingers across her temple, trailing down her cheek to her lips. He was propped on one elbow, searching her eyes.

“Maggie, I don’t want to hurt you.”

She leaned up and kissed him. “You won’t. We both know what we’re doing. What this is and what it isn’t. I don’t want anything else.”

Some small part of her brain called out to her, warning that that was what she’d said about one night being enough. But then Tyler was kissing her again, his arms sliding around her and drawing her up against him as he carried her toward the bedroom.

M
ARCH

It had been a busy morning at the gallery, followed by an early afternoon meeting with a local sculptor she’d been tipped off to. The meeting had been a score, and Maggie was putting the paperwork together when the front door opened and Ava hustled in.

Checking the clock and seeing it was only two, Maggie held up her hands. “What’s this? Late lunch or calling it an early night? Or do you have a client out here, ’cause I thought they kept you chained to your desk until all the happy-hour specials were through?”

Something was seriously up, because Ava was all but vibrating with her news.

“
This
is San Diego.” Stepping up to the front desk, she gripped the counter in front of her. “Bev Flizik was supposed to fly out and help with the initial setup. It’s a six-week thing and she was booked to leave today, but she slipped on some ice outside her apartment last night,” and now Ava was nodding like she couldn’t stop, leaning her diminutive form over the desk and her big brown eyes wide and bright, “and broke her leg in two places!”

And then she just snapped and everything ran together at once. “Ifeelreallybadf
orheryouknowIdo—”

Maggie broke down laughing. “I get it. You feel bad, but—”

“But I’m going tonight! San Diego in March for six weeks!” she squealed, bouncing up and down as she clapped her hands, Ava’s excitement so contagious that Maggie was up and around her desk, jumping right along with her.

When they slumped back against the desk, Maggie eyed the frozen sludge lining the streets and the bleak gray sky beyond. Winter had started off slow, but once it got its teeth in, it wasn’t letting go. “Don’t suppose you’re stopping by to tell me you get to bring a friend. All expenses paid.”

Not that she’d be able to leave the gallery that long, even if it were the case.

“Not this trip, but I’ll suggest it next time.” Then, pushing back from the counter, Ava made a show of checking her watchless wrist and clucked her tongue. “They’ve got a car picking me up in a couple of hours to take me to the airport. So I gotta book it out of here. But I needed to stop by and get me some Maggie love before I go.”

Heart aching, she hugged her friend tight. “Six whole weeks?”

In all the years they’d been friends, they’d never gone that long without seeing each other. Heck, she couldn’t remember going six whole
days.

Ava squeezed the air out of her lungs before letting go and giving her eyes a quick wipe as she stepped back. “I know. You’ll miss me. Desperately. And I’ll try to think of you once or twice between chowing on my fresh-caught fish tacos and reapplications of sunscreen.”

“Mean!” Maggie gasped, holding a hand over her heart as she laughed.

“Whatever. You’ll have Apartment Three to console you through the long nights.”

That she would. Or at least through a few hours of them, anyway.

Though they hadn’t put a label on it or discussed the lines and limits—like that Tyler never spent the night—in her mind, Maggie had been calling their arrangement a
friendly affair.
They were friends and they had sex.

Hot sex.

Creative sex.

Text-me-at-three-
A.M.
-even-though-I-
have-to-get-up-
at-six-because-
I-know-it-will-
be-worth-it sex.