He bit off a laugh. “When will the divorce be final?”
“Don’t know. I haven’t looked at the papers yet.”
Now he stiffened. Even knowing he didn’t have a right to react that way didn’t stop him. “Why not?”
“I’m not sure.” She sighed. “Think I’m a little drunk. Feels lovely.”
That was all well and good. Yay for her. But there was still that minor matter of her divorce papers to discuss. “You’re not going to fight it, are you?”
“The divorce? No. Of course not. Do you think you’d be here if I planned to?”
“I don’t know.” There came that damn prim edge to his voice he hated.
He’d heard himself use it when Shelley said she’d found someone new and wanted a trial separation. He’d also used it when Hilary had spouted a variation of the same and told him she didn’t mind staying married to him but wanted to “explore” other relationships too.
By and large he wasn’t a fan of marriage.
“I’m not a cheater. If I was, do you think I would’ve waited for you to text me to suddenly realize it?”
“No, probably not.” He rubbed her shoulder in wordless apology.
“My God, I’m dense,” she said, jerking up to a sitting position. The grapes tumbled out of the dish, rolling all over the bed. Neither attempted to gather them up. “You texted me to try to get me back with my husband so he would leave Daisy alone.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
She frowned at his admission. What did she expect? Some fancy lie? Not the way he was built. “Doesn’t sleeping with me defeat that purpose?”
“Pretty much,” he said again, tracing his fingertip around her full dark pink lips. Sexy lips that shouldn’t be frowning but smiling. Or engulfing his cock, one incredible inch at a time. “Daisy’s on her own now. I sure as hell don’t want you back with him anymore.”
“Shouldn’t you have been honest with me?”
“I wasn’t dishonest.” He locked his jaw and glanced at the ceiling. “All right, you win. I should have spelled it out.”
“Is this when I get pissed at you and our booty call ends?”
He tried not to laugh as he took in her serious expression. “Up to you.”
She trailed her fingernail down his stomach, following the dark, unruly line of hair to his groin. “Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” she said, scratching his skin enough to let him know she hadn’t forgiven him despite what she said.
Worked for him. Annoyed sex could be even better than happy-go-lucky sex.
“Want to fuck?”
Her brows drew together. “You’re very single-minded, Jeffrey Maddox.”
“I am. How do you want it?”
She gave him a hint of a smile. “Good.”
“You ask a lot,” he said, rolling out of bed. “Ever done it from behind?” He grinned at her quizzical look. “On your hands and knees, I mean. We modified it earlier to fit the accommodations.”
“Your ability to roll with the punches is admirable.” She shrugged. “A couple times. All I remember is sore joints.”
“You’ll like it this time.”
“If not, can I get my money back?”
“No refunds here.” He tugged on her hair, pleased that she laughed so readily. “Satisfied every time’s the Maddox motto.”