“You wore me out, wildcat.”
“I’m not a wildcat.”
He rolled off the bed and went to the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, “Dirty talker, then.”
Her chiming laughter followed.
When he returned to his bed, he found her sitting up, her breasts hidden behind his gray sheets, her sparkly dress in hand. He plucked the garment from her and tossed it onto the chair by the window.
“Got somewhere to be?”
Her hair was untamed after she’d rolled around on it for the last hour. And here he didn’t think she could look any hotter than she had sunbathing on the dock. He was wrong. She looked hottest after she’d been sexed up, down and sideways and was wrapped in his bedsheets.
Mine.
He tried to shove out the thought when it came but he didn’t succeed. Instead, it curled up in his chest and made itself cozy. Presley had been his once. It’d been a long time ago, and she’d been waiting to gift him exclusively what she’d given him just now.
That Wayne Gretzky quote about missing 100 percent of the shots you didn’t take felt really damn true. He hadn’t taken a shot with her and now knew what he’d missed.
But that didn’t mean he would allow fantastic sex to distract him from finishing his album. Nor would he allow her to be distracted from what she’d come here to do. Long ago, they couldn’t have slept together without becoming deeply entangled. Now that was not the case. They could—and they would—walk away intact. Even if the sex was so good it should be illegal.
“I was going to take my borrowed shoes and dress and go back to my room,” she answered. “Did you expect me to sleep in here with you?”
And there it was. The line he hadn’t thought to draw but, obviously, he needed to draw it. He eased back on the bed, shoved a pillow behind his back and curled her into his side. Arranging the blankets over both of them, he leaned over and kissed her wild hair, smiling against it when he thought about the tangles she’d have to comb out later. He hoped she thought of why they were there when she did.
“We should talk about that, yeah?” He felt her stiffen in his arms. “I want you here, Pres. In my bed. Naked in my arms. I want you on my dock, driving me crazy in your tiny pink bikini. But we should be clear about what this is...and what it’s not.”
She shifted and looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and innocent, her lips pursed gently. “What it’s not.”
“Yeah, honey,” he continued, gentler than before. “What it’s not.”
“You mean...” She licked those pink lips and rested a hand tenderly on his chest. “You mean you aren’t going to make an honest woman out of me now that we had sex?”
Cash’s face broadcast myriad emotions. They ranged from regret to nervousness to confusion and finally to what she could only describe as “oh, shit.”
Much as she was enjoying this, she let him off the hook with a laugh. Holding the sheet over her chest, she sat up. “I’m kidding! Cash, honestly.”
His confused expression held a moment longer than it should have. “I knew that.”
“I’m not the girl you left at Florida State. I grew up too, you know. I learned how the world worked.”
She still cared about him, but she didn’t expect a marriage proposal just because they’d slept together. She had a life separate from his. And she knew better than to fall for him this time around. He was a famed heartbreaker, and she didn’t care to relive that experience.
“That was fun,” she continued. “I had a great time. You had a great time. I’m looking forward to doing it again if you’re up for it.”
“If I’m up for it?” He let out a disbelieving chuff. That was better. She couldn’t have him looking at her like she was precious, or who knows what mixed messages her heart would receive.
“You were the one begging me to stop talking dirty to you.”
“I was not begging.”
“Please, Presley, please stop talking dirty before I lose my mind!” she totally misquoted. Then she was dissolving in laughter, Cash having dug his fingers into her sides with the single-minded intent of tickling her to death. She squealed and then gasped for breath before managing a strangled apology.
When he finally let up, the sheet had fallen to her waist and her breasts were exposed. His leg rested heavy on one of hers and his erection was nudging her hip.
“You’re different,” she said, and didn’t miss when he bristled. “Less bitter than when you left school. Happier, but somehow sadder at the same time.”
His eyebrows closed over his nose in warning. She ignored that, too.