Bedding The Bad Boy (Dalton Brothers Novels) (17 page)

The little girl looked at Max, then at Grace, then back at Max again, twisting her body to meld closer to Rachel’s, obviously uncomfortable. “He’s not a kid. He’s a grownup.”

“Sorry,” Donna said, apologizing again. “She doesn’t do so well with strangers.”

“It’s okay,” Max said. “Chloe, you’re right, I’m definitely not a kid anymore. Both Rachel and Jack’s kids grew up. But just because we’re grownups doesn’t mean we’re not fun. In fact…” He took a step toward his mother, then reached a hand out, as if he was going to stroke Chloe’s hair.

Grace held her breath. Even though she’d been an older child when her parents died, strangers approaching her always freaked her out. Max should know better than to come up to a kid so directly, especially one whose own mother said she was afraid of strangers.

But then he smoothed his hand over his mother’s head, tweaked her ear, and held up a large silver dollar in his hand to show Chloe. “Check it out, Chloe. Did you know Rachel had a dollar in her ear?”

Chloe stared at the silver dollar with intensity, then swept her gaze back up to Max’s face, a mixture of disbelief and concentration. “She didn’t have money in her ear. You made that happen.”

Max chuckled. “Yep. Know how?”

Chloe shook her head.

“Magic.”

At that, the girl frowned, pinching her brows together. “There’s no such thing as magic.”

“You sure about that? Here,” Max said. “Stick your fingers in your ears. See if there’s any money there.”

Promptly, Chloe stuffed her fingers in her ears, then pulled them out again, a satisfied look on her face. “No money.”

“Bet you’re wrong,”

The girl grinned. “No money,” she shouted excitedly.

Max stretched his hands out, palms up, and let Chloe see he wasn’t holding anything. Then he swept his hands over her ears and produced a silver dollar in each hand. “So what do you call this?” he asked.

A bright grin swept over Chloe’s face. She grabbed the silver dollars, squirmed out of Rachel’s arms and ran over to her mom. “Max made magic. He found money in my ears. Can I keep it?”

Donna started to shake her head, but Rachel said, “Of course you can. Max meant it as a gift. And a gift from Max is the best thing a girl can ever receive because he doesn’t give gifts to just anyone. Just to those who are special. And you are special,” Rachel said, tweaking Chloe’s nose. Rachel glanced up at Grace and smiled, as if she was talking to her as well as Chloe.

Donna laughed and said, “Okay, so what do you say when someone gives you a gift?”

“Thank you,” Chloe said sweetly before wrapping her arms around Max’s knees, squeezing him tight. Grace felt warmth spread through her chest. She was moved by Max’s actions, but also by Chloe’s unreserved affection, as well as the message Max’s mom had given the little girl. And Grace.

“Chloe,” Donna said, shifting the baby to the other hip, “it’s time to say goodbye to Rachel.”

“And Max,” Chloe said promptly, then hugged Max again, who chuckled and ruffled her hair.

“I hope to see you again, Chloe,” he said.

After Donna managed to drag her daughter out of the house, Rachel poured more coffee. “Help your father put away the outdoor furniture, would you, Max?”

Grace caught the silent look that passed between Max’s parents, which clearly communicated Rachel wanted to be alone with Grace. Tension slid up her spine and she felt herself blushing again, wondering if Max’s mother suspected all the “gifts” Max had given her so far.

“No problem,” Max said, but turned to face Grace and winked. “You want to come with me? I can show you the yard. My mom’s a great gardener.”

Bless Max’s heart. He was giving her an out in case she didn’t want to be alone with his mother. She took a quick peek at Rachel, who was fighting to hold back her laughter. Grace felt like laughing, too.

“Go help your father,” Grace said quickly, “and maybe your mom will show me these baby blankets she made.”

“They’re in the guest room,” Rachel said.

After Max and his father headed outside, Rachel gestured for Grace to follow her to a back room, where two large gift boxes sat on a bed. When Rachel pulled a quilted baby blanket out of one of the boxes, Grace caught her breath. It was beautiful. Hand quilted, with tiny stitches that had to have taken hours upon hours. The blanket bore Rhys and Melina’s name and a large blank heart, which Rachel traced with one finger.

“Since Rhys and Melina waited to find out the sex of their babies, the baby’s name will be placed in the heart once it’s born,” Rachel said.

“You did this?” Grace asked. “This must have taken months.”

“Years, actually,” Rachel said.

Grace looked up, puzzled. “Years?”

“A grandmother’s love starts when the idea of a baby forms in her child’s mind. Not when the baby is conceived. Or born. Rhys loved Melina for years, and I knew Melina felt the same way. That they dreamed of being a family long before they actually became pregnant.”

Grace choked back a sob and fought against the stinging in her eyes.

Rachel was right. Melina had loved Rhys since she was fourteen. She’d just never believed Rhys could feel the same way. The day they married was the happiest of her life—until the day she found out she was pregnant. Now Melina, who was already close with her own parents, had twice as much family. That included Max.

Grace had friends, good friends, but she didn’t have family. What would her life look like if her parents and their parents had lived? If a grandmother loved her when she was just a dream in her mother’s heart?

She ran her thumb over a row of stitches that formed the intricate border of the heart. “Is the other one exactly the same?”

“Identical,” Rachel said with a laugh. “Wishful thinking I guess.”

The comment made sense, given Rhys and Max looked exactly alike. Funny, Grace usually didn’t think about that. Max just seemed like Max. Not a twin but wholly unique.

“The babies will be lucky to be all wrapped up in quilts so obviously made with love. Melina and Rhys are lucky, too. I’m sure they’ll be grateful. Are they expectin’ the blankets, or is this a surprise?”

“Rhys and Melina know about the blankets, but Max doesn’t about his. Not yet.”

Grace’s eyes widened. Her first thought was,
Won’t that be as useless as an ashtray on a motorcycle
? “You made a blanket for Max?”

For the first time, Rachel frowned. “I made blankets for both my boys.”

“I’m sorry,” Grace said quickly. “I didn’t mean to imply… I mean, of course you’d make one for Max. Why wouldn’t you?”

Rachel’s expression smoothed and she smiled slightly. “I’m sure Max would recite several reasons. And I understand your reaction, Grace. Really. Despite the fact he’s dated his fair share of women and sowed more than his fair share of oats, most people expect Rhys to be a great dad, and I’m sure he will be. It’s Max who’ll surprise everyone when he finally gets to be a parent. He’ll be a fantastic uncle, but he’ll be an even better father. Even if he doesn’t quite believe it himself.”

Grace couldn’t imagine Max being insecure about anything, let alone whether he’d be a good father. Then again, she’d implied the same thing several times. She’d used Max’s playboy reputation and celebrity status to judge him even as she’d selfishly sought to use them for her own pleasure.

Grace handed the quilt back to Rachel, who was looking at her out of the corners of her eyes. Why? Because she wanted Grace to help convince Max he’d be a good father? Or because she wanted her to convince Max to be the father of
her
child?

She obviously had the wrong idea about them, just as Max had predicted.

“You know we’re just friends,” Grace said quickly.

“Oh, I know, dear. And sometimes that’s often the best way to start. Friends first, lovers second. Of course, the opposite happened with Jack and me. We were lovers first, friends second, and it’s turned out to be a fantastic relationship that’s lasted forty years. Whatever it is you have with Max, don’t underestimate it. I certainly won’t.”

Before a completely flummoxed Grace could respond, Rachel squeezed her arm. “Now, let’s go see what the guys are up to.”

***

Less than an hour later, Max and Grace were on the road back to Vegas. The more miles they traveled, the more intense the buzzing in Grace’s stomach became. She squirmed in her seat, feeling jittery and hot. Somehow seeing Max with his parents, but also with Houdini and Chloe, made her feel as though she’d been granted a rare privilege. Exactly the type of “gifts” Rachel alluded to earlier. She suspected she’d gotten an up-close-and-personal glimpse of the “real” Max Dalton in a way most people never did.

And what she saw, she really, really liked.

Respected.

Desired.

She couldn’t keep her eyes off Max. Her gaze fondled the strong column of his throat. The graceful competence of his hands on the steering wheel. The way his hair flirted with the tips of his ears so that her fingers itched to push it back, baring his flesh so she could nibble and lick to her heart’s content.

Good Lord, she was turned on. More turned on than when she gave him a blow job. More turned on than when she touched herself with him watching. With Max, there didn’t seem to be an end to the heights he could make her libido climb.

She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. His rehearsals usually started an hour before his first show, which began at eight o’clock. With the amount of time the drive would take, they maybe had an hour tops to spare.

Not long enough at all, but still time she didn’t want to waste.

The buzzing inside her turned to tingling, and her breaths grew shallower. She suddenly felt light-headed, as though she would die if he didn’t put his mouth on her.
Everywhere
on her.

“Max,” she said. “Can you pull ovah?”

He looked over at her and frowned. “You feeling okay, Dixie?”

“I just really need you to pull ovah right now.” She was breathing so fast she was on the verge of hyperventilating.

She sensed the car slow but not stop. “You look flushed. Let’s find a place to get you a drink. There’s probably a—”

“I don’t want a drink, Max. I just want you to stop.”

“Grace—”

“Do you want me to beg? Because if that’s what you want, I will. I’ll do anything’ you want if you’ll just kiss me. Because I really want you to kiss you right now. I
need
you to kiss me.”

His body jerked and his knuckles whitened as he clutched the steering wheel. “Is kissing all you want?” he asked slowly, his voice deeper and rougher than just seconds before.

“I want whatevah you’ll give me.”

His jaw flexed. The car suddenly swung to the right. Max slowed, edged the car off the highway, and came to a stop, sending dust in their wake. He glanced around until his gaze settled on a dirt road about a tenth of a mile up. “Hold on.” Hitting the gas hard, he sent the car whipping forward. They careened down the dirt road for a few minutes until trees and brush hid them. Max slowed to a stop, put the car in park, then turned off the engine. Only then did he turn and look at her.

His eyes were feral.

His chest heaving.

His jaw clenched.

Faster than a hot knife through butter, she got her seat belt unfastened and practically threw herself at him.

Within seconds, they were outside the car, pressed against the hood, his mouth on hers, his hands buried in her hair, adjusting the angle of her head so he could kiss her deeper. She tugged his shirt out of his pants and immediately shoved her hands underneath, sighing with relief as she caressed the hard planes of his chest and brushed his nipples with the pads of her thumbs. He didn’t bother taking anything off her, just shoved her skirt up and ripped off her pink thong. She gasped and he paused, lifting his head to stare down at her with hooded eyes.

“If you want something more romantic than this, tell me now.”

Fast and furious, she thought, remembering what the brunette at Lodi’s had told her.

“Do you—do you you have a blanket in your car for this type of thing?”

It was the wrong thing to say. He jerked down her skirt then stepped back and ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck, Grace, regardless of what you think of me, I don’t make a habit of pulling to the side of the road and having sex with women. In fact, this will be my first time.”

He’d had a threesome but never…? She stepped closer and placed her palms on his shoulder. Went on her tiptoes to kiss him softly. “Well, I’m honored to be your first. Again. Now fuck me, Max. With your fingers. With your tongue. With everthin’ you have.”

“You mean that? You’re going to take everything I have to give you?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me what your safe word is, Grace. I need to know you remember.”

“Mango,” she whispered.

Abruptly, he moved around her. Her heart squeezed with disappointment.

Until he opened his trunk and pulled out a snazzy-looking aluminum sun visor that was the size of a small blanket.

Grinning at her, he grabbed her hand and led her deeper into the trees until he found a spot he liked. He placed the sun visor on the ground.

Then he swept her up into arms and laid her gently on top of it.

“What do you want to do first, baby?”

“I thought you were in control?”

“I am. And I’m choosing to ask you what you want to do first.”

“Well, in that case, the first thing that comes to mind is you kissin’ me… in more than one place.”

It started with stealth moves, soft and slow, but progressively became deeper and longer and harder until she was clawing at his clothes and her own. Soon nothin' was between them and the sun but a smile, with him on his back and her positioned over him so they had their mouths on one another.

Lying outside naked, with his fingers and tongue inside her, with his cock in her mouth, she should have felt awkward. Self-conscious. All she felt was good. So good she never wanted it to end.

But it was going to.

Soon, if the tensing of her body was any indication. She was close.

And then she wasn’t.