“Yeah, then I’ll be into my traveling phase. So again, no ties to any one guy. I’m too free-thinking for that anyway.”
“Oh? So you’re an orgy girl?”
She punched him in the arm. “No, jackass. I just don’t need a man by my side to be happy.”
“Never thought you needed one to be happy, but it’s nice to have someone special to share things with, isn’t it?”
She shrugged. “I guess. Why all the heavy chatter?”
“Just making small talk. Why so defensive?”
“I’m not defensive.” He just looked at her until she swore. “Fuck off. I’m not.”
“Uh-huh.” They walked in silence, nearing her home. “So why are we heading to your house, exactly?”
She smiled at him, and he felt like a mouse being hunted by a large, hungry cat. “To talk. You’re all about communicating, aren’t you? That’s what these dates are about. Us getting to know each other, right?”
“Yes.”I know what you’re up to, Maya. But it won’t work.
She stroked his hand again, and he contained a shiver.
“Nope. Not gonna happen.”
“What?” she asked, all innocence.
“Nothing. Now where were we?”
“We’re here,” she said as they approached an aging Craftsman-style house on the edge of a cul-de-sac. “Welcome to my home.”
“Said the spider to the fly,” he muttered.
She grinned and unlocked the door, then pushed it open and stood back, waiting for him to go in first. “Don’t be scared, baby. I promise not to hurt you. Much.”
He frowned at her as he entered, ignoring her laugh.I won’t touch her. I won’t. I can’t. Must. Stay. Strong.
He had to convince himself to remain firm, hearing the soft snick of her door closing and the overloud sound of the lock sealing them together. Alone. In private.
This was going to be a long night.
Chapter Six
Now that she had him all to herself, she didn’t know where to start. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since yesterday, when he’d made her see stars.
If only she could have kept her prurient curiosity to his body. Picture him just as a walking pleasure machine. All brawn, no brain. But she kept wondering what he did in his spare time, what he liked to eat and drink, his favorite sports, how his parents had fared in his absence, if he thought about her…
She forced herself to stop thinking like a lovesick moron. “Something to drink?”
He eyed her warily. “Uh, I’m good.”
“I’m getting a glass of wine.”
He shrugged. “Fine by me.”
I wasn’t asking for permission, she wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, she smiled at him, left him in the living room and returned with a large glass of red. She fortified her nerves with a sip, then sat on the couch as he continued to loom over her, looking around her house—as if he hadn’t already barged in before.
The forty-year-old home suited her—not too big, not too small. She’d designed a garden feature outside, as well as the garden dragons and gnomes to guard her flowers. She’d found most of her furniture through yard sales and flea markets. A few pieces she’d traded for with other artists. A buddy of hers who worked with wood had made her coffee table and side table. She’d also shared some sack time with the guy and enjoyed the fact he knew how to use his hands.
A glance at Dex reminded her that he too was an expert “handyman” as well as having a truly gifted mouth. Jesus. Remembering his wicked tongue, she needed to fan herself. She felt all tingly and drank more wine.
