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“Well, I can let the double-entendre thing slide, but I’m not about to forget anytime soon that you harbor more than a passing interest in ‘all eyes, front and center’.”

She walked to the bathroom with an ease that surprised her, given the fact she was buck naked, and grabbed her robe.

“It’s my characters, not me,” she said, tightening the sash and leaning against the doorjamb. She watched him disentangle his boxers and slowly pull them up his long legs. She really shouldn’t be ready to jump him again, but she was. Very, very ready. He reached for his jeans and she stuffed her hands in the pockets of her garment before she walked over and did something crazy like rip the pants out of his hand and toss them aside. Then proceed to stroke his more than adequate package into full hardness. He zipped his cock away and motioned for her to lead the way out of the bedroom.

“No, babe. It’s you, under the guise of your lady heroine. You’re dying to be naughty. I know you are. And I think you just want an out. A means to justify your kinky little nature that no one knows about except me.”

She picked up his shirt and pitched it at his chest, more than a little bereft when he pulled it on and covered up his toned upper body.

“You’re crazy.” Erin hoped the little laugh she offered was convincing.

“We’ll see.” He walked over and pulled her in for a gentle kiss, whispering against her lips. “I’ll text you. Be ready.”

“For what?” she asked, watching him pull the screen open and step outside. She would have leaned forward and offered another kiss but he moved his arm and the mesh barrier was suddenly between them.

“For anything, Erin. For
everything
.”

He turned on his heel and promptly disappeared into the darkness.

Chapter Four

Six people want to watch how beautiful you are when you’re hanging on the brink…ready to come.

Erin clasped her phone to her breast and gasped, garnering the attention of the two women sitting across from her on the train. She cleared her throat, offered a small smile and slowly moved her phone back into viewing range. The message was still the same.

Six people.
What in the name of all that was holy was he talking about? Who sent texts like that during the Monday-morning rush-hour commute?

Erin felt her face flush and quickly turned her head to look out the window. The low rises and graffiti-ridden concrete walls zipped by in a blur, a distinct contradiction to the nine hours that had elapsed since Danny had left her bed. She had shut the French door behind him, startled to see her serene reflection in the glass. Her initial reaction had been to log in to the dating website, but by the time she navigated to the place to leave an update, she had no desire to share the fact she had slept with the hottest of younger men. She wanted to keep Daniel and the pleasure he’d elicited all to herself.

How beautiful you are.
Was she being a complete moron believing he actually thought that? Words were easy for some men. They carried not the slightest bit of substance behind them, she knew from experience. Times from when “I love you” actually meant “I’m fucking everything in a skirt”. But last night, whether foolishness or fantasy, she’d believed every word Danny spoke. Which was why his current message was more than a little scary.

Assuming he had been truthful, somehow between then and now he had taken his idea that she was a woman with a closeted kink factor and implemented a plan. A strategy that would prove his point. Which was what he was best at, if his sister’s high praise and his corporate track record were any indication.

Ready to come.
Yeah. She wasn’t likely to forget that part anytime soon. In fact, memories of his arousing touch had haunted her dreams, torturing her throughout the night. She’d tossed, she’d turned, she’d reached for her favorite vibrator only to turn it off five seconds later when it was more than obvious she wanted a man—one specific man—and not a machine.

Six people watching them make love. Or fuck. Maybe it was just fucking when you had an audience. A little shiver ran through her body, discomfiting her more. She wasn’t sure if the thought was appalling or arousing. She sighed and looked at the phone again. Her thumb hovered over the OK button, ready to bring up the screen that would allow her to reply. She didn’t know what to say, how to respond. In the end she simply closed the phone and tried to figure out what to do next.

* * * * *

“Why hasn’t she gotten back to me?” The last word came out on a grunt as Daniel planted his feet in the sand and set the ball for a perfect spike by
Zac
.

“Because you’re an idiot. Point!”
Zac
said, trotting over to give Daniel a very high five.

“Could you two can the coffee-klatch shit?” The taller of their two-on-two opponents, both corporate attorneys, glared.

“Yeah. It’s
fuckin
’ distracting,” the other player said. Daniel caught the ball that was forcibly thrown at his chest and headed for the back right corner of the court.

“Suck it up, assholes,”
Zac
said. “Twenty, serving eighteen. Hope you two are ready to go down.”

“Yeah,” one attorney said, chuckling. “Wanna give us your mystery woman’s number, Marsh? Sounds like it doesn’t take a whole lot of convincing to have her offering up a taste or two.”

Daniel tossed the ball into the air and connected to it with a force that sent a ripple of pure pain down his arm, a pain that was quickly forgotten when the ball skimmed an inch above the net at rocket speed, completely
unreturnable
. It hit the man square in the solar plexus and dropped him to the ground.

“Good game, guys. Same time next week, weather permitting?” Daniel asked with a smile. He didn’t wait for an answer. He headed toward his backpack and grabbed his water bottle. He tuned out
Zac’s
voice in the background, probably offering a little more trash talking.

“That serve was a little over the top,”
Zac
said, walking up to his side and unzipping his soft-sided cooler. He pulled out a cold beer and tapped the rim to Daniel’s water bottle. “Now let’s talk about how you fucked up.”

“I’m not convinced I did,” Daniel said.

“She hasn’t texted back…so you either scared her or pissed her off. Which way you
leanin
’?”

“Not sure,” Daniel replied, stepping aside as another group of players moved toward the court.

“I’m going with ‘scared her’, because really, dude, you finally get in her bed and the next contact you have with her is throwing out an invitation for public sex. Why would you even
imagine
she’d go for that?”

“Because it’s what she wants. I know it,
Zac
. And I want her to see that I’m fine with that.”

“Fine with other guys watching her writhe around? Fine with them being there for every kiss and lick and thrust? Fine with her possibly wanting them to join in? Dude, I know Larry gives you VIP status at that club, but in this instance you’re so full of shit it’s not even funny. I know you—the real you. The one that definitely has a jealous streak hidden deep in your heart. You’ve never been good at sharing and we both know I still have the scar to prove it.”

Daniel shook his head and started walking,
Zac
at his side. Just as he’d always been. Even after the day Daniel found his buddy kissing Marla Sutter—cheer captain, girls’ lacrosse champ, first true love, neighbor at his parent’s lakefront cottage. He’d grabbed
Zac
by the back of his T-shirt and sent him flying across the boathouse, never imagining there was enough force behind the action to send his friend into one of the rough wooden studs. Or that the rusty nail sticking out of the board would end up embedded in the back of
Zac’s
upper thigh, right where his ass met his leg. A shitload of yelling, a trip to the emergency room, complete with Daniel’s mother reprimanding him while she sat in the back seat with her arm around
Zac
. One tetanus shot had rounded out the day that neither of them would forget.

“I think you’re totally overwhelming her,”
Zac
continued. “And how the fuck do you actually implement that sort of date, Danny? She doesn’t seem like the type of person who, when she hears ‘honey, we’re going to dinner then off for a sound caning at the Cloister’, would just breezily tell you to give her a second while she grabs her purse.”

Daniel sighed and considered his friend’s words. He wasn’t wrong about Erin. Deep in his soul he knew it. Everyone had secret desires and, nine times out of ten, they manifested in a form completely unexpected. If he were honest with himself, there was a part of him that wanted to make sure he was the one who offered Erin the opportunity of exploration, not some other man who might slide in and home in on the fact she wanted to be bent over a table with her skirts in the air while everyone watched.

Skirts in the air.

“Jesus. That could work,” Daniel whispered as his brain raced. He’d have to plan carefully and it would take a boatload of cash, but who the fuck cared? As much as it would be hell on earth, he’d have to enlist Linda’s help. That would be tough when she started grilling him for details he had no intention of sharing, but he’d play the do-it-if-you-love-me card. She’d used it on him tons of times over the years.

“What could work?”
Zac
asked.

“C’mon. I need to talk to Larry. In person. Now.”

“Now?”
Zac
asked incredulously. “We reek of sweat, my hair’s in total disarray and you want me to walk into the tri-county’s premier sex club in a pair of board shorts and a Flyers T-shirt? Are you
fuckin
’ nuts?”

“If you can’t lose your
metrosexual
tendencies for your best bro in the world, who can you ditch them for? Maybe one of the sports-themed rooms will be open and Mistress Kelly will reprimand you firmly for rooting for a losing team,” Daniel teased.

“Holy fuck! Her with a whistle and a hockey stick—there’s a visual that’s got my dick
turnin
’ hard. But you’ll still owe me. And if you’re going to ask Larry if you can pick the voyeurs, then my ass better be one of them.”

“No way in hell,
Zac
. It’s going to be guys she’ll never see again. Guys she’s never going to
want
to see again.”

“Because you’re going to prove to her you’re the only one she needs?”

“Exactly,” Daniel said firmly.

“Where the hell are John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John when you need them?”
Zac
muttered. “Next you’ll be breaking out in a chorus of
Hopelessly Devoted to You
, for fuck’s sake.”

“Shut the hell up and get in the car,” Daniel said, laughing. “If you can make it there without another smart-assed comment, I’ll procure you two hours with the lovely leather-clad Kelly.”

“
Two
hours? You’re on, dude. Not another word,”
Zac
promised. “Not another
fuckin
’ word.”

* * * * *

Erin moved her thumbs over the cell phone’s keypad, reading her response twice before rapidly tapping the Clear key and erasing the words as quickly as she had typed them. It was her eighth attempt at offering a sophisticated comeback to his morning text from hours before. Something witty that didn’t scream “you’ve pegged me for the hidden slut I am”. What was the patented response to someone throwing out sexual-kink bait? When it got right down to it, Erin really wanted to know what that bait consisted of. For research purposes, of course.

Riiiiiight
.

She looked at his number and considered calling him instead. But what would she say? Both their business days were long past but “how was work?” seemed so damn lame. Her mind was just starting to drift toward all the things a man like Daniel might be doing on a Monday evening when her text tone sounded. His name. His number.

Give me one more night, Erin. Friday 8:00. A simple yes or no.

Simple? Hardly. Was it one more night with him or a night with him and the other people he’d mentioned in his first message. She was willing to bet the latter. The thought dampened her panties. Yes or no? One more night wasn’t really what she wanted. She’d realized that on the train ride home, maybe even before that if she was honest with herself. She wanted Daniel for more than a quick fling. But that didn’t seem to be his mindset.

Before she could second-guess, she texted him a brief, convicted missive.

Yes. Friday. But 10 p.m.

There it was. A date. Not the way she was used to making one. No talking on the phone, no idle chitchat about inconsequential things before moving in for the details. No doubt it was the age factor at work. It was all about the texting. As if to prove her point, another message arrived.

I’ll keep in touch…one way or another.

“Okay, Captain Cryptic,” Erin said, unable to keep the grin from her face. She was pretty certain, if she found a mirror, the smile would look utterly ridiculous for a woman over forty. Hell, it would probably look stupid on a much younger woman, but she didn’t want to question why her heart felt suddenly lighter. When the doorbell rang it went from uplifted to thundering in her chest.

“No way.” She set her phone on her desk and headed toward the front door. He couldn’t be there, standing on her stoop once again, could he? No. That sort of stuff only happened in the romantic machinations of the literary world. She rounded the corner and reminded herself it was after nine o’clock at night, despite the fact she lived in a very secure enclave of homes. Her heart beat a little harder as she slowed her steps and hit the switch for the porch light.

“It’s only me.” Linda’s voice was muted through the heavy front door and Erin rushed forward to allow her friend inside. She was barefoot, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe and holding a distinctly recognizable light pink box held together with a silky black bow.