Page 88 of Bad Reputation

His boxers came off—and that was alotof Cole.A lota lot. Maggie swallowed, and then he was putting the condom on. “I know I said all night, but I have to—that is, I want to, and—”

“No, please, I’m ready. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

He slid her panties off, taking a moment to inhale them. “Damn, you smell good.”

She wouldn’t have trusted those words from anyone else, but all the most private and needy parts of sex—the things she’d tried to hide from her other partners—he seemed to revel in them.

He climbed onto the bed. “This is okay? It’s what you want?”

She knew he cared about the answer, which made it so easy to say yes and mean it.

For the first time all night, he parted the lips of her pussy. His finger worked into her flesh, and she whimpered.

“Good? Bad?”

“Good.” She was panting, lifting her hips, pleading for him with her body.

Then his cock was there, pushing into her, and in the best way, it was hard to catch her breath.

“Goddamn, you’re wet.” The way he said it, it was the highest compliment.

“That’s what you do to me.”

“That’s good.”

“Sogood.”

He didn’t release her gaze while he slid all the way home and ground himself against her. While he began to move, fast and certain. While his eyes went glassy and unfocused. While he stroked her clit—because of course he was determined to take care of her too. Again.

Then his thrusts went wild, and his hands on her were hard, like he wanted to make sure she was real.

The orgasm hit him like lightning. His groans filled her ears and his chest filled her vision, and Cole filled her. Every nook and cranny of her.

Afterward, he cradled her against his chest. “That was ... that was something else.”

No, it was everything.

Chapter 21

EXT. AIRPORT CURBSIDE PICKUP/DROP-OFF ZONE

Two Weeks Later

Cole leaned up against his car outside the arrivals terminal at LAX, trying not to fidget. The heather-blue T-shirt had been the right choice. Much better than the black Henley and not as obvious as the red.

He tugged on the hem. Damn it, maybe he should have gone with the white.

No, it was fine. Well, it had to be fine. He hadn’t brought a backup choice with him. At least he’d gotten flowers.

He hadn’t seen Maggie since waking up after the greatest night of his life, when he’d unwrapped himself from her soft body and gotten on a plane back to the States for theGQcover shoot. It had been far too many days of emails (so impersonal) and texts (basically shorter emails) and a few hurried phone conversations (which were hardly better).

They’d seen each other on set virtually every day for four months. While Cole thought he’d made a good case for them being together the night of the wrap party, he did worry that the distance might have allowed her doubts to creep in, like ants at a picnic.

For him, the distance had proved that he had absolutely no self-control when it came to Maggie. He’d had to stop himself from texting her about every meal he’d eaten and everything he’d seen and laughed about. He could only hope it had been the same for her.

He exhaled for the first time in two weeks when Maggie emerged from the terminal, dragging a suitcase behind her, struggling with a bulging canvas bag under one arm and a bulky backpack on her back. She scanned the crowd, her mouth breaking into a wide grin when she saw him. If he hadn’t been in love with her before, that response would have sent him over the edge.

Maggie wove through the crowd, narrowly avoiding clipping a metal bollard, before stopping in front of him. “Hey.” She was trying not to look ecstatic. She was failing.

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