Page 23 of Play Book

Canyon and I were supposed to be hooking up tonight—nothing but dinner and sex—and because of some sick vandal, I’m suddenly second guessing the very essence of who I am.

I am not a whore.

But someone out there thinks I am.

And it bothers me.

“Is it wrong to enjoy sex?” I blurt. “Like, when you’re not in a relationship?”

Canyon looks startled but then his gaze turns dark.

“No. Fuck no.” He appears frustrated as he puts his cup and saucer down on the glass coffee table. “Look, I know what happened tonight must hurt. Your feelings, your pride, all of it. But don’t let some nameless, faceless asshole have that much power over you. This is what he wants. To hurt you. Shame you. Take away your power in the only way he can. And that’s absolute bullshit.

“You’re allowed to enjoy sex whether you’re in a relationship or not. You’re allowed to be sexual. You’re allowed to be who you are. We all are. Don’t let anyone take that from you.”

I stare at him for a long moment and remember why I wanted to sleep with him in the first place. Why I agreed to go to dinner with him. Why I enjoy his company so much.

And it has less to do with how blue his eyes are than with who he is as a man. As a human being. He’s different from other guys I’ve gone out with, and I want to know him better. The timing didn’t work out tonight, and he’s made it clear he isn’t into relationships, but maybe we’d have the chance to go out just one more time.

I really want a do-over for tonight.

“Thank you,” I say quietly. “I guess I’m a little emotional right now.”

“Yeah, I would be too.” He reaches out and pushes a lock of my hair back behind my ear. “You look wiped.”

“I’m mentally drained, and now my body is finally starting to come down from the adrenalin high.”

“Get on the floor,” he says, leaning back and spreading his legs. “And don’t give me that look. I mean, with your back to me. So I can rub your shoulders.”

I open my mouth to protest, but the words die before they can come out.

Why the hell should I say no?

I slide down to the floor, my back against the couch, and my body seems to shiver with anticipation the moment those big, strong hands touch me.

“Relax,” he whispers. “Let me make you feel good.”

I can take that so many ways, but I’m not thinking about sex anymore.

All I can do is feel.

My chin hits my chest, and the tension I’ve been dealing with the last couple of hours seems to drain right out of me.

“Oh, fuck, that feels nice,” I moan as he digs his thumbs into the fleshy part of my back, between the shoulder blades but closer to my neck.

He’s done this before, because he knows exactly where to press and how much pressure to use to make goosebumps break out all over. I hadn’t realized how exhausted I am until just now, and my eyes drift closed. His fingers are truly magical, kneading and stroking my neck, shoulders, the tops of my arms, and even the middle of my back.

I never want him to stop.

“Feel better?” he asks softly, his breath warm against my ear as he leans over me.

“Much.”

“Ready for bed?”

“Oh…” I’m so relaxed I can’t even think about moving at this point.

“I’ve got you.” Before I realize what’s happening, he’s scooped me up in his arms and is padding down the hall to my bedroom.

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