Page 6 of Under His Touch

“Yeah,” she repeats, and then angles her head to glance at my clothes as the barista delivers the coffee. “You put a suit on after the gym?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I pick up the doughnut and take a big bite. “Damn, that’s good.”

“Do you always wear a suit? Everywhere?”

“Yes, always. Except in the gym, the shower or in bed.” I wink at her. “I like casual sex, and wearing a suit to bed just makes it formal,” I say and wonder what the fuck I’m doing. I shouldn’t be teasing her, flirting with her.

Her cheeks darken. “Well, some dates will be more casual than others. What if you go skydiving, or to the movies, or even a romantic hansom cab ride around Central Park?”

“When was the last time you took a horse ride around Central Park?” I ask.

“Ah, well. Never. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do, but I’m not dating right now, and we’re talking about you, not me.”

A thrill I don’t want to feel races through me. “Are you trying to say you want to dress me, Megan?”

“If that’s what it takes to find you a wife, then yes. I want complete control.”

Megan in bed, completely in control. Yeah, that visual is helping my cock. I take another bite of the doughnut and moan as I hold it out to her. “Try it.”

She stares at it for a moment, and her mouth goes slack. “It does look good.”

“It is good.”

I hold it closer and she bites into it. Her lids close and lemon oozes from the doughnut as powdered sugar gets all over her face and nose.

I chuckle. “You always were a messy eater.” I reach out, brush my thumb over her cheek.

She draws in a fast breath, and my hand freezes. Jesus, how can I do this? How can I spend the next month, possibly the next two, with this woman, without giving in to the things I feel?

I’ll be fucked if I know, but somehow I have to find a way.

CHAPTER THREE

Megan

“HE SOUNDS LIKE quite the asshole. I think you dodged a bullet after prom. I know it didn’t feel like it then, but he did you a solid by walking away,” Amanda says, as we toss our damp towels over our shoulders and walk through the gym to the locker rooms.

I nod in agreement and take in the near-empty establishment. I guess it being a Friday night and all, people have better things to do than sweat it out. Although I can think of other, more fun ways to get in a workout. Good Lord, Megan. Get your thoughts out of the gutter. It’s just that it’s been so long since I’ve been physically touched by a man. I’m sure that’s the only reason my body is all amped up. Yeah, it has nothing to do with coming face-to-face with Alec last week.

Liar.

I wonder what he’s doing on this Friday night, which glamorous, high-maintenance woman he has on his arm, and whose bed they’ll be falling into later. The sooner I get him married, the better it is for my business—and for my sanity. But the questions on the Match Made in Heaven questionnaire that goes with his profile are very personal, and we’ll need to fill it out together when he’s back from his business trip. I don’t know this rigid, detached Alec. He’s far different from the boy back in high school. Heck, if answering the questions were left to me, he’d probably be matched to a hungry hyena with a toothache.

I snort at that and step into the change room with Amanda.

“Pajamas, romantic comedy and popcorn tonight?” she asks.

“There is no other way I’d want to spend tonight, and no one I’d rather spend it with,” I say, and she rolls her eyes.

“I love you, too, but I’m sorry, Megan. I’d take a nice fat dick on a Friday night over a rom-com and popcorn at home, anytime.”

I burst out laughing and glance around, but the few women getting changed still have their earbuds in and are paying us zero attention. “Okay, me, too,” I admit and instantly hate myself when my thoughts stray to Alec again. Inside my bag, my phone pings, and I dig it out. My heart does a stupid little tumble when the display informs me that it’s none other than the man plaguing my thoughts.

Alec: I’m free tonight to plug the holes in the questionnaire. My place, eight?

Swallowing, I tense up and Amanda leans over to see who the message is from. “Hmm,” she begins, “Friday night, his place. Sounds like it’s not just the holes in the questionnaire he’s interested in plugging.”

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