Chapter 10

"Define start from here?" Raina said.

His thumb brushed her lip, then he lifted his hand. "How about we start with another drink?"

He was giving her space. Time to think. Everything she needed. Which made it hard for her do the smart thing and climb off the sofa. She wanted to lean in. Get closer. Touch him back. Instead, she swung her feet off his lap and pushed to her feet, wincing a little at the pull in her legs.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Yes." She smiled. "Just a dancer who's getting older."

"You're barely thirty."

"That's ancient in dance years," she said. Rising to her toes, she stretched briefly then padded into the kitchen to retrieve the scotch.

"Is that why you have the club now instead of doing Broadway?"

She nodded. "That and the fact that no one ever got rich in a Broadway chorus." She carried the scotch back with her and refilled their glasses.

"You want to be rich?" Mal asked as she passed him his drink.

"I want to be comfortable," she said. "To not be at the mercy of a landlord and the whims of others."

"And burlesque can give you that?"

She shrugged. "It's a start. If I can, I'll buy the building eventually. Have the club. Have some equity. I can build from there."

"Brooklyn real estate is expensive."

"No kidding." She sipped scotch. "But we'll see. I have four years left on the lease." At least she hoped she did. If Phil didn't change his mind and sell. "That gives me time to put money away, to build up a track record that would convince a bank to lend to me."

"It's a good plan. And if you ever want advice on real estate, Alex is your man."

She almost choked on her scotch. "I'm sure Alex Winters is too busy to worry about my investment portfolio or lack thereof."

Mal grinned. "Maybe. But he knows the ins and outs of the market and he knows a hell of a lot of talented people."

"I'll think about it." She took another sip and eyed the armchair and then the sofa. Wash, for once, hadn't woken from his napping position on the sofa arm to jump into the warm spot she'd vacated. That space was still there. If she wanted to sit back down so close to Mal.

Where was the harm? Mal had made it perfectly clear he wasn't going to do any jumping or lunging for her unless she invited him to. Perfectly safe.

And she wanted to be near him even if she didn't yet want to give in to the desire for more. She slipped back onto the sofa, curling her legs up beneath her. Her calves and feet still ached slightly but she wasn't ready to ask Mal to put his hands on her again. Not yet.

"So, Mr. Coulter," she said. "We keep talking about me. Tell me something about you."

Another glass and a half of scotch later and Raina's eyes were growing heavy, weighted down just enough by scotch to relax her. It was late. Too late for everything she needed to do in the morning. But it turned out that talking to Mal was easy, and the deep rumble of his voice was soothing, and it was tempting to just keep on talking. See in the sunrise. Something she hadn't done from this side in quite some time.

But before she could stop herself, a yawn stole across her face. She tried to hide it but to no avail.

"You're tired," Mal said.

"I am," she admitted. The yawn hadn't relieved the sleepiness stealing over her.

"Me too," he said. He glanced toward the window. Rain had been pouring down for the last hour or so. She realized that he didn't actually have a car with him. They'd driven her pickup. Of course, he had a driver or could call a cab. Though it seemed kind of heartless to throw the man out into the weather at three a.m. So. Go or …

Or what, exactly? Six feet plus of Malachi Coulter wouldn't fit on her couch. But she had a perfectly decadent king-sized bed.

"It's late," she said.

"It is," he agreed. His eyes had gone intent again, though he hadn't moved from his position slouched against the arm of the couch, body turned to face her.

"You don't have a car."

"Also true."

The ball was obviously in her court. "I have a bed," she said after swallowing. "You could stay. Sleep, I mean. That's all that's on the table."

"You want me to keep one foot on the floor at all times?" he asked.

"That sounds uncomfortable. No." She shook her head. "No, I trust you to be a gentleman."

He smiled then, that delighted heart-stopping smile, and she wondered if she had completely lost her mind. "In that case, Ms. Easton, I accept."

There was an arm around her. Raina's eyes snapped open. Malachi Coulter's arm. Heavy and warm and just as weirdly comforting as it had been when they'd fallen asleep.

She had no desire to free herself of that weight. Not just yet. The clock on her nightstand told her it was a little after five. Which meant she'd only been asleep a few hours.

But somehow she felt wide awake. As though she'd slept soundly for eight hours rather than a quarter of that.

Maybe Mal gave off magic sleeping fumes?

She wouldn't put it past him. The man did everything well.

He even slept well. No snoring. No thrashing around. No, he'd just put his arm around her waist, pulled her close back against him, and promptly fallen asleep. A skill learned in the army, perhaps? In a war zone, it was probably pretty handy to be able to sleep wherever you found yourself. She'd lain there for a minute or two, not really believing that he really did want to sleep and trying to make up her mind exactly how she felt about the fact that he could just fall asleep with her lying next to him—and then, to her surprise, she'd drifted off, too.

But now she was awake.

Awake and humming with awareness of Mal warm and solid behind her.

The room smelled like him. Smelled like male and good things and suddenly she was achingly aware that she wasn't happy with him just sleeping beside her.

But was that fair?

Most guys she knew wouldn't say no to sex if it was offered, but Mal was more complicated than just sex. Because she didn't know if it could be just sex with him. And didn't know if she wanted it to be anything more than that.

But even as she was trying to figure out what she should do—what she wanted to do—she couldn't help pressing a little closer against him.

Which led to the discovery that parts of him were wide awake. And very … tempting. She took a breath, which somehow pressed them closer still

"If you keep doing that then I'm going to have to assume that we might be redefining ‘see what happens.'" Mal's voice rumbled in her ear.

She froze. "You're awake."

"Light sleeper," he said. "Particularly when a gorgeous woman starts wriggling around in bed with me."

"I didn't wriggle."

"It felt wriggly to me," he said with a chuckle that sent his breath dancing warmly across the back of her neck. She shivered from the sensation. "So did that," he added. "Do it again."

"I don't know," she said. "It might inflame your imagination."

"Darlin', I think we've already gone beyond my imagination being inflamed."

So the pleasingly hard erection pressing against her butt was informing her.

All that just waiting there for her. The thought of it sent a pulse of heat to her crotch. The warmth spread and bloomed across her skin from there. Mal had been the perfect gentleman all night. He was still being the perfect gentleman. Erection or no erection he'd made no move to take the lead.

Which left it up to her. She swallowed, throat suddenly dry. She knew what her body wanted. But was she ready for the consequences? "Do you want to ‘redefine'?" she asked.

"I think the answer to that question is pretty obvious. The real question is whether you want to."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I guess it's a cold shower for me this morning."

"You'd just walk away?"

"You say no and that's the only option. Unless your version of redefining includes the sorts of things that might be too complicated to discuss this early in the morning."

"Are you asking me if I'm kinky?" She wasn't. Or at least, no more than the average woman. Right now she could think of quite a few interesting scenarios involving Malachi Coulter and some of her silk scarves. And then there was her lingerie collection … she shivered again thinking about what color Mal's eyes might turn if he saw her in some of the lace-and-silk confections that lived in her dresser.

"Only if you're telling me you're into something that's some sort of lifestyle level of serious. Otherwise I'm asking if you can either stop talking and let me kiss you or let me get up and have that cold shower."

She twisted then, bringing herself around and scooting up slightly so they were face-to-face. That was the problem with tall men. She wasn't. Which took some managing of logistics. Mal watched her, his brown eyes once again that hot dark shade she was starting to like a lot. "You'd really just get up and walk away?"

"I wouldn't be happy about it, but yes."

That answer made her unreasonably happy. All over.

She slid closer to him, hooked a leg over his waist. He didn't wait for another invitation. His mouth came down on hers, hot and sure and demanding, and she let him take her down to that place of heat and darkness and wildness that drove everything else away.

He tasted better than anyone had a right to first thing in the morning. He'd stolen some toothpaste and her spare toothbrush while she'd removed her makeup before they'd gone to sleep and he still somehow tasted like mint and deliciousness.

But she didn't get to wonder just how he'd managed that minor miracle for too long because his hand was sliding up her back, the worn cotton of the big old T-shirt she'd worn to bed to avoid giving him any message other than sleep coming with it.

She lifted her arm from around his neck, suddenly sure. She wanted him. Wanted him hot and hard.

Mal whisked the T-shirt over her head, leaving her in just cotton panties. Then he rolled so she was under him, his hips, still clad in boxers, pressed into hers in just the right place.

She almost screamed. Instead she just pressed up into him, writhing a little so that he rubbed against her.

Damn. So damned good.

His mouth came down on hers again for another of those sublime kisses and then he moved lower. Which, given their height difference, meant she lost contact with the part of him she wanted most.

She was about to protest when his mouth closed over her nipple, teeth dragging over sensitized skin just slightly. Just right. Things went hot and dark again as the slick of his tongue and the heat of his mouth and the suction and tiny nips of teeth and strokes of fingers made her forget where she was for a few long minutes.

He had a very, very talented mouth. She had to remember to compliment him.

If she ever regained the ability to speak.

She wasn't sure she would. Not while he was touching her at least. He rolled to the side, bringing her with him so they were face-to-face again. His mouth didn't leave her breast but his fingers moved down, tracing a spiraling path that made each inch he touched light up until she was convinced she must be glowing.

Her stomach muscles tensed as he reached the edge of her underwear. He traced the line of the elastic, which made her shiver, and then one talented finger slid under the narrow band and parted her lips to land on her clit with unerring instinct.

This time she did scream. Or moan at least. It wasn't a coherent noise but it made him lift his head.

"I like that noise," he said.

"I like your fingers," she managed to reply.

"I'm just getting started," he said with a wicked grin. Another finger slid in to join the first.

"Promises, promises."

His eyebrows lifted and his fingers did a sort of rolling shimmy on either side of her clit that made her moan again.

"I never make a promise I can't keep," he said and then he tugged her panties down. She lifted her hips and let him free her legs.

His hand came back to her, teasing her again. She rolled onto her back and let her legs fall open, wanting more.

Mal made an approving noise and slid two fingers inside her. The shock of it—of how good it felt—made her clench around him, and this time he was the one making noises.

"Damn," he said softly. "I wish you knew how good that feels."

"Feels pretty good on my end," she said.

"It'll feel better in a minute."

"There are condoms in the top drawer of the nightstand on your side of the bed." At least she hoped there were. She tried to remember if she'd bought condoms recently.

"We don't need a condom yet," he said.

"We don't?" She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "Because I was really hoping you were going to take off those boxers and fuck me."

"Oh I will," Mal said. "But I'm going to make you come first."

"I'm in favor of that plan." In fact, she was going to scream if he didn't stop talking and get on with it. His fingers were still sliding slowly in and out of her and she could feel herself getting wetter with every stroke but she needed more than fingers. No matter how skilled they were.

His fingers crooked inside her and a pulse of sheer pleasure suddenly shot through her. Maybe she was wrong about the fingers thing, maybe?—

But she should have known that Malachi Coulter was not the kind of guy who needed instructions. Because somehow he was between her legs and his mouth came down on her clit and his tongue hit her exactly where she needed pressure.

She gave up any pretense of trying to think. Trying to work out what he was going to do next. She just gave herself up to it. It didn't take very long. Between his tongue and his fingers and the fact that it had been too long since someone else had given her an orgasm, she felt herself start to tense and shiver and felt the rush of it building in her blood only a second or so before she came with a shriek that was probably loud enough to wake up half the building.

She drifted for a moment, reveling in the sensations floating through her. She was vaguely aware that the weight of Mal's body moved away from her; if she could have moved, she would have grabbed for him to bring him back, but it was all she could do to just lie there and enjoy.

The man had skills.

"You still with me?" Mal asked as he lay back beside her.

She opened her eyes. There he was. Smiling at her with those delicious eyes. Her gaze drifted lower.

He'd lost the boxer shorts. And the sight of Mal naked was just as spectacular as she'd imagined.

She reached down and curled her fingers around him. "Hello," she said with a smile of her own.

Mal breathed out. Hard. And then held out a condom. "I believe you requested one of these."

"Oh goody." She took the condom while he laughed.

She liked a man who could laugh in bed. Sex was fantastic but also sometimes ridiculous. Though, as she peeled the condom wrapper open and felt him flex under her hand, hot skin so smooth over hardness, she felt pretty serious about what was about to happen.

Too impatient for tricks, she put the condom on him the old-fashioned way and pushed him onto his back. He didn't resist, which was a plus. Men who didn't need to be in charge all the time were another thing she liked.

She swung a leg over Mal and he wrapped his hands around her waist. She bent down and kissed him and then lifted her hips, found the right angle, and pushed down onto him.

Oh. God.

He was large but not too large. Enough to stretch and push against her as she moved, and she made herself take it slowly. Until he was deep inside her.

She opened her eyes and smiled.

"Christ," he muttered fervently.

"No, Raina," she said and leaned forward to brace her arms on his shoulders so that she could move against him and feel that slide inside all over again.

Mal let her set the pace for a minute or so, and she watched as his stomach muscles tightened and his face went all intent while he did. He was so obviously holding himself back that it made her stomach flutter to think what he might do when she finally pushed him over the edge. She increased the pace. His hands tightened around her sides, moving with her, keeping her steady.

Keeping her safe.

Oh. God.

She moaned then and he smiled. One hand let go of her, found her clit again, and pressed hard, which made her lose all sense of what she was doing as the pleasure blasted through her.

Then somehow—God, the man had good abs—he sat up, coming up to kiss her while he lifted her so that she was sitting in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist.

She'd dated strong guys before—dancers tended to be pretty powerful—but never one as strong and tall as Mal. He made her feel tiny. But not smaller. How did that even work? She couldn't figure it out. Just kissed him back when he kissed her. Wrapped herself around him as tightly as she could. Because right in that moment, she couldn't imagine letting him go.

Not that she had to. He moved again, bringing her with him, so that he stayed inside her. Now he was on top and he started to move, slow and sure at first, finding a rhythm as steady as a drumbeat.

One that made her stop thinking, boneless with it, unable to do anything but find the movement that matched his, that turned this into a dance. A dance with no music other than the beat she felt in her head and through her body. Fierce and hungry and not gentle as he picked up the pace and she moved to meet him and there was nothing but the slide and the heat and the weight of him above her and his fingers tangled in hers above her head and the pleasure that grew darker and hotter until she let it take her over a second time and she shuddered around him, calling his name as he didn't stop, didn't pause, just kept driving into her, dancing with her until he came, too, and the world stopped a moment.

Mal rolled to one side and Raina felt the loss of him, but he reached out and pulled her close against his chest. She rested her forehead on it and felt how fast his heart was pounding. She'd done that. It made her smile. She tipped her head back.

"Hello," she said.

She saw his mouth curve up though his eyes remained closed. "You know it's kind of cruel to expect a guy to talk straight after sex, right?"

She laughed and snuggled back down. "I'm sure it's good for your brain. Take advantage of all that extra post-exertion oxygen surging around."

"I'm pretty sure that all the oxygen left my body a way back there." His arms tightened around her and they lay still for a moment. Then she heard a rustle as he turned his head.

"Crap."

She blinked. "That's not exactly the reaction I was expecting."

"It's after six," he said.

She yawned. "Probably." Then her brain started working. "Crap. You have to go. You have a flight." Her instinct was to grab him, tell him he couldn't go. She made herself stay still. This was Mal. They'd slept together exactly once and he owned a baseball team. Which meant he had to travel.

"I have a debriefing with my team and then a flight," he said.

"When are you back?" she asked. She was proud of herself for sounding casual.

"Thursday. Our next home game is Friday night."

She knew that. Because she knew the schedule of days the Angels had to work. But she hadn't previously figured out the implications. That the team being away meant Mal being away. Damn. She wanted him again already.

Which maybe meant it was just as well he was going.

"Are you going to travel with the team whenever they go?" she asked. She pulled herself out of his arms. Made herself sit up and look around for her robe. It was usually draped over the end of her bed but they'd obviously dislodged it.

Mal looked regretful as he watched her. "Not every time but as many as I can for the start of the season. I want to get a feel for the other stadiums. See how they do things. Let the team settle into their routine."

Well, that was something. He wouldn't be gone all the time.

But he was leaving now. And despite all the logical arguments, she wasn't happy about it. She ducked down to pick up the robe. "You grab a shower, I'll make coffee. There are clean towels in the cupboard in the hall." She slipped into the robe and out of the bedroom before she could do something stupid like ask him not to go. He had to go.

Wash made a sleepy meow as she passed through the living room on the way to the kitchen. Then he jumped down from the sofa and trailed behind her, making his usual eager-for-breakfast noises. She wasn't usually up this early, but that didn't seem to bother him. Nothing bothered Wash when it came to food.

She started coffee, heard the shower start, and fed Wash while she tried to figure out how she felt. Physically fantastic. She should have been exhausted but apparently sex with Mal was as good as a few hours of sleep.

But emotionally, she wasn't so pleased with things. First nights were meant to end in breakfast in bed and sleeping in and more sex.

"Suck it up, princess," she muttered to herself. She got out mugs and found the sugar. She drank her coffee straight black. She had no idea how Mal drank his.

Damn. She'd slept with him and she didn't even know that. Which was exactly the sort of thing she'd told herself she wasn't going to do. No leaping into things too fast without thinking.

The sound of the water died and a minute or so later, Mal emerged, dressed with his hair wet around his face. He smiled at her. "I called Ned. He'll pick me up in about ten minutes."

Ten minutes wasn't long enough to figure this out. Then again, right now, she wasn't sure ten days would be. Or ten weeks.

"How do you like your coffee?" she asked.

"Black. One sugar." He came over to where she stood. Looked down at her a moment. "Everything okay?"

She nodded. "All good."

His eyes narrowed. "Not the most convincing delivery of that line." He stepped closer then, before she could argue, lifted her up so she was sitting on the counter. He leaned in, kissed her nose. "Stop thinking so hard," he said. "If I didn't have to get on a plane today then we'd still be in that bedroom. I'm not making a quick getaway, I promise. I don't want to go." He kissed her then, softly. Coaxing with his mouth until her lips parted and things went wild again. He pulled back, rested his forehead on hers. "Damn."

She waited a few second while her breathing slowed. "I think we screwed up the timing on this one."

"It's only until Thursday," he said. "Time will fly."

"It had better," she said. She didn't think it would, though. She was going to be counting the hours until he got back. And that was worrying. She kissed him again. Just one more time. And then she did the sensible thing and let him drink his coffee and walk out her front door.