“Not in so many words.”
“He needs to hire a screenwriter for his life.”
“Miss Monroe, there’s a reason greeting cards have words written inside them.” He raised his eyebrows to stress the importance of what he was saying. “Actions are certainly more important than words.”
Dalton approached, cutting our private conversation short.
CHAPTER 16
“How was the flight?” Dalton asked as he approached. “Did Vern do any fancy loop-de-loops?”
Vern grinned and pointed his thumb back toward the plane. “This plane isn’t rated for loop-de-loops, sir. Maybe the next one.”
Dalton came to a stop in front of me and took off his mirrored sunglasses, his green eyes brilliant as emeralds in the daylight. Sometimes, when he wasn’t right in front of me, I thought of Dalton Deangelo as an abstract concept only. He was the smug TV actor who chewed up the scenery in a campy vampire soap opera. He was the whirlwind of fame and chaos that came into my life and made a mess of everything. He was a problem I had to deal with and think about.
But sometimes, like that moment on the chilly airstrip, he was just a man, squinting in the bright light and looking happy to see me.
He raised one dark eyebrow quizzically. “Well?”
“Well?” I replied.
Some people in orange safety vests came out of the nearby building and Vern went off to talk to them about maintenance and refueling the plane.
Dalton took the handle of my suitcase and started walking toward the vehicle.
“I’m not going to compliment you on how you look,” he said.
“Fine.”
“Even though that blue shirt under your jacket brings out your gorgeous eyes, and those tight jeans show off all your curves and make me want to peel them off in the back seat of this truck with the tinted windows.”
“Do you ever look at me and not think about doing dirty, sexy things?”
He chuckled. “Nope.”
We reached the truck, where he grabbed me and playfully pushed me up against the door, my butt against the hard metal. He leaned in over me, his arms stretched over my shoulders and his hands on the truck, and he smelled my hair, breathing in audibly.
I could hardly breathe, and all my nerves were tingling from being in such close proximity. He sniffed again, like a wolf.
“Tell me something,” he murmured near my ear, his voice deep and husky. “When you put on those clothes this morning, did you think about me taking them off?”
“I don’t know,” I lied. “It was early, and I just threw on the nearest thing.”
“You didn’t think about me running my finger up and down the line of this V-neck?” Instead of touching my neck, he puckered his lips and blew a stream of air along my neckline.
I reached up between his legs and cupped his package through his jeans. “What about you, Mr. Deangelo? Are you wearing silk boxers under these tight jeans that show off your big package?”
“Careful,” he groaned.
I lightly massaged the bulge. He was always trying to throw me off balance with his flirtations, and how did he like it when the tables were turned? From the feel of his manhood, he liked it very much.
“There’s my pony,” I said. “There’s my Lionheart, and he’s ready to ride. But he’s a bad pony. He thinks he’s going to buck and gallop and take me for a ride, but this naughty pony’s about to get broken in.”
Dalton let out a laugh I could only describe as nervous sounding.
“How was the flight?” he asked, his voice high. “Any turbulence?”
We were still alone over by the truck, so I grabbed hold of his waistband with my free hand and then plunged the other hand down into his jeans.
He gasped as I took hold of him by the gigglestick.
“The flight was long and smooth.” I stroked his shaft, making up for the lack of wiggle room by squeezing harder. “We started off fast, splashing around, then we got higher and higher, and then after a few hours of heaven, I came.”
“You came?” His breathing was ragged.
“I came here to go shopping, and we’re going to shop so hard. I’m going to make your credit card beg for mercy.”
“Oh, Peaches, I dare you to break me. I’m your wild pony. I’m your Lionheart. Promise you’ll never stop trying to break me.”
“Careful what you wish for.” I released his swollen manhood and withdrew my hand slowly from his clothes.
“To be continued,” he said.
“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” I asked.
“I’m afraid to.”
“Because you know my lips are bad for you?”
He leaned down, his face moving closer and closer to mine. His breath was hot on my cheek when he stopped moving, lips inches from mine. “Your lips are the least of my worries. It’s the rest of you that terrifies me.”
“Then you’d better not kiss me, because I’m the whole package.”
He pulled away another inch. If I stood on my tiptoes, I could have kissed him, but I didn’t.
“If I kiss you, everything will get complicated,” he said.
“Yes. If you kiss me, Dalton, I promise you nothing short of disaster.”
“Then I guess you leave me no choice.” He dropped his arms to his sides and stepped back, then opened the door of the truck. “Get in.”
That was it?
I climbed into the back seat. He circled around to the back to load in my suitcase, then continued up to the front door and got in the front passenger side.
Kiss denied.
I zipped open my purse and got out my phone, pretending not to be bothered that he wasn’t sitting in the back with me.
What game was he playing? I wished I had a copy of the Dalton Deangelo handbook.
I scrolled through my messages and opened the ones from Adrian, who was letting me know his dog was recuperating nicely.
“Oh, good,” I said out loud.
Dalton turned around and looked back from the front seat. “Vern will be here in a few minutes.”
“Okay, that’s good, too. I just found out my boyfriend’s dog is feeling better. We were all out hiking and we had a terrible run-in with a bear.”
“You went hiking?” He had a mischievous look that annoyed me.
“With my boyfriend.”
“He doesn’t mind that you stick your hand down other guys’ pants?”
My head started to bob side to side with its own attitude. “Of course he doesn’t. We have a very modern arrangement. We’re honest with each other, and it’s great.”