Chapter 3—Steven

“Here you are, ladies,” I said, setting a tray of drinks on the table. Serving drinks wasn’t something I normally did, but when it got as crazy as it was tonight, I’d step up and help out.

“My friends and I were talking,” the brunette said, winking. “Considering we can’t hire a stripper on the island, we were wondering if you’d like to dance for us?”

I laughed. I’d never stripped before, and as sexy as these women were, I wasn’t sure I wanted to start now. “Thanks, but my services are unavailable tonight.”

The brunette pouted, and I briefly reconsidered. She had very full lips that I could put to good use. Then I heard Madison laugh from the next table over and my body tensed, my senses were on high alert. I dared to glance in her direction even though my brain screamed at me not to. I really needed to start listening to my brain.

I’d been eyeing her all night, so the sight of her dressed in the red, form-fitting Scorched shirt and that short, black school-girl style skirt didn’t rattle me nearly as much as it had when I’d first seen her in it earlier. Although it still made my dick hard. Down you beast. No, her outfit choice wasn’t what bothered me.

She stood at a table that seated five guys, laughing and smiling with them. That alone was enough to piss me off, but what she did next sent my anger to a level I didn’t know it could reach. She turned down the waist band of her skirt, revealing a small tattoo on her hip. Madison had a tattoo? God damn that was sexy. My dick saluted her again, and I scowled. The guys at the table whistled their appreciation. I couldn’t blame them, but when the one seated closest to where Madison stood reached out and touched her, I had to restrain myself from marching over there and breaking his stubby little fingers.

“Are you sure we can’t change your mind?” the brunette said.

I must be crazy. “Yeah, I’m sure.” I said. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” When did I start turning down easy sex with multiple women? Probably about the same time you started masturbating again. That was Madison’s fault.

I took a butterscotch candy and put it in my mouth. The sugary flavors rushed over my tongue, and for a moment, I was calm—until the image of Madison popped into my mind again. That woman was severely fucking with my head.

I snuck out the side door, leaned up against the building, and closed my eyes. The sight of Madison earlier, shaking her hips to the music, singing along to that damn country song, filled my mind. How did that go? Something about a tattoo and a smile? Now that I knew she had a tattoo, those lyrics took on a whole new meaning.

It was as if someone had taken a branding iron and permanently seared that image into my brain. No matter what I did, I hadn’t been able to shake it. I’d even masturbated in the shower thinking about it. Me. Masturbating. I hadn’t done that since I was a horny teenager sneaking my dad’s porno magazines. I didn’t need to do it. I was Steven Lane. Playboy extraordinaire. I could have sex with any woman if I put my mind to it. Madison included.

My cock perked up at that thought. “Down,” I said. It strained harder against my jeans. I glared at my crotch. “Fucking traitor.”

Madison was on my ‘she’s-off-limits-don’t-even-think-about-touching-her’ list. It was a mental list of the women I wanted to have sex with, but for various reasons couldn’t. Jessica and Vanessa were on the list, too. Not that I really wanted to fuck either of them anymore, but at one point I had, so they were on the list. Madison Tate held the number one spot for one simple reason: she was too good for me.

I enjoyed having meaningless sex with strange women. I reveled in the fact that once morning came I’d never have to see that person again. I got off on having wild, uninhibited sex. I didn’t use terms of endearment. I didn’t cuddle or stick around for pillow talk. That’s not who I was. And that’s exactly the type of man Madison wanted. She had stars in her eyes—she wanted what Jessica and Vanessa had. She wanted a man who would fall head over heels in love with her, and that’s exactly what she deserved. I just wasn’t the man who could give it to her.

* * *

“Ugh. My feet are killing me,” Madison whined as she plopped down in a chair.

“Here,” I said, handing her a beer and sitting across from her. Scorched was closed and cleaned up for the night. Craig had left a few moments ago, leaving me alone with Madison.

“Thanks.” She took a sip and licked her bottom lip like she’d done at the meeting that morning.

Focus on something else. I watched her take her shoe off, prop her ankle on her knee, and rub her foot. She kneaded her heel, then the pad of her foot. I took a pull from my beer, trying to keep my sights focused on her foot. How in the hell she made a foot rub look so damn erotic was beyond me.

My gaze wandered up her body, landing on her mouth, which was slightly parted. I could kiss her right now. I could just lean over and plant my lips on hers. I had a feeling she wouldn’t stop me. It’d just be one small kiss. I could handle one kiss, couldn’t I?

“Steven? Hey, are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah. Sorry. What did you say?”

She smiled. “Nothing. It wasn’t important.”

I averted my gaze back to her foot. She’d moved on to the other one. “You’re doing that all wrong.” I set my beer on the table. “Let me show you.” I cradled her foot in my lap and started to massage it, applying pressure to the bottom first and working my way around to the top, and then eventually to her toes.

“Mmm. That feels good.” She wiggled her toes.

Her head was resting on the back of the chair, her eyes were closed, and that damn bottom lip was tucked between her teeth. She squirmed in the chair, causing the heel of her foot to rub against my crotch. I sucked in a breath and prayed she didn’t feel the sudden jerk of my cock. “Damn you look so sexy like that.” I froze. I did not just say that aloud.

Madison stopped wiggling her toes and raised her head to look at me. “Did you just call me sexy?”

I swallowed the golf ball sized lump from my throat. No use lying to her. “Yes. Look I’m sorry if I—”

“No, Steven,” she said, dropping her foot to the floor. “You don’t call a woman sexy and then apologize for saying it.” She laughed.

The sound of her soft laughter was like liquid heat, dripping from those luscious lips in a steady stream that burned me alive. And it wasn’t a slow burn. It was like a damned explosion—several simultaneous explosions in my gut, my groin, my mind, and my heart. I was so fucked. I had to get out of here, now, or she was going to be so fucked, too. “I didn’t mean to cross the line.”

“You didn’t.” She stood, and I followed. “Every woman wants to hear that she’s sexy. Even if you didn’t mean to say it.”

“I don’t make it a habit of saying things I don’t mean.” Shut up! She smiled and stepped into one of her shoes. “I meant it, Madison.” Shut the fuck up!

“You’re sweet, Steven, but it’s okay,” she said, not looking at me and stepping into her other shoe.

She wobbled, and I instinctively reached out to steady her, putting my hand on her waist. Her delicate hand rested on my bicep, and it felt like my skin was melting. Shit. Her green eyes looked up at me under her lashes, so full of innocent lust. It was then that I realized for the first time that Madison wanted me just as much as I wanted her. Let go of her and get the hell out of here. You’ll only destroy her.

“I’ve seen the women you’ve been with,” she said softly. “They’re all gorgeous blondes with killer curves and perfect breasts. I know I’ll never—”

“Don’t!” I snarled, putting my other hand on her waist and holding her still. Don’t do it. “You’re very sexy, Madison.” Okay, that’s enough. Time to go. “Plus, you’re smart and funny.”

“Yeah, I’m the girl every guy wants to be friends with and never…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

She stepped out of my hold, and I flexed my fingers, trying to get rid of the need to pull her back to me. I put a piece of butterscotch candy in my mouth and crossed my arms over my chest.

“It’s late,” Madison said, putting her bottle of beer on the bar and grabbing her purse. “I’m going home.”

“I’ll walk you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Ouch. I wasn’t used to being rejected by a woman. It sucked. And it made me want her all the more. “Madison.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Steven.”

I winced a little when the door swung closed with a thud. Well, I handled that like a fucking pro, didn’t I? I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut? It pissed me off that Madison thought she wasn’t sexy—that she thought those dime-a-dozen bimbos I had sex with were somehow better than her. I wanted to prove to her, to show her that she was so much more than any other woman I’d ever met, but how did I do that without leading her on and breaking her heart in the process?