Hence, my ending up here, in this beautiful mess.
I’d ended up thanking my dad for it, hating myself for needing to thank him for anything, but I really needed the suite. And how did he top things off? By reminding me to tell Zane what we’d discussed.
If I call him cold and you haven’t talked to him, how would that make me look?
Right. Because God forbid I did anything to make the infamous Dizzy Bowman look bad.
At that point, I’d gotten the hell out of there, collected Coop from the bar, and dragged him up here for a please-help-me-salvage-my-night fuck.
Good thing that turned out so well.
Might as well start laughing. I did that, and Zane just watched me lose it for a minute, his eyes narrowing.
“The fuck is so funny?”
“Nothing,” I half-snorted. “Was just thinking how this night panned out exactly like I planned it.”
“Right,” he said. “You’d be in there getting drilled by Coop right now, that it?”
“Please,” I said, popping another jellybean in my mouth. “Coop would never last this long.”
Chapter Five
Zane
Jesus. How did Maggie put that smile on her face?
She was so fucking pretty when she laughed, it made the vise around my chest squeeze tighter at the thought of the shit that useless fuck of a father said to her.
“Babe,” I said, “maybe you should slow down on the jellybeans.” I watched as she shoveled a handful of them into her mouth. She seemed a little blitzed from the champagne, probably more than she realized. The sugar rush wasn’t gonna help.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m not driving anywhere.” Then she laughed, her soft, husky laugh, and I fucking melted.
Christ, but I was whipped for this girl.
I pushed the room service tray aside and moved to sit on the edge of the low table, facing her, leaning my elbows on my knees to look her straight in the eye.
“Don’t punish yourself because your old man’s an asshole,” I told her. “You’re better than that.”
Her eyes locked on mine, and she sobered for a second. “Yeah,” she said softly. Then she sat up, dropped the rest of the jellybeans back in the martini glass and stared at her hand. She sat there with her elbows on her knees, facing me, picking at the jellybean colors that had stained her palm. “You know if I don’t laugh about it though, it just hurts?” She looked up at me with those gorgeous gray eyes, and I knew for fucking sure I could murder that man. Sleep like a baby afterward knowing he’d never hurt her again.
“I know, babe.”
“He really, actually thinks I’m useless,” she said, her voice wavering a little. “I swear he thinks you guys just keep me around as some kind of party favor. You know, like, ‘Hey, I didn’t have time to pick up some chicks tonight, here, just pass Maggie around.’” She shook her head and laughed, but there was no humor in it. “What an ass.”
“Not your fault,” I told her. “That’s his fault, Maggs. His failing. Nothing you can do about it. Just how he views women.”
Her eyes met mine, and there was a world of hurt in them. “Guess you would know,” she whispered. She stared at me, and I stared right back. Then her gray eyes went wide. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. “That came out all wrong…”
But we both knew it didn’t.
“It’s okay, Maggie,” I said, my voice soft. “I’m gonna let you have that one, because you’re right. I don’t give a fuck about women. The only woman I’ve ever kissed and actually gave a shit about was you.”
She stared at me, shaking her head a little. “That’s pathetic.”
“It is what it is. And you know why?”
“Why?” she asked warily.
I leaned toward her, like we were sharing a secret. A secret that meant fucking everything. “Because we’re friends.”
Her mouth curled in the whisper of a smile. “Yeah,” she said. “We are.”
“We are. And you know what else?”
“What else?” she asked, her tone still cautious.
“I think we should get married.”
It took about five minutes for Maggie to stop laughing.
I sat back in my seat, ate a few jellybeans, even flipped through one of her shitty magazines.
Then I’d had enough. She was still laughing her ass off, sprawled back on her lounge chair, tears shining at the corners of her eyes. Clearly, she’d keep right on going if I let her.
I tossed the magazine on the table and stalked over.
“Oh, God, thanks,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes as I stood over her. “I really needed a good laugh.”
I leaned down, set my hands on the arms of her chair, swung a leg over and lowered myself on top of her.
“What are you doing?” She started to jackknife up, but I was on her too fast. I got my knees on either side of her and dropped my hips to hers. She fell back against the cushion and lay staring up at me. The feel of her, soft and warm beneath me, delicate and strong, sent a rush of blood straight to my dick. I was already getting hard again. It was starting to piss me off.
“I’m asking you to marry me. You could take it fucking seriously.”
And maybe I wasn’t thinking straight, with all the blood hammering to my cock, but I never said shit I didn’t mean.
Maggie knew that much.
I lowered myself down on my elbows, my chest to hers. I could feel her breathing, feel the swell of her tits, her nipples hardening against me through the plush robe as she squirmed.
“Okaaay,” she said, like I’d gone stone cold crazy. “Do you have to do it right on top of me?”
“Yup. Got you to stop laughing. Looking good so far.”
“What’s looking good?” she asked cautiously.
“The odds you’re gonna see
