“I’m sorry, Vanessa,” he says in a sympathetic but firm tone. “I’m actually on a date with Leary. Wouldn’t be quite as romantic with you joining us, now would it?”

I know we only agreed to be fuck buddies, but damn . . . it feels nice having him validate me to this stunning and youthful beauty.

Vanessa’s face flames, her eyes going round with surprise. “A date?”

“A date,” Reeve affirms and then shoots me a quick smile. I smile back—big—and take a delicate sip of my wine, now enjoying the show.

“But you don’t date,” she says in confusion, and I have to wonder how close she is to him to know that.

“I do now,” he says with a grin, and then he points to me. “I mean, look at her. How could I not date that?”

My chest actually puffs out a little.

Vanessa’s face flames redder, and I think it’s from anger, not embarrassment. Reeve just stares at her, waiting for her to take the hint to leave. She stares back at him, and I might just have to take matters into my own hands and throw her out.

Finally, her shoulders sag and she says, “Okay. I guess I’ll get going. Enjoy your dinner.”

“’Bye,” Reeve says, and Vanessa doesn’t bother looking at me as she walks out of the kitchen. A moment later I hear his door open and close.

Reeve starts cutting the chicken up, a knowing smile on his face. I’m desperate for him to tell me about her, but he’s clearly not going to do so willingly.

Finally, I prompt, “So . . . she seems nice.”

“She is,” he agrees.

“Beautiful, too.”

“Yeah, sure . . . I guess.”

“Young,” I prod.

“I think she’s twenty.”

I have to bite down on my tongue not to gnash my teeth in frustration. “Big, big boobs,” I goad him.

“I guess. Didn’t really pay attention.”

Aha! He didn’t look at her boobs. Vindication.

No, wait. All men look at boobs.

“Oh, give me a fucking break,” I snap at Reeve, and his eyes slide to mine with a mischievous grin. “All men look at boobs. So tell me the deal . . . is she a fuck buddy, too?”

Reeve sets the knife down, calmly steps over to the sink, and washes his hands. He takes a towel and dries them, then says to me in a slightly taunting voice, “Well, well, well. Who would have thought it? My little fuck buddy, Leary Michaels, is jealous.”

“Am not,” I deny.

“Are, too,” he says in a silky voice as he sets the towel down and starts rounding the kitchen island.

“You’re demented,” I sneer at him, but my heart rate accelerates as he clears the corner and steps up to me.

“Hmm,” is all he says as he turns the stool I’m sitting on toward him. His hands go to my knees, and he pries my legs apart so he can step in closer. “I’m finding I like this jealousy.”

“I’m not jealous,” I snap at him. “Just curious.”

“This jealousy sort of turns me on,” he murmurs, completely ignoring my denials. He bends down to nip at my lower lip, and I can’t help the tiny moan that escapes. My hands come up to grab his shoulders.

“I. Am. Not. Jealous.”

“So jealous,” he says with a grin; then his hands come to my hips, and he lifts me up and deposits me on the counter. “Lie down.”

“What?” He places his hand on my chest and pushes me backward on the island.

When my back hits the cold granite, his hands are already working at my clothes. My pumps hit the floor, and I send a brief prayer up that Mr. Chico Taco doesn’t eat my Stuart Weitzmans. I stare at his recessed lighting as I feel my garters unsnapped and my stockings pulled off. Then he’s bunching up my skirt and pulling my panties down.

“Black lace,” he murmurs, but I don’t even bother looking up. I know what he’s going to do, and I’m going to just lie back and enjoy it. “Did you wear that for me?”

“No,” I deny, but he just laughs softly.

“Liar.”

I smile to myself and my eyes flutter shut when I feel his hands spreading my legs wider. His fingertips probe at my pussy, and I feel hot breath on me, then a tiny flutter on my clit from his tongue.

“Ooh,” I murmur and then sigh contentedly.

“I wanted to do this in my bedroom,” Reeve says, then gives me a long swipe of his tongue, causing my hips to buck. “I wanted to use a G-spot stimulator on you while I ate you out.”

“Oh God,” I moan at the thought of him and his toys.

“Guess I’ll just have to use my fingers. The old-fashioned way,” he says before plunging his tongue inside me. He pumps and swivels and swirls it, his nose pressed up against my clit. His face is buried in deep, and my hands automatically come to his head.

Reeve pulls back, takes a deep breath, and then pushes two fingers inside me. He curls them, hits the right spot, and a bolt of pleasure spears through me. He starts massaging me from the inside with his fingers while his mouth comes down to cover my clit.

Then in a series of circles, flutters, and lashings, he starts to work me over hard. My hips gyrate on their own, completely ruled and possessed by the lust he’s stirring up and the insanely terrible need I now have to come.

I grip his head hard and mutter, “Too bad Vanessa didn’t walk in on this.”

Reeve laughs against my pussy, and even the vibrations of his humor are fueling me higher. His mouth pulls away from me, and I give a soft whine of disappointment.

“Hey,” Reeve says softly, his fingers still deep inside me.

My eyes pop open and I lift my head from the counter. He’s peering up at me in between my legs.

“She’s not a fuck buddy,” he says. “Never has been and never will be.”

Warmth spreads through my chest, and I’m oddly touched that he would take the time to ease my worry. I smile at him, hoping he sees my gratitude and that he understands that maybe his answer is more important to me than even I give it credit for.

He smiles back.

“Thank you,” I tell him softly.

“Anytime,” he murmurs.

I squeeze my fingers on his skull and lay my head back down, closing my eyes. “Now finish me off, baby.”

“With pleasure,” he says, and then his mouth is back on me.

He doesn’t fuck around, either. He goes right in for the kill, doing something with his tongue that batters at me, causes my orgasm to furl inward for a brief moment, then pulse outward until my entire back arches off the counter and I’m coming, coming, coming.

“So damn beautiful,” Reeve mutters as my body shakes and spasms, and his fingers pump inside me a few more times.

Then he’s gone and I hear the rustle of his pants, the clink of his belt buckle, and the sound of foil being ripped.

My eyes open just as Reeve’s hands are back at my hips, pulling me off the counter. I’m loose and weak as a baby after that orgasm, so I just let Reeve do all the work as he turns me away from him and bends me over one of the kitchen stools.

He props my ass up, tilts it, and pulls back on my hips. I feel his cock rubbing between my legs from behind, and a low growl coming out of his chest.

“Your ass is so beautiful, Leary,” he whispers as one hand comes up to caress my skin. He pushes the head of his cock into me at the same time he turns his hand, dragging an index finger down between my ass cheeks. His finger lightly touches and prods at my opening, and my breath catches.

“Ever had your ass fucked, Leary?”

I shake my head violently back and forth, not because the idea is abhorrent to me but because, God help me, his finger there is entirely too sinful and erotic, and I yearn for him to push me.

“Maybe I will one day,” he murmurs, stroking his finger lightly over me. I push back a little and he gives a hoarse chuckle. “Yeah, I think you’ll like it, but we’ll start with some toys first.”

The idea frightens yet titillates me, so I won’t rule it out.

His hand moves away, back to grasp my hips, and he pushes into me in a slow, fluid stroke, straight to the hilt.

“Ah,” I moan as his fingers dig into my flesh.