Three Days (The Private Club #1)(15)
Author: J.S. Cooper

“Staying awake?”

“Because of all the late nights we have here at the club.” Greyson chuckled.

“I see.”

“I’m not being serious. It’s about staying alert.”

“Why are you telling me that?”

“Because I don’t want you to fail.”

“Sure.”

“Can I lie down next to you?”

“Don’t you have anything else to do?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“Because you interest me.”

“What about me interests you? My br**sts?” I was being sarcastic and I didn’t care. I was annoyed at how excited I felt inside now that that he had joined me in the room.

“I’d be lying if I said that your br**sts weren’t as sweet as they were juicy,” he drawled, and I felt a tingling in my stomach.

“So this test is just about me staying awake?”

“In so many words.” He lay back and rested his head on the pillow next to mine. “How are you liking it here, Meg?”

“It’s fine.”

“What about your roommate? Her name is Nancy, right?” he spoke casually, and my heart stopped beating.

“Yeah, she’s fine too.”

“She seems a little wide-eyed and bushy-tailed,” he continued. “Almost too wide-eyed and innocent.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said breathlessly as I felt his thigh resting against mine.

“I don’t know. I get the feeling she has an agenda.”

“I wouldn’t have a clue.”

“Things aren’t always as they seem, Meg.” His voice was low. “Sometimes, the wolf is the wolf and sometimes he isn’t.”

I changed the subject. “So, you went to college with Brandon, right?”

“Yeah, we were at Harvard together. It seems like a million years ago now.”

“So you knew Maria?”

“Maria?” He repeated her name sharply.

“Yeah, Maria. His college girlfriend.”

“Brandon didn’t have a girlfriend in college named Maria.”

“Maybe she was his fiancée?”

“Brandon didn’t have a fiancée in college named Maria.” He rolled over to face me. “Where did you hear that?”

“Nowhere. I must have gotten confused.” I ran my hands down his chest. “What was Brandon’s fiancée’s name?”

“You’re obsessed with him.” His fingers grabbed ahold of mine. “Let’s not talk about him.”

“Have you ever been engaged?” I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of our heartbeats echoing in the room as our fingers played with each other.

“Me?” His voice sounded dry. “No. I’ve never been engaged.”

“Oh, wow. Why not?”

“Never been interested in going down that road.”

“Never?” I opened my eyes and turned towards him.

“I’m not the sort of guy that gets married.”

“Why not?”

“I’m just not. What about you? Ever been married or engaged?”

“No.” I paused. “How old are you again?”

“Forty-two.”

“Forty-two.” My voice rose as I remembered. “I thought once men hit their forties, they wanted to get married.”

“You know a lot of men in their forties?”

“No.” I stared into his eyes and smiled. “I don’t.”

“You’re not missing anything.”

“I never thought I was.”

“Just some of the best sex of your life.”

“What?” My eyes widened and he laughed.

“When you’re with a man like me, women start to wonder why they ever dated younger.”

“I thought younger men had more energy. They can keep it up longer.”

“You’ve obviously never been with an older man.”

“And you’ve obviously been with lots of younger women who have given you a big head.”

“I don’t date younger women.”

“You mean you only sleep with them?”

“No.” His lips curled up and his fingers traced my jawline. “I try to stay away from women who are under thirty.”

“Oh?” I was disappointed. “Why?”

“Too much drama. Too many dreams. Too much hope.”

“You prefer them old and jaded.”

“Thirty isn’t old.” He laughed. “Only someone in their twenties would say that.”

“So you prefer women in their thirties then?”

“No,” he chuckled, and his fingers fell to my neck and then collarbone. “Thirties, forties, Fifties… It’s all the same to me.”

“You would date a woman in her fifties?” I couldn’t keep the shock out of my voice.

“I’m forty-two, Meg. Fifty isn’t that much older than me. Much like men, women only get better as they age.”

“I don’t believe you would date a woman in her fifties.” I shook my head and then stilled as his fingers found my br**sts and gently kneaded them. “An older woman wouldn’t put up with your crap.”

“What crap?” He leaned in closer to me and whispered against my lips. “Older women actually prefer my honesty and my lovemaking skills.”

“I don’t care,” I muttered, closing my eyes to ignore the jealous feelings filling me up. I didn’t want to think about him with older women. I felt stupid that I was getting jealous. I didn’t know him. He could do what he wanted with whom he wanted. “Let me guess, you would also date someone in her eighties. I imagine a woman that age would have every skill you could think of. Maybe she even invented some of the positions we talk about today.”

“There’s no need to be catty, Meg. Weren’t you just complaining about ageism earlier today?”

“Whatever,” I moaned, and my eyes flew open as I felt his lips on mine, kissing me softly.

His tongue entered my mouth and I sucked on it gently. I’d show him that just because I was in my twenties, it didn’t mean that I didn’t have a few tricks up my sleeve. I’d show him that I could give just as good as I got. My hands flew to his hair and then to his back as we kissed. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he groaned against me.

“You don’t act like a woman who doesn’t want to be kissed and touched.” He pulled away from me and quickly pulled my top off. “In fact, you seem like you quite enjoy it.”