“Bullshit. Everyone has a fantasy.”

The broad line of his shoulders tenses. “Not me.”

I rise to my elbow, leaning my weight on it as I scowl down at him. “You won’t tell me. Unbelievable.” I poke his pecs. It’s like poking a rock. “You don’t trust me.”

At that, Gray’s eyes narrow. “I trust you more than anyone in the world.”

His tone is hard, defensive. He looks so stubborn—his jaw set as if bracing for a fight—that I have to clamp down on my frustration. I won’t force him. Even if it hurts that I confided to him when he refuses to do the same.

Taking a breath, I rest my hand on his arm. “I know it’s hard, but I won’t laugh. I promise.”

Gray refuses to meet my eyes, biting his lip instead as his cheeks pink. “I don’t think you’ll laugh. I just… This particular fantasy, if you can call it that, doesn’t work if I have to ask for it. It’s stupid. I know that. But it’s the truth.” There’s a plea in his eyes. He knows he’s being unfair, yet he’s willing me to understand.

With a sigh I rest my head on my pillow and stare up at him. “Fine. If you can’t ask for it, then I’ll have to figure it out on my own.”

Though his shoulders are still tense, a teasing light comes into his blue eyes. “Give it your best shot, Special Sauce.”

“Let’s see.” It’s something that embarrasses Gray. My options are limited. Gray isn’t shy about sex. I run my finger down the little valley along the center of his chest. His nipples tighten in response, and I grin. “Is it you with another man?”

Gray chuffs out a laugh, but he’s relaxing. “No. Although I can see that interests you.”

“Well…” My finger circles the tiny nub of his nipple. “It would be kind of hot to see.”

His breath hitches, and he cants his hips. His cock, now hard and seeking, presses against my side. “That sounds more like your fantasy than mine, Mac.” A small smile pulls at his mouth as he rests his head on his hand and leans in. “I feel so cheap and used.”

“Mmm…poor baby.” Softly I press a kiss to the crook of his neck where his pulse beats. I love the way his body reacts with a shiver of pleasure and the feel of his big hand smoothing along my hip, as though touching me gives him pleasure as well. Everything is warm and lazy, and that low, sweet ache for him builds. I let it grow slowly, just touching him for now, enjoying the anticipation of having him again.

My voice is husky when I whisper, “Don’t worry, Cupcake, I’d be there to hold your hand.”

Gray’s chuckle is a rumble in his broad chest. His hand slips back up my hip and around to my butt. He rests it there as his head lowers so that we’re nose to nose. “Nice try, Mac. But no chance. I don’t want to share you.”

“Even if it’s with another girl?” I tease.

His nostrils flare on an indrawn breath, his gorgeous lips curving upwards just a bit. “That image has definite possibilities. But, no, I don’t want another girl in our bed either.”

I love that he says our bed and that his fingers twine with mine. His other hand slowly slides down my ass to my thigh, lifting it with languid slowness and resting it on his hip. Spreading me. The tips of his fingers skim along the opening of my sex, such a light, fleeting touch that I might have imagined it. I clench in response.

Slightly distracted, my voice goes breathy. “So having a bunch of girls in your bed at once isn’t your secret fantasy?”

His smile remains but his eyes dim with wariness. And because I know him so well, I understand that look. I can’t help it; my body tenses.

“Right,” I say with false levity. “You’ve already done that.” Of course he has. He’s told me how wild a sex life he’s had.

I want to turn away. Close my eyes and not think about Gray and all the women he’s been with.

But he knows me too. His hand cups my face with such care that my heart squeezes. “Hey. I don’t like that expression. Makes me worry that you’re thinking the wrong things.”

I try to smile but fail. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t be jealous—”

“No, you shouldn’t,” he agrees softly, his thumb caressing my cheek.

“I can’t help it. I think of all the things you’ve done and…” I look away and bite my lip to stem the flow of stupidity leaving my mouth. But I’ve gone this far. Feeling ill, I tell him the rest. “What if being just with me gets boring to you?”

“Boring?” Gray rasps. I hazard a glance and find him staring at me, his brows raised, his eyes wide and shocked. “You’d think I’d rather have a bed full of chicks than be with you?”

God. I sound so insecure when he voices my fears. “I don’t want to think that way,” I murmur.

He rests his forehead against mine, his breath a warm caress against my lips. “Ah, Mac. You have it so wrong.”

I resist the urge to squirm. Almost absently, his hand drifts over my sex again. Nothing more, not seeking, but as if he can’t help exploring. I arch my back, moving into his touch, heat licking over my skin.

But his focus is on my face. “You want to know what it’s like?” he asks. “All those things that I did?”

“Not really,” I mumble.

“Well, I’m telling you. I promise never to lie to you, so you know what I say is true.” His voice is solemn, his expression earnest. “It was a novelty act. Half the time I was outside of myself, snickering at the fact that I was doing those things. The other half was awkward, elbows going where they shouldn’t, impersonal desperation, weird shit like girls obviously faking that they’re into each other because they think that’s what I wanted to see.” He clears his throat. “Yeah. Not hot. Not like it is with you.”