Free Mr. Virile and the Girl Next Door by Gwen Hayes Page A

that was different. He barely knew her then. It was testosterone, not love. Right?
    “I don’t know how to explain it to someone who’s never felt it. It’s just that the world feels right when she’s with you. And you can tell her your secrets and your fears and you know it’s safe. You don’t have to hide anymore.”
    Dante Martino. Dane had never shared his past with anyone before, and he’d told Holly the one thing that could undo everything he had going for him now. And it had never occurred to him that she could use it against him because he knew she wouldn’t. He trusted her.
    He didn’t have to hide with her. He didn’t even have to hide from himself when he was with her.
    Dane swallowed hard and his stomach pitched even lower. He thought of her voice, her freckles, the way she made him laugh. He thought of her heat, the way he wanted to hold her when he was spent. Jesus. How could he have not seen what was happening to him?
    And the one thing he didn’t think of, what he hadn’t thought of once, was getting “back out there.” Because he didn’t want out there. Not anymore. He wanted to come inside from the cold, finally.
    What if it was too late?
    …
    Holly didn’t know how long the doorbell had been ringing because, well, brunch was getting out of hand. She wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes and set down her Mimosa. “Oh my God, you guys. We’ve had three bottles of champagne and haven’t even mentioned the reading yet. We are the worst book club ever.”
    She hefted herself off the floor and did a mental headcount. Everyone was here, so who was at her door?
    Thank God for her friends. They’d gotten her through the last two weeks in one piece. Mostly. She’d let herself fall for the biggest player of them all. The Kingpin. She deserved the beating her heart had been taking, but that didn’t mean it hurt less. At least she wasn’t in love.
    He’d been calling. Texting. Doing and saying all the right things, but the right things were second nature to men like Dane. He was, as he had told her, a gifted actor. He didn’t want to settle down. He didn’t want a relationship with her or anyone else. The attention he’d been giving her was to salve his wounded ego because she had said goodbye first.
    It had been the hardest, smartest thing she’d ever done. Of course, sleeping with him had been the stupidest.
    The seven drunk women, piled all over her living room like a debauched literary harem, were still laughing when Holly opened the door and the bottom of her world fell out, leaving her moorless in heady waters.
    “Dane?” she asked.
    The man in front of her didn’t look like the Dane Martin she’d come to know and lust over. Gone were his contacts and immaculate suit. He even seemed…vulnerable…in his ill-fitting khaki pants and collared shirt. His eyes, hidden behind huge black rimmed glasses, were pensive, and he’d done something to his hair that made it look as if his mother combed it for him before he left the house.
    If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought that maybe he kept all his superpowers in his expensive wardrobe and without it he was a normal human being. Except, of course, she’d seen him naked and knew for a fact that wasn’t true. His superpowers were kept in his suit all right…his birthday suit.
    As he stood before her, adorably rumpled and exposed, her heart lost the endless battle it had been waging and she surrendered, oddly triumphant, in the lost war against falling in love with him. Dante Martino, her very own endearing Clark Kent. A fantasy come to life more than even the sex-god she’d made love to. This man, this beautiful, currently awkward, man was everything she ever dreamed about.
    But what did he want?
    Dane gulped as though he were swallowing around a jawbreaker of emotion. He was nervous. The idea of that made her want to scoop him to her breasts and pledge her undying love. “It’s a bad time, isn’t it?” he asked.
    She