She enjoyed him on the phone. Startling, because she really wasn’t much of a phone person. Holly knew that. Their calls were brief and to the point. If either of them needed to really talk, they got together. It was great.
In fact, all of her friends knew about her phone habits. Only, Paul had made her change the rules. Being on the phone with him was easy. Not in the least simple, but easy.
Every time her phone rang, even at work, her heart sped. Whatever thoughts she’d had vanished and it was all she could do not to leap to answer the damn thing. The thing was, she wasn’t like this. Never had been. Even in the worst of her teen angst, she hadn’t been like the other girls who couldn’t seem to manage a single thought outside of their past, present or future boyfriends. Gwen hadn’t understood it then, and she sure as hell didn’t understand it now. It was weird. A little bit wonderful. But troubling, too.
“Hey, you look worried. Did you think I’d be late?”
She turned to look up at Paul and her smile came without a thought. So did the flutters plaguing her so often these days. “No, I was just thinking about stuff.”
“Dangerous occupation. It always gets me into trouble.”
“We’ve got just enough time to get popcorn and good seats.”
He glanced at his watch, some terribly expensive army-looking thing. “Half an hour.”
“I said good seats.” She took out two tickets from her pocket. “See? I knew you’d be here on time.”
“I was going to get those.”
“You may buy the popcorn, which I assure you will be more expensive. I love my popcorn.”
“A giant tub?”
“For me, yes. You may get what you like.”
He laughed. “A giant soda to go along?”
She handed the tickets over to the nice man at the door. “Nope. Medium, diet. With the popcorn, make sure they put the butter on halfway through, then again at the end. No skimping.”
He touched her back as he escorted her to the candy counter. Just a touch, something one friend would do with another friend, no biggie, and yet it was a biggie, it was giant because she reacted like…She reacted foolishly.
The popcorn saved her. Paul ordered, not even blinking at her request for diet soda. He got himself a large popcorn, no butter. Fool. He clearly didn’t understand movies the way she did.
Inside, the theater was already a quarter full, mostly with teenagers. A few older folks sat in the far corners, but she wanted dead center. So did everyone else, but they ended up with decent enough seats.
Once settled, purse and sweater were put aside, popcorn and napkins on her lap, cup in the holder. It was perfect and she sighed contentedly.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice showing much pleasure. “How many times have you seen these two?”
“Three and two, respectively. I only hope that the film stock is decent. This theater can be hit-and-miss.”
“I got them both on DVD, but I prefer seeing them here. They’re scarier.”
She nodded as she dug into the great bucket of buttery goodness. “I also love the coming attractions. It’s all good.”
“So is the book you gave me.”
“You still like it?”
“No. I like it more. It kept me up too late last night. And tomorrow, I’ve got a showing to go to, and I’m resenting it. I almost called to cancel, but it’s my company, my party. So the book will have to wait.”
“I understand. You should get an audiobook next time. Listen to it in traffic. You’ll get through it faster.”
“Good—” He stopped, when the lights dimmed. “Good,” he said again, but it was an entirely different sentence.
Gwen was terribly aware of him until fifteen minutes into Ju-on. By then, she was wrapped up in the story, anticipating the scary bits. She kept eating her popcorn, pausing just before something bad happened. That was the fun of multiple viewings—no danger of choking.
Then, about ten minutes later, Paul touched her hand. The underside. After a moment’s hesitation, he slipped his fingers between hers.
She hadn’t had anyone hold her hand in a movie in years. If anything, dates had put their arm around her to snuggle. This was infinitely sweeter. She felt like a teenager again—no, younger than that. There was an innocence to his move, a tiny step where nothing else would have worked.
Despite the gasps of fear that filled the theater, the ominous music, she looked at Paul to find him looking at her.
He smiled. Tossed some popcorn in his mouth, then turned back to the screen.
She wasn’t worried about the ending anymore. Not of the movie or of the night. He’d just told her she was safe.
And then with a jolt she realized that wasn’t true at all.
They’d held hands for the rest of the movie and for all of the second. Her fingers had been squeezed during the scariest bits and her palm tickled once for no reason at all. They’d gone to a nearby coffee shop after, where he’d had a piece of chocolate cake, which, she pointed out, negated his low-cal popcorn. He’d been unimpressed with her logic as he’d devoured every bite.
If she hadn’t known better, she would have called it a date. But it wasn’t. For heaven’s sake, they were just beginning their friendship and neither had spoken of anything more. Friendships were good. Lovely. And the hand-holding was nothing more than…what? Maybe her definition of friendship might need some refinement.
But it was late and she was foolish. Time to get ready for bed. She didn’t hurry, though. She went into the kitchen to put her breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, her thoughts turning to the end of their night.
As she’d predicted, he’d walked her to her car, but just as she’d unlocked her door, he’d gotten a phone call from a client. Voilà. No kissing awkwardness. A perfect ending all the way around.
She looked at her hand, still marveling that she’d been so giddy over such a simple thing. What was happening to her? Her maturity and good sense were going straight down the tubes, and she didn’t mind in the least.
Okay, so maybe it hadn’t been the absolute perfect ending to their evening. He could have thrown the phone into the bushes, pulled her into his arms and kissed her desperately, swearing his undying—
Uh, wait. That’s not at all what she’d wanted. Dramatic, yes, but it would have freaked her out so badly, she’d have run for the hills.
She didn’t want him that way. Not in real life. So she had fantasies. So she wasn’t immune to the romantic mythos. Yes, even levelheaded women who knew better could still dream about being in a fairy tale, right? That didn’t automatically knock off IQ points. It was just part of her girl DNA.
With that settled, she finished cleaning up the kitchen. It was past her bedtime and she didn’t do well on less than seven hours. She wished someone would invent a way to get a washed face and clean teeth without actually having to wash or brush. A knock on the door caught her just before her bedroom.
It was past midnight. Who could be knocking at this hour, unless it was Holly? Gwen ran to the door and opened it.
It wasn’t Holly.
“Good, you weren’t in bed yet. I’ve been standing out here for ten minutes worrying I’d wake you.”
“Paul.”
He gave her a wobbly smile. “Never mind. I’ll go.”
She grabbed his arm. “No, don’t be silly. I was just surprised, that’s all. Come on in.”
He followed her, stopping in the foyer. “The thing is, I didn’t really say good-night.”
“It’s okay. It was business. Something that clearly had to be taken care of.”
“Yeah, it did. But you left so suddenly. I wanted to tell you that I had a really great time.”
“Me, too—”
He stepped close, took her arm. “That’s not what I wanted to say. I mean, I had a great time, but I came here because I couldn’t just let it go.”
“Let what go? Did I do something wrong?”
“No. Nothing’s wrong except I didn’t want you to go. I wanted to kiss you good-night.”
Her eyes had locked on to his, mesmerized by the look of hunger there. It was the look she’d imagined in the dark of night, under the covers. Not something she ever expected to actually see. It felt…wrong. Heat filled her cheeks and she broke free from his grasp.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I thought…”
“It’s fine. I just wonder if it’s such a good idea to, you know—”
“No, no. I get it.” Paul took a step back, but he looked hurt. “My mistake.”
Insecurities she hadn’t felt for years stormed inside her. Could it be possible for them to be lovers? Everything in her experience said no, but just looking at him made her want so badly to be wrong. It didn’t happen this way. Beautiful women with unattractive men? A staple of TV sitcoms. Beautiful men with women like her? Not unless the women magically turned to swans. That wasn’t going to happen to her. Ever. But, oh, God, the way he looked at her.
He still stood frozen, stealing glances that only made him seem less sure. “What do you want?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know.”
“That kiss the other night. It didn’t feel like you hated it.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “You know I didn’t.”
“Then what? If you want me to leave, I’m gone.” He closed the distance between them, and lifted her face to his. “But if you want me to stay…”
“I don’t understand this.”
“Don’t try,” he whispered as he stole her breath with a gentle kiss. Then his hands went to her waist, pulling her tight. The kiss changed, leaving no room for misinterpretation.
Gwen’s body reacted as if he’d awakened her from a deep sleep. She felt everything so sharply. His chest pressing her breasts, his stomach and thighs against her and most especially the hardening length of his cock.
What was she doing, kissing him back? Sucking on his thrusting tongue, letting herself moan with awakening pleasure? This was wrong in every way. She was smarter than this. Paul was not hers, not for her, not remotely the kind of man who should make her moan outside of a dream.
She pushed against his chest but it was clear she didn’t mean it. His coming here, his wanting her had caught her off guard, that’s all. It had been forever since someone had been so eager, so determined.
His mouth widened, his tongue probed then withdrew and it was as if they were dancing again, both knowing the steps as if they’d practiced a hundred times. His low moans matched hers in spirit if not in tone, and she found her hips thrusting in that same swaying rhythm.
He drew back, breaking contact, only to stare at her, his eyes dark in the muted light. He took her hands, put them around his neck, and he kissed her again.
Another shock ran through her as it hit her who she was kissing, but just as quickly, her brain turned off, at least the thinking parts. The feeling parts wanted all the attention. More of his hands rubbing her back, more of the taste of him, peppermint slightly on his tongue. She remembered his scent from the hotel bed and it sent urgent messages that made her nipples harden and her knees grow weak.
There was nothing arm’s length about this. This was everything she’d hoped for in her most secret heart. It had no chance of ending well, not in the long run, but for tonight? There was a chance.
“I want to make love to you,” he said, his lips so close to her own she could taste his breath. “I’d wanted to before, but nothing like tonight. When I watched you drive away, I couldn’t get it out of my head.”
“It’s crazy.”
“So what?”
“I…We…Damn,” she said, then she kissed him again, knowing the millisecond had passed when she could have sent him home.
The difficulty was keeping the momentum going. If she stopped for the slightest thing she knew she’d find a hundred reasons why she was out of her mind. Clearly, her only choice was to not stop.
She began by moving them closer to the living room. No bedroom, no bed. The couch was fine. Once there, she slipped her hands between them and began to unbutton her blouse. It wasn’t easy, but she managed to keep their lips together as she slipped the blouse off, as her hands went to the clasp of her bra.
To his credit, he seemed to understand the whole momentum thing. His hands got busy divesting himself of his shirt in the quickest way possible, then pants, although for that they had to coordinate and bend down as a team.
Dancing. It was all dancing, and she supplied her own music. A tango, of course. There should have been violins and guitars, but her heartbeat would do, that and the sound of breathing, of too-quick inhalations, long held desperate gasps.
Then it all came to a crashing halt.
“What?” he asked, but it sounded like a curse.
“I don’t have a condom.”
“I do.”
“Where?”
“Pocket.”
“Thank God.” She found his mouth and they dropped the final garments in their separate heaps. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing to wait while he found his pocket and the permission-giving condom, but worth it. He pulled her close again as he rose, laughing in triumph even as they continued to kiss.
“Don’t think,” he said, running his hand down her back so lightly she shivered. “Just feel.”
She let him carry her down to the couch, her thigh brushing against his erection. Of course once she was sitting and he stood right in front of her, she had a whole new perspective on things. First, she completely got it that Paul’s enthusiasm wasn’t intellectual. His erection was impressive. When she could tear her gaze away and look at his naked chest, shoulders, arms and then that face…all she could do was drop her head in her hands.
There was a thump, then his hands were on her knees. She peeked to find him kneeling. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s no good. You’re just too damn pretty.”
“You’re thinking again. That’s not allowed.”
She opened her mouth, but he stole her argument by easing her thighs apart.
“Because you’re having a difficult time with this concept, I’m going to help you.”
Again she tried, but he stopped her with a look. Normally, glares wouldn’t shut her up, but his was accompanied by his hands lifting up her legs and slipping them on his shoulders.
“You’re allowed to make all the noise you like.” He leaned forward, adjusting her position and his. “But no words. In fact, I’m going to make sure you lose the power of speech altogether. So sit back and relax. Let me make you happy.”
Naturally, all she wanted was to argue. Until his fingers brushed up her thighs. When he got to the end of the road, he stroked her pussy gently. She closed her eyes as his breath warmed her delicate skin. Her head went back, her hands clutched the couch cushions. He won. So it wasn’t her life. She might as well enjoy herself.
The warm breath on the very edge of her thighs narrowed and then it was lips. The tip of his tongue, licking, nipping.
A fingertip slid slightly inside her, moving slowly, just teasing her with the promise of things to come. He nibbled one thigh, then the other, increasing the pressure against her clit so slowly she had to thrust up against him.
He moaned at the movement, rewarding her by concentrating on the one spot with tiny circles.
The nibbles stopped. He used both thumbs to spread her open. She held her breath as he found her clit with the hardened tip of his tongue.
Gwen gasped and her hands moved to the back of his head, fingers running through his thick, dark hair. It was as silky as she’d imagined, but she couldn’t focus on him for long. Not while he was doing such incredible things to her.
It had always amazed her how men loved to do this. At least most of the men in her life. She’d never questioned her luck, just accepted it as a delightful bonus. Paul’s low moans, his careful attention, his expertise told her this was a treat for both of them.
She just wished she could touch more of him. That body of his called to her. There was so much to explore, so many perfect parts. God, to cup that ass.
He sucked her clit between his lips. Sucked hard. It was an incredible sensation, one that made her cry out, clutch his hair. Straining now, feeling the magic start deep in her body. There was nothing else now but this, needing to come.
He captured her nub between his teeth and flicked the tip of his tongue right there, fast, like a hummingbird’s wings.
She let go of him to steady herself as her orgasm broke inside her, touching every muscle, making her see spots behind her closed lids.
She cried out, riding the wave, clutching his head between her thighs. Seconds went by in absolute bliss, then she shifted her butt, away from his tongue, her sensitivity off the scale.
When she opened her eyes, he was staring up at her, pleased with himself, with her. As she watched, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then stood.
His cock glistened, his excitement as clear in his eyes as it was in his jutting erection.
“Sit down,” she said.
He didn’t question her, which was a good thing. It was her turn to stand. The first thing she did was find the condom. It was on the floor next to her foot. She ripped it open, but didn’t put it on him, yet.
Still quivering, she settled before him. He looked unbelievable, sitting on her couch, his legs spread arrogantly wide, his hips thrusting, his chest heaving. But his gaze made her look away.
She brushed her hands up his legs and thighs until she was able to hold him with both hands. One around his shaft, the other cupping his balls. All she wanted now was to learn the feel of him. To stroke him, to lose herself in texture and heat.
His moan made her glance up. His head had gone back, his mouth slightly open. Her body relaxed as she played with him.
Soon, touching him wasn’t enough. She took his crown in her mouth, holding him for a long moment. Then she swirled her tongue.