by Kinsley Gibb
One more and all that was left was the black eight ball. Easy peasy. She’d done it a million times.
She leaned into position, being careful to line up her shot. Just like her daddy taught her, she inhaled, pulling the pool cue back, the movement nice and easy. As she was about to exhale and follow through, an eyelash fell into her eye and she jerked, blinking hard to clear the sting. The pool cue, already in motion, misfired and sent the cue ball off course, slamming into the black eight ball. Anabelle watched in horrified silence as the black eight ball rolled with unerring accuracy straight into the corner pocked with a resounding clunk.
Son of a bitch.
Chapter 6
Son of a bitch.
He’d won.
He’d been certain he was done for, she’d been fierce in her desire to win. That she’d reverted to cheating because she didn’t want to lose was ego busting but he preferred to think she was passionate about her charity rather than not want to pay him a forfeit.
He snuck a glance at her and almost laughed at the horror on her beautiful face.
Yep. Ego busting.
True, it was a crappy way to lose and if there hadn’t been a forfeit at stake, one he wanted badly, he’d have commiserated with her. Instead, he had a hard time keeping a goofy grin off his face.
Yep. Losing sucked, no doubt about it, but winning with a possibility of seeing more of Anabelle…priceless and he’d take any win, any way.
“Good game.” She stuck her hand out to shake his hand. He grinned because the lines of her body and the scowl on her face were the antithesis of her actions.
Good sportsmanship his ass.
He took her small hand in his and she pumped once before she stalked away to put the cues back on the wall rack. She looked ready to break a pool stick over her knee yet she lined the cues, spun each so the brand name lined up front and center, bless her little OCD heart.
Who knew his little Anabelle was so competitive. His smile widened at the thought of that single mindedness in bed. He whistled tunelessly and chuckled at the glare she sent his way. He winked and in turn, she bared her teeth, and stalked out without waiting for him to follow.
He did because nothing could stop him from following the sight of her luscious bottom. He sauntered behind at a slower pace and enjoyed the view. The night kept getting better and better.
The brisk clip of heels against the pavement reiterated the fact she wanted to get this night over with as soon as possible. An ornery part of him slowed his walk to half time pace. He could almost see the steam rise from her head.
“I’ll follow you home.”
“Not necessary,” she said, almost snarling and he tried not to smile.
“There is the small matter of payment.”
“Really? What kind of forfeit do you plan to collect?”
“A small token but we’ll discuss it when I see you home. I promised Bow Tie, remember?”
She looked ready to argue but stopped when she saw how serious he was. Smart girl got in her little white Prius while he hurried to his truck.
Ten minutes later they pulled up to her house and parked in the driveway. He studied the family friendly neighborhood filled with small to medium sized houses. Oak trees lined the street while blossom-loaded crepe myrtles dotted the manicured yards. It looked like something out of a sitcom where everyone was well versed in everyone else’s business and had monthly progressive dinners.
She slammed her door and faced him over the roof. “You’ve done your duty and seen me home.”
“I’ll see you in.” As hot as their kiss had gotten at the bar, he didn’t want curious eyes on them when he collected his forfeit.
She gave him a squinty look but kept quiet, heading to her front door. He followed, noticing the solar lights she’d installed along the walk. Her front porch was well lit without deep shadows for intruders to hide. He nodded, satisfied. Force of habit he supposed with two sisters and three nieces, he always scanned for proper safety measures.
She opened the door and he followed her inside. A small lamp had been left on and she tossed her purse and keys onto a silver tray on the side table. She turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest.
Nope she wasn’t happy with him.
“Ok, let’s get on with it.”
He raised an eyebrow at her word choice and she flushed. She kicked off her heels, the clatter loud on the reclaimed wood floors.
“How was your date with Bow Tie?”
“Heath?” She seemed surprised by the question, as if she’d already forgotten her date.
He nodded, please the guy hadn’t made a stronger impression. He hadn’t wanted to mention the competition but he needed her to relax. Her body language screamed defense, a far cry from the woman who’d scorched him earlier. He wanted that woman back.
She shrugged. “Fine.”
“Plan on seeing him again?”
“Maybe. I’ve got plans for him.”
He rocked back on his heels and bit back the urge to growl. “Tell me he’s not your choice for hot and sweaty sex?”
She blushed at the reminder of her outburst but didn’t deny it.
“What about me?”
“What about you?” He didn’t like the blasé tone she used as if he wasn’t on her radar at all.
“Try me on for size.”
She gasped and he tried not to wince. It wasn’t his best line but the thought of her doing Bow Tie made him sick. “Why have sex with a virtual stranger when I’m available. I’m safe. No diseases. No awkwardness. I could be your sexual tutor to dirty, wild sex.”
She looked horrified and Derek couldn’t stand it. She looked like she’d discovered something she’d rather not. He felt like all the progress he’d made tonight was slipping by.
Anabelle opened her mouth, “Umm…”
Derek didn’t think, all he knew was he couldn’t let her turn him down. He covered her mouth with his and swallowed her rejection. He thrust his tongue deep, backing her against her door, and swallowed her gasp of surprise, grateful there was no pool stick in the way.
Anabelle could no longer think clearly, her blood pounded through her body, making it hard to breath. His big body crushed her against the door and his mouth devoured hers. A hard ridge pressed against her and she knew she’d find his mark the next day because of his fierce grip on her hips. The pressure from his thighs widened her stance as his hips found its home between her thighs. An answering heat that burned from the very heart of her welcomed him. The long length of him pressed against her soft belly and she shuddered, the feeling foreign yet decadent. While he demanded, she surrendered, tangling her legs along his. Her body melted with desire.
The black jersey of her dress and the denim of his jeans stopped her from feeling him skin on skin and she hated it. She wanted to feel his body pressed against hers. Wanted his heat. Wanted his long, hard length rub against her.
She moaned.
Hot and sensitive, her body was in an almost painful state. She needed relief. Her nipples yearned for his attention, the tips bullet hard and engorged. As if he knew what she wanted, his hands moved up slowly from her hips, along her waist before moving, praise God, to cup her breast. She hissed her pleasure.
He kissed her as if he wanted to inhale her. She arched into the kiss and let him. He tugged on her nipples, strummed, and tortured them while his tongue slid against hers, making it hard to concentrate. The raised panel at her back didn’t bother her, not when a hot male covered her, inhaled her. She turned her head, gasping for much needed air, while he moved south along her cheek, edging down her neck.
She gasped at the sting of his love bite. He sucked, laved and soothed her while she groaned. The core of her dripped with need, she felt hollow, as if she was desperate to be filled.
This wasn’t how she’d envisioned the night ending.
It was too much yet not enough.
His wicked tongue snaked its way to her breasts while his palms lifted them, p
lumped them for his pleasure. The dress separated them still. She wanted to scream in frustration.
When he’d covered her mouth, she’d been caught off guard because she’d been prepared to keep things between them professional. But now she didn’t know why she kept fighting herself. He didn’t need protection from her, he’d instigated this kiss. So there would be no awkward pitying glances from him. Judging from his body’s reaction, he was all for exploring a relationship.
Try him on for size? Yes, please.
Derek covered her mouth with his. His tongue stroked along the seam and wicked thoughts of naked bodies and cotton sheets and slow moving fans filled her mind.
She was wanted. Desired.
A man existed who saw her as sexy.
For a long time she’d felt sexless, almost invisible to the opposite sex yet with Derek it was different. He made her feel wanted, and in turn, it made her want to forget responsibilities and conventions and simply embrace the pleasure of being a woman.
Would that be so wrong?
He could cure for her drought. He was someone safe to explore with. Derek was right in that while Heath was a nice guy, she didn’t want him. Not like she wanted Derek. The person she wanted raw, uninhibited sex with was Derek, not Heath.
Almost as if her brain had fixed itself onto sex with Derek, the thought of sex with another didn’t seem right. There was nothing more to consider, she had no choice but to work Derek out of her system.
The spinster in her needed Derek to release her inner slut. She didn’t want to die never knowing a man’s desire. So far, the sum of her sexual experience was a man who never truly desired her, never truly wanted her.
The concept of sexual pleasure with another was unknown. Solo sex had been the only guarantee of an orgasm. As far as she was concerned, a male induced orgasm was a fictitious experience created to sell movies and books.
It was a lie.
An impossibility.
Or was it?
She wanted to believe in it. Wanted to believe the fantasy of ecstasy in a man’s arms, his weight, his heat as it surrounded her.
She pulled back and looked into his heavy lidded gaze. The sound of their breathing was rough, choppy in the silent room.
“Yes,” she said, sweeping her tongue across her swollen lips.
“Yes?” His gaze was savage, as he stared down at her like he wanted to believe she’d agreed but wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.
“We have a deal.” She wanted to experience passion and if sex with him was one tenth the pleasure kissing was, she’d be well satisfied.
“Finally.” He grinned. For a moment he looked young which made her uneasy. Thoughts of the gossip tugged at her.
“We need a few rules though.”
“What kind of rules?” He looked wary. “I’m the one with experience in this matter so I should be the one making the rules here.”
“I’m not negating the fact you have more experience. I’m talking about implementing a time frame.”
“Is that really necessary? Why can’t it continue until we decide otherwise?”
“Not a good idea.”
“According to you, maybe.”
She shrugged. “You may be the tutor in this exchange of knowledge, but if you don’t agree to the time limit, there is no deal.”
“Dammit, woman. A month isn’t long.”
“Well, you’re the expert so you should be able to work with that.”
He didn’t look happy. He looked fierce, like he wanted to cart her away but he must have seen an answering stubbornness in her gaze, so he controlled himself. “Fine. But I reserve the right to try to change your mind.”
“Try if you’d like, but it won’t happen.”
“Okay but tomorrow night isn’t good. The girls will be over for the festival and a sleepover. Dylan is picking them up early Saturday morning so come over for lunch.” He tipped her chin up to meet her gaze. The look in his eyes was hot. “If we only have a month, I’m making the most of it and I going to make a few demands of my own and you’re going to comply. Got it?”
Her knees felt weak but she nodded.
Yes, please.
Chapter 7
The shrieks of children laughing filled the air. The sight of them as they frolicked in the water fountain almost made Claire smile. Almost. There had been a time when she would have laughed out loud at the antics. But that had been a very long time ago. As it stood now, she was aware she frightened most people.
The youngsters’ parents hovered nearby, they watched over their progeny, directed energetic antics so no one would get hurt. Their happy faces were filled with pride and so like a snapshot from another period of time.
A knot filled Claire’s stomach. There wasn’t a day that went by she didn’t think about Henry and their life together.
The young mother sat, basking in familial love, secure in the arms of her husband, seemingly oblivious to the capriciousness of life. In an instant it could change and Claire wondered if the girl truly appreciated the moment.
Claire wanted to scream a warning. Attachment led to hell, to a never-ending pain that was paralyzing.
Distance was a better choice, a safe choice.
She felt her breathing escalate. It sounded choppy, irregular. The doctor said it was anxiety so Claire fiddled with her bracelet and concentrated on her breathing. Slow. Steady. She hated these weak moments, which had come more frequently of late, ever since her episode earlier this year.
She fingered the charm Anabelle had given her for Mother’s Day two years ago. The silver Eiffel tower charm sparkled in the sun and she smiled. Anabelle was a good girl. Sweet. Quiet. Unassuming. Claire was proud of her and if Anabelle had a bruised quality to her, it was mostly Claire’s fault. Her and that bastard Anabelle had married.
But it was mainly her fault. She hadn’t given the girl enough affection so she’d been an easy target. After Henry’s death Claire had retracted into her own world and hadn’t been capable of showing love, she’d gone into autopilot to cope with the stress of life as a single parent without a college education nor a decent life insurance policy. She’d lived in survival mode for so long her little girl thought she didn’t care. After a while it had been easier to go on as she’d been rather than change.
But the mild heart attack earlier this year had forced her to reflect, that and Lorraine’s strong-arm tactics of dragging her on this European holiday where she had nothing but time to think. Today Claire had begged off from another excursion. She knew her sister and brother-in-law meant well but she needed space.
No two sisters could be more different. Where Lorraine didn’t know a stranger, her happy outgoing personality made friends easily, Claire preferred quiet solitude with occasional bouts of socialization but only if it served a purpose. The Ladies League was her outlet, her way to make an impact. If people saw her as controlling, she was okay with it.
Anabelle was almost forty and Claire was worried about her only child. Worried she wouldn’t find someone to share her life. What if the damage Claire had done was irreparable? The disaster with Gavin had been a terrible blow and if Anabelle had been on the quiet side before, the last few years the girl seemed to disappear into herself. Despite stating she was happy, Claire knew things weren’t as they seemed. Anabelle was content, not happy. The design studio kept Anabelle busy but was no substitute for a family.
Claire wasn’t certain how she’d be as a grandmother especially since she hadn’t been the most loving mother, but she didn’t want Anabelle to miss out on motherhood. If ever there was a girl that was destined to be a mom, it was Anabelle.
So the girl needed to get going. Celebrities thought nothing of starting families well into their forties, but that was Hollywood where they had nannies to run after the little monsters when they were wound up like demented energizer bunnies on crack. Prime baby making years were slipping past Anabelle. Until pretty soon it would be too late. And before long Anabelle would bombard Faceb
ook with photos of her sixteen cats like Claire’s friend, Louise’s spinster daughter.
Claire shuddered.
That kind of life wasn’t for Anabelle. Claire didn’t believe in happily ever after. The whole thing was a hoax. The intense euphoria and the heart wrenching despair, it was too much.
Twenty-five years later and the ache hadn’t disappeared. It wasn’t as sharp, but it was still there. She didn’t want that for her daughter. As horrible of a mother she’d been, she would at least protect her daughter from feeling like her inside were being shredded. Anabelle would be saved from the stress of how to support your little girl or deliver Christmas or pay for braces. Anabelle was independent and could support herself and any child she had. If Anabelle used her head instead of her heart, she could marry for companionship and escape the roller coaster love created. She could have a life different from Claires.
Thankfully Claire had always been creative so she’d gone to night school and gotten her certificate in design. The years had been kind and she’d survived but she wanted more for Anabelle. So far, Anabelle had achieved all that Claire had wanted for her only child.
The cell phone vibrated, alerting her to a new text message. What Claire read made her eyes narrow in annoyance. Eugenia Kurland, a busybody from the league, was out of her mind. No way would Anabelle be playing tonsil hockey in a bar with a younger man. She texted back, her fingers moved as fast as a mild case of arthritis allowed.
A flash of white caught her eye and she looked over. An older gentleman sat at the next table. The smile he sent was so familiar, she started and glanced around, certain he hadn’t directed his smile at her. His smile widened as if he found her actions amusing.
Jerk.
She glared. Really, because the guy had a full head of hair, he shouldn’t think of himself as an Adonis. She’d been warned about the men like him on the prowl. They targeted widows looking for romance, eager to seduce the life savings away from a gullible…read, lonely female.
She turned her back to him. Who had the time for that nonsense?