Eric.
•
She’d made the bed, Eric noted when he got home that evening. The navy spread was stretched so tight he considered trying to bounce a quarter off it.
The bathroom was spotless and he wondered if she’d taken a shower before she left. Had she stood naked before the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door? Had she wrapped her supple, magnificently responsive body in one of his towels?
Had she called? He gave the answering machine next to the bed a skeptical glance.
Two messages. He tried to maintain nonchalance as he hit the playback button. The first message was an automated sales call, followed by his sister Clarice’s cheery voice.
“Hi, Uncle Eric. I’m just calling to remind you that Jeremy’s birthday is Sunday at noon at Mr. Mouse’s Pizzeria on Route One. He’s looking forward to beating you at Whack-A-Mole, so take your vitamins! Love ya!”
Eric lowered himself to the bed and sighed. His nephew’s birthday party had completely skipped his mind. Thank goodness for Clarice, the paragon of efficiency. He would have hated himself for disappointing the tow-headed five-year-old who called him “Unca Eric”.
Brunch with Lauren. Sunday.
Under normal circumstances, he would have thought nothing of bringing her to the party. She loved Jeremy. His sister and bother-in-law, Andy, had asked him more than once why he wasn’t romantically involved with his best friend.
Now, after last night, what would she think of lunch with Mr. Mouse?
Would it be the same between them? He’d wanted to take her someplace fancy and romantic and suggest that perhaps they cap off a fine meal with an afternoon of hot sex, not a roll in the ball pit and a half-melted slice of ice cream cake.
Of course, that assumed she’d still speak to him, and that Lawyer Boy hadn’t hunted him down by then and flattened him.
Bad Eric said to hell with it. Call the girl. Tell her you want her body.
Now. Under you, begging you to make her come. He had, after all, foolishly stopped at the drugstore on the way home to pick up a twelve pack of ribbed Trojans. He wondered if they’d disintegrate from old age before he even opened the box.
Chapter Six
Black teddy? Pink teddy? White lace thong and matching bra? White lace thong and no bra?
Lauren paced before her open underwear drawer, naked and damp from her second shower of the day. She’d never worried about what to wear around Eric before. He’d seen her in a bathing suit, a fur-hooded parka and ski mask during the last blizzard, and dressed as a vodka martini for Roxy’s last Halloween party. Why should her underwear, or lack thereof, matter so much tonight?
She fanned herself with her hand as she contemplated the array of discarded lingerie strewn on her bed. How desperate had she become?
The idea to show up at Eric’s again tonight, dressed for sex, had struck her halfway home from the office. She’d squirmed in her seat behind the wheel, hyper-aware of her body—the fullness between her legs, the sensitivity of her nipples—the moment she thought in earnest about a repeat performance of last night.
In the shower, she’d imagined Eric’s hands on her as she slid her soapy fingers over her breasts and down to her thighs. She’d conjured his taste, his scent and the feel of his cock buried deep inside her. She’d sighed his name when she brought herself to shuddering release as the massaging showerhead pulsed a steaming stream of water against her clit.
Her heart still beat erratically from the exertion, and her stomach fluttered with nerves. Should she call him first and tell him to be ready for her? How foolish would she feel if she went to his apartment and he wasn’t there? She’d call. She’d tell him they needed to talk and that she’d be over in half an hour, if she could decide what to wear under her clothes.
Her fingers shook as she dialed the phone and she toyed with the idea of flat-out telling him she was sitting on the edge of her bed wearing nothing but a blush at the thought of him touching her the way he had last night. Would he laugh, or think he’d gotten a wrong number?
Her breath caught when his answering machine picked up. “Eric—”
She managed to get his name out, then stuttered something unintelligible that ended with the clipped phrase, “Call me back, okay?”
Her cheeks burning, she threw herself back against her pillows. I’m not sixteen, for God’s sake! she berated herself. Why do I feel like this?
The doorbell spared her an embarrassing bout of soul-searching.
What if it was Eric? Her heart soared and plummeted by turns as she scrambled for her robe.
“Just a minute!” She took a deep breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach, cinched her silky blue bathrobe tight around her and sprinted for the door of her apartment.
A quick peek through the security lens dashed her hopes for a sizzling reunion with Eric. Mark stood in the hallway, his expression grim.
“I’m not here!” She didn’t care if he stayed out there and rotted. There was no way she was going to let him in.
“We need to talk!” he bellowed through the door.
“No, we don’t.”
The doorknob rattled and Lauren remembered the sappy little key-exchange ceremony they’d held on their eight-month anniversary.
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared daggers as the door swung open. At least she could get her key back. “You realize that’s the last time you’re using that key, don’t you?” she said.
“What’s going on with you and Reynolds?” Mark shoved the key in his front pocket and puffed up his massive chest in challenge.
“What do you mean?” How the heck did Mark know anything? Had Tara and Roxy spilled her lunchtime confessions to try to make him jealous?
“He told me you spent last night with him.”
Lauren’s whole body trembled at the reminder. “And?”
“That’s how you handle this? You run off and bang Reynolds?”
“Handle what, Mark? That I walked in on you with what’s-her-name-Sandy from your office? Can’t you get in trouble for ‘banging’ a paralegal?”
“I didn’t.” Mark’s poker face and rock steady gaze made him an excellent defense attorney. His supreme self-importance, however, made him a terrible liar.
“If you didn’t, the only reason you didn’t is because I walked in on you.”
Mark’s split-second hesitation validated Lauren’s words but didn’t shut down his argument. “The fact remains, I didn’t fuck her.”
“What’s the phrase? It goes to intent, your Honor.” Lauren almost choked on the words. Mark just rolled his eyes.
“So I’m guilty for something you think I would have done if I had the chance?”
“If the glove fits.”
Mark sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I stopped myself, Lauren. I sent Sandy home and I came here to apologize. I would have apologized sooner, but I couldn’t reach you. I guess because you couldn’t stop yourself from taking your revenge with Eric.”
Lauren bit back a sarcastic reply. She didn’t think of it as revenge anymore. She just shrugged.
“So you admit you had sex with him?”
Yes. Sex. Just sex. Why did she want to think of it as making love, as more than just a physical act? “Guilty as charged.” The words stung, though. She certainly felt guilty. “I slept with Eric and you know what? I can’t wait to do it again. In fact, I’m on my way to his apartment right now.”
Mark smirked even though his face had turned crimson with anger.
“In your bathrobe?”
“No. In Saran wrap. Now give me my key and go.”
“Come and get it.”
Her jaw dropped. Lauren thanked the stars she’d tossed Mark’s key into his mailbox as she left his apartment. She wouldn’t have trusted herself at this moment not to aim the little piece of metal at his heart.
Did he really think she’d stick her hand in his pocket to retrieve the key?
She took one menacing step f
orward, hoping to call his bluff, but a shadow in the hallway beyond her still open front door drew her attention.
Eric appeared behind Mark. “Am I interrupting something?”
Why hadn’t he heeded his own warnings? Eric began mentally beating himself up the moment he saw Mark’s hulking physique in Lauren’s doorway.
Lawyer Boy stood in her living room, facing Lauren who looked flushed and defiant and delicious in a satiny, powder blue bathrobe.
This was the scene Eric should have expected. Would the argument he’d heard on his way down the hallway end in the inevitable reconciliation?
He hurt me, but I still love him. Eric had heard that line more times than he cared to count—from women he’d dated and lost and from women like Lauren who saw him as nothing more than a shoulder to cry on, or a safe harbor to shelter them temporarily from the rough waters of a dysfunctional relationship.
Why should he think Lauren would be different?
“Yes, you’re interrupting.” Mark swung around, his face set in hard lines and much less doughy than it had seemed at Antonio’s. Behind him, Lauren seethed.
“No, you’re not! Eric, come in. Mark was just leaving, after he returns my key.”
Eric stared Mark down, not trusting his voice. Finally, Mark produced the key from his pocket and handed it to Eric. “I guess you’ll be needing this now.”
A dozen snappy comebacks ran through Eric’s mind, most of them lewd, so he kept his mouth shut. He stepped aside to allow Mark to pass by and stood absolutely still until his archrival disappeared around the bend in the corridor.
He held out the little silver key as he stepped over the threshold of Lauren’s apartment. “I think this is yours.”
A tight fist clenched in Lauren’s chest at the look in Eric’s eyes. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and close his hand around the key, urging him to keep it, but she realized that would seem foolish and immature. This wasn’t a boyfriend exchange, after all.
She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she picked the key out of his open palm.
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, though he didn’t sound completely sincere. “I didn’t mean to get in the way if you were trying to work things out.”
“Work things out? There’s nothing to work out between Mark and me.
I said it was over and I meant it.”
Eric nodded. Then he jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“I’m sorry about this morning, too. I didn’t want to just walk out like that.”
Lauren warmed. Beneath her robe, her nipples peaked. “I wish you’d stayed. I’m sorry, too, for not telling you what happened with Mark.”
“I don’t care what happened with Mark, as long as he’s gone.”
“We should talk, I guess…” Not that she wanted to. Liquid heat settled between her legs at the realization she was alone again with Eric.
“We don’t have to talk now,” he said in the same hopeful tone. “I’m sorry I used you.” Her breath caught on the confession. “I was wrong to—”
“Use me.” His mouth turned up in a half-grin. “I don’t mind that. I mind that you didn’t talk to me first.”
Lauren lowered her eyes. “You’d have calmed me down and talked me into trying to work things out with Mark.”
“No. I would have calmed you down and talked you into breaking up with him. And today, I wouldn’t feel so guilty about taking advantage of you.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did. A nice guy would have turned you down.”
“I guess you’re not such a nice guy, then.” She smiled. Her heart felt light and huge in her chest. The butterflies were back, hammering under her rib cage at the thought she might, very shortly, be with Eric again.
“Bad boys have all the fun,” he said with a shrug.
“Do you want to be bad again?” She punctuated her question by skimming her fingers along the soft neckline of her robe. The folds of satin parted slightly as she drew her finger down between her breasts.
“I never stopped being bad. I came here to ask you to spend the night with me, and I brought these.” He pulled a familiar blue box out of his jacket pocket.
“Only a dozen?” She pouted. “Good thing I bought my own box.”
Her breath caught at the sudden, feral look in his eyes. She’d never seen him look so sexy and never wanted him as much.
She bit her lower lip, turned on her heel and sauntered into her bedroom, dropping her robe as she went.
Chapter Seven
Eric didn’t need a second invitation to follow Lauren into the bedroom. He shed his jacket on the way and started unbuttoning his shirt.
His erection strained against his fly by the time he arrived in the cozy world of lilac and lace where Lauren slept. She stood next to the bed, her auburn hair curling seductively over one eye. A scrap of black lace dangled from her index finger.
“I was going to dress up for you,” she said, her voice low. Her eyes blazed with desire as she tossed the lingerie on the floor with a collection of other lacy contraptions. “But I couldn’t decide what you’d like best on me.”
“The only thing I like on you is me.” He crossed the room and gathered her naked body into his arms. She slid her hands under his open shirt and around his back. All his nerve endings stirred to attention as she pressed her breasts against his chest. The hard peaks of her nipples rubbed against him, exciting his skin to goose bumps. His cock pulsed and he thought he might come just from the delicious pressure as he cupped her ass and pulled her wet heat hard against his erection.
“I thought about you all day,” she said, her breath a feathery whisper as she dragged her nails up his back. “I was afraid you were mad at me.”
“Mad at myself for not staying this morning,” he murmured against her hair. The scent of her shampoo made him think of sultry tropical nights and sun-burnished skin.
“I’m sorry I—” “Shh.” He hushed her with a quick brush of his lips against hers.
“Too much talk.” The last thing he wanted to do right now was get into a mutual examination of their feelings. That would probably lead them right out of the bedroom and into the kitchen for coffee and cookies, which was not at all what he wanted right now. Eric needed release more than conversation, and by the urgency of Lauren’s movements as she thrust her hips against his, so did she. Yet, she wanted to talk.
“I tried to call you—”
Eric had never kissed a woman breathless before, but he gave it his best shot now. He claimed her mouth, plundering with his tongue. He nipped and sucked until they both broke away panting.
“On the bed.” He issued the command without thinking. He wanted her and he wasn’t going to wait any longer. The dark, commanding tone in his voice surprised him, and he liked it. That was something else he’d never done before, been the boss in the bedroom. Nice guys, after all, let their women call the shots during sex.
Lauren’s mouth dropped open in shock, but she obeyed with a hint of a smile. She crawled across the lavender bedspread and stretched out, writhing in anticipation as Eric circled the bed.
He threw his shirt aside and unbuttoned his jeans, thinking wicked thoughts. Should he make this a fantasy game? Play the master to her sex slave? Or should he just jump on her and claim her like he needed to, without complicated foreplay?
“Close your eyes.” The words came unbidden. Time to be bad.
She complied eagerly, her luscious lips curved in a satisfied smirk.
He bent over and kissed her, careful to keep from touching anything but her mouth. Then he moved his lips to the hollow of her throat, that sweet spot she liked so well on him. Finally he trailed kisses down between her breasts.
She moaned encouragement and when she reached up to cup his head to her breasts, he grabbed her wrist and trapped her hand above her head.
“Wait your turn,” he told her. She bit her lower li
p and Eric almost lost it. That sexy little move made him so hard he almost couldn’t stand it. To combat the urge to pounce on her like a fevered jungle cat, he took a deep, slow breath. He had work to do. “You were going to dress up for me tonight, to please me?”
“Yes.” The answer came in a fluttery sigh.
“And last night, you took off your underwear so you’d be ready for me.”
“Yes.”
“I like that. No. I love that. Just thinking about you standing on my doorstep with your panties in your purse, hot and wet for me, had me hard all day long.”
She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut tight. Her little pink tongue slid over her lips in anticipation.
“Are you ready for me now?”
“Yes!”
He placed one hand on her stomach, spreading his fingers wide so the tip of his thumb dipped into her navel. Beneath his hand, her muscles tensed. He brushed the tips of his fingers lightly over her skin and smiled as goose bumps rose in the wake of his touch.
One at a time, he licked her nipples and blew a cool stream of air over each one just to see the pink skin of her areolas pucker and pebble.
Gently, he spread her thighs and dipped his fingers into the moisture that coated her inner folds.
“Hmm. You are ready.”
“Eric!” A nervous giggle accompanied her cry of frustration and her eyelids fluttered.
“Don’t peek! Keep your eyes closed tight and tell me what you think I’m doing.”
“What?”
“What am I doing? Where am I? You narrate as I get ready to take you. Each time you’re right, I’ll reward you.” Her sharp intake of breath froze him. Had he gone too far? He didn’t want to scare her. He just wanted to play and to show her she’d released the beast within, one who was never going to act like a puppy dog again.
He let out his breath in relief when she grinned. “What happens if I’m wrong?”
“I’ll…” He wanted to say “punish you”, but again he feared her reaction. This was Lauren, one of the good girls. How would she react if he threatened to spank her?
The Rebound Guy Page 4