He’d seen it again tonight when they’d arrived at the rink. She’d seemed unsure of herself. Although she’d teased him, it was more just for show than her being herself. Maybe it was just being around people she didn’t know. Hopefully, a little alcohol and music would get her to loosen up.
Within the hour, Tommy questioned all of his wishes. Deirdre was making friends with all the women and pretty much ignoring him. When he’d invited her, he’d hoped to be spending the night with her, not watching her have fun with other people.
Sean pushed another shot toward him. “You look like you need this more than I do.”
Tommy drank and allowed the slow burn to hit his stomach before taking a sip of beer. Then Sean slid another over.
“Trying to get me drunk?”
“Will that help keep you away from her?”
“Not a chance.”
Sean sighed.
“I don’t need you to watch out for me.”
“I remember what it was like with Nicole.”
Damn. He couldn’t believe Sean was bringing up a high school girlfriend. “Deirdre isn’t like Nikki.”
“You sure about that?”
“We were kids.”
“You were in love. Too bad she wasn’t. You were a mess when she left.”
“But I survived. I moved on. I’ll be fine.” The shots were hitting his system hard as he picked up his beer and headed toward the jukebox. He walked up behind Deirdre and wrapped his free arm around her waist. She stiffened in his arms, but he lowered his mouth and whispered in her ear, “Dance with me.”
Her stomach quivered under his palm and her breath quickened, but she shot a look over her shoulder. “Are you drunk?”
“Nah. Feeling good.”
She turned in his arm and he walked her backward to set his glass on the table. Then he was able to wrap both arms around her.
“Are you sure you don’t want to dance with the cute girl by the bar?”
“Huh? Who?” He looked over his shoulder and Lisa winked at him. Damn. “No. I, uh . . . dated Lisa.”
“Dated? The way she’s smiling and winking at you, it seems like it might’ve been more than a date.”
Fuck. He had no idea how to get out of this one. “Look, I’ve slept with women I’ve met at this bar. I’ve had fun, but it’s been nothing serious. Lisa is looking for more of the same.”
“And you’re not?”
He rubbed his hands down her back. “No. I’m definitely looking for something different.”
“If you say so.” She didn’t seem to believe what he’d said, but she cuddled up to him anyway.
“So I’ve been thinking.”
“What about?”
“This whole virgin thing.”
There was a hitch in her sway as they moved together.
“I’m not suggesting that we fuck. Unless you’re suddenly on board with that. But what about other stuff?”
“What other stuff?” she asked quietly.
He lowered his mouth to her ear again. “Touching.” His tongue swiped her earlobe. “Oral.”
Her breaths came quicker and he planted a kiss on her neck.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t know like you’re not sure if you want to? Or don’t know like you’re not sure you’ll enjoy it?” he asked, and then a horrible thought hit him. His feet stopped. “You have done other things, right?”
“Some.” She buried her face against his shoulder.
He stepped back and tilted her chin up to look into her eyes. No way could she be completely untouched. Who did that? “You’ve been going out with this Rory guy for a long time. Jimmy thought you were engaged. You must’ve done things with him. Touched each other . . .”
Her jaw clenched and the muscle beneath his fingers jumped. “I’ve been touched by men. I’ve certainly touched myself. But I’m not going to stand in the middle of a pub and discuss my sexual experience with you.”
The thought of her touching herself while thinking about him—or even better, while he watched—had his dick stiffening. He held in the sigh of relief that almost slipped.
“I’m just checking. I don’t know how to read you, and I’m afraid to make the wrong move and send you running away again.”
She stepped against him, setting the rhythm of their movement to the music once again. “As I recall, you’re the one who ran away last time.”
“After you pushed me.”
“I didn’t push you away as much as created a distance before things got out of hand.”
“They would’ve. I don’t want distance between us. I’m dying to touch you.” His hands molded to her hips and pressed her tight against him. “I want to taste you.”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s get out of here.” He knew she wasn’t going to jump into bed with him, but she had a point. They were in a bar with zero privacy. If they were alone, he could coax her to relax and maybe let him touch her. He suddenly felt like a horny teenager again, and it wasn’t bad.
Leaving his unfinished beer on the table, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door. He waved at Sean as they passed. Outside in the cool air, he inhaled a lungful and asked, “Do you know how to drive?”
“Yes.” But she looked really unsure.
He pressed the keys into her hand. “We’ll take side streets and you won’t have to worry about which side of the street you’re on.”
“Are you sure?”
He pointed to his car. “Trust me. You can’t do much damage to this thing.”
She went to the driver’s side and adjusted the seat for her shorter legs. As she started the engine, he plopped into the passenger seat and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I want to make out with you. Will you come home with me?”
Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
“We won’t do anything you don’t want. I just want to be alone with you.”
“To touch me and taste me.” Her voice was clipped and sharp, but had no bite.
“Come on, you know you like the idea.”
“I do. And as I’ve said, it’s not a good thing.”
“How can it be bad if it feels so good?”
She pulled away from the bar and he gave her directions to get them home. While she drove, eyes intent on the road in front of her, he toyed with her hair.
When they got to their block, she cursed. It sounded funny because it was so rare coming from her mouth. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t parallel park like this. It’s all backward.”
“Pull over. I’ll park.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk. But I don’t belong driving. I can park this thing with my eyes closed.”
She put the car in park and got out. Instead of getting in the passenger side, she stood on the curb. She really didn’t trust him not to crash. He’d show her. He straightened and slid the seat back so his knees wouldn’t touch the steering wheel. Then he executed a perfect parallel-park job.
When he stepped from the car, he asked, “Impressed?”
She answered, “I think you must be lying about how much you’ve had to drink, but I can’t figure out why.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you.” He stepped next to her and took her hand. “Come in with me?”
She rolled her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down.
“It’s your call,” he added quietly. “If you say no, I’m going to crawl into bed all alone, and stroke myself thinking about how much fun we could’ve had.”
She almost smiled, but her eyes darted away.
“What is it?”
She pulled away from him and crossed her arms. She swallowed and stared at her feet. He thought she planned to run across the street, but then her face raised and she looked him in the eye. “I’m afraid I’m not all that good at any of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve little experience and I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He wanted to laugh. Performance anxiety was holding her back? “I’ll tell you what I like. You tell me what you like. I don’t expect you to know anything.”
“And you’ll stop if I’m uncomfortable?”
“Absolutely.”
“All right then.” She dropped her arms.
Not quite the excitement he’d hoped for, but it was a yes. He led her around the back of the house to the basement stairs.
“Where are we going?”
“My room is in the basement.”
She stopped, grabbing his elbow. “I’m not spending the night.”
“I’ll walk you home.”
Then she nodded and they went to his room.
* * *
Deirdre didn’t know what she was doing, what she was getting herself into, but she forged ahead anyway. She’d enjoyed the way Tommy had touched her, and she was horny. She liked the press of his body against hers while they danced. His tongue on her ear and her neck made her want to touch him too.
He pulled her into the dark cellar and toward a room. He moved without turning on a light until they reached his bedroom. He lit the lamp near the bed and closed the door behind her as she stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.
“Don’t be nervous.”
“Who said I’m nervous?”
“You get snippy when you’re nervous,” he said with a smile.
Then his arms were around her and he was kissing her, making her forget that he was right. She had no idea how long they stood there kissing, but when he pulled away, there was no mistaking how hard he’d become. It was heady to know that he was reacting to her.
“Come to bed.”
She closed her eyes and let him pull her forward. Her nipples were hard and her panties damp and she wanted him to touch her everywhere to erase the ache in her. He pulled her down on top of him on the mattress and he was kissing her again.
They rolled and moved and his hands were in her hair and then skimming along the waistband of her jeans.
“I want to touch you.”
“Please.”
“Please, yes?”
“Yes.” The word came out on a heavily expelled breath because he had her panting at the thought of him touching her so intimately.
His lips met hers again as his hand snaked its way up her shirt and he lightly pinched her nipple. She arched up into his grasp. His thigh slid between hers and his weight held her down as he shifted and moved.
Licks of pleasure shot through her, and the denim between them was too much. She reached between them and unbuttoned her jeans in invitation. She felt his lips curve against the skin of her neck as he kissed her there. Lifting his body off hers and moving to the side, he made room for his arm between them and his hand slid into her panties.
Barely a stroke and she was ready to jump out of her skin. Feeling his strong, capable hand against her, his dexterous fingers moving along her slit, was so different from touching herself. She moved with him, trailing after his fingers if he pulled away. The orgasm was building. So close, yet out of reach.
She growled at him and dug her nails into his shoulder as she bucked her hips to find release.
He snickered. Had the freaking nerve to snicker at her. She clenched her jaw.
Then he pressed or pinched or something . . . and she was gone. Her thighs stiffened and she threw her head back. Jolts of pleasure covered every inch of her.
It took a few moments for her to realize that Tommy was holding her, caressing her, and murmuring into her hair. She swallowed and moved her hands to run her fingers through his short, dark hair.
When he pushed up off her and braced himself on his forearms, uncertainty shone in his eyes. “You good?”
“Deliciously good.” She licked her lips, unsure of how to proceed. Obviously that was all about her pleasure and he’d gotten nothing, the evidence of which still pressed rather hard against her thigh.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Lick your lips.” He closed his eyes as though he was having a difficult time.
She let her hands slide down his back to his waist and gripped the band on his jeans. “I want to do the same for you.”
His eyes popped open. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to. Being with someone so intimately shouldn’t be a selfish thing, you know?”
Chapter Eight
Tommy stared down into her big, beautiful blue eyes, and lost his fucking mind. She was so sweet and unsure of herself, and the last thing he wanted to do was pressure her into anything. But she was lying here practically glowing after her orgasm and offering him the same.
Before he could back off, her hands were working the button on his jeans. She fumbled to get her hand in because of the awkward angle with him on top. He rolled over. A stark look of rejection crossed her face but disappeared as soon as he shoved his jeans and underwear past his hips. Who the hell would refuse a hand job from her?
Her eyes widened when she looked at his dick. With a sharp intake of breath, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around him. Her first strokes were slow and tentative, her grip too loose. He wrapped his fingers over the top of hers and gave a squeeze to guide her.
With his other hand, he tilted her face toward him. “You don’t need to be gentle.”
Then he pulled her down to kiss him while they both jerked him off. Once she got a good rhythm going, he released her hand and palmed her tit through her T-shirt.
“Don’t,” she whispered against his lips. “I can’t do that many things at once. You’re distracting me.”
“Can’t have that.” He gave her nipple a pinch and then let go of her. “Play with my balls.”
She shifted to lower her body and give herself better access. Then he added, “Be gentle with those.”
Watching him from lowered eyelids, she stroked fast and cupped his balls. Never losing eye contact, he came all over his stomach.
Tommy reached to the nightstand for a tissue and handed one to Deirdre before cleaning himself. She stared as he tucked himself back into his jeans. Then he sat up and pulled her in for another kiss.
“I don’t know what made you think that you weren’t any good at this, but you’re wrong. You’re fucking hot, and I’d love the chance to do that again.”
Her lips curved, but her gaze shot away.
“Regrets?” he asked.
She shook her head, but didn’t speak. Standing, she straightened her clothes. He didn’t like where this was going. Never a good sign when a chick wouldn’t talk.
“What’s wrong?”
Now she did look at him. “Nothing. It’s a lot to take in. This”—she pointed between them and then at the bed—“was more than I expected. It’s not like I’ve never experienced an orgasm, but . . . I need to go home.”
He stood beside her and took her hand. “I’ll walk you.”
“I’m capable of walking across the street.”
“I said I’d walk you home, and I will.” Holding her hand, he led her back through the dark basement and into the yard. They walked down the gangway and toward the street. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes.”
“You and Rory never had sex.”
“That’s not a question.”
He pulled her to stop at the curb. “I know. I’m leading up to it. Have you fooled around?”
“How do you mean?”
“Like what we just did. Anything more than kissing?”
“Some.”
Her way of not giving details felt suspicious. He couldn’t imagine being with a girl for years and not fucking her. Hell, he’d wanted to take Deirdre to bed within hours of their first date.
“Was that all then?”
The question pulled him from his thoughts. She didn’t want to talk about this. At least not yet, so he’d give her space. The important thing was she wasn’t pulling away from him. “Yeah.”
They crossed the street, and at her do
or, he gave her a peck on the lips. “I had a great time tonight. Thanks for coming to my game.”
“And no thanks for the hand job?”
“I’m very grateful for that. But I guess if we’re exchanging thanks, you owe me one too.”
Her smile lit her face. “That I do.” She went on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you for the fabulous orgasm, Thomas O’Malley.”
Against her lips, he said, “My pleasure.”
Because it had been.
* * *
Deirdre woke completely relaxed and refreshed. Her three thirty wake-up didn’t feel nearly as horrible as it did most days and she stretched in bed. Then the thought of why she felt so good hit her with a mix of giddy satisfaction and a wallop of guilt. She sat up and called Rory, only to get his voice mail again. She left a quick message for him to call so they could catch up.
Then she did her best to put Rory, and the guilt that went along with him, out of her mind. He told her to have fun and last night had been a lot of fun, but none of that erased the feeling of cheating on her boyfriend.
When she arrived at the bakery, Linda was at the big table decorating a wedding cake. After Deirdre hung up her jacket, she stood beside Linda and watched. Yes, there were cakes to set out and rolls to pile up, but Deirdre loved to watch Linda make this kind of magic.
“You want to try?” she asked.
“What?”
Linda pointed to another layer, already covered in white fondant. “Do you want to decorate?”
“What if I mess it up?”
Linda lifted a shoulder. “Then I’ll peel off the fondant and do it again. There’s no way to learn by watching. You have to do.” She lifted her chin at the cake as if to say, Get to work.
Deirdre lifted the pastry bag and considered the design Linda had created. Setting the cake on the pedestal, Deirdre tried to replicate it. Immediately, she knew it was wrong, the icing too thick. Without showing it to Linda, she scraped it off and began again. The gentle swirls were better this time, but not smooth enough, so again, she scraped. On her third try, the ivory swirl curled exactly the way she’d wanted it to and she placed the small pearls along the line.
When she looked up, Linda had paused in her own work. “Good job. You’re determined to get it right and I respect that. You didn’t wait for approval or correction, but followed your gut. As long as you’re honest, your gut will take care of you every time.”
Through Your Eyes Page 10