She approached the bar with Rachel and ordered a chardonnay.
“Nope,” the bartender, a twenty-something guy with spiky hair and arms completely covered in tattoos, said. “Beer or mixed drinks.”
“We’ll take two beers, whatever you have on tap,” Rachel said.
Shoot. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the taste of beer; she just stuck with wine because it had a lower calorie content. But you’re done with counting calories, she reminded herself.
Rachel took her drink, handed one to Liz, and chugged. She’d never seen Rachel chug. Of course, she’d never seen Rachel wear a leather skirt with spiked heels either. She was serious about finding fun. Liz decided just to hold her drink. She’d be the designated driver.
“Should we dance?” Liz asked. It was mostly women on the dance floor. A lot of guys stood around the dance floor, watching the women, except for one very talented hip-hop dancer.
“Let’s sit,” Rachel said. “These heels are killing me just from the walk over.”
They found a white chair and matching ottoman and took those seats next to a crowded sofa with two men in suits and two women in short skirts and halter tops. Liz tapped her foot in time to the music.
“How ya doing?” Rachel asked loudly, pitching her voice over the music.
“Fine,” Liz answered, but Rachel was looking past her to the two men in suits. The women next to them had left. Geez, not those guys. They looked so geeky. And who wore a suit to a club?
The tall, wiry one stood and crossed to Rachel. His friend, a chubby blond guy with his hair parted neatly to the side, eagerly joined them.
“Buy you a drink?” Tall Guy asked Rachel.
“Sure!” Rachel agreed cheerfully. “Two more beers.”
Liz shook her head. “None for me.”
Tall Guy left to get the beer.
“I’m Wes,” his friend said, sticking out his hand for Liz to shake.
“Liz,” she answered, shaking his hand. “This is Rachel.”
Rachel smiled and gave her an exaggerated wink.
I will not be having “fun” with Wes tonight, she telepathically messaged to Rachel with a scorching look.
“Haven’t seen you lovely ladies here before,” Wes said with an eager smile.
“First time,” Rachel sang.
“Twenty-One virgins.” Wes waggled his eyebrows. “We’ll have to show you the ropes.”
Liz stuck her finger down her throat when Wes turned his back to her. Rachel giggled.
Tall Guy returned with a beer for Rachel, which she began to chug. Liz reached out and stopped her. “Slow down.” The glass was already half empty.
“Liquid courage,” Rachel whispered. She turned to Tall Guy. “I’m Rachel.”
“Mark,” he answered. “Really nice to meet you, Rachel.”
Rachel smiled, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
Liz stiffened in shock. Rachel never, ever kissed someone she’d just met.
Wes turned to her. “Looks like they hit it off. How about you and I—”
“I have a boyfriend.” The pretend one I pull out whenever I need him.
He nodded and rocked back on his heels. “So, what do you do?”
“I’m a teacher.”
“Accountant. We’re both accountants.” He gestured to Mark. “Work at the same firm, Angelo, Drake, and Valardi. Heard of them?”
“No.”
“Well, they’re pretty well known.”
An awkward silence fell. Except for the ear-rupturing relentless club music.
They looked over at their friends. Rachel and Mark had moved into some tongue action.
“Maybe we could dance,” Liz said loudly.
Rachel and Mark broke apart. “Sure,” Rachel said, leading Mark onto the dance floor. Liz and Wes followed. Liz did a little shaking shoulder move. The thrumming, pulsing beat was too fast for her usual dance moves. Wes did the Running Man in front of her, his blond hair bouncing up and down.
She glanced to her side, where Rachel was dirty dancing with Mark, their pelvises grinding together.
Liz snapped her attention in the general direction of Wes, focusing on a spot over his head.
Rachel was as good as her word. She’d said she was going to have fun with someone, and she did. After they finished grinding on the dance floor, she and Mark headed for a dark corner to make out. Memories of high school dances flashed back to Liz, the many times she got to witness other couples making out while she hoped someone would seek her out.
Wes was not going to be that someone.
By midnight, Liz had had it. Wes had tired of her an hour before and sought out a more agreeable woman. Her ears were ringing from the loud music, her feet were tired, and she couldn’t take one more minute of watching Rachel swapping spit with Mark.
Liz spoke sharply. “Rachel, it’s time to go.”
Slowly, Rachel pulled away. Her cheeks were flushed with lust and alcohol, and she didn’t take her eyes off Mark. “I’m not ready.”
“Well, I’m driving,” Liz said, “and we have to go. It’s late.”
“I could drive you,” Mark offered.
“He could drive me,” Rachel said, turning to look at Liz, her eyes glassy.
No way was she leaving Rachel like this, drunk and ready to jump the first accountant she met. “Tonight’s my turn to drive.”
“Okay,” Rachel said. She gave Mark a quick kiss on the cheek. “Call me.” She hung onto Liz’s arm as Liz worked her way through the densely packed bodies in the hazy smoke left over from the fog machine. She took a breath of clean, cool night air when they hit the sidewalk. The small city felt absolutely silent compared to the nonstop club music still pumping out onto the sidewalk.
Rachel headed down the sidewalk in the wrong direction, and Liz ran to stop her. “This way,” she said, turning her friend around. “So you had fun tonight, huh?”
“Yup. I sure did.”
They walked to the parking lot. Liz enjoyed the silence while Rachel just smiled goofily and walked none too steadily toward the car. They got in, and Liz pulled out of the lot.
“I can’t close my eyes,” Rachel said. “The car keeps spinning.”
Oh, no. She’s going to barf in my clean car. “Keep your eyes open.”
She headed back toward home. Rachel was quiet, looking out the window. After a minute, she said, “Do you think he’ll call me?”
“I do.”
Rachel giggled. “I forgot to give him my number.”
“He could just look you up.”
“I don’t know his last name. I don’t think he knows mine.” Rachel powered her window down and leaned her head out like a dog. “Universe, if it’s meant to be, give me a sign!”
“I know where he works,” Liz offered.
Rachel whipped her head around. “You do?” Her voice hit a high note of excitement.
“Angelo, Drake, and Valardi. It’s an accounting firm.”
Rachel pulled out her cell and Googled it. A moment later, she said, “Mark Valardi joined his wife Lee Angelo at the firm as a partner shortly after their marriage…” She leaned her head out the window. “That’s a sign! Thank you, Universe!”
Liz stopped at a red light and gave her friend a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry.”
Rachel smacked her forehead. “I have terrible taste in men.”
“To be fair, you weren’t thinking straight the way you were chugging beers.”
“Thanks, Liz. You’re an awesome friend. Pull over. I’m gonna hurl.”
Liz pulled over and put the hazard lights on. Rachel leaped out of the car, ran to some bushes, and tossed her cookies. Liz shook her head. So much for Clubbing Liz and Rachel. It just wasn’t their scene.
After she’d tucked Rachel into bed at her apartment above the bookstore, she found herself too wound up to go home. Without giving herself a chance to think too hard, she made the short drive to Ryan’s house. He’d said she could come over. She pull
ed into his driveway and checked her cell—1:02 a.m. Maybe she should have called. She stood at his front door and called his cell. One, two, three rings…
“O’Hare,” he answered sleepily.
“It’s Liz. I’m here.”
“Be right down.”
A few moments later, he opened the front door, wearing low-slung jeans and nothing else. This was way better than accountant Wes. All that golden tanned skin, sculpted muscles, the way he filled out those jeans. Heat pooled through her body.
“Hello,” he said warmly. His eyes lit with anticipation.
This was it. Time for her to show her interest. Rachel said all she had to do was get naked.
“I’m not into accountants,” she announced, stepping inside the foyer and unbuttoning her shirt.
“Good,” he said before his mouth crashed down over hers. She heard the door slam shut, and then his hands took over for her, unbuttoning her shirt while she roamed her hands over all the delicious warm skin of his chest. Bonus points to Rachel. Naked works!
His mouth trailed hot kisses down her neck, and she realized with a start that her shirt was gone. She had a moment of panic. The light was on. Her breasts were small. She couldn’t compare to all the women he’d—
“Damn,” he muttered, gazing at her pink lace pushup bra. She sent a silent thank you to the saleswoman at a certain Secret shop she’d visited just in case she got the nerve to show up here tonight. In place of her usual practical white cotton bra and silk no-line panties, she wore the pink bra with a tiny matching panty that showed a little more cheek than she was used to, but the saleswoman had assured her was “totally the rage.”
He slid her bra straps down, his mouth raining hot kisses from her collarbone down to her breasts while his hand made short work of the bra, flicking open the front clasp and sliding it off her. He sucked a pebbled nipple into his mouth, and her brain blissfully shut down. She closed her eyes as an answering tug in her womb nearly undid her. She threaded her fingers through his caramel brown hair as he moved to the other breast, then rose to reclaim her mouth.
She returned the kiss with wild abandon, throwing her arms around his neck, plastering her body against his. His hands were everywhere, sliding down her back, caressing her bottom, her hips, her breasts. He broke the kiss only to scoop her up in his arms.
A flash of panic went through her from the last humiliating time he’d carried her. She smacked his shoulder frantically. “Put me down!”
He did as she asked. He stared at her, his hazel eyes dark with passion, searching her face. She stared back, feeling her cheeks burn, unable to explain herself without reminding them both of The Humiliation.
He reached out with one hand and gently cupped her face. Slowly, he dipped his head to place a tender kiss on her temple, her jaw, the sensitive spot under her ear. She let out a soft sigh and turned her head, meeting his lips again. He took his time now, a slow tender exploration, his hands stroking up and down her back.
She got bolder, stroking her tongue against his, letting her hands roam across his chest, his flat nipples, sliding lower to the top of his jeans. Feeling bold, she toyed with the waistband.
“Upstairs,” he said in a husky whisper.
She began to climb the steps.
He walked with her, his large hand cupped low on her bottom, his fingers reaching underneath with a gentle pressure, making already warm areas of her anatomy scorching hot. Her body answered with a pulsing throb. They reached the bedroom. He turned on the bedside lamp, and before she could say lights out, he was kissing her again, slowly guiding her to his bed.
Without warning, he scooped her up.
“Don’t!” But then he was already setting her down on the soft mattress. He lay over her, resting his weight on his arms. She took in the hard angles of his face, the dark stubble that always made him look a little dangerous, his eyes at half mast, clouded with desire, and something shifted within her. She’d done that. Somehow she’d made this gorgeous sexy man desire her.
Feeling more confident, she opened her arms to him and lost herself in another hot, deep kiss as his hand ran up the inside of her thigh. She opened for him, and he massaged her center through her pants. She arched against his hand, little moans escaping from her throat. He undid her pants, easing the zipper down, sliding his hand over the lace swatch of damp fabric. He pulled away to quickly slide off her pants, and she wriggled her hips to help get out of them. He swatted a nearly bare butt cheek. “Damn, woman.”
“They’re totally the rage,” she informed him before grabbing the blanket to cover up. She slid off the panties under the covers. She’d never looked good in a bikini, being more of a pear shape with average legs. The handful of men she’d been with—okay, three men—had done everything they needed to do under the covers.
His mouth brushed hers. “Don’t hide. You’re beautiful.”
“I’m not hiding.” She avoided his eyes. “I’m just cold.”
He dropped his jeans and briefs on the floor. Her mouth went dry. Holy cocktails is right. What she’d only guessed at through his jeans was…amazing and…a little intimidating. She tightened her hold on the blanket.
“You look hot to me.” He snatched the blanket away and took its place, covering her with the warmth of his body. He kissed her then, and just as she was starting to get used to the feel of his hard body against hers, he levered himself down, kissing his way down her body.
This was a man who took his time. Kissing, tasting, nipping. She was writhing underneath him by the time he reached her center, placing a hot kiss there and then lingering. She fisted her hands in his hair, wanting to pull him away, knowing this hadn’t worked for her the one time Craig had tried it.
“No,” she told him, her voice not entirely steady.
He lifted his head to look at her. “Give me one minute, and you’ll be begging for more.”
Her whole body shivered at that arrogant promise. Not waiting for her answer, he lowered his head, his mouth working magic. Now she clutched at his hair to keep him there, but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t going anywhere. His hands cupped her bare bottom, lifting her right where he wanted her.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she chanted as the pressure built unbearably. She screamed as she found her release, shuddering with pleasure.
“Liz Garner is a screamer,” he said, sounding both pleased and a little cocky.
She lay there, limp and satisfied. “I’ve never screamed like that in my life.”
She heard a rustle from the nightstand, and then he was back, entering her slowly, letting her adjust to his size. She gasped.
He stilled. “You okay?”
“It’s been a while,” she admitted.
“You feel incredible. Wrap your legs around me.”
She did. He took his time until she couldn’t take the slow torture anymore and grabbed his butt to finish the deal. Lord, how he filled her. He groaned and lowered his mouth to her ear. “I want to make you scream again.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. It’s too soon.”
He grasped her hips, angling her up, and began a slow rhythm. Within an embarrassingly short amount of time, she felt the tension coil within her, until she was on the edge, panting, grasping at him, urging him to pump faster, to give her the release she needed.
He ignored her frantic hands and held her to his rhythm.
“Ryan, please,” she begged.
“Open your eyes,” he demanded.
She did. His were hot, intense.
He increased the rhythm, but not enough, not nearly enough. Liz was feeling crazed on the knife edge of release.
He slipped a hand between them and stroked the hard nub at her center. She screamed as she came, her body pulsing around him. He thrust quickly now, taking his own release as more waves of pleasure coursed through her until finally he exploded inside her.
He sagged forward, breathing hard. Liz held him in a state of total awe, feeling his heart pounding against h
er. It had never been like that for her before. Sex had always been a quick, wham-bam thing that she now realized was all about her ex-boyfriends’ pleasure and not hers. Ryan made it about her. She felt giddy with pure joy and found herself smiling. Liz decided right then and there that she’d take Mr. Right Now if it meant she could have mind-blowing sex.
Ryan kissed her hair, then rolled to his back. She curled up against him, resting her head on his chest.
“I’m glad you came over,” he said, the sound reverberating through his chest.
She smiled. “Me too.” Satisfied and sleepy, she fell asleep listening to the solid thump of his heart.
She woke at the crack of dawn and slipped out of bed. She’d never had casual sex and wanted desperately to avoid any awkward scene that ended with him shooing her out the door. Leaving now would be easier for both of them. Not to mention the fact that she didn’t want any nosy neighbors to see her doing the walk of shame to her car.
She took one more peek at Ryan. He was sprawled on his back, his chest moving up and down in deep sleep, his long lashes fanning his cheek. She found herself leaning toward him. He was so beautiful. He stirred a little in his sleep. She jumped back. Then she straightened the blanket where she’d slept, dressed quickly, and slipped into the hallway.
Feeling guilty for sneaking away, she pulled a small notepad from her purse, wrote a quick note, and left it on the nightstand.
~ ~ ~
Ryan woke feeling satisfied, a feeling he hadn’t had in a long time. He smiled, remembering Liz’s screaming orgasms from last night, even better than the moans he’d planned to coax out of her. He reached over for her, hoping for round two. The bed was empty. He propped up on one elbow. “Liz?”
No answer. And she’d made the bed on her side. He turned and spied a note folded neatly on his nightstand. He unfolded it. Two words: Thank you.
A damn thank you note? Thoroughly pissed, he crumpled it up and headed for the shower. Fine, he was a booty call. He’d had those before, but he’d thought things were different with Liz. The sex had been freaking fantastic. Her hot little body was so responsive, her reactions so honest. Some of the women he’d been with turned sex into performance art.
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