by Q. T. Ruby
I continue to nibble along his collarbone, his neck, and his ear. Oh that soap and shaving cream scent . . .
Twice when he tries to touch me, I pull back and shake my head. “Not yet,” I whisper.
I head south again, kissing through the smattering of soft chest hair where his heart thumps hard. I continue on until I hit the trail to Treasure Island, where I’m sure he’s already sailing at full mast.
I sit up on his hips with his belt positioned directly between my thighs. For a fleeting moment he holds my waist, but I place his hands down again and shake my head. He groans in frustration. I grin and grind my hips in one firm rotation against him. I pull his belt tight to unlatch it. His eyes close briefly as he impatiently taps his fists on the bed.
I unhook the belt and separate the two ends. Our eyes lock as I scoot down a smidge. I unbutton his pants and let the zipper down, purposely grazing what lies beneath. He groans when my thumbs skim along the waistband of his boxer briefs.
Then I stop.
“You’re probably too jet-lagged. I should let you sleep.” I lift a knee in a mock dismount. His eyes widen, and in one swift movement, he flips me onto my back and pins my hands above my head as he hovers over me.
Breathing hard, he playfully glares at me. “Jet-lagged? Let me show you how jet-lagged I am.”
“If you insist,” I tease, and it turns out he isn’t one bit jet-lagged.
Before long our bare bodies writhe and twist together on the bed. I mount him and position our bodies just right. On the verge of connection, he grabs my wrists. With eyes afire, he asks, “Are you sure, Claire?”
Intoxicated by his breathtaking face and form, I breathe out, “Yes.” Please don’t break my heart. “Are you?”
“Oh yeah,” he pants and firmly grasps my hips. All systems go.
With our eyes locked, I slide his body into mine. His mouth falls open.
I gasp and close my eyes as the sensation of fullness overtakes my body and mind. Our bodies begin to move in opposite directions, slowly at first. Our rhythmic pace continues and we grow sweaty and breathless.
I lean down to kiss him, but he sits up and wraps his arms around me. He switches places with me, gently placing me on my back. I’m lost to him. I have no idea how much time passes. Nor do I care.
His strength, his soft touch, his body wanting mine, moving to a sensuous rhythm we create—all of it—commands every cell in my body to attention.
Low in my body, deep in the place I shut down long ago, the cylinders begin firing, rattling, and shaking my body alive. A tingling—that incredible sensation I’ve nearly forgotten about—builds and intensifies.
As he hovers over me, his eyes search mine as if looking for the answer to some mysterious question. I’m unable to give it more than a moment’s thought because that low tightening demands my focus. I’m not sure how much longer I can hang on.
“You feel . . . so . . .” he mutters, finishing his thought with parted lips and a sharp intake of breath. His body tenses and his guttural moan pushes me over the edge, too, my release forceful and pounding.
He collapses on top of me and rests his head on my chest. I wrap my arms and legs around him, hugging him tightly against me.
I comb my fingers through his soft hair. I’m overwhelmed by it all. Tears threaten, but I shove them back.
Eventually, he picks up his head and shoots me the laziest, most satisfied grin. He presses a gentle kiss to my lips. My heart jolts once again as worry floods me. What have I done?
As if reading my mind, Dan cradles me into his side and draws the sheet over our bodies. I rest my head against his chest, nestling inside the circle of his strong arms, breathing in that soap and shaving cream scent that soothes me. He presses kiss upon kiss to my head as he plays with my hair, and it lulls me to sleep. Drifting off, I may have heard, “You’re so beautiful, Claire,” but I can’t be sure.
* * *
I awaken the next morning to the memory of hard bodies and wet lips—along with some loud clanging. What is that? I pry open my unwilling eyelids and turn over to wrap myself around Dan, but . . . he’s gone? He just left?
“Dan?” I call out as calmly as possible, my voice groggy. I clear my throat and call again.
“One second,” I hear from the next room. “Ahh!” He laughs right along with the clanging.
“What are you doing?” I giggle, flooded with relief. I sit up, tuck the sheet underneath my arms, and rub my eyes.
A moment later, Dan appears in my doorway, holding a bowl and wearing only his boxer-briefs—and insane sex hair. My jaw is located somewhere on the floor.
I really did sleep with Mr. Beautiful last night! I blush and smile as my insides twitch with excitement all over again.
“I got us something to eat. I was starving.” He sits on the edge of the bed. “I thought you might be hungry, too. You didn’t eat much yesterday, remember?” He winks.
I smile and peer into the bowl. “You found the Lucky Charms, I see.”
“Sorry if I woke you up. I was trying to be quiet.” He plants a quick kiss on my lips.
“That’s okay. Is my kitchen still standing?”
“What there is of it.”
I laugh. “How long have you been awake?” I run my hand through my hair. I must be a mess.
“Ten, fifteen minutes? Here have some.” He holds out a spoonful of the cereal.
I open up and he slips it in.
“Have you had breakfast in bed before?” he asks smugly before taking a bite.
I chew a moment, swallow, and say, “This is breakfast in bed?” I snicker at the idea that cereal with milk could count.
“Ha-ha. All right, so I’m not a good cook.”
“Is this considered cooking?” I tease again, my smile widening.
“Yes, it is, thank you very much. It’s quite difficult to get just the right amount of milk so as not to make the marshmallows soggy. I do have to ask, though—what’s with Lucky Charms? I didn’t think girls ate this rubbish.”
“Clearly, you’ve been hanging out with the wrong girls.” I open my mouth for more.
“Clearly.”
“What are you doing today?” I ask before he feeds me another bite.
“I don’t have any plans. I just have to be at the airport by five.” He scoops up more cereal and eats some himself.
“Oh. Right. You have to leave.” My heart sinks.
“Yeah, I do.” He sounds disappointed, too.
We finish the remaining cereal, and he places the empty bowl on the nightstand.
“But we have the day . . . what would you like to do?” Dan asks, eyeing the sheet that barely covers my assets.
I listen to the rain tapping against the windows. “Well, it looks like a walk in the park is out.”
“I’m happy to stay in. We could just watch movies or something.”
“I suppose, but . . . I don’t have any of the Rambo movies,” I say, pretending to be disappointed.
He chuckles. “I’m sure you have plenty of girlie movies, though. We could play cards?” Dan nods to the deck of cards on my nightstand.
“Okay. How about Go Fish?”
“Yeah, all right. I’ll probably win that too,” he says with a crooked smile.
Why? Why does he have to be so good looking? “You are so asking for it. Okay, you’re on.”
We situate ourselves on the bed. I re-tuck the sheet snuggly under my arms while he sits in front of me with one leg folded under the other. His abs crease in all the right places. I shuffle and deal.
“By the way, what’s Go Fish?”
I giggle, and after I explain the simple rules of the card game I say, “You go first.”
“Do you have a five?”
“Y
es. Here.”
Making a pair, he goes again. “Do you have a seven?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yes.”
Still his turn. “Do you have an ace?”
I fake disappointment and sigh heavily. “No, not last night either.”
He looks up from his cards and narrows his eyes. “Are you suggesting I wasn’t ace last night?”
I shrug.
“Really nice.” He tosses his cards to the side, and lunges at me, forcing me to fall back onto the pillows. He tickles and wrestles with me a little. Then he stops and leans up on an elbow.
“Was it that bad?” he asks, smiling, but I think he’s secretly worried. Lord knows he has nothing to worry about.
I run my fingers through his hair, smiling at him. “Well, let’s just say it’s a good thing I’m a teacher.”
He gives me a sideways glance and laughs. Finally, he leans in, his lips a fraction away from mine. “I guess practice makes perfect.”
My eyes lock on his mouth. “That’s what I tell all my students.” I pull him in the rest of the way as the passion kicks in as intensely as the previous night.
He spoons me in bed afterward. The rain outside continues to pelt the windows, in hard sheets now, but it only serves to add to this cozy, warm cocoon.
“When can I see you again?” Dan asks softly before pressing a tiny kiss to my ear.
“When are you free?” I scoot up against him. I don’t want him to move from this very spot, let alone fly across the country.
“I’m not sure of my shooting schedule. I have to stay in L.A. for a while, though. I don’t think I have more than a day off here and there for the next several weeks.”
“Oh.” Is this his way of saying good-bye?
“Of course, you can always come out to see me,” he says, taking me by surprise.
I turn toward him. “You want me to come out to L.A.?”
“Only if you want to . . . do you want to?” There’s hope in his voice, but his face is stiff, almost as if he’s bracing himself for my answer.
“Yeah, definitely.”
His body relaxes and he smiles wide. “Well, then come out. Don’t teachers get time off?” he jokes.
“Yes, we do. I actually have spring break in a couple of weeks,” I say, thinking out loud and liking the idea more by the second.
“Perfect.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” He squeezes me, nuzzling a tickly kiss on my neck.
We lounge about the rest of the day, playing rounds of cards as we talk, snack, and laugh. Eventually we get dressed, only to get undressed again.
I’m percolating; I’ve never felt so alive. It’s unlike any time I ever spent with Mark. With Mark, I was always reserved—shy, even—holding back from really enjoying myself. I never realized that was the case until being here with Dan, who makes me feel sexy and free. Discovering I can be like this with someone is . . . exhilarating.
We’re sitting on my bed, chatting and playing a tiebreaker game of War, when I hear the locks at the apartment door. Click, click, click.
“Shit!” I whisper.
“What’s the matter?” Dan asks, looking around.
I’ve all but forgotten about Bridget and Camille. I’ve been busy touring The Land of Lust with Mr. Beautiful—why would my mind be anywhere else? I hear them talking and moving about in the next room. Thank God my bedroom door is shut.
Dan quietly snickers. “It’s all right, Claire. The cat has to come out of the bag at some point.”
I rub my face. “I guess, but I’m just not ready to let it out.” I’m slightly nauseated.
“What are they going to do—tar and feather you?” He chuckles, clearly finding this far more amusing than I do.
“I wish.” I roll my eyes.
“It’ll be that bad? C’mon, Claire, it’s not like you set fire to the flat. Although it wouldn’t be all that surprising, considering your kitchen.” He nudges me with his elbow, smirking.
I look at him and gulp. My heart is racing but not for any hot and sexy reasons.
Dan glances at the clock. “It’s four o’clock, so I really should be going, anyway. I have a plane to catch.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say, nervous of the impending interrogation and bummed at saying goodbye. I just don’t want my time with Dan to end.
Dan stands and offers his hand. I grab on, and he lifts me into a tight embrace before leaning back to look at me. “I’ll ring you to set something up?”
I nod, mustering a grin.
“You can ring me, too, by the way. My phone works.” He smiles, but then it fades as he strokes the side of my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I had an amazing time, Claire. I won’t forget this trip in a hurry.”
Looking into his eyes, I’m lost in him again. My heart races at the memories of last night and today. “It was a pretty nice weekend, wasn’t it?”
Without the hint of a smile, he studies my face, and I get the sense he wants to say something, but is unsure. Then he nods and smiles. “Oh yeah. Definitely. I’ll phone you tomorrow, all right?”
“Okay.” I smile at him. Please don’t let me down.
Just before he turns the knob on the bedroom door, he gives me a gentle kiss. With a mischievous smile, he says, “Good luck.”
I roll my eyes and brace myself.
Chapter Ten
“Hello, ladies,” Dan announces like the ringmaster to the circus this is about to become. Holding my hand, he walks to the apartment door while I scurry along behind him, cringing.
Camille shoots her head out from the tiny kitchen, and Bridget bolts out from her bedroom. Shock possesses their wide-eyed, open-mouthed faces.
“Hi?” Bridget squeaks as she stands frozen in her bedroom doorway, holding a shirt.
“Hi,” Camille mumbles with a mouthful of food, trying to swallow and pull it together.
“Goodbye, Claire. It was a fantastic weekend,” Dan says loudly with a giant smile, emphasizing the fantastic. Obviously, Mr. Beautiful thinks he’s Mr. Funny. I’d smack him if I didn’t feel like puking.
He snatches me up in a rough embrace, dips me slightly, and smushes a too-long kiss to my lips—old-Hollywood style. He lets me go so quickly I have to catch my balance. “Thanks for a great time. I’ll phone you tomorrow.” He laughs a little and leaves me with one last, brief kiss and a wink.
With a deep breath, I close the apartment door one millimeter at a time. I hold on to the doorknob, gathering my strength for a moment, while laser-beam stares bore into my skull. I turn around to face the onslaught.
“So, how was Boston?” I try for innocent.
“Oh, no you don’t. You give up every last detail right now, Parelli,” Camille orders, grabbing me by the elbow. She marches me over to the recliner and sets me in it. She and Bridget plant themselves across from me on the sofa, arms crossed and waiting.
Beads of sweat gather on my forehead. I swallow. “What do you want to know?”
Bridget screws up her face in a scowl. “Oh my God, Claire! Jesus! I know you’ve been living under a rock, but please tell me you know who just left here. Please!”
I take a deep, calming breath. “Yes, Bridget. It was Dan Chase.”
“That’s right—Daniel fucking Chase!” Bridget stands and starts pacing in front of the sofa, her arms waving about. “And why was he here? What did he mean ‘it was a fantastic weekend’? And he’s calling you tomorrow? He came out of your bedroom, for God’s sake!” She sticks her face into mine.
“Yeah, um, I . . . I went on a date with him this weekend,” I say softly, hoping the volume of my voice will make this go away.
“What?” Bridget calls out, straightening up. “Wait, back up. How did that happen? How did you
meet him? Start from the very beginning and tell us the whole thing! Understand?” Bridget demands, plopping back down and resuming the crossed-armed ‘tude.
I’ll give them the abridged version.
“And no beating around the bush, either!” Camille warns, wagging her finger at me.
Damn it.
“All right, all right!” I hold up my hands in surrender. “Keep your panties on.” I take a deep breath and begin, “Okay, so . . . a couple of weeks ago I was stuck in an elevator with him and—”
“What? An elevator? A couple of weeks ago? This has been going on for a couple of weeks?!” Bridget blurts out.
“Yes. I thought you wanted the whole story.”
“Yes, yes, go on. Sorry.” Bridget shakes her head.
They both lean forward even further, their eyes wide.
“Okay . . . so, yes, we were stuck in an elevator. Then we had drinks that night. About a week later he was in town again, and we went out to dinner. Then he flew back this weekend, and we went to dinner again.”
I can almost hear the wheels turning and clicking in their heads.
“Claire, where . . . what . . .” Camille splutters. She shakes her head. “You mean those times we helped you figure out what to wear, those were dates with him?”
“Yes?” I mumble, hunching my shoulders and feeling like the worst friend in the world.
Silence.
“All right, so . . . are you saying that you’re dating Daniel Chase?” Bridget taps her fingers on her knee.
I glance to my wringing hands in my lap. “I don’t know if you’d call it ‘dating,’ but we’ve been on a few dates.”
“Come on!” Bridget exclaims, annoyed. “God, you suck at telling us the good stuff. Spit it out! I want to know everything! He flew out to see you? And why was he coming out of there?” she asks, pointing at the bedroom.