She's the One

by Teresa F. Morgan

  “Oh, Stuart, that’s lovely.”

  Sprawled out on the sofa, the film forgotten in the background with the volume turned down, he kissed her thoroughly, his tongue exploring her mouth. Soft, unhurried, sensual caresses. Her legs wrapped around his, tightening, pulling their bodies as close as they could fully clothed.

  Steve wanted her naked. The next step was for him and Lydia to fall into bed and make love as if they were virgins, exploring each other’s bodies for the first time. He couldn’t wait much longer. And neither could she. But they had to. Her family could return any moment, and with the girls upstairs, one of them was bound to wake up and stumble in on them. Instead, Lydia would have to suffer his hardness against her jean-clad thigh. He risked his hand seeking her soft breast, slipping under her blouse, gentle, tender touches, and her breath shortened, hot on his cheek.

  The front door slamming shut separated them. They sat up, both running their hands through their hair, and giggling, straightened their clothes, like naughty teenagers almost caught in the act.

  “Hey,” Paul said, cautiously entering the lounge, holding Emma’s hand.

  “Girls been okay?” Emma asked.

  “Haven’t heard a peep after I bathed them,” Lydia said, switching off the television with the remote. “They had a story and went straight to bed, good as gold.”

  “Great.” Paul nodded, hands slung in his pockets.

  “Right, well, we’ll be off. Leave you to it.” Lydia jumped up from the sofa. Steve needed more time. He was still very conscious that he had an erection the size of Mount Vesuvius. Hoping his un-tucked shirt would cover his slowly softening arousal, he stood up and shook Paul’s hand and kissed Emma quickly.

  “Nice meeting you both.”

  “Yes, hope to see you again, Stuart,” Emma said, giving an appreciative nod to her sister. “We heard so much from Olivia and Rosie. Thank you for taking them to the panto.”

  “It was fun. They’re cute girls,” Steve said, and Lydia squeezed his hand appreciatively.

  Once the door had closed behind them, Lydia launched herself back into Steve’s arms and her tongue was plundering his mouth with determination. Reluctantly, Steve broke off.

  “Let’s at least get to the car,” he said, pulling out the car keys and tugging at Lydia to follow him.

  “Shall we just do it in the car? I don’t think I can wait.”

  Steve laughed, deep from his belly, sensing Lydia had to be joking, but he’d play along. “Let’s get off your sister’s driveway first, huh?”

  “Blast, you’re right.” She clicked her fingers. “Drive to mine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, even if Ruby’s out, she’ll come home eventually. Might as well stay at mine – where we won’t be disturbed,” Lydia said seductively, grinning.

  Steve drove Lydia’s Beetle, occasionally looking out the corner of his eye, catching Lydia chewing her lip, staring at him lustfully. He needed to concentrate on the road ahead, not the beautiful, horny woman sitting next to him. She didn’t touch him, probably equally afraid he might crash the car, but it didn’t stop his groin from aching with desire.

  The minute he pulled the car up outside her house, and turned off the ignition, he half expected her to clamber awkwardly across the handbrake and onto his lap. Instead she leaned across, cupped his face and pulled his mouth to hers.

  While they fumbled, and giggled, Steve had a nagging feeling that they should get into the house. He was constantly watching his back and was confident the press weren’t onto him, but even so, he wouldn’t need this hitting front pages – mucking around or not. He wanted Lydia private in his life for as long as possible. And there could always be one sneaky bastard somewhere trying to catch him out.

  “Lydia…” he said between breathless kisses, “we should go inside. I’m assuming I’m invited in for coffee.”

  “Sod the coffee,” she purred, nibbling his earlobe, sending hardening heat into his lap.

  He opened the car door, and she released him, and somehow hit the horn, so it blasted. She giggled.

  “Great, wake the neighbourhood,” Steve teased. “Now we’ve definitely got to take this inside.”

  “I was never really going to do it in the car with you.”

  “I’m relieved.”

  Lydia threw her handbag and door keys on the floor, as Steve closed the front door behind him, and holding Steve’s hand, led him up the stairs and into her bedroom. Steve subtly tapped his back pocket to check he had his wallet on him, knowing it contained a couple of condoms. Since dating Lydia, he’d made sure he was prepared for this moment.

  Although he’d wanted to act cautiously with Lydia, he also realised there was a certain urgency. Hollywood weighed heavy on his shoulders, and was always at the back of his mind, unless thoughts of Lydia scrambled his head…especially when she nipped at his neck.

  She kicked off her shoes, losing a couple of inches in height, and he tugged her towards him, pressing his hard body against her softness.

  “I’ve fantasised about this moment for weeks,” she said, her hands struggling with the buttons on his shirt. He removed her blouse.

  “Weeks, huh?” He slid his hands around her back, unclasping her bra. The swell of her breasts naked against his chest was divine. It had been a long time since he’d held a woman in his arms like this. Too long.

  Okay – so he’d held a woman in front of a camera, but not like this. He hadn’t been with anyone since Erica had walked out on him. Hollywood didn’t allow that either, a woman on the rebound, not unless you want it plastered in the gossip magazines.

  “Practically the moment you walked into reception.” Lydia fell back onto the bed, he crawled on top of her, soaking up her almost naked form – only her black lace knickers hid what he craved. He licked and sucked each breast, until the nipple hardened. She whimpered impatiently, but he was going to take his time and savour every moment. It felt important he did this right.

  With all the pent-up sexual energy they both had, he didn’t want to disappoint.

  Her nails dug into his back, and she bit his shoulder as he kissed her neck. He licked and kissed, until he reached the black lace. He teased, biting gently at the fabric, knowing his teeth softly grazed her most sensitive parts. Her hips hitched.

  “Please, take my knickers off,” she moaned, trying to assist with their removal.

  His fingers teased the lace, tugging at the fabric.

  “Rip them.”

  He grinned wickedly. Quiet, shy Lydia was demanding he rip her underwear. Secretly she was a fox. He tore at them with his teeth and fists, throwing the black lace aside, then with gentle thumbs, he parted her, rubbing, stroking. His own impatience grew, wanting to taste her, feel her heat on his tongue, give her the pleasure she deserved.

  And he knew, he wanted her and only her, forever.

  Her fingers combed his hair, while he explored her heat, sucking, tasting, until her body trembled and she moaned. The tug at his hair, told him she wanted him back with her. Her eager mouth found his immediately. Blindly, he reached for the wallet he’d thrown onto the bedside cabinet and riffled out the condoms.

  “I can’t get enough of you,” she whispered. “I want you inside me.”

  Those words alone hardened him further. He wanted to bury himself inside her, and stay there for eternity. He had a male need for sex, but this was better, he knew they’d be making love, yet he was still too afraid to actually utter that four letter word.

  Slowly, he sank into her, liquid hot, and with every thrust, he fell further, deeper, wanting, hoping, Lydia would be the one.

  She felt perfect in his arms. Lydia wasn’t like Erica; he could grasp, savour her. She was beautiful. Their bodies fitted. Hard against soft. Man beside woman.

  “Stuart…” Lydia whispered as they rocked, deeper and slower, bringing her closer and closer to another orgasm. The name hurt, like a punch to the gut. He almost faltered. He wanted to hear his name cal
led from her lips. How upset would she be when she learned the truth? He would have to tell her. Soon.

  As she came, her nails dug into his buttocks, pushing him in harder, knowing he too could release. Speeding up, thrusting faster, harder, he cried out with sheer pleasure and clung to her, bringing her body tightly to his, as the waves of pleasure thrummed through him.

  He’d never made love to a woman like it. It had never meant so much. They belonged to one another.

  Satisfied and clammy with exhaustion, they cuddled. The scent of sex lingering around them. Lydia fell asleep in his arms, but although exhausted, his head wouldn’t let him sleep. He wanted Lydia to know the truth, but when could it be best to tell her? Would she forgive him for lying? Would she understand why he had done it?

  Steve watched her sleep, tangled in the sheets, peaceful and relaxed. He stroked her back gently, loving the swell of her breasts pressed against him and the warmth of her thigh, hooked over his.

  Was Lydia the one? He wanted her to be, but it just felt too easy, falling for her. He really didn’t think this plan of Ruby’s would work. He’d envisaged spending quality time with Ruby mixed with maybe a few dates, but he never imagined he’d meet the one.

  When Ruby had first introduced him to Lydia, he’d thought her pretty, but nothing outstanding. Just the girl next door. Quiet, reserved and polite, with a wicked sense of humour – she seemed to laugh at Steve’s jokes a lot. That was the important thing. But every day, she’d blossomed, as he got to know her better. They shared similar interests. Not that they’d done very much together, but they’d talked enough about stuff. Maybe he needed to date her a bit more, to make sure. Be certain before he confessed all.

  It had been a month. How long did it take?

  And currently how he felt, with the heavy ache in his chest where his heart beat, he couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from her.

  In the bedroom, Lydia had turned into a sexy minx, the sex they’d just shared wasn’t shy or polite. It was damn well fantastic. She’d be the perfect wife on his arm in the limelight. She wouldn’t do anything that would give the press ammunition, and behind closed doors, she’d possess Steve with her passion. Steve remembered the exquisite feeling of her nails trailing along his back, digging into his shoulders, and ass. His body started to respond to the memory, his arousal growing, hardening again. He stroked her breasts, kissed her neck. She gave a sleepy moan, pulling Steve in tighter. He found her mouth, dragging her out of her drowsy state, and was soon making love to her all over again. Gently, slow, sensual.

  Chapter 21

  December sunshine sneaked through a gap in the curtains, waking Steve. He squinted then rubbed his eyes, gaining his bearings, remembering where he was. He grinned with delight, recollecting what they’d done all night and his groin stirred as sexual arousal echoed through his body. Lydia wasn’t in the bed but he could hear a shower running somewhere. Now did he venture in and see if he could join her, or would that be too eager?

  They’d had mind-blowing sex last night – twice, so sharing a shower couldn’t be overdoing it, could it? He didn’t have any more condoms though – which was a problem. Big problem. Two was the limit in his wallet. Which was stupid. He’d make sure he carried the whole box from now on. A big box.

  Lydia might be back into her reserved state, too. He’d let her drink the wine at her sister’s. She hadn’t got drunk, but she’d softened and lost her nervous edge which he found she carried when he was close by. Well, lost her nervous edge was an understatement; she’d been a completely different woman in some sense. Discarding the memories of the vixen he’d held in his arms last night, he had to remember the relationship was still fresh, they were still at the exploration stage, treading on eggshells, worried you might say the wrong thing and end the attraction.

  Or worse, fart.

  Maybe he would enjoy the Saturday lie in, and wait to see her reaction when she returned.

  A small, brown tabby cat jumped on to the bed and rubbed his head contentedly against Steve’s foot under the duvet. It purred, pawing and circling on the duvet until it was comfortable at the end of the bed, then started washing itself.

  He closed his eyes. He could lie here and keep the cat company…or go find Lydia. Wet, soapy images of Lydia’s body plagued Steve’s mind.

  Ah, hell. He pulled back the sheets and the cat meowed its disgust at being disturbed. Steve ignored the cat, slipped on his discarded boxers, and strolled towards the bathroom, adjusting his underwear to remove the tent effect.

  Lydia’s place was smaller than Ruby’s, he thought, as he arrived at the bathroom door, which was open…Inviting him in?

  “Lydia?”

  “Come in,” she called. He heard the water turn off and she pulled back the shower curtain. “Could you hand me a towel, please?”

  He stared for a brief moment, left speechless by her luscious, soaked figure. Her hair was slicked back smoothly and her breasts dripped water. He could easily lick every droplet from her creamy skin. He blinked and grabbed a towel, holding it out as she wrapped into it. “Thank you,” she said, then kissed him. “You look so different without your glasses.”

  He swallowed, his heart leaping with fear, and reacted by touching his temple. His glasses had been lost in their passionate clinch last night. Trawling through his lust-filled memory bank, he was hoping they were on the bedside cabinet where he’d placed his wallet. This morning he’d totally forgotten about them. He glanced in the mirror. Christ, he needed a shave, too.

  “Can you see without them?”

  “Oh, yeah, first thing in the morning, I forget I need them, till I put them on.” He scratched his head nervously.

  “Right, well, have a shower, Handsome, and I’ll get you some breakfast.” She kissed him hard, leaving him craving her more. “I’ll fetch you a towel.”

  Steve turned the shower on, removed his boxers and clambered into the bath. He grabbed the bar of soap and started lathering up, ridding his body of the scent of sex. He rubbed soap over his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble. Would Lydia recognise him?

  As he rinsed the soap from his face, he heard the curtain pull. He looked, squinting, soap stinging his eyes, and Lydia mischievously grinned, still wrapped in a towel.

  “I could so easily join you,” she said. He wanted her to. Just the purr of her voice stirred his erection.

  “You’ll have an opportunity. For now, get my breakfast on, woman,” he teased.

  “Right! For that,” her towel dropped and she stepped into the bath, “you’ll pay.”

  He chuckled, then, as her mouth reached his, he relished in her body pressing into his, water trickling over them. Her hand found him already hard. Blurred by desire, his brain scrambled to some awareness, eventually a small voice got through and he pulled away. “No, Lydia, I haven’t got any more condoms.”

  Her blue eyes gleamed at him, a smile etched on her face. She knew how to toy with him.

  “Lydia?”

  “Shhh…” Pushing her wet hair out of her face, she knelt down and took him deeply into her hot mouth. His mind, obliterated of all sense, was lost to Lydia.

  There was a thud in the bath, something slipping away. Steve had dropped the soap.

  His hips moved with her. And closer and closer he got.

  Crying out, whilst trying to keep some control, he came, and an electric energy pulsed through his core. Once the pleasure had passed, he released his hold of her head, realising he’d clutched fistfuls of her hair.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t hurt you?” he gasped, finding his strength as he helped her up to join him.

  “No, you were fine.”

  He claimed her mouth, unsure if he was feeling lust or love for this woman, or both. His arms snaked around her, pressing her breasts against his hard torso, every part of their bodies that could touch did. One hand combed through her hair, gripping firmly, holding her head, while the other searched down the curve of her back and found the swell of
her backside, pulling her close to him.

  Finally, he allowed her to withdraw from the kiss.

  “I must make you breakfast,” she said softly. He groaned, a little out of disappointment as she climbed out of the bath, retrieved her towel, grabbing a smaller one for her hair. He remained under the hot water.

  Pulling the shower curtain back across, he turned the temperature down. Really, he needed it cold, but he wasn’t crazy – besides it was too late for a cold shower now. However, if he were to regain any of his senses he needed the water cooler.

  Once he finished showering, he donned yesterday’s clothes, and found his glasses, which he reluctantly put on, then headed down the stairs. He tried to flatten his hair forward so it looked dorky. It needed another cut if he were to retain his disguise. And it didn’t matter how much he rubbed his jaw, it wouldn’t remove the stubble.

  Lydia’s duck-egg blue lounge housed a squidgy, darker blue two-seater sofa and armchair, with a mix of scatter cushions. The well-worn suite sat tightly around a television to allow for a small desk to be situated in the corner, which was strewn with sketches, inks, pencils and paintbrushes. All evidence of an artist. Along the other wall was a walnut bookshelf, full like Ruby’s. By the window, he spied her small Christmas tree, white lights twinkling, and a garland, thick with artificial holly and berries adorned the mantelpiece. Dotted about were other little Christmassy ornaments. Steve felt a pang of guilt. He’d promised Ruby they’d decorate their house today. They had bought a real Christmas tree last weekend, but it was time to put it up now, get the house ready for the festivities. Hopefully Ruby would understand that he couldn’t turn down superb sex with Lydia – after all it had been Ruby’s idea to find a partner, and he had to move fast. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with Lydia.

  Hopefully Brett had taken the hint to ask Ruby out.

  “Tea or coffee?” Lydia called from the kitchen. He could smell bacon and eggs, and hear the sizzle as he approached.

  “Coffee, please – and make it black. I think I need a strong one after that shower.” He took a silver stool at the breakfast bar in Lydia’s modern, yet small kitchen-diner, designed to optimise space, and watched as she cooked, her cat circling and rubbing her ankles.