Keeping Pace

by Dee Carney

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Not at all,” I murmured.

  My lids were heavy from our libation, and I chalked up Joshua’s even more vibrant appeal to having consumed more wine than I should have. I saw from the corner of my eye three empty bottles, which tattled on just how heavily we’d been drinking tonight. All of it caught up to me, and my head swam with luxuriant intensity. Unfortunately, that was also my signal. Once I started feeling this way, my inhabitations would soon fall by the wayside.

  With both our plates cleared of food and the wineglasses truly empty, I pulled the uneaten containers closer. “It’s getting late, Joshua—”

  “Josh. Please.”

  “Josh.” I smiled. It felt lopsided. “I need to put these things away and get ready to face Beth in the morning.”

  “Sure, I understand.” He put his knife and fork on the plate next to him. “But I hope we can do this again. You’re great company.”

  “I’d like that.” And I meant it. It dawned on me that we’d spent most of the night talking about me, and I knew very little about him still.

  I rose on unsteady legs, unprepared for when they refused to support me. Josh jumped to his feet, obviously in a much better state than I, and wrapped his arm around my waist. Without his support, I would have hit the floor hard. “Whoa. Steady there.”

  My breasts pressed against his chest, our faces only inches apart. I smelled the remnants of the gourmet delivery surrounded by subtle hints of alcohol. Desire swelled within me, and I weakly fought it into submission, though it would not die without a struggle. I saw a hint of lust reflecting in his eyes and prayed I didn’t imagine it.

  Josh’s gaze dropped to my lips before travelling to meet my eyes again.

  No. Not imagined at all.

  “You’re so young,” I said softly.

  “Twenty-six. Not that young.”

  Fifteen years my junior. A full generation between us. The realization didn’t stop me from wanting him to lower his face to mine and devour my mouth in a kiss.

  He brought his mouth to mine, brushing it with the gentlest caress that sent a shiver rippling through me instead. I ached for more and released a soft whimper of protest when he didn’t give in to my wants. Intense green eyes searched mine before he said, “Not like this, Regina.”

  The use of my first name brought the reality of this evening crashing into me. He didn’t understand. This was exactly how I needed it. How I wanted it. With this lonely life, I’d earned the right to throw responsibility out the window and let my id run rampant. I’d promised Patrick I would live. And I wanted to do so now.

  I threaded my fingers into Josh’s short brown hair and brought his lips to mine. I opened my mouth against his, the urgency of connecting to him on a physical level driving me until I knew nothing else. It crossed my mind only seconds after our tongues connected that he might reject me. When he breathed into me, tasted me, that thought shattered.

  Finding his unoccupied hand, I brought it to my breast, offering more than just a kiss to him.

  “You’re tempting,” Josh muttered after breaking away. “So very tempting…but you’ve also been drinking.”

  I licked his bottom lip. “I’m fully aware of what I’m doing.”

  “I need you to be able to say that in the morning.” He kissed me again. “I won’t be satisfied with just one night.”

  Guiding his hand beneath my shirt, I let him touch my bare skin. “But what an amazing one night it could be.”

  “Gina…”

  I shivered at the way he said my name with such longing. That he’d dropped the first syllable before surrendering himself to another kiss bolstered my ego. Apparently he’d had more of the wine than I’d previously suspected.

  I maneuvered my back to the table, still unsure as to whether my legs would support me, and rested on its edge. Josh kissed me as if a hunger had awakened in him and only delving into my mouth would satisfy it. I thrived on that power. He leaned into me, and soon the table supported our combined weight. The bulge in his jeans pressed into me, but I didn’t need the physical evidence of his arousal. Josh explored my lips and tongue as an expert.

  His hand moved to the top of my thigh. Stroking. Kneading. Perhaps doing only as much as he would allow himself but plenty to fuel my ardor. Moaning, I lifted the edge of my skirt, gave Josh access to the tops of my stockings. He trailed over the lace edges before lowering his touch to safer areas.

  “More, Josh. Give me more…” Yes, I was drunk on the wine, but his kissing, his touching, potentiated the drink’s effects ten-fold.

  “Just this—”

  I swallowed his words, for I did not want them to become a promise. He held his passion back with more restraint than men I’d known twice his age. Tonight I needed him to unleash it.

  His fingers slid up again, moving over the lace, and then higher. Josh stroked over the material covering my sex, and then with a groan moved it aside. His touch on my bare skin made me shudder immediately.

  “Gina, be sure.”

  I twisted, tilting my pelvis toward him. I sealed my promise that I understood, that I wanted this, by offering another heated kiss. He answered by pushing two fingers into me. They curled inside, brushing some sweet spot that made me arch. When his thumb brushed over my swollen clit, I moaned into his mouth.

  Anyone who dared peek into my kitchen window right now would behold a glorious sight. Josh held me by one arm as I leaned back, my thighs spread, my skirt bunched around my waist. My shirt had twisted in our frantic groping. He’d positioned himself between my legs, one of his hands hidden beneath the material of my panties. We writhed together as he played with my body, bringing me to a ledge over which I wanted to jump before pulling me away again. He did this again and again, teasing me ever closer, never letting me fall.

  Pleasure and sensation wound tightly through me, and inhaling the scent of Josh, savoring his taste and my mind traveling to the memory of yesterday and the reality of now, I felt assaulted from all sides and angles.

  Our hungry kissing left my lips swollen, my cheeks and chin burning from the scrape of his light stubble. It’d been too long since I felt this wanton, this desired.

  “Oh God…” My hands tightened on his biceps, the muscle unyielding beneath my grip. But I needed an anchor, something that would keep me tethered to the earth as Josh pushed me toward the stars.

  “Don’t hold back, Gina. Let me see you come.”

  His words spurred me higher, and something within me tightened. It exploded on a rush, shattering with such force that I cried out. I threw my head back, too focused on the way I’d come undone to hold myself together any longer. But Josh was there. Josh clung to me as I shuddered. As my muscles locked and bowed to the pleasure.

  “Oh my God…” I moaned at last when my voice would work again. He’d eased his touch, gentling me down from my high.

  His lips touched mine, and he withdrew his hand at the same time. “Damn, you’re beautiful like that. I can’t wait to see it again.”

  “So let’s head upstairs,” I said between panting breaths.

  “When we go upstairs, I’m going to tuck you in, and then I’m going home.” I made a soft noise, ready to disagree. He kissed me again, silencing the protest. “Not tonight. Not like this. But soon, I hope.”

  Josh’s erection prodded me in the belly, but the determination in his eyes made me give up. He wanted more for me, and my heart jumped a little at the realization. I didn’t know this man well yet, but I had every intention of finding out more. For now I settled for his nuzzling kisses, his arms draped around me. His nonverbal promise of an amazing night to come.

  Chapter Four

  A screaming headache woke me. My tongue felt furry while the pounding in my temples chastised me for my overindulgence. The night before a workday, no less. I still wore yesterday’s shirt and skirt, but a quick glance verified my stockings had been draped over the cherrywood footboard.

  “Josh.
” I groaned, remembering what I’d done with him. What I hadn’t done. Pushing my hand through my hair, I sat up. My stomach lurched in protest, and I vowed slower movement if it would keep dinner’s contents inside.

  Shit. We’d left the kitchen a mess when he’d escorted me upstairs and, true to his word, tucked me into bed. I’d been more than annoyed last night, but this morning my sobered common sense cheered on Josh’s morals.

  After a quick run through my morning ablutions, including downing a few aspirin, I headed downstairs to assess the damage. Frowning, I walked into the kitchen to find the empty bottles in the trash with the dishes washed and left to dry on the wooden rack. The cartons of food had been put away inside the refrigerator. I circled the cozy room, looking for I can’t even say what, knowing Josh’s thoughtfulness—again—endeared him to me that much more.

  But what were his thoughts this morning?

  Did he pity the lonely old woman next door and had given her a little titillation out of obligation? Did my rare drunken state turn him off for good, assuming he’d ever been turned on in the first place? A stiff breeze could give a man at his age an erection. That he’d had one might not have had anything to do with me.

  I’d be lucky if, when I saw him again, he didn’t run screaming in the opposite direction. I’d acted like such a fool.

  For the second day in a row, I arrived at work with my cheeks flaming hot. Linda’s mouth dropped open, ready to interrogate me, I’m sure, but I held up a hand as I walked past her. Between my still-pounding headache and monumental embarrassment, I didn’t have the strength to deal with her today.

  Instead I went to my office in hopes of avoiding anyone and—especially—any noise. All I needed to do was make it through eight hours unmolested; then I could slink back home and shut myself away from everyone and everything.

  “Lou told me he’d told you the news.”

  I’d barely sat behind my desk when I was forced to look up and into the face of my rival. Stupid that I considered her such, but envy rode me hard. I couldn’t understand what Beth had that made her so damned likable. She was smart and capable, but not the wunderkind Lou made her out to be. “He did. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” Her gaze shifted to the corner of my desk. “You’ve been a great mentor, Regina. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  I plastered a smile on my face. “Your success is all you. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Well…I mean…thanks.”

  Instead of allowing myself to feel even the slightest trace of goodwill toward her, I grabbed one of the file folders sitting in an organizer. Not knowing the contents within, I pulled out a pen and settled into my chair. From where she stood, Beth would have to think I’d started to get busy. “Was there anything else?”

  “Uh, no.”

  She backed away, but before she crossed through the doorway, I recalled what Josh had reminded me of last night. “And Beth?”

  Beth turned “Yes?”

  “Find me for anything you need on the Stroh project. I’m happy to help in any way I can.” Those words were at least true.

  Her mouth parted in a hesitant smile. She said nothing else, turned and left.

  I managed to make it through the rest of the day without screaming in pain, despite the headache from hell that wouldn’t go away. If someone upstairs wanted to keep me from having a drink every night after work, He’d done a good job with this form of hangover. I was all but ensured never to have another sip for quite some time.

  One thing I can say for the pounding in my head is that it kept me from focusing on Josh and our behavior for too long. In the rare moments when my mind disobeyed me, I consoled myself with the knowledge that not many women in their early forties could boast having had a lover in his twenties. It might have been a one-night stand, but it had happened, nonetheless.

  By the time I arrived home, all I wanted to do was find my way into my bathroom and sink into the tub. I wanted to fill it with water as hot as I could manage, not caring how red my skin turned from dipping beneath its depths. Before last night, I might have taken a glass of Chardonnay in with me. Tonight, however, my company would be in the form of a book.

  As I was rounding the corner to the stairs, something by the sliding glass door caught my eye. Edging closer, I furrowed my brow as I tried to make out the form. The post-dusk lighting did little to help my view. A misshapen paper rested against the glass, clearly on the other side of it. At first I dismissed it as trash that must have blown into my yard and landed there, but a little voice in my mind urged me closer. My mouth fell open as I finally recognized the bundle.

  Two long-stemmed pink roses, the petals still tightly condensed and surrounded by white tissue paper, stood propped. I’ve been the recipient of flowers before, but for some reason this gesture was so simple and lovely, I didn’t know how to process it. All of my imaginings during the day that Josh had lost his respect for me, or that maybe the attraction was one-sided, crumbled into dust.

  Suddenly the headache didn’t seem so bad, the need to sink into the bathtub not so urgent.

  I glanced at my watch, realizing it was close to the time I’d twice before seen Josh, and decided to hurry. I retrieved the delicate flowers and gave them a place of honor on my dining room table before I headed upstairs.

  When I stepped out of my quick shower a few minutes later, I slipped on an attractive sundress, sans bra and went to wait for him in the kitchen. Call me foolish for being the girl who waits by the phone, but it had been so long since I’d been pursued by any man.

  The dates after Patrick died were few and far between. Not that I’m not attractive. It’s just that when men hit on me, their flirting always managed to come with bad timing. I didn’t like a lot of the men my friends set me up with, and the couple I did like apparently didn’t return the sentiment. Always the way, right?

  Well, not this time. While I didn’t need a long-term relationship—not even close—satisfying sexual urges with my next-door neighbor didn’t seem so wrong. But the longer I sat at the table, sorting through the day’s junk mail, and listening to the clock tick away the time, the more uncomfortable I became.

  What self-respecting woman, at my age no less, did this? When he came over—if he came over—the right thing to do would be to send him back home. Back to his life where pretty girls enjoyed Spring Break in Daytona, wore stilettos to their entry-level jobs and still managed to party on weekends. They didn’t think about coloring their hair to hide the encroaching gray or rely on specially designed brassieres to elevate their breasts. I, on the other hand, did.

  Knowing what I had to do, and feeling every bit my age, I picked up a magazine that stood out from the pile. The words on the pages swam before my eyes, but I kept up the pretense of reading. Anything to keep from heading farther down the path of self-deprecation. Damn Josh for shattering my once regimented life and reintroducing me to an existence where I fantasized. As soon as I left the seductive hold of fantasy, reality crashed into me until I couldn’t breathe from the harshness of it.

  The doorbell rang, snapping me out of my thoughts. My heart pounded as I stood, the motion so slow it made my knees ache. Josh waited for me on the opposite side of the door, no doubt. What did I do about it, though—allow him in or send him away?

  I pushed away from the table, my mind in turmoil. With every step I made to the front door, however, I noticed my chin lifted. My back straightened. Somehow I developed a glide in my step that elevated my simple walk into a prowl. As before, doubts faded and my confidence grew. Just knowing that he stood on the other side waiting for me bolstered my ego.

  Standing on tiptoe, I peered through the peephole at an impossibly young Josh holding a pizza box. Smiling wide, I slid back the deadbolt and opened the door.

  There was heat in his soulful green eyes when he looked at me. My breath caught as I stared back at him. Dressed in a simple black T-shirt and blue jeans, he shouldn’t have been able to pull off devast
atingly handsome. Yet he did. And well.

  Had men looked like this when I was twenty-six? I didn’t think so.

  Neither of us said a word as he stepped inside. Josh laid the box down on the decorative table. The scents from the box were almost distracting. My stomach had been rumbling while I sat at the table, an obvious demand for sustenance.

  I wondered briefly about the kind of pizza man he would turn out to be. Probably loaded with meat, nary a vegetable in sight. Turning my focus there helped settle about two of the one hundred million nerves firing in my body.

  He took a moment to steady the pizza box before turning back to me.

  I still stood in the open doorway when Josh pulled me into his arms, leaving no space between us. There could be no doubt in my mind whether the person who held me now was a very mature, very grown up—and very aroused—man.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” he murmured. Our mouths were so close together his lips brushed mine when he spoke. “But I found your special request.”

  I wanted his kiss but resisted the temptation to force our mouths to connect. The intimacy of the way we stood now seemed to join us better than any mere kiss could. In our closeness, Josh became the very air I breathed. “My special request?”

  “I had to go to three stores before I found it.”

  My puzzlement was genuine. What had I requested of him? We’d talked for a while before I’d drifted to sleep last night, but the fog that surrounded me this morning kept the details of that conversation out of my reach.

  Just thinking about last night and what could have been made my pussy moisten. My belly fluttered, and I internally rejoiced in the idea that tonight there would be no excuse for holding back. Based on our current position, my hardening nipples flattened against the lean length of his torso, his arousal pressing into my belly—despite the pizza box next to us with its enticing aromas—food would be the last thing on our minds for some time.

  I’d brought my hands to his shoulders, holding on to Josh as if afraid I’d collapse. I don’t recall at which point his lips opened against mine, when his mouth met mine, his tongue inserting between my lips to touch the inside of my mouth, but soon it was all I knew. His fingers twined in my hair, holding me closer as if he would crawl inside me if he could. I recognized and understood the feeling. His ardor aroused a desire to be with Josh on a level that made no sense.