She was still naked, of course, and I was glad to see she hadn’t tugged the sheet up to cover herself out of some sense of false modesty. No, she was still displayed in all of her considerable glory, her generous boobs begging for my mouth, her legs apart enough that I could catch a glimpse of her pussy, still glistening and swollen.
She watched me, but she didn’t say anything. I sensed she was waiting for me to make the first move: would it be under the covers or out the door?
“Is it cool if I sleep over?” I didn’t know what I was going to say until the words came out. “I mean, I really don’t want to camp out in the hotel lobby or have to try to get a room at this point. And if I crash at Liam and Ava’s, I’ll get a million questions.”
Her mouth curved into a smile. “Of course.” She patted the bed. “Come here.”
When I crawled over next to her and reached for the sheet, she added, “I was hoping you’d stay for round two. I’m not sure I’m done with you yet, Vincent DiMartino.”
I waited for some form of panic to clutch at my chest, but all I felt was anticipation. “I’m in for round two. And probably round three, if you think you’re up for it.”
Amanda rolled over, propping herself on her elbows. “I’m troubled by your lack of faith in me. Didn’t I just prove that I’m up for just about anything?”
I held up my hands. “Don’t get all bristly on me, sweetheart. I have complete confidence in you. I won’t underestimate you again.”
“Good.” She fell onto her stomach, burrowing her head in a pillow, and then a few seconds later, she popped up again. “Shit. Is it midnight yet?”
I turned my head to squint toward the clock on her nightstand. “Yeah. It’s nearly one, actually.”
“Okay. Hold on. Be right back.”
Frowning, I punched a pillow behind me and watched her hurry from the bedroom, wondering where the hell she might be going. Medicine, maybe? Or some kind of call she had to make, to check in with someone?
When she returned, still naked, carrying her cell phone, I figured I’d been right that she had to make a call or text someone. She jumped back into bed and piled a couple of pillows behind her back.
“Sorry.” She held up the phone to me, but it wasn’t a message. There were colorful playing cards on the screen. “I’m kind of addicted to solitaire on my phone. I have this streak going. I’m a night owl, so I play every day just after midnight to make sure I don’t miss a game.”
“Phone solitaire? That’s your addiction?” I smirked. “That’s sort of a lame thing to be hooked on.”
“No.” She stuck out her tongue at me. “See, there’s a daily challenge, and it keeps track of how often you play. And I get trophies when I hit different levels.” Her fingers began to move over the phone. “It only takes me a little bit, usually. I try to finish the game in under three minutes, but some of them are tough.”
I snorted. “It’s solitaire. How hard can it be?”
“Harder than you think.” She shot me a sideways glance. “That’s what she said.”
I chuckled, amused by both her focus and by her humor. The tip of her tongue stuck out from the side of her lips, making me remember how that tongue had felt against my skin . . . and my dick.
Pushing up onto one arm, I leaned over her and ducked my head beneath her bent arm to place a single kiss on the rosy nipple nearest me. Amanda hummed a little, just so that I knew she wasn’t ignoring me, but her hands stayed around her phone and her eyes didn’t leave the screen.
I curved my hand around her breast, plumping it so that it was nearer to me, and I closed my lips around the puckered tip, sucking it hard as I’d learned she liked. Amanda shifted a little, and I saw her throat work as she swallowed.
“Yes!” With a little cheer, she dropped the phone onto the bed and raised one hand in the air. “Won it in just over two minutes. That one was easy.”
I rubbed my body into her side, making sure she felt my cock, already hard and ready, pressing into her leg.
“Want to be a winner again?”
She turned to me, a smile spreading over her face. “I think I know a way for us both to be winners. But it’s going to take longer than two minutes, I hope.”
I brought my mouth to hers, murmuring against her lips. “I think we can make that happen.”
Three Months Later
“. . . and then there we were, all of us, falling into the water, all of our clothes on, of course—in the river, fully dressed!” Jared Van Heeth lurched into peals of laughter. “It was a hoot, I tell you.”
“Oh . . . I bet it was.” I forced myself to drudge up a weak chuckle, trying to remember what the hell he’d been talking about. Something about crew and his college buddies and . . . God only knew what else.
I met my mom’s eyes across the table. She quirked one eyebrow at me in silent solidarity, and then she blinked once, slowly, like a cat. That was our long-time signal for get-me-the-hell-out-of-here. It was nice to know that old Jared was capable of boring not just one but two generations of Simmons women.
Taking a deep breath, I was about to ask him to drive me back to the city, thus sacrificing my own needs while sparing my mother another minute of his company, when she beat me to the punch.
“Jared, dear, it’s been so lovely to see you. What a good idea it was for us to enjoy this brunch together. I’ll have to call your mother later and tell her what a treat it was and thank her for making the suggestion.” She beamed, ever the consummate political animal. “Now I’m afraid I’m going to be terribly rude and ask if I can steal Amanda away for the rest of the day.” She reached over to squeeze my hand. “We don’t get to see nearly enough of each other, you know, and since my husband is out of the country on a dig, it’s such a great opportunity for us to visit and maybe do some Christmas shopping.”
Jared frowned a little. “Oh, well, I . . . uh, sure. Of course.” He turned to me. “I was thinking that maybe we could get together for dinner one night, Mandy. Now that I’m working in Philadelphia, it would be a real shame for us not to spend more time together.”
I steeled myself not to cringe at his use of a nickname I’d never had . . . or the thought of voluntarily spending any more time with him. “I’m sure we can work out something.” I wasn’t my mother’s daughter for nothing. Diplomacy was everything. “I’m pretty busy, heading into my last semester of law school. And when I’m not studying, I’m working.”
He laughed. “Aw, c’mon. You know what they say about all work and no play. You don’t want to turn into one of those boring women who only cares about her career.”
Now my mother’s eyebrows climbed nearly to her hairline, and I knew that if I didn’t move fast, one or both of us was going to blow. “Ah, ha, ha, you’re so adorable, Jared. Let me walk you to the door while my mother finishes up here.” I stood up, pushing back my chair, and Jared at last seemed to get the message that brunch was over and it was time for him to leave.
He rose to his feet and leaned down to kiss my mother’s cheeks, thanking her for the meal, before he joined me, pressing a hand to my lower back as we walked. I stepped away, moving faster, unable to bear any touch from him.
He held the door of the restaurant for me and handed his ticket to the valet as I wrapped my arms around my middle, warding off the chilly breeze.
“Should we exchange numbers?” He leaned against the column, the collar of his jacket turned up, the image of a privileged young man who’d never been compelled to do a day of work in his life.
“Oh, shoot.” I wrinkled my nose. “I left my phone at my table with my mother. I’ll tell you what, though—Mom has your number, so I’ll get it from her, and we’ll be in touch. Yes?” I flashed him a bright smile. “Oh, look, here’s your car! Brrr, it’s cold, isn’t it? I’m going to run back inside now, take care, talk soon!”
Without giving him a moment to protest or to try to do anything else—the idea of even a kiss on the cheek from him made me queasy—I skittered back
inside and made a beeline for the table where I’d left my mom.
“Well, that was ninety minutes of my life I’ll never get back.” She rolled her eyes at me as she signed the check and closed the small black folder. “Good luck avoiding him, now that he’s living in your city.”
I shrugged. “It’s easier than you might think. I see a very small group of people, you know? It’s not like I’m out on the social circuit.”
“I do know.” Mom pointed to the chair I was standing behind. “Sit down. I ordered a fresh pot of coffee when I asked for the check, so we can have a little time together without your new friend around.”
“He’s not my friend,” I protested, sinking into my seat again. “It was your idea to invite him to brunch.”
“Yes, because his mother, whom I’ve known since we were at St. Ursula’s together, called and told me he needed a friend now that he was back in the area . . . and you told me that you were looking for a date for Liam’s wedding. It seemed serendipitous.”
“I guess.” I poured coffee for my mother and myself. “And I know I should probably just invite him to be my plus one, because the wedding’s in two weeks, and I told Ava and Liam I was bringing a date . . . and I don’t have one.” Unbidden, an image of Vincent DiMartino flashed into my mind, naked and sprawled over my bed, his eyes hooded as he’d watched me ride him until both of us were hoarse from moaning . . .
“Who were you thinking about just now?” Amusement and curiosity tinged my mother’s voice. “What memory gave you that soft look in your eyes?”
“No one.” My answer was a knee-jerk response. I hadn’t told a single person about my night with Vincent: not my mother, whom I told almost everything, not any of my girlfriends, and certainly not Ava or Liam or Giff. It was a memory I’d kept to myself, reliving moments of that time over and over, especially during the few dates I’d had in the three months since. I wasn’t proud that I’d had to fantasize about Vincent in order to orgasm with guys I’d slept with since that one-night stand. But it was safer than doing something crazy, like calling him up and asking him if we could revisit the idea of another night together.
“Uh huh.” Mom was skeptical. “I’m assuming whoever it was, you believe that I wouldn’t approve.”
“I never worry about your approval,” I retorted. “You’ve never made me think I had to work for that. I just . . . this was a one-shot deal. It’s not going to happen again. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Maybe. Or maybe that’s what you’re trying to convince yourself.” She tapped her fingers on the fine white linen tablecloth. “Was it someone you met at Liam and Ava’s engagement party?”
I felt my cheeks flush. “Why on earth would you ask that?”
She shrugged. “I was just remembering that weekend. We had brunch on Sunday, remember, as usual, and afterward, your father asked me if you were dating someone new. He said you had a look that he hadn’t seen before—not on you.”
Oh, awesome. My father had picked up on my post-sex bliss face. “Daddy said that? Since when does he notice anything about me?” That came out wrong. “I mean, when it comes to my love life. I don’t feel neglected by him or anything—I’m just kind of surprised.”
“Your father notices more than you think. But like me, he respects your privacy and feels that if you want us to know something, you’ll tell us. That day, he asked me if you’d said anything to me. I told him that as far as I knew, you were still single and focused on school and work.”
“I am.” I played with the edge of the tablecloth. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be looking for anyone now except for this stupid wedding.”
“Why is it so important for you to have a date for the wedding, Amanda? You’ve gone solo to weddings before. Don’t you always tell me it’s more fun that way, so if you meet someone, you don’t have to worry about hurting the feelings of your date?” Mom tilted her head.
“Yes. Usually, that’s how I feel. I just don’t want—” I paused, trying to figure out what I was trying to say. “I’d rather have the safety net of a date this time. So I don’t do anything idiotic.” Like tackle the bride’s brother to the ground and ride him like a show pony.
“By something idiotic, I’m going to assume you mean someone. You’re concerned that whoever you hooked up with at the engagement party might think you’re looking for round two if you show up on your own. And maybe there’s part of you that wants to prove to this person that you’ve moved on. That someone else wants you, too.”
I sighed. “You know, I signed up for a political mother, not a psychologist mom. I don’t know why I want a date, okay? It just feels like a good idea to have one. But apparently, that’s not going to happen, because everyone I would consider bringing with me is a dud, and Vincent—” I stopped, appalled that I’d spoken his name out loud. “That’s all. I’m done. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” I pushed back my coffee cup untouched. “Did you say something about Christmas shopping? Where did you want to go?”
My mother made a face. “Shopping, on a Sunday two weeks before Christmas? I’d never do that. All of my shopping was done weeks ago, online. I only said that to Jared so that he’d leave us alone.”
“Okay, then I think I’ll head back home. I have one more final paper to write before the end of the semester, and I also need to handle some interrogatories I got behind on last week at work.”
“Amanda.” Mom’s voice softened. “Have you thought that your one-night stand could be more than that? If you’re this obsessed with convincing him that you don’t care three months after the fact, then you should at least consider exploring other possibilities. Like a second night. Or a date.”
“Absolutely not. And I know you didn’t miss that I slipped and said his name, but Mom, I’m begging you in the name of everything you hold holy not to bring it up to me or to anyone else. Don’t go poking. If you figure out who it was, don’t mention it to me or to Daddy or, God forbid, to Mrs. Bailey. I want to forget about it.”
My mother spread her hands in front of her. “Consider it forgotten. I trust you, Amanda. If you say this isn’t going to work, that it’s a dead-end, I believe you know best. And if you really feel as though you need a date for the wedding, I’ll ask Ollie to take you. He’s the perfect candidate for this situation: you know he won’t hit on you, but he’ll be so attentive that anyone who saw you together would swear he’s head over heels.”
“I love Ollie, Mom, but I don’t think it will come to that. I don’t like using people, and that’s what I’d be doing.” My mother’s assistant was a wonderful man, a few years older than me. He was crazy good-looking and sweet enough to make any girl swoon, and sadly for all those girls, he was also gay. He’d been engaged to Victor, his high school boyfriend, until two years ago, when Victor had died in a freak skiing accident. Since then, Ollie had been single, grieving, and buried in his work.
“He adores you, and he’d be happy to help. Just keep it in mind as an option.” We both stood up and shrugged into our coats. Mom pulled fitted black leather gloves over her hands and frowned at me. “Amanda, where are your gloves?”
I made a face. “I lost them a couple of weeks back. I think they fell out of my pocket on the bus.”
“Good lord.” She shook her head. “I’ll send you a new pair. Call it an early Christmas gift. You can’t be walking around the city in the winter without something on your hands.”
“Thanks, Mommy.” I kissed her cheek. “You’re the best. And thanks for brunch, too.”
“You’re welcome. Come on. Let’s get my car, and I’ll drop you at the station. I need to get home to Facetime with your dad.”
“Awww.” I smiled as we walked outside to wait for the car to be brought around. “How romantic.”
Mom winked at me. “Actually, the Facetime talks are more about catching up. The real romance is on Tuesday nights, when he calls me for phone sex.”
“Moooooom.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Do I subject you to
talk about my sex life? No, I do not. I’d appreciate the same courtesy extended to me.”
“Sorry.” She spoke so cheerfully that I knew she was lying through her teeth.
The train rumbled over the tracks on its way from Princeton to Philadelphia. The car was full today, with people making the trip into the city for shopping or holiday entertainment. I was lucky that I’d snagged a seat. I lay back against the head rest, feeling unreasonably mopey and blue.
My mother hadn’t been wrong when she’d said that I was probably trying to prove something to Vincent by bringing a date to Ava and Liam’s wedding. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if I hadn’t been afraid that Vincent would show up with some gorgeous, sexy woman on his arm, and I’d be the sad single friend, sitting alone at the table for those who didn’t fit anywhere else.
I wished I could figure out a subtle way to ask Liam or Giff if Vincent planned to bring a date. But they’d both been too suspicious after the engagement party, even after I told them point-blank that I wasn’t sharing anything with them. If I so much as mentioned Vincent’s name now, they’d be on me like bees on honey.
It would be helpful, too, if I’d managed to forget that night. I wished I could. I wished that it had been like any of my other hook-ups, a dim and pleasant memory, rather than something running on constant repeat in my head, flaring into Technicolor perfection when I least wanted it to be there.
I told myself that it didn’t matter, that it didn’t mean anything. Hell, I’d been telling myself that since Vincent had left that Saturday morning . . .
Closing my eyes, I let myself drift, remembering.
We hadn’t gotten much sleep that night. It seemed that any time I fell asleep, a few minutes later, Vincent was sucking on my nipple or between my legs, tonguing me to mind-numbing pleasure and then groaning as he slid back inside me. Or I’d wake up with his arms around me, his cock nudging me in the back, and I’d reach backwards and stroke him until he pushed me onto my stomach and took me from behind.
Just Roll With It (A Perfect Dish Book 4) Page 6