Something About Joe

by Kandy Shepherd

  Being in Joe’s arms felt so right. Like coming home. Not a one-night motel stop but home. Not just passion but something else, something deeper, something more than lust. Something surprising. Something she hadn’t expected.

  She could feel his heart thudding against her; her own was pounding as loudly and as urgently. His other kisses had been nothing like this. He’d been holding back then, she realized that now.

  This was the kiss she’d been fantasizing about—passion unleashed and relentlessly demanding—and the reality was far more exciting than the imagining. They’d only known each other for a heartbeat, but the time between meeting and this moment had seemed like an age.

  He pulled away from the kiss, gradually, as if he didn’t want to stop. Disappointed, her eyes flew open. She felt dazed, disoriented, achingly bereft of his warmth, of his strength.

  But only for seconds.

  He freed his right arm and then traced the contours of her face, as if he were a blind man seeing her with his fingers. Down her face he stroked, around her eyes; he pushed her hair away from her temples and stroked the delicate rim of her ear.

  Every cell came alive to his touch, clamoring urgently for more. Then in an exquisite torture, he outlined the shape of her mouth, softly, teasingly until she yearned, ached, for the greater pressure and pleasure only his mouth could bring.

  He sought her eyes with his own; his eyes clouded by a desire that ignited an answering need in her. She could not have broken away from his gaze even if she had wanted to.

  This was a look of passion and possession and she thrilled to the recognition of it as women had been doing since the dawn of time. Joe wanted her and she wanted him. Now.

  His hand dropped from her face and stroked her body once more. She tilted her face upward, hungry for his kiss. But her mouth was left throbbing and aching with need as his lips followed the same path as his fingers.

  Tiny, nibbling kisses blazed a path of pure delight on her eyelids, her nose. His tongue gently caressed the rim of her ear. The almost imperceptible pressure of his teeth on her earlobe sent an involuntary shudder through her whole body.

  When at last he reclaimed her mouth, it was with a hunger she eagerly—greedily— matched. She twined her arms around his neck and pulled his head closer to hers. Closer. Closer. Closer.

  The growth on his chin rasped against her cheek but it was a pain that was exquisitely pleasurable. The smell of his skin, of his hair was intoxicating. Her breath came faster and faster.

  Her nipples tingled as they hardened and she pressed them urgently against the powerful strength of his chest, her hips against his pelvis.

  He held her so tightly against him, she could feel the hard throb of his desire for her. The knowledge of his arousal was more fiercely exciting than anything, and somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach she felt herself melting and softening and unfolding like the petals of a rose.

  Control, Joe, control. Cool it. The alarm bells were clanging insistently.

  But Joe couldn’t stop from stroking her neck and the swell of her smooth cleavage. He ached to caress her lush breasts. He had ached to explore them since that first day—when she’d greeted him at the door in that barely decent robe.

  Even through the fabric of her dress he could feel her hard, aroused nipples, and her response excited him to fever pitch. He struggled for control but lost the battle. He wanted Allison more than he had ever wanted a woman. No way was he going to stop.

  He slid his hand down her neckline, lifted the lace of her bra and pushed it away. He cupped her breast, kneading the hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She shuddered at his touch and thrust her breasts harder towards him. Then he claimed the other nipple and brought it to the same nub of throbbing arousal.

  He was going to make it slow for her, slow and lingering and thorough, until all she could feel was desire. Until she craved him the way he was craving her.

  Starting right here he was going to explore every inch of her body, with his hands, with his mouth, with all of him. Then he would carry her upstairs and pleasure her like she’d never dreamed she could be pleasured. His breath sounded ragged in his own ears and her breathing echoed his.

  He kissed a pathway down her soft neck, her throat, to the edge of her bra, pulling it with his teeth. If she liked what he did with his fingers, she’d go crazy with what he would do with his tongue.

  He reached down and cupped the cheeks of her bottom and pulled her even closer to him. Then he pulled her dress up, seeking her panties...

  Allison’s heart stopped beating for a moment as Joe’s hand slid inside her panties. Anticipation built as his hand slid over her belly and tangled with the curls he found below. Once he went further, she wouldn’t be able to stop. She’d be a tease to permit such an intimate caress and not follow through to the ultimate conclusion.

  But was having sex with Joe what she really wanted right now? It was difficult to think straight through the tremors of desire that racked her body. Then Joe’s fingers explored further...

  She pulled away from him, gasping, and wrenched down her dress. “Joe. No. It’s too much. Too soon.”

  Joe’s face was dark with passion. Even as she backed away from him, Allison thrilled at the sight of it. For a long, breathless second she was tempted to abandon all sense, all caution and push her way back into his arms. Go out of control.

  She wanted him, wanted him so badly that she could scarcely think of anything but making love with him. Never, ever had she felt this reckless, unreasoning desire. But she wasn’t ready for that kind of physical commitment with a man she scarcely knew. It went against everything she had always believed in.

  “I’m s... sorry,” she whispered, scarcely able to speak from the breathlessness of arousal. She looked into his eyes. “I...I don’t mean to be a tease. But I don’t want to go any further.”

  She forced in a deep, shuddering breath to help her control her voice. Her knees felt so shaky and weak she wondered if she would be able to remain standing. She was stunned at the force of the passion that had engulfed her.

  It frightened her. She’d dreamed about being in his arms. Fantasized about kissing him, about making love to him. But she hadn’t expected fantasy to so quickly become reality. That she’d be faced with the chance of having sex with this man she’d known only for a few days, a man she still knew very little about.

  Yet...a few moments ago she’d thought she’d known everything she needed to know about him.

  She stepped away from him, and was relieved when he didn’t try and stop her. She didn’t trust she’d have the willpower to stop him again. Her body wanted him badly—so badly that her hormones could easily vanquish her good sense.

  With hands that weren’t quite steady, she pushed her hair back away from her face. Her cheeks felt flushed and hot, her whole body alive and invigorated. Her heart was still tripping at a million miles an hour.

  Joe was still dangerously near; she swore she could hear the thudding of his heart.

  “I’ll...uh…I’ll get on with fixing that coffee,” she stammered, her voice sounding stilted to her own ears.

  “It’s not coffee I want,” he said in that husky voice, rich with sensual invitation.

  She flushed and dropped her gaze from his. “I know,” she said. Coffee was the last thing she wanted, too. She ached for him—but she wanted to be able to live with herself in the morning. She turned away from him to face the countertop.

  Crazy, irrational thoughts raced through her head as, with trembling hands, she measured the coffee into the glass coffee pot, adding an extra measure for Joe. She’d bet he liked his coffee strong; even past midnight he wouldn’t be a de-caff kind of guy. She poured in the boiling water. She couldn’t bear to turn around and meet his gaze as she waited for the coffee to infuse.

  Her thoughts tumbled and churned. It didn’t matter he had no money. She could earn enough for them both. Especially if he was looking after Mitchell. Role reversal. She,
the working mom; he, the stay-at-home dad. It could work.

  Fiercely she pushed the plunger into the coffee pot. Enough.

  She had to rein in her fantasies before she saw herself walking down the aisle. To what? A fanfare of revving Harleys?

  Joe throbbed with frustrated desire. Watching Allison prepare the coffee was torture; keeping a distance while he could still taste her kiss, smell her on his skin, took all his self-control. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. Couldn’t stop thinking about how her curves felt pressed against him, how her warm skin felt under his hands.

  He wanted more. He wanted to thrust aside her protests, carry her up the stairs, and spend what was left of the night exploring every inch of her seductive body.

  She leaned down to a cupboard, her bottom thrust provocatively back at him, her dress riding high. Did she ever wear a garter belt and stockings on those sensational legs? Black. Black lace against creamy, satiny thighs...

  He stifled a groan of agonized need. He wanted this woman so bad. Wanted her to laugh and cry and lose herself with him in releasing their passion. He wanted to make love to her all night, and again when she woke in the morning.

  He had to draw on every reserve of his willpower not to march over to her and pull her into his arms. Then stifle her protests with kisses and caresses until she begged him to make love to her. It wouldn’t be difficult—she wanted him, too.

  Yet he didn’t want to have to bulldoze her into overcoming her scruples about going to bed with him. He wanted her to come to him willingly, joyously. Perversely, although he was aching with frustration, he respected her for pulling away.

  Though he felt he’d known her much longer, it had only been a matter of days since he’d walked in her front door. He was glad she wasn’t the kind of woman who tumbled into bed with a man on such short acquaintance.

  And yet, at the same time, he knew he wouldn’t stop trying to bed her. She was irresistible.

  He took the tray she’d laden with the coffee cups and a plate of chocolate-chip cookies. His fingers grazed hers as he did so and, even at this light touch, a shock of awareness sizzled between them.

  He followed her into the living room and put the tray on the coffee table. He reclaimed his place on the sofa, his arm resting along the back of it. She hovered awkwardly nearby so he patted the seat beside him.

  She sat down as far away from him as possible. He nearly laughed out loud. Sugar and steel all right. And at the moment she was all sweet, fluffy cotton candy.

  “Come here,” he said as he pulled her back into his arms.

  Allison held herself stiffly in his embrace, but only for a matter of moments. How could she resist? She snuggled into his warmth, her heart singing her joy. She was already hungry for his kiss and her mouth sought his.

  She was pathetically out of practice when it came to this kind of thing. She’d felt ridiculously shy of him after that torrid session in the kitchen, and not at all certain of what to expect next. What could she say to him now?

  Everything had changed. Changed completely. And she still couldn’t quite believe what had happened between them. She and the nanny. It should seem wrong. But it seemed very, very right. She slid even closer to him.

  Joe sure knew how to kiss. Intimately gentle at first, and then with increasing pressure and hunger. She kissed him back, rejoicing in the taste and the feel of him, the pressure of his strong, hard arms around her. She twined her fingers through his hair.

  But in spite of how much she was enjoying his kiss, she fought against getting carried away again. Not yet. Not now. She’d spent a lifetime believing you didn’t go to bed with someone you didn’t love.

  It wasn’t just what the church said, or what her parents had said; it was what she believed in for herself. For her, sex had always been part of a long-term, committed relationship. And until now she hadn’t been tempted to do otherwise. Until now, in the arms of this man.

  Just one second more she promised herself, just one more moment in heaven, just one more delicious shiver of delight as his hand started moving toward her breast again...

  With the willpower that had got her through years of intensive study when others were out having fun, that had seen her fight her way relentlessly upward in the corporate banking world, she pulled away from his possessive mouth.

  Panting, her breath echoed by his uneven breathing, she looked for one long moment into his eyes and then, unable to hold the gaze, looked away.

  He cupped her chin and turned her back to face him. “Why stop?” His voice was hoarse.

  “I told you, it’s too soon.”

  “Why wait?” he said, cradling her face with his hands and kissing her again.

  She slid her mouth away from him, knowing it was one of the hardest things she had ever done.

  But he didn’t let her move away. “Tell me you don’t want me, Allison. Lie to me,” he said.

  “Oh, Joe,” she murmured. “I can’t lie. I want you. You know I do. But I’m just not ready.”

  He groaned, but didn’t say anything more for which she was grateful. He started to stroke her hair. Slowly, sensuously. Like she was a cat. It felt so wonderful she wished she could purr.

  Did he like cats? Did he like dogs? It was important to her he liked animals. Her cat had passed away just before Mitchell was born, but she wanted another as soon as feasible. Or a dog. Or both. She turned her head to ask him, but in doing so she caught sight of the shelves on the wall next to the sofa. And what sat on them.

  She sat up straight and stared.

  “I did that after you left on your date,” Joe said.

  Half of her framed photographs had been turned around to face the wall.

  “Why?” she asked, frowning.

  “I didn’t want to be looking at your ex all night,” Joe said, a gruff edge to his voice.

  “Oh,” she said.

  Now it was Joe’s turn to ask her “why”. From the moment he’d become aware of her as a woman—which was when she’d first opened the door to him—he’d wondered why so many photographs of that ginger-haired creep, Peter, were so prominently displayed around the living areas of her house. It seemed a veritable shrine to lost love.

  He’d learned the hard way to be wary of women still in love with their former partners.

  “From what I heard in the park that day, your ex-husband is a jerk. So why the pictures of him all around the place? Why the wedding photos when he’s dumped on you and Mitchell?”

  The sudden pain that flashed across her face made him immediately curse himself for his bluntness.

  He and his big mouth. He’d struck some deep vein of hurt here. He could see her inner struggle—whether or not she should confide in him; whether to laugh it off with some blithe comment; or tell him the real story.

  Suddenly he wasn’t so sure he wanted to hear her answer to his smart-aleck question.

  He remembered how he’d felt when Deborah told him she was still in love with her ex-husband. That despite all they’d shared she was going back to him. It had felt like he’d been delivered a body blow from Mike Tyson.

  It wasn’t the same situation here of course. He scarcely knew Allison. Hadn’t known her long enough to feel any agony at her loss. He told himself a few kisses, no matter how mind-blowing, didn’t make any difference.

  Then why did he want to put his hand over her mouth and tell her not to say the words he couldn’t bear to hear? That she was still in love with her ex.

  Allison bit her bottom lip and moved away from him. He wanted to pull her back, but he couldn’t touch her until he heard what she had to say.

  Her whole frame seemed to shudder. It was obviously an effort for her to get the words out.

  “Because...because more than anything I want Mitchell to know his father. I want him to be aware of his roots, his history. It’s why I stay in Australia, when I could as easily go back home.” She was twisting her hands together on her lap.

  Joe stared at her. This wasn’t
the answer he’d been expecting. He was knocked out at the overwhelming relief he felt at her confession.

  She wasn’t still in love with her ex-husband.

  That left him in with a chance.

  He pulled himself up with a mental jolt.

  Love.

  Since when had he started thinking of Allison and love in the same breath?

  This was getting confusing.

  Then he took in her agitation, the nervous movement of her hands as she rubbed one palm with the thumb of the other, the anxious flutter of her lashes. There was some other agenda here.

  In a flash it became clear to him. Again he was struck at how vulnerable she was. And how that vulnerability aroused an unaccustomed surge of protectiveness in him. “Like you didn’t?” he asked, making his voice as gentle as he could.

  Allison nodded. “The people I refer to as my...my parents are my adoptive parents. But I didn’t find out I was adopted until I was sixteen years old.”

  She was having difficulty getting the words out. He reached out and pulled her to him in a hug that was for comfort and reassurance rather than a prelude to passion. But as she nestled against him, her soft hair brushing his face, her breasts pressing against his chest he felt desire stir. It was as well she moved away.

  “When I found out, I realized why my father had always been so awful to me. I could never seem to please him. He’d never wanted to adopt. He wanted ‘flesh of his flesh and blood of his blood’. How many times did I hear him spout those words? He never forgave my mother for insisting on adopting a child. Or me for coming between them.” Her words faltered, tears welled in her eyes.

  A great surge of tenderness for Allison flooded Joe’s heart, and he held her as close as he could. His mouth sought hers and he tenderly kissed her. He could taste the salt of her tears.