“Nope. Probably put the Celtics game on for background noise while I get some work done, then I’ll end up watching it instead of working.” All while imagining all the different ways their attic encounter could have ended. And all the positions it could have ended in.
“How ‘bout I bring over some take-out and watch the game with you? We can…hang out.”
Hang out might be the words that came out of his mouth, but the look in his eyes and the voice in her head rewrote that sentence to we can…have sex. “I’d like that.”
She’d like that a lot. Maybe it wouldn’t be quite as fun if by hang out he actually meant hang out but, even without the guarantee of a non-self-induced orgasm, spending time with him wasn’t something she’d turn down.
“Since we’re not exactly a thriving metropolis,” he said, “by take-out I mean something from the diner in a styrofoam to-go container.”
“I’ll take a cheeseburger, medium-well, with some fries. And a double-thick strawberry shake, if you don’t mind.”
“The game doesn’t start until seven. Is that too late for you to eat?”
“Nope, that’s good.” There was no reason to tell him that’s usually the time she finally remembered to close her laptop and either microwave a frozen meal or call for delivery. There wasn’t too much glamorous about her life in the big city.
He had to walk past her to get to his truck and she found herself holding her breath as he got near. Would he or wouldn’t he?
Much to her dismay, he didn’t. He’d hesitated, as if he was going to kiss her goodbye, but then he kept going. “So I’ll be back in a couple of hours, then.”
“I’ll be waiting.” Dammit, that just sounded desperate. It wasn’t as if she’d spend the two hours pining away for him.
She’d be too busy showering and shaving and shimmying herself into her best underwear. Goodbye kiss or no goodbye kiss, she had plans and they didn’t include basketball.
Chapter Four
Watching Chloe suck double-thick strawberry milkshake through a straw was going to make Scott’s head explode. Or something would. Probably not his head, but something was going to blow and it was going to be messy.
They’d tossed the paper and styrofoam debris from their dinner and were now theoretically watching the Celtics run away with the game, but she was taking her sweet time with the damn milkshake. And every time she closed her lips over the straw and sucked, he got harder. Circulation was starting to be an issue.
During a commercial time-out, she put the milkshake on the coffee table—thank God—and turned on the couch to face him. “I keep forgetting to ask my mom where she put my high school yearbooks. There are a billion boxes in that attic and most of them aren’t marked.”
“Trust me. You don’t want to go there.”
“But why don’t I remember you?”
He sighed. She wasn’t going to let it go and a description was probably more forgiving than a yearbook photo. “Picture me a little shorter and a lot skinnier, with really thick glasses that made me look bug-eyed. And I had a bowl cut, but not a regular bowl. It was more like a really crooked bowl with a wavy rim.”
“Ohmigod!” She actually put her hand to her mouth. “You were that guy?”
Scott braced himself. Hearing one of the many hated nicknames he’d been stuck with in high school come out of Chloe’s mouth was probably going to dampen the mood.
“You picked me a dandelion.”
That was the very last thing he’d expected her to say. “Really? You remember that?”
She’d been sitting alone, on a bench in the shade of the big elm tree, when she should have been in study hall. He’d been on his way back from the ag center, where he’d been sent to deliver mail from the main office, and she’d looked so sad and lonely he’d reached down and plucked a perfect dandelion from the lawn. She’d looked a little confused when he handed it to her, but then she’d smiled and he’d thought for sure he was having a heart attack. He’d managed to smile back, but he kept on walking rather than risk ruining the moment by opening his mouth.
“Of course I remember. You’re the only person who’s ever picked me a dandelion.”
“Chad Watkins used to have Joy’s Flower Shop deliver roses to you at school all the time.”
She rolled her eyes, which was better in his opinion than getting all moony-eyed with nostalgia. “Those weren’t sweet. They were about showing off or apologizing for being a jerk. Why did you run off that day before I could say thank you?”
“The moment was perfect as it was. You smiled and that was enough for me. I wasn’t sticking around long enough for you to laugh at me or ask why the hell I’d given you a weed.”
“I wouldn’t have laughed at you.”
“Not for the flower, but you would have if I’d tried to kiss you and that’s what I really wanted to do.”
He hoped she wouldn’t insult him by claiming now she would have kissed him then. Instead she leaned her body a little more toward him. “What else did you want to do to me?”
As signals went, she was practically standing at the start line waving a giant green flag, but he found himself tongue-tied. What was he supposed to say? He’d wanted to kiss her. Sometimes, when he was alone and he was sure the bathroom door was locked and his mother wouldn’t call his name for a few minutes, he’d imagined touching her breasts, but that was usually as far he got before alone time ended with a bang.
Not that he’d tell her that. “I wanted to do a lot of things to you.”
Before he could figure out how to make his move from telling her what he wanted to do her then to actually doing some of those things to her now, she threw one leg over him so she was kneeling on the couch, straddling his lap. “Like what?”
He ran his hands over her hips and up the sides of her body, stopping just shy of sliding them over to cup her breasts. “You’re killing me.”
She shifted her weight—not a lot, but it caused enough friction to let him know what he stood to lose. “Do you want me to move?”
“God, no.” He buried one hand in her hair and pulled her head forward so he could kiss her.
She wasn’t going anywhere if he could help it.
* * *
Chloe let herself go, drowning in Scott as his fingers tangled in her hair and their breath mingled and the hard length of him pressed between her thighs.
“I wanted to kiss you,” he said against her mouth. His hand skimmed over her stomach until his fingertips brushed the bottom of her breast. “I wanted to know what your hair felt like. I wanted to slide my hands up under that cheerleading sweater you wore and feel your nipples get hard.”
She rocked her hips against his and they both moaned. “Liked my cheer uniform, did you?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He cupped her ass with his hands and pulled her hard against him. “You and me. An empty classroom. You bent over a desk while I pulled that little skirt up and ran my hands over your ass.”
Putting her hands on his chest, she leaned back a little so she could see his face. “So is this just about fulfilling some old teenage fantasy for you?”
“No. This is about you and me, right here and right now.”
“Then let’s stop playing this game. Tell me what you want to do to me now.”
He lifted her sideways, laying her head on the arm of the couch and covering her body with his. “I want to strip you naked and then touch you and taste you until you beg for mercy.”
She slid her hands under his T-shirt and ran them up the warm skin of his back. “Not if I make you beg first.”
“That’s not fair. You’re dealing with skin. I’ve still got multiple layers to get through.”
She hadn’t thought of that when she pulled a cardigan over her long-sleeved cotton shirt. Mostly she’d been chilly and didn’t want to turn the thermostat up on him again. “Giving up already?”
He grinned down at her. “Never. I wish I’d worked through those layers while you were still straddling my l
ap. Would’ve saved time.”
“Are you in a hurry?” She hoped not because they’d barely started and she was already looking forward to an encore performance.
He didn’t answer, but he settled himself more fully on top of her so one of his knees rested between her legs, his thigh exerting sweet pressure between hers.
His kiss was slow and sweet, letting her know without words he definitely wasn’t in a hurry. He supported his weight on one arm while trying to slide her cardigan off her shoulders with his other hand. Since she was lying down, it wasn’t going to work.
“Maybe we should go to the bedroom,” she suggested. “I can lose some layers along the way.”
“Don’t wanna kill the spontaneity.”
“An hour of you trying to get my sweater off won’t do much for spontaneity, either.”
He nipped at her jaw. “How about you just stand up and get naked real quick right here?”
“One, because this is my mother’s couch. And, two, because your dog’s watching us like we’re his favorite episode of Animal Planet After Dark or something.”
“You’ll have to excuse him. He doesn’t get out much.” But Scott rolled off the couch and offered his hand to help her up. “Kojak, you stay, buddy.”
It felt naughty somehow, taking a boy up to her bedroom in her parents’ house, but it wasn’t as if they were home. And she forgot all about that when Scott kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt off over his head.
“You were supposed to lose layers along the way,” he reminded her.
She felt a little awkward, stripping her clothes off while he did the same, but there was no way in hell she was changing her mind. She’d wanted him since he’d first shown up at her door and she was going to have him.
When she was down to her underwear—and he was still in navy boxer briefs—Scott grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. The smooth warmth of skin against skin inflamed her and she threaded her fingers through his hair as he kissed her again.
He managed to back her to the bed and take her down to the mattress without taking his mouth from hers, and she moaned as he covered her body. Without two layers of denim between them, she could feel just how much he wanted her.
“I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw you,” he said as he started kissing and licking his way down her neck.”
“I really doubt you wanted to do this in kindergarten.”
He lifted his head long enough to give her a wry look. “Since I first saw you this time, smartass.”
Then he proceeded to punish her by taking his sweet time exploring her body. Every touch of his tongue and every brush of his fingertips drove her further toward the edge, and she rolled her hips up against his, desperate to feel him inside her.
He ignored her unspoken message and kept right on tasting and touching her until she thought she might really have to beg for mercy. When he tugged the fabric of her bra down, baring her breasts, she moaned and tightened her fingers in his hair.
Sucking first one nipple and then the other, Scott tormented her, keeping her busy while he slowly worked her panties down to her ankles. As she kicked them off, she realized he’d ditched his underwear at some point, too, and then came the crinkle of condom wrapper that signaled very good things to come.
He smiled down at her, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. “You’re a beautiful woman, Chloe Burke.”
She pulled his face down and kissed him, her tongue dancing over his as he settled between her thighs. She gasped as he entered her, then moaned softly against his lips as he slowly filled her.
A shudder rippled across his back and she pressed her fingernails lightly into his skin as he began to move, a slow and steady rhythm—each stroke bringing her a little closer to release.
His breath was hot and ragged against her sweat-dampened neck as he moved and she raised her hips, meeting him stroke for stroke. When he groaned and hooked his arm under one of her knees, his pace quickened and Chloe felt her body tighten.
She closed her eyes as the orgasm hit, arching her back as she squeezed his shoulders, trying not to cry out. Her muscles tightened around him and she felt his body jerk as he followed her over the edge.
A few seconds later, he collapsed on top of her, his breath as quick and harsh as her own. He kissed her mouth, her cheek and then her neck as he dropped his head onto the pillow next to hers.
“That was incredible,” he murmured against her ear.
Yes it was, though she wasn’t sure she had her voice back yet. She ran her fingernails up and down his back, loving the way his muscles twitched under her touch, and closed her eyes.
Minutes passed and Scott slid to one side so he wasn’t crushing her, but she didn’t care. She was warm and happy and so very, very relaxed. He kissed her neck again and she snuggled further into his embrace.
Then Kojak barked. Just once, but it was enough to startle her out of her warm, post-coital stupor. “Is somebody outside?”
“No.” Scott sighed and rolled toward the edge of the bed. “He needs to go out.”
“Have fun with that,” she muttered, feeling around for the blanket and pulling it up around her shoulders.
He slapped her on the ass and she laughed as he rummaged on the floor, presumably looking for his pants. But it wasn’t until he’d gone downstairs and she heard the back door that she realized she had no idea what to do now.
Was he going to come back to bed? He hadn’t said goodbye, but he couldn’t just spend the night, could he? Kojak would need his food, for one thing. And for another…she didn’t have enough experience with this situation to keep from feeling awkward.
Finally, she pulled on her robe and, when she was shoving her feet into her slippers, she noticed he hadn’t just rummaged for his jeans. All of his clothing was gone, so therefore presumably on his body.
He and Kojak were just coming in when she reached the kitchen, and he was brushing snowflakes out of his hair and off his shoulders. “Snowing out there. Just a dusting, though. Kojak and I should head home and let you get some sleep, but we’ll be back at eight tomorrow morning, okay?”
She nodded and turned her face up for his goodnight kiss, laughing when snowflakes fell from his hair to her cheeks. Then she watched them climb into his truck and drive off into the snow before locking up and shutting off the lights.
Her sheets were cool by the time she slipped back into bed, but if she hugged it tight enough, she could still smell Scott on the pillow.
Chapter Five
Scott caught himself whistling an annoyingly happy holiday tune as he walked to his regular morning table at the diner. He forced himself to stop, but not in time to avoid getting caught.
Freddy stared at him as he sat down. “You got laid last night.”
Scott tried to hide his reaction to the declaration by gulping down some of the coffee already waiting for him, but it was hot and burned his tongue. “What the hell are you talking about?”
The conversation paused when their waitress slapped a couple plates of blueberry pancakes down in front of them. Some days the cook made too much batter, trying to use up the blueberries, and the regulars ate them and liked it or they drove twenty minutes to eat somewhere else.
“I’ve known you most of your life, dude,” Freddy said when the waitress was gone and they’d buttered and syruped their pancakes. “You didn’t get enough sleep last night—I can see it on your face—but you’re whistling Christmas jingles. You only whistle when you’re in a really good mood. Two plus two equals you getting laid last night.”
Dredging a forkful of blueberry pancakes through the pooling maple syrup, he just shook his head. He wasn’t much for locker room talk anyway, but for some reason he was even less inclined to talk about his evening with Chloe than usual.
“You gotta tell me something, Scotty. Anything.”
Scott shook his head again and poured a second helping of syrup over his breakfast. He was going to need to sugar to keep him goin
g. “I don’t kiss and tell, Freddy.”
“So you’ve kissed her?”
“Eat your pancakes.”
Freddy waved his fork in the air. “I don’t know what the hell kind of friend you are. We’re not talking about any old girl here. Chloe freakin’ Burke, man.”
Maybe he was touchy from a lack of sleep—though he’d go without sleep to hear Chloe crying out his name anytime—but he was getting tired of Freddy’s obsession with the past. “Her middle name’s not freakin’, you know. High school was a long time ago and you don’t know anything about her now.”
His friend stared at him so hard he was surprised his eyes didn’t cross. “You’re totally smitten with her.”
“Smitten?” Scott laughed. “Didi’s got you watching that historical chick flick stuff again, doesn’t she? Pride and Sensibility or whatever the hell it’s called.”
“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you and you, my friend, have got it bad.”
“Not so bad I’ll watch movies with guys running around in wigs and high heels.” But he did have it that bad, not that he’d admit it out loud. If it would get Chloe naked again, he’d watch damn near anything. Even that Pride and Sensibility stuff.
Conversation moved on to the weather, sports—although Scott had no idea whether or not the Celtics won last night—and if the hardware store was ever going to get in their shipment of 14-2 wire so Scott didn’t have to make another hour-long round trip to the big home improvement store. Every couple of minutes he’d look at his watch. Almost time.
Freddy just laughed when it became obvious Scott couldn’t get out of there fast enough and he even paid for breakfast. “I’ve got it. Go!”
He caught himself whistling again as he pulled into the Burkes’ driveway. And as he walked up the front steps. He stopped, though, when he’d given a quick knock before letting himself in. She was waiting for him in the kitchen, that awkward, morning-after look on her face.
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