by Sherri Hayes
Again, she didn’t say anything. This time he looked in her direction. She had leaned her head back against the headrest, and was staring at him intently. He’d expected her to jump at his offer, since she’d been the one to push for it in the first place. That’s why her next question surprised him. “Are you sure?”
Since they were coming up on their exit, Paul waited until they were off the highway before he replied. But instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “What? Have you changed your mind? I thought . . .”
She shook her head. “No. I haven’t changed my mind. But I’m curious as to what made you change yours.”
As scared as he was, Paul figured he needed to be honest. “I did a lot of thinking while you were gone, and well . . .” He took a deep breath, and admitted something to her he hoped he wouldn’t regret. “I missed you.”
Megan laughed.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“You mean, all I had to do was go away for a week? Here I’ve been trying to get your attention for months, and leaving is what does it?”
“Oh, trust me, you got my attention just fine.”
She smirked. “Good to know.”
Paul pulled into his driveway and turned off the car. “So?”
“So what?”
He tried not to let her see how anxious he was. “You never answered my question. Will you go out on a date with me Friday night?”
“Oh. That.”
Paul tightened his hold on his keys, and he could feel the metal biting into his hand. “Yes. That.”
Instead of answering him, Megan opened her door, and stepped out of the car. He followed, completely perplexed.
They both came around to the back of the vehicle to get her luggage, but when he reached for the handle, she stopped him. “Kiss me.”
“What?” It had been a while since he’d asked a woman out on a date, but if memory served, the kiss came after the date.
“I want you to kiss me.”
This time he detected a note of amusement in her tone. He wasn’t sure if he should be annoyed or not, since she appeared to be having fun at his expense. “Isn’t that supposed to come after the date?”
She shrugged. “Let’s just say . . . this is my way of finding out if you’re serious or not.”
Paul stared at her for a moment, and then decided why not? It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to kiss her. In fact, it had been at the top of his list since the moment he’d laid eyes on her at the airport. He’d only been holding back because . . . well, he didn’t know why exactly.
Stepping forward, Paul closed the distance between them, and cupped the back of her neck with his right hand. She tilted her head up and slightly to the left, leaning into his touch. Placing his left hand at her waist, he brought her closer until he could feel the heat radiating from her body. It had been over a month since he’d felt her soft and warm beneath his fingers.
Megan closed her eyes as he lowered his mouth to hers. For once, he didn’t question it—didn’t think about all the reasons why not. This time, he allowed the desire he’d been keeping a tight lid on to come to the surface.
When Megan issued her challenge, she hadn’t known how Paul would react. He’d caught her off guard when he asked her out. The entire time she’d been in Nashville, she’d racked her brain as to what else she could do to try and break through the wall he’d built up around him. There was no way she could have known that her absence would be enough to push him out of his comfort zone.
As Paul’s lips continued to move against hers, Megan gave in to the urge to touch him. Holding tight to the flowers with one hand, she used the other to grip the back of his head, pulling him closer. He seemed to like that. His fingers flexed on her hip, and he shifted them slightly. She moaned as he pressed her up against the car. With every second that passed, it was becoming more difficult to remember they were in public.
Paul ran his palm down her hip to cup her ass. The movement lifted her an inch or so higher, which brought her more in line with the hard length of him pressing aggressively against his jeans. She began rubbing herself against him, seeking friction.
He groaned, and ripped his mouth away from hers.
Megan didn’t want their kiss to end. She tugged at his hair, trying to get him to pick up where he’d left off.
“We can’t . . . do this here.” His words were broken, spoken in between short, shallow breaths.
A car passed by as they stood clinging to one another, and Megan knew he was right. They were standing in his driveway in the middle of the day. Somehow she didn’t think the neighbors would like it much if they began ripping each other’s clothes off on the front lawn.
She buried her face in the crook of his neck, willing herself to calm down.
Even though Paul had stopped the kiss, he seemed to be in no hurry to let her go. She smiled, and placed a soft kiss at the base of his neck.
He chuckled. “What was that for?”
Instead of answering that question, she answered another. “Yes.”
Unfortunately, this caused Paul to pull back so that he could see her face. “Yes, what?”
Megan smiled, and ran her fingers freely through his hair. “Yes, I’ll go out on a date with you.”
Paul threw his head back and laughed. The motion separated them further, and Megan let her fingers fall.
To her surprise, when he realized they were no longer connected, he grasped the back of her head with both hands, and gave her a swift, hard kiss. When he separated their lips, he didn’t release her. “I missed you. I really did.”
Reaching up, she ran her fingers along his jaw. “I’m glad to be home.”
He kissed her again, and then took a step back. They unloaded her suitcases, and brought them upstairs to her room. There was a moment of awkwardness. Things were changing between them, and it seemed as if neither knew exactly what that meant.
After a few minutes of strained silence, Paul excused himself from Megan’s room. She let herself fall backward onto the bed, and grinned so wide her cheeks hurt. Paul had kissed her. Willingly. Knowingly. They were going out on a date. A real, honest-to-goodness date. And he’d gotten her flowers. No guy had ever bought her flowers before.
Megan looked over to her dresser where she’d placed the bouquet. The flowers were beautiful. They reminded her of spring, of new beginnings, which was completely appropriate given the circumstances.
As she lay there, she began to wonder where he’d take her on their date. Not that the where really mattered. Paul was finally admitting that he felt something for her—that she wasn’t only his daughter’s nanny. Doubt crept up in the back of her mind, wiping the smile from her face. Maybe he’s just horny.
No. She didn’t believe that. If sex was all Paul wanted from her, he could have had that months ago. He’d always been the one to stop their physical encounters, not her. And he’d said he missed her. Not kissing her or making out with her. Her.
Pushing herself up off the bed, Megan flipped her suitcase open and unpacked her things. It took a while. She sorted through her clothes, throwing the dirty ones in the hamper. Rebecca had offered to let her use their washer and dryer, but Megan had brought plenty of clothes with her for the week, so she’d opted to bring her laundry home instead.
Once everything was put away, Megan headed downstairs to find some food. Rebecca and Gage had taken her out for a late breakfast before dropping her off at the airport. At the time, she’d been stuffed. That was nearly five hours ago.
When she came down the stairs, Paul was riffling through the cabinets. He must have heard her enter because he turned abruptly to face her, almost as if he were a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I didn’t see you there.”
She walked over to the refrigerator and checked to see if she could find any leftovers. It was practically empty. Even when she’d first arrived, there had been a fair amount of food in the refrigerator. Besides the basics—milk, cheese, condi
ments—there were only two bottles of beer and a container that looked as if it held some sort of cake. “Where is everything?”
“Oh. I’ve mostly been eating takeout.” He shrugged. “I’ve been working long hours, and since it was only me . . .”
That made sense. Needing something more than what was to be had in the refrigerator, Megan made a beeline for the pantry. She found a box of pasta and some sauce. It might not be all that creative, but spaghetti was easy to make and filling.
As she moved about the kitchen, Paul seemed out of his element. He stood leaning against the counter for a while, and then moved to sit in one of the chairs. She glanced over her shoulder to find him tapping his fingers against the table and staring out the window into the backyard.
“Everything okay?”
He snapped his head around to look at her. “Yeah. Yes. Everything’s fine.”
She finished making her pasta, and loaded a healthy portion onto her plate. “Did you want some?”
“No. I’m good.”
She brought her plate over to the table and sat down. Paul looked uncomfortable.
After swallowing a few bites, Megan couldn’t take it anymore. “Paul, what’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and eyed her cautiously. “I guess I’m feeling a little lost.”
“Lost? Why?” Megan asked, taking another bite of her food.
Paul sighed. “I’m not sure how this is supposed to work. Us.”
“How do you want it to work?”
Megan could tell he was thinking about his answer, so she waited. The minutes ticked by as she finished her spaghetti and took her plate to the sink. When he still hadn’t answered by the time she was done, she strolled over to him. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Megan straddled his lap, sat down, and rested her arms over his shoulders.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Cutting to the chase.” She brushed her lips back and forth across his.
Paul’s breathing began to pick up. He closed his eyes, and took control of the kiss. Less than a minute later, he was running his hands up and down her back underneath her shirt, and his tongue was caressing hers. It wasn’t as desperate as some of their make-out sessions, but that didn’t make it any less hot.
This time it was Megan who pulled back. “That’s how it works. This. Us.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “I should probably tell you something.”
She scraped her nails along his scalp, and she felt him shiver. “What’s that?”
“I’ve never—”
“Don’t even try to tell me you’ve never had sex before. You have a daughter, remember? That one won’t work with me.”
Paul chuckled and pinched her.
“Ouch.”
“Serves you right. That wasn’t what I was going to say.”
She massaged the spot he pinched. It really didn’t hurt. It was more the principle of the matter. “What were you going to say then?”
He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “My wife—Melissa—is the only woman I’ve ever dated.”
Megan’s eyes went wide with shock. “Really? As in, ever?”
Paul nodded.
“Wow.” She thought about it a moment. “What about sex? Was there anyone else besides—”
“No.”
“Not even . . . after?”
He shook his head.
The primary emotion Megan was feeling was disbelief. Not that she didn’t think Paul was telling the truth, more that she couldn’t imagine someone as passionate as him going without sex for so long. Finding out his wife had been his only lover stunned her. Wow. Five years. Megan couldn’t imagine.
“So does that mean you don’t want to? Have sex, I mean. Is that why you never . . .” Megan held her breath waiting for his answer.
He was quiet for what felt like a really long time. “I tried once. About six months after my wife died.”
This was good, wasn’t it? I mean, it meant he wasn’t saving himself for marriage or anything. “And what happened?”
Paul shook his head. “It’s a long story, but needless to say I didn’t try again.”
“But that doesn’t mean you don’t want to, right?”
“I didn’t for a long time.”
Megan searched his face, hoping she wasn’t misinterpreting what he was saying. She didn’t think she was.
Standing, she reached for his hand. He hesitated for only a moment before linking his fingers through hers and following her up the stairs.
Chapter 17
Paul had a pretty good idea where they were heading, and yet he couldn’t figure out if he was excited about finally making his fantasies a reality, or scared out of his mind. The closer they came to her bedroom, the less distinguishable the two emotions became. It was as if the fear and the anticipation had combined.
With their hands still linked, Megan dragged him across the threshold of her bedroom, and over to the nightstand. She opened the drawer and extracted a condom. Tossing it on the bed, she turned to face him.
He swallowed, and tried not to let her see how nervous he was.
She stepped closer, releasing his hand, and placed both of hers, palms down, on his chest. “You can say no.”
The thing was he didn’t want to say no. He’d been dreaming about Megan for the last three months.
Knowing he needed to show her that he was in this all the way—that he wanted this—he took hold of her hips, and drew her toward him. She sucked in a breath as their lower bodies connected. He was painfully hard, and more than ready. “I don’t want to say no.”
Megan smiled, and ran her hands up his chest and neck until her arms rested on his shoulders. Her breasts flattened against his chest, and Paul closed his eyes. He felt her breath on his face, and turned his head to meet her lips.
“Relax,” she whispered.
Their mouths met in a tender caress. It wasn’t desperate need, but a slow burn. There was an energy inside him that was increasing in intensity.
She slid her tongue along the seam of his lips, and he opened his mouth, allowing her to slip her tongue inside. He dug his fingers into the flesh of her ass, increasing the friction against his groin. His eyes rolled into the back of his head at the sensation. It was at that point instinct started to take over, and he began moving them closer to the bed.
When the back of her legs hit the mattress, Megan broke the kiss, and sat down on the edge of the bed. She immediately went to work on removing his jeans. “Take off your shirt.”
Without stopping to think, Paul pulled the T-shirt over his head, and threw it somewhere a few feet away. By that point, Megan had unfastened his jeans and worked them halfway down his thighs.
She glanced up at him, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Tighty-whities, huh?”
“They’re practical.”
Without taking her gaze from his, she ran a finger over his erection. He thought he was going to lose it. No one had touched him like that in five years. Paul felt as if he were dangling from a cliff, hanging on for dear life.
Then she went and did something he hadn’t expected. Although, knowing Megan, he should have. She took hold of both sides of his underwear, and yanked them down to join his jeans. He stood there, fully erect, with his pants bunched down around his knees.
Paul was about to kick them off and out of the way, along with his shoes, when Megan sucked his length into her warm mouth. He released a strangled moan, and tangled his fingers loosely in her hair. It had been years. He’d forgotten how good it felt to have a woman’s mouth on him.
He closed his eyes and enjoyed what she was doing with her lips and tongue. All too soon he felt his orgasm building. He didn’t want her to stop, but if she continued, they’d never make it to the main event.
With great reluctance, Paul pushed her back. The cool air was a stark contrast to her warmth. She smiled up at him, licking her lips.
Paul kicked off his
shoes and then finished removing his jeans. Leaning forward, he lowered himself onto the bed—his hands spread wide, bracing himself. She leaned back on the mattress as he towered over her. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
She lifted her arms over her head and stretched, arching her back. “So why don’t you do something about it?”
Reaching for the bottom of her shirt, Paul worked it up past her breasts, and she helped him ease it over her head. She wore a pale pink bra with little blue flowers. It was cute and innocent. A direct contrast to the hard nipples he could see outlined beneath the thin fabric.
Paul remembered what Megan’s breasts felt and tasted like against his tongue. Pushing the material of her bra out of the way, he quickly latched on to her nipple, and drew it into his mouth. She held his head in place, pushing her chest up, encouraging him to take what he wanted.
And take he did. No matter how much he licked and sucked, he couldn’t get enough. If not for the growing need he had to be inside her, he could have spent hours—days—lavishing attention on her breasts.
Megan rotated her hips, and Paul could no longer ignore the pulsing in his groin. Reaching down between them, he unbuttoned her jeans, and then unzipped them. She helped him push the denim over her hips and down her legs, letting them fall to the floor beside the bed along with her shoes. The only things that remained between them were her bra and panties, and even those seemed too much. Megan seemed to agree, and between the two of them, the offending items were gone in a matter of seconds.
He ran his hands down the length of her body, taking in its perfection. Her curves were subtle, but they were there. Paul wondered how they’d change after she had a child of her own, and then swiftly stifled the thought. That wasn’t what this was about. They hadn’t—
Megan touched the side of his face. “Hey. Where did you go?”
Shaking his head, Paul kissed her. “Nowhere. It’s just been a long time for me.”
“Ah, yes. Well, we can take care of that easy enough.”
A second later, Paul was lying on his back, and Megan was climbing on top of him. He recognized the move she’d used as one commonly taught in self-defense classes. This was the first time he’d had it executed on him outside of the gym.