“For you, of course. Yesterday we had fun together. We grilled out and planned the patio and decided what we needed to order from that Lowes place. You like doing things yourself and so do I. I never knew that about you, Thelma.”
He nearly choked on his own words. “I wanted to do this for you.” He put down his plate and then put hers down, too. He took her hands in his and assumed his most sincere look. “I like being together, Thelma. I like spending time with you . . . It’s the highlight of my life. I can’t wait to see you each day and talk to you on the phone and make plans with you.”
He nodded to the shallow hole that had nearly killed him to dig and said in a low voice, “I did this because you enjoy it. And it’s something we did together. I did it for us.”
Her eyes rounded to the size of softballs. “Us?”
Gotcha! He kissed her, his lips caressing hers, lingering. Then he eased his tongue inside her mouth. She gasped, taking his tongue in deep. Her body tensed at the sensation; then she relaxed. She didn’t pull away but leaned toward him, her lips widening but not with the ease of someone used to French kissing. She held his shoulders, her fingers shaky. Then her hands went to the back of his neck, stroking him in short, clumsy gestures. Her tongue finally connected with his, and he felt her body shudder and a little whine sound deep in her throat.
He ran his hands around her back, holding her tighter, coaxing her from a sitting position to slide toward him so her torso connected with his and her legs curled against his. He could feel her breasts growing firm against his chest, her nipples hardening through her blouse and his shirt. She was a little chunky and not much to look at, but at least she had a decent set of knockers.
“Oh, Conrad.” She breathed his name into his mouth. She looked at him, her eyes clouded with passion. “I don’t understand what you do to me. I’ve never felt this way before.”
“Neither have I,” he said in return, faking breathiness of his own. And he really hadn’t ever felt this way because he’d never seduced a woman for money before. What a piece of cake.
He licked her bottom lip, her eyes widening. “You’re so sweet,” he said after he released her. “So sexy.”
“Sexy?”
To convince her, his mouth covered hers again, careful not to move fast. He didn’t want to scare her, just tantalize, suggest what she could have. Thelma was not an experienced lover, that was obvious. Luring her into his little trap just kept getting easier and easier. His tongue teased hers, darting then flirting. At first she didn’t seem to know what to do, how to play. Then her tongue and lips imitated his.
Least she was a quick study and her kisses weren’t sloppy. He hated a sloppy kisser. And she didn’t smell bad, some floral scent, not too disgusting, but no designer fragrance. His fingers inched down her back and slid under her cheap T-shirt. Good. Another indication of a low-maintenance wife. That left more money for him. His fingers touched her bare skin at her waist, and she seemed to freeze in place.
Uh oh, too fast. He didn’t need to alarm her. He needed to give her motivation as to why he felt as he did and get her to cooperate.
He took his mouth from hers, faking more short pants. “Thelma, we’re going too fast. We need to slow down. You . . . excite me more than I thought possible.” That sounded pretty good.
He pulled his hands away from her back and sat upright, taking his chest from hers and separating them. He ran his hand over his face, studying her from between his fingers to judge her reaction to this sudden change of pace. She didn’t look thrilled that he’d pulled away.
Great! “I want us to take our time. Enjoy each other.” He looked back at her. “I want us to get to know each other little by little.”
He stood. “I think you should go.” He studied her reaction from the corner of his eyes. She looked confused, as if she didn’t understand and, most important, she looked turned on.
He continued, “We both should get our bearings and figure out what we’re doing and what we want. This is all happening so fast for me.” He glanced at the uneaten potato salad and chicken. His insides wept. Flipping hell! What fantastic food and now he had to leave it. He should have eaten more chicken when he had the chance.
“But Conrad ...” She sounded as if his leaving her defied ail reason. He wanted the next move to come from her, the ideal disguise for throwing her off track in case she suspected ulterior motives. And even if she didn’t, those interfering O’Fallons might and get antsy over this big rush act. She could tell them that spending time together was her idea as much as his.
“Thelma.” He reached down and framed her face in his hands, his expression sorrowful. “What will people think? That I’m rushing you?”
“You’re not rushing me. I’m an adult. I do know what I’m doing.” A hint of desperation laced her words. He gave her his best fake sad grin, the one he usually saved for women when he told them he wasn’t good enough for them and they could do better. Course, that led to a few more dates and some really good sex, and when the end came they both felt satisfied.
He knelt down on one knee and put the covering back on the potato salad and placed it in the basket. “We can picnic some other time.”
He reached for the chicken, wondering if he could take a couple of bites without blowing his cover. Damn, not really. No chicken. He wouldn’t look too sincere and forlorn with a chicken leg m his mouth.
“I don’t care what anyone says. This is between you and me.”
“I’m not good enough for you, Thelma.” He cupped her chin in his palm. “I know that now. Everyone around here knows that.” Self-condemnation always evoked sympathy. He stood. “I’ll call you . . . later, maybe next week.”
“You don’t want to see me anymore?” She sounded so upset. Yes!
He stood and held his hands out to her in a hopeless gesture. “Of course I do, but you ...” He trailed the words off, looking devastated.
She stood. “But what?”
He took her in a reckless embrace and pulled her hard against him. “You turn me on,” he ground out, then captured her mouth in a wild fevered kiss, enticing her with long thrusts of his tongue, as if unable to restrain himself or resist her. He let her go and stepped away, making his steps unsteady and gasping for breath. “I can’t be around you right now. I want you too badly, and we need time.”
He trudged off toward the house, remembering to keep his head low, giving the impression of a depressed man caught in the throes of unfulfilled sexual desire and willing to sacrifice himself for the good of his woman. She’d think about him all night, get horny as a toad and come back tomorrow wanting sex. Her idea, not his! A much better approach.
In two days he’d propose, feign rapture and absolute need to make her his, and then they’d elope. He’d sell the Ferrari to buy a ring and have lots left over for the mutual investment thing Arthur insisted on. A guy in Memphis created paste mock-ups that looked like real diamonds enough to fool Thelma McAllister, least ‘til the divorce. Then who gave a shit.
Four days, five tops, and the little pigeon was all his . . . along with a million bucks. He could feel her watching him as he went into the house. He rounded the corner of the hallway, then peeked back out through the panes of the door so he could see her outside with little chance of her seeing him.
He laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the empty house. She looked confused and hungry and not for food. She wanted him bad. He jammed his hands in his pockets and headed for the stairs, whistling “Happy Days Are Here Again.” He needed a shower. The clock on the living room mantel chimed seven. If he hurried, he could make dinner at the club. Poached salmon tonight. He waited for his taste buds to salivate at the thought. . . and they did, except not over poached salmon but the best fried chicken he’d ever put in his mouth.
———
Thelma watched Conrad go into the house. Well, heck! What had made him leave her at the exact moment she wanted more!
She scraped the remains of their uneaten
food in a bag and put everything back in the basket, thinking about his explanation. He’d left because she turned him on? Well, guess what, he turned her on, too. But why’d he leave just when things were getting very interesting!
She headed for her car and sat in the driver’s side, gazing at the big brick house. She didn’t want Conrad to take things slower for her sake. She didn’t need time for them to get used to each other. She wanted Conrad, the new and improved version, with her here now.
Romance had passed her by on more than one occasion, more like two occasions and at break-neck speed and neither all that terrific once they found out she couldn’t be used as an easy roll in the hay. Damn humiliating to be used by a guy for sex or any other reason.
But this time terrific seemed very possible. The only thing missing was Conrad, and he wasn’t after anything. Since he left her, she’d have to go to him ... or did she? She nibbled her bottom lip. Could she really do that, be so forward? Then again, could she not?
She summoned every ounce of courage she possessed and climbed out of the Sunfire, went to the front door, picked up the heavy brass knocker and felt her courage vanish like the fog over the river. She turned and headed back to the car.
What a chicken! Except being on the fading side of forty didn’t give her time for chicken. She needed to grab romance now or lose out again, maybe forever. She ran back up the steps, yanked open the door—because if she knocked, she’d lose her nerve again—and went inside. Her heart raced as she reminded herself to breathe so as not to pass out right in the middle of Conrad’s hallway. The quiet of the house surrounded her. She got herself this far, now what?
She searched the front room for Conrad, then the kitchen. Nothing. She went back to the hallway. What would she do with Conrad when she found him? She considered the question, and a warm, excited feeling swept through her, leaving her dizzy, a little off balance and a lot horny. Oh, she’d had sex before, just not the warm, exciting, dizzy, off-balance kind. More like the wham-bam-slam thank-you-ma’am kind.
Was that water running from upstairs? The shower Conrad had talked about. She gritted her teeth and ran up the steps, basic lust spurring her on. Whistling trailed down the hall toward her, and she followed the tune of “Happy Days Are Here Again.” Was that a good omen or what!
Conrad’s bedroom? She entered and eyed the open bathroom door as the whistling continued. She’d never been in a man’s bedroom before, except the O’Fallons’ for cleaning and redecorating. Conrad didn’t need to redecorate anything. What great taste. Very expensive taste. So why did he choose to go out with her? Why was Thelma McAllister here now in his bedroom and not some other woman?
She spied his dirty shirt on the floor. Because Conrad had changed just like he said, and if he could change, so could she. She’d waited all her life for something to happen, for someone special to come her way. And now he had, and she needed to make the next move. No more waiting.
More “Happy Days” floated from the bathroom. Did that mean Conrad wanted her as much as she wanted him? What else could it mean? And he didn’t act on his feeling because he wanted her to be sure? Well, right now she felt plenty sure enough for both of them.
She whipped off her T-shirt, kicked off her sandals, yanked off her slacks and bra and panties. She squared her shoulders, pushed up her boobs, encouraging them to perk up. She summoned all her courage as she padded her way across the Oriental rug and pushed the bathroom door wide open. Rolls of steam billowed out, a small Jacuzzi sat in one corner, the fogged glass-enclosed shower stall stood in the other.
She opened it, and Conrad stopped mid whistle and stared wide-eyed, his mouth slightly open. Suds trailed down his middle, bisecting his firm chest, navel, then over his nonexistent arousal. Well, she’d change that quick enough. “Move over, Conrad. You have company. Your happy day’s about to get even happier.”
Did she really say that? Hell, yes! She stepped into the massive shower and closed the door behind her. Droplets fell around them in a steady rhythm, her heart beating like the drums in a Beach Boys song. “I’ve come to wash your back... and front.” Then she kissed his open mouth. “And every other part of you so you better hold on to your butt, or better yet, hold on to mine.”
She winked and kissed him again, this time her tongue insinuating what she wanted to do while here. But what did he want? Up ‘til now she’d called the shots. What if he didn’t want her here at all?
He grinned, slowly at first; then it covered his face. “What a surprise.”
“Me, too.”
This time he kissed her, his hot wet lips moving hungrily over her, his tongue possessing hers as his arms took her in an enthusiastic embrace. “Damn, you never cease to surprise me, woman.” He chuckled.
“Yeah, well, this time I pretty much surprised the hell out of me, too.” She bit her bottom lip, water trickling over her face and off the end of her chin. “Uh, is this a good surprise or a bad one?”
His gaze and his palms slid around the curves of her breasts, making them feel full and heavy and incredibly perky. Her heartbeat kicked up another notch, and a slow grin curved his lips. His eyes connected with hers. “This is good, very good, my dear. Better than you can ever imagine.”
Chapter 11
Thelma smiled at Conrad, some of the tension eating at her fading away. “Your hair looks good even in the shower. In fact, all of you looks good in the shower.” She glanced around. “I’ve never been in a shower with so many jets and even a bench. And we don’t have to worry about getting pregnant. Menopause does have its advantages.”
He laughed, the rich sound echoing against the tiled walls. “You do think of everything.”
“I... I like you, Conrad. I really like you.” Heat rushed to her cheeks. “I know this is awfully forward of me, but I don’t want to wait for . . . anything. We aren’t kids anymore; we know what we’re doing.”
Ha! She hadn’t a clue. This was purely a hormone-driven decision.
“I’m glad you’re here, Thelma.” He bent his head to hers. “I can tell you’re nervous, so I’m going to kiss you and you’ll know everything’s okay.” He brushed his wet lips against hers, then gave her a reassuring kiss. “Now I’ll show you that this is more than okay.” His mouth covered hers, completely taking her breath away. Holy Lord!
Droplets and steam swirled around them. “I feel like we’re the only two people on earth,” she panted against his enticing lips.
“Me, too,” he said in an emotional voice. Then his tongue stroked hers, and his body molded to hers. His knee slid between her legs, parting them, then inched up between her thighs and connected with her hot wet mound. She held onto his shoulders for support as her legs parted more, and his thigh pressed a bit harder, slid deeper between her legs, ‘til his leg perched on the bench behind her.
His hands skimmed down her back and cupped her der-riere, and he pulled her hips firmly to his own. She seemed to be perched on his knee, one thigh on each side, the pressure against her sex making her desperate to have him. She glanced down at his erection. She’d never seen one in daylight before, except in books or magazines, but not in the flesh. This was definitely the flesh.
“I want to wash your hair, Thelma. You have such wonderful hair, all thick and rich and brown with strands of pure gold when lit by the sun.”
He caught droplets on his tongue, then slid them into her mouth. Her insides flamed, her legs opened wider. “Conrad.” She could barely get out his name. “I can think of other things besides washing my hair right now.”
He kissed her again, his tongue now sliding in and out of her mouth in smooth, silky steady strokes that set her on fire. “I want to see bubbles slide off the tips of your lovely nipples and across your belly and tangle in the silky patch of dark curls below.”
He took the shampoo bottle from the rack and squeezed a creamy dollop into his palm. He massaged it into her hair, gentle strokes as his leg moved, mimicking the stroking motion between her legs, the coarse h
airs of his thigh against her sensitive lips making her heart palpitate with the same rhythm and her insides quiver in anticipation.
Suds trickled down her head. “Close your eyes, Thelma. You’ll get soap in them.”
She did as he said, making his touches and strokes all the more tantalizing and seductive. “What are you doing to me, Conrad?”
“I want to pleasure every inch of you, Thelma. I want to make love to you in a way you’ll never forget.”
“Forget? There’s no danger of that happening.” She felt his finger sear a path from the tip of her chin, down her throat that shuddered from his touch, over her left breast that swelled with expectation, stopping at the peak of her stiff nipple. She gasped as he rolled her beaded nub between his thumb and finger. She couldn’t open her eyes or she’d get soap in them. All she could do was revel in the unbelievable sensation of Conrad’s lovemaking. “You’re cheating. I can’t even watch you.”
“You don’t need to watch. Just feel me, Thelma. Feel me do things to you, make you as happy as you make me.” His arousal moved against her; his lips met hers, his fingers still tugging gently at her beaded nubs driving her wild. “And there’s so much to come.”
Then his clever fingers trailed a path across the underside of her breasts, across her middle, lingering at her belly button, finally stopping where he’d wedged his thigh between hers. Her eyes flew open; her heartbeat thudded out of control as his finger tangled into the wet curls, teasing the tender flesh underneath before sliding into the slick softness between.
“Oh, Conrad,” she whimpered, her head falling back, letting the gentle rain of the shower fall on her face.
“I’m right here, Thelma,” he whispered in her ear. His leg dropped away, and his fingers gently fondled her clit. She gasped, not expecting the incredible sensation roaring through her now. “Open your legs for me wider, sweetheart. Let me touch you more.”
Then his fingers fondled her again, giving her more pleasure than any man ever had. Her body trembled with every invasion of his finger, then-two fingers, and she wasn’t prepared for the swift climax that suddenly overtook her as his fingers plunged deeper, again and again with each thrust.
Til There Was U Page 13