Welcome to Temptation/Bet Me

by Jennifer Crusie

  “I have to go now,” Sophie said breathlessly into the phone. “I’m sorry if this hurts you but I don’t think it will. You always seemed sort of clinical anyway.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’ll soften the blow,” Phin said. “Remind me never to get involved with you.”

  “Um, have a nice life,” Sophie said brightly, and hung up. She walked over and boosted herself onto the table next to him, willing herself to stay cool, and reached for her wineglass again. “So you’re not getting involved?”

  He took the glass away from her. “No. I’m just going to have cheap sex with you and then run like hell.”

  “Chicken,” she said.

  He stood up and put her glass in the sink, and then he came back to stand in front of her, parting her knees with his body. He said, “You bet,” and she lost her breath again.

  He kissed her, sliding his hand into her dress to cup her breast, and she thought, A semi-complete stranger is groping me, and smiled against his mouth.

  “What?” he said, and she gave in to the devil and wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “It feels good,” she said, and he said, “Well, that’s why I do it,” and kissed her again, running his hands down her back to lift her off the table.

  “Where’s the bedroom?” he said, and she said, “Second door on the left upstairs.”

  “Upstairs?” He put her back on the table. “Then you walk. And make it quick, before the therapist calls back.”

  She was going to argue, but she heard Amy and Wes on the porch, so she slid off the table and headed for the stairs and all that headbanging sex she’d been promised.

  Twenty minutes later, she was suffocating on top of him in the heat of her unair-conditioned bedroom, the ancient box springs squeaking under them like a bad accordion, and her head was unbanged because the sex was lousy.

  It wasn’t Phin’s fault. He was as thoroughly competent at the Phallic Variation as he’d been orally the night before. So it must be me, she thought, as he moved under her, doing absolutely nothing for her. She felt embarrassed by the whole situation. Zane had been right. She just wasn’t the type for headbanging sex. She was too detached. She was too prissy and straight. She was doing this to write a sex scene for a movie she wasn’t even sure she wanted to make. She was hot and sticky and she could feel her hair kinking in the heat even as Phin breathed under her, so she knew she looked awful. She was unexciting. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter, she was never going to get anywhere at this rate.

  She thought briefly about faking it, and then dumped the idea when she realized that Phin would probably see through it and make fun of her performance. That pretty much left her with no option except tapping him on the shoulder and telling him to play on through because she was out of the game. Sorry, she’d have to say. I’m not even close. Or she could let him figure it out on his own, except guys never did. They just—

  “You’re not even close, are you?” Phin said, breathless below her, and she refocused back on him.

  “What?”

  “Hi, I’m Phin Tucker, and I’m inside you. I know how these things slip your mind.” He didn’t sound annoyed, but she felt bad anyway.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, and he slid his hand down her back and rolled to one side so that they lay face-to-face on the damp sheets, the springs protesting under them.

  “Don’t apologize.” He brushed back a curl that was stuck to her forehead. “Thinking about the therapist?” He moved against her to bring her closer, and her nerves kicked into gear.

  “Who?” she said, trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about.

  “Well, at least you forgot us both,” Phin said. “That was very democratic of you.” He used a corner of the sheet to wipe sweat off her forehead. “Remind me to get you an air conditioner before we do this again. I’m dying here.”

  She wanted to say, What are you talking about, AGAIN? This is a disaster, but it didn’t seem polite. “Maybe we should just call it a night,” she said, and moved back from him, and he followed her to stay inside her, and that made her shiver under his hands.

  “Maybe we should give it another shot,” he said as she trembled. “That’s at least one nerve you’ve still got working.” He kissed her in the damp curve where her neck met her shoulder, and she took a ragged breath and moved against him again without thinking. “And that one always works. I noticed that last night.”

  “Last night was different,” she said.

  “Yeah, you came,” Phin said, and she laughed in spite of herself.

  “Not that. I’m distracted tonight. It’s not your fault.”

  “Do me a favor.” Phin slid his hand down her sweat-damp back again. “Don’t be understanding. There’s nothing worse for a guy’s ego.”

  “Your ego is in fine shape,” Sophie said crushingly. “Along with the rest of you. Really, this isn’t going to work. Could we go watch TV now or something?”

  “No.” Phin kissed her in the curve of her neck again, and she shivered and said, “Stop that.”

  “See?” he said in her ear, which made her shiver, too. “Progress. Now tell me your fantasies.”

  “What?” She tried to squirm away and he rolled again, trapping her under him. He was heavy and sweaty, which should have been a turn-off, but her body rocked against his, independent of her mind, and she closed her eyes as he slid deeper into her.

  “I think it’s time we got to know each other,” Phin said, laughter in his voice. “What do you think about when you masturbate?”

  “Okay, I’m out of here.” Sophie tried to roll out from under him, but he pressed down on her with his hips, and she stayed just to feel him hard inside her.

  “What do you think about, Sophie?” he whispered in her ear, and she said loudly, “I don’t think about anything.”

  “You are such a lousy liar.” He rolled again, this time so that she was on top, his body sliding slickly under hers, and Sophie felt herself flush.

  “Bondage?” he said, his voice husky as he rocked against her, his hands on her hips, and she caught her breath and said, “You come near me with a rope, and I’m history.”

  “Okay, later for that,” he said. “Rape fantasy?”

  “Tacky,” she said, and he said, “Not if you do it right. You want to dominate?”

  “Oh, yeah. Like you’d let me.” She started to laugh, only to stop when she heard people in the kitchen downstairs. “Shhh.”

  “Why?” Phin stopped moving. “It’s just Wes and Amy.”

  “Yeah.” Sophie looked over her shoulder at the door.

  “Did you lock it?” Phin said in her ear, and he sounded amused.

  “I forgot.” She tried to pull away from him, but he rolled and trapped her again, sliding deeper inside her and making her gasp. “Stop it,” she said breathlessly. “I’m not even sure it’s closed all the way. Let me go lock it and I’ll come back.”

  “Bothers you, huh?” Phin started working his way down her neck again as he pulsed inside her, and Sophie felt the heat spread low as her blood pounded.

  “No,” she lied.

  “They could walk in anytime.” He nibbled on her shoulder, and she twitched under him and felt her breath go. “Walk right in and find us naked.” He slid his hand up to her sweat-dampened breast, and the heat rolled across her as she moved to his rhythm. “Find you naked. With me inside you. Nothing you could do about it.”

  She caught her breath and said, “Stop it,” and he said, “Nope, I think we’re getting somewhere.”

  She squirmed under him to get away, and their bodies slid together. He said, “Oh, God, yes, do that,” and she smacked him on the shoulder because he was so impossible, and arched into him at the same time because he was so hard moving inside her and he felt so good.

  “Maybe I can get . . . somebody else . . . to open that door,” he said in her ear, and she said, “No!” a lot louder than she meant because it was part moan. She heard Amy say, “Sophie?” downstairs, and
she tensed. Phin laughed down at her, his face as damp as hers.

  Beautifully moist, Sophie thought. Be careful what you wish for.

  Amy called her name again, and Phin said, “Excellent.” He rocked higher into her, and she bit her lip to keep from moaning and then moaned anyway. “Louder,” he said, and she shook her head as the heat built and his rhythm began to make her mindless.

  “Then it’s up to me.” He sounded breathless. “The guy always has to do everything.”

  He leaned over her to the bedside table, and she bit into his shoulder from the sheer pleasure of feeling him against her. Then he stopped, and she looked up to see him holding the alarm clock.

  “I’ll buy you a new one,” he said, and threw it against the wall.

  “What are you doing?” she screamed as it crashed and went off clanging. Amy called up, “Sophie?” and Phin moved again, rocking harder, and she shuddered under him and gasped, “Stop it.”

  “This close? Not on your life.” He was moving faster now, and she clutched at him and breathed hard as the pressure built. She said, “No . . . no . . . we’re not . . . close,” and he rolled across her again, making her jerk against him. He picked up the dolphin lamp, yanking the cord out with it, and she realized what he was doing and shrieked, “No!” just as he threw it against the wall.

  It shattered and fell on top of the clanging alarm.

  “Sophie?” Amy called, and started up the stairs, and Phin said, “This is it,” and moved high into her, grabbing her wrists and holding them over her head, sliding hot on top of her, rocking hard inside her, whispering in her ear that Amy’d catch them, any minute, any minute, any minute, now, now, now, and Sophie twisted under him, caught in the heat and the slide and the panic and the throb he was pounding into her, and then Amy said, “Sophie?” and pushed open the door, and Sophie cried, “Oh, God,” and came so hard she almost passed out.

  “Oh,” Amy said, and shut the door.

  Sophie heard Amy go down the stairs, with only a fraction of her attention. The rest was consumed with how good she felt everywhere as the aftershocks made her twitch, how much she needed her breath back, and how she was going to strangle Phin when he let go of her wrists and she was done feeling incredible. And even as she had the thought, he shuddered on top of her and let go, collapsing with his face in her pillow.

  “You pervert,” she said minutes later, when she could talk.

  “You came,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

  “I don’t believe you did that.”

  “I don’t believe you’re not grateful.”

  “Grateful?” Sophie struggled to sit up, and for once he let her slide out from under him, rolling to get rid of the condom as she moved away from him. “Look at this.” The alarm clock was smashed next to the baseboard, and the dolphin lamp was in a million pieces, and it was just a mess, but try as she might, she couldn’t work up any real indignation. Total satisfaction did that, she supposed, just sort of made everything else irrelevant. Still, he’d been impossible, so she concentrated on the carnage while she used the sheet to blot the sweat from her happily throbbing body. “I mean, just look at it!”

  Phin draped his arm across her shoulders and pulled her back down on the bed, his face still in the pillow. “Did you come?”

  Sophie crossed her arms over her breasts and glared at the ceiling, ignoring the hot weight of his arm across her and all the cheering her body was doing. “Yes.”

  “Did you like it?” he said, his voice still muffled by the pillow.

  She started to grin in spite of herself. “Yes.”

  “Say, ‘Thank you, Phin.’ ”

  “Oh, please.”

  “Say, ‘Thank you very much, Phin.’ ”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Say, ‘You are a great lover, Phin.’ ”

  “I’m out of here.” She rolled to swing out of bed, and his arm slipped down to her waist and pulled her back against him.

  He felt good, solid against her back, and she had to concentrate to remember she was annoyed with him for making her come.

  That couldn’t be right.

  He pulled his face out of the pillow and rolled to cuddle her to him from behind, kissing her damp hair and holding her close. “Discovery fantasy,” he said, and she relaxed into the hot curve of his body.

  “What?”

  “You have discovery fantasies. Very common among women.” He yawned in her ear. “Men don’t have them. We like to watch.”

  “I do not have discovery fantasies,” Sophie said. “That’s kinky.”

  “You’re kinky.”

  Sophie tried to pull away in outrage. “I am not kinky.”

  He sighed. “Sophie, your soul is a corkscrew.” He held on to her and kissed her neck again, and she gave up to stay curled in his heat, guiltily flattered that he thought she was kinky. Not sexless after all. In fact . . .

  “So . . . I’m exciting?”

  “Heart-stopping,” Phin said into her neck. “And you definitely have discovery fantasies. I foresee us having a lot of sex in public places.” He yawned again and shifted on the bed. “Anyplace would be more comfortable than this mattress. Not to mention quieter.”

  “I don’t see us having a lot of sex anywhere,” Sophie said, trying to get her control back. But I’m exciting.

  “That’s because you’re repressed,” Phin said. “Which is why God sent me to save you.”

  “God did not send you,” Sophie said. “The devil sent you. And we’re not having sex in public.”

  “Sure we are,” Phin said. “You want to know why?”

  He kissed her neck again and her pulse kicked up again. “No.”

  “Because you like it,” he whispered in her ear, and she shivered against him.

  “I don’t think so,” she said, and put her hand on the edge of the bed to push herself out of his arms before he talked her into sex on the kitchen table.

  He caught her right hand to stop her, and then he brought it close to their faces to look at it. “Your ring has writing on it.” He sounded sleepy, and she gave up trying to escape, enjoying the way his voice felt in her ear.

  “They both do,” Sophie said. “One says free will and the other one says destiny. They were my mother’s.” She looked at the ring in the moonlight, and at Phin’s fingers intertwined with hers, and thought, That’s nice.

  Phin turned the ring until the destiny was centered on her finger and yawned. “Free will and fate?”

  He didn’t sound as if he cared, and Sophie rolled in his arms so she could look at him. He smiled when she turned, a sleepy, lazy smile just for her that had nothing to do with politics or charm, and she thought, Wow. She almost rolled closer and kissed him, but that would make things more complicated, so she concentrated on his question.

  “There are things you can change . . .” Sophie held up her left hand with the free will ring to watch it glint in the moonlight. “And things you can’t change.” She pulled the destiny hand free from his.

  Phin recaptured the hand with destiny on it. “I don’t believe in destiny,” he said, as he pulled her hand down. He kissed her knuckles, and Sophie shivered at the heat from his mouth.

  “Mama said that family is your destiny,” she said, trying not to fall again, “because they shape your life.”

  Phin shrugged against her. “Maybe at first—”

  Sophie shook her head, her curls brushing his chest, and watched as he caught his breath. It was such a little thing, but she thought, I did that. “Your worldview is established by six,” she said, watching him. “You don’t have any choice in that. You just get it.” I think I want it again.

  “And then you grow up and move away. You have free will.” Phin met her eyes and looked a lot less sleepy. “You can choose whatever you want. I choose this.” He began to work his way down her neck again, his lips tickling hot on her skin.

  Sophie’s pulse kicked up. “Well, that was Mama’s point,” she said, her vo
ice a little higher than before. “Your family is your destiny, and then you make what you can of that.” She thought about her mother for a minute, about all those dreams lost because of her bad choices, and she pulled away. “And then sometimes, destiny comes along and slaps you again anyway.”

  Phin stopped. “What happened?”

  “There was a car accident,” Sophie said, remembering the sound of the crunching metal, now confused with the sound from the Garveys’ accident, so it seemed new all over again. “She died. She’d spent all those years following Dad around the country, waving her rings and saying, ‘Everything will be fine,’ and Dad saying, ‘Nothing but good times ahead,’ and then—” She stopped for a moment, and Phin pulled her closer. “One day there was the accident, and Dad stopped talking about the good times and it was pretty much the three of us and Dusty Springfield.”

  “That explains a lot,” Phin said.

  She lifted her chin and flashed her mother’s rings in the moonlight. “So then I’d say to Amy, ‘Everything will be fine,’ and Davy would say to her, ‘Nothing but good times ahead,’ and Dad would tell us to shut the hell up and we’d be off again.”

  “Your dad was a salesman?” Phin said.

  “Sort of,” Sophie said, and rolled away.

  He pulled her back against him. “But now everything is fine,” he said in her ear. “Davy and Amy are grown up and you’re all safe and happy. You made it come true for them.”

  Sophie nodded. Just not for me.

  “So let me make it true for you tonight,” he said, and when she turned to him, amazed, he kissed her, so gently that she gave herself up to him completely, no doubts at all this time. “Nothing but good times ahead,” he said against her mouth, and began to kiss his way down her body again, fulfilling his promise with every move he made.

  The phone rang the next morning just as Sophie was typing the end of the lamp scene. She hit save and answered the phone, only to hear Brandon say, “I’m returning your call.”

  Sophie winced. “Oh. I’m really sorry about that. But you’re really better off without me. I know it’s painful—”

  “But are you better off without me?” Brandon said.