First Choice, Second Chance

by Lynn Rae

  “They don’t take reservations at the Grille.” She managed to kiss his chin as he pressed a light kiss on each of her closed eyelids.

  “Oh, that’s right.” Now his hands were sliding against the knit of her dress, pausing at the zipper on the side, and then measuring the length. “I might have something in the freezer we could eat. Maybe some mac and cheese.”

  “Sounds good.” The silk of his tie was cool and smooth as she tugged at it. His hands reached up to help her loosen it and as the knot disappeared, they both drew it from under his collar. Emily stopped; somehow that small act of disrobing felt like they’d reached an accord. This wasn’t going to be simply kissing any more.

  Paul watched her as she unbuttoned his shirt, one small white button after the other, and then she ran her hands under it to touch his chest beneath the soft cotton of his undershirt. He was breathing hard, as hard as she was. With a shake, he unfastened his cuffs, and she slid the shirt off his shoulders, tossing it on the chair where he’d dropped his tie. She reached for his tee, and his hands met hers.

  “Emily, I’m older and—”

  “It’s all right.” The idea that he wanted to conceal himself gave her pause. She wasn’t going to judge or reject him, but he didn’t know that. It wasn’t difficult for her to empathize with worry over physical attributes; she suffered from fluttering nerves over what his reaction to her body might be. Recalling Mari’s advice to use what she had, Emily straightened her shoulders and reached for her zipper. She’d go first if he was unsure.

  Paul reached out to help her ease out of the dress. She leaned on his arm as she stepped out of the garment, glancing at the tall leather boots she still wore and wondered how silly she looked. When she straightened to full height and caught Paul’s expression, all she saw was awe. He perused her with the focused gaze of a man surveying unexplored territory. Glad she’d matched her green-leopard bra and panties, Emily tried to relax her arms and shoulders when all she wanted to do was hunch up and cover herself.

  “You’re amazing,” he breathed out and reached for her.

  “My boots,” she said as she lifted one leg to touch the zipper.

  “I like them; leave them on.”

  Oh. His arms circled her again, skin on skin this time, and she basked in the warmth and tickle of his hair. As he ran his fingertips over her shoulders and traced down her spine in a shiver-inducing trail, Emily worked at the hem of his undershirt, finally pulling it free of the waistband and easing it up over his head. Just being so close, feeling so safe, made her want to cry with relief.

  He was lean and rangy, thin enough that she had to repress her automatic inclination to urge him to eat something. He was no softer around the middle than many men her age, but she hardly noticed when his skin invited her to touch and stroke and his scent enticed her to press her mouth and nose to him. What had he been worried about? He looked and felt wonderful.

  As Paul’s stroking hands traveled over more of her body, her arousal grew. Heart racing, nerve endings tingling, heat pulsing between her legs, Emily wanted to lie down. She tried to edge her way toward the bed, but Paul tightened his grip and held her in place.

  “Let me turn off the light.”

  Shaking her head, Emily spared a glance at the small lamp aglow on his low dresser. “Why?”

  “Because you, I…” Paul stumbled to a halt and stared at her.

  “I want to see you. Is that all right?” Just the thought of being able to see his reactions made her shaky and she wanted as much of him as she could get. She wondered if his wife had preferred the dark, if she was shocking him with her unaccustomed assertiveness. Paul’s enthusiastic nod reassured her, and she backed away, tottering a bit as the heels of her boots caught in the rug’s deep pile. She reached out a hand to him, and she lowered herself to a seat on the edge of the bed which put her at eye level with his belt. Determined to keep the momentum going, Emily reached up and unfastened the buckle, glancing up at Paul as she pulled the leather from the loops. She’d never been this forward with any lover or potential lover, and she liked it, liked how he responded to her touch.

  Before she could reach for his zipper, Paul lowered himself to his knees in front of her and leaned her way, his mouth touching hers as his hands rested against her waist before he trailed his fingers down her hips and along her thighs. Paul bent his head and kissed her knees, just above the top of her boots.

  “This might get repetitious, but you’re beautiful, Emily.” Paul ran the backs of his fingers over her thighs toward her hips. She tilted back at the gesture, propping against her elbows, her whole body opening to him

  “Say it whenever you like.” With a beckoning gesture, she pulled him over and fell into the primal sensations of his mouth, his scent, the friction of his skin against hers. He stopped touching her long enough to pull off his trousers and drop his shoes on the floor. Paul slid to her side and sat up, lifting her with him so they faced each other. When his hands cupped under her breasts, Emily shivered and closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation of his fingers flexing against her.

  He murmured her name as he kissed her neck. Maneuvering herself closer, Emily crawled into his lap and pressed herself against him, the pressure of his erection almost painful against her aroused sex. She rocked against him and bit back the moan building in the back of her throat.

  “Emily, wait,” Paul gasped. “Are you—”

  “Please.” It was fast, she knew, but she didn’t want to prolong anything. She’d wanted him the first moment she’d seen him in that drab meeting room at the municipal building. She didn’t have to keep her distance anymore.

  “I…I don’t think I can—” Paul held her wrists and stared at her like he needed her to understand something.

  God, why had he made that admission? He was supposed to know what he was doing, take the lead, be confident and sure, but instead, he was shaking with nerves and finding it difficult to catch his breath. Emily crouched over him in the bed, nearly naked and awesomely beautiful, and he’d just stopped everything. She watched him as she extricated herself from his grip and eased away from her perch on his thighs.

  “I’m pushing too fast.”

  “No. You’re perfect.” It was true; her scent, the way her mouth tasted, and her skin felt against his were all such satisfying components he wasn’t sure how he’d stopped touching her a moment ago. Maybe that was the problem; he hadn’t been touched like this in so long; his body was overdosing on endorphins. “You can probably tell I want you.”

  Paul hoped he wasn’t blushing but since every square millimeter of his skin that had come in contact with Emily was burning, he couldn’t be sure. But he was sure Emily was aware of his erection, which, despite his intellectual hesitation, was still fully committed to the project at hand.

  “I want you too.” She leaned his way and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

  Not really. “I haven’t done this since my wife died.”

  Paul shut his mouth with a snap, shocked he’d said it out loud, mortified that she knew his secret. Or not so secret. He’d avoided socializing after Karen, and had never made the slightest move toward anyone of the opposite sex in those years so the folks of Palmer probably assumed he’d become a eunuch. Which he had until he’d seen Emily Fontaine in her burnished glory with a box of cookies and wearing an apprehensive expression. Here she was in his bed, looking like a bountiful dream of round, warm flesh and little bits of printed fabric, and he was telling her what a loser he was.

  Emily’s pink lips curved into an o, and she sat back on her heels, those boots making a terribly erotic creaking noise. How was it he was only now getting a clue about what fetishists were all about? “I did go too fast. I’m sorry.”

  Paul shook his head, unsure how to get this conversation into productive territory. They should be engaging in some foreplay now, not apologizing and explaining. He just needed to get over this hurdle. “No, it’s not you. I’m
rusty.”

  A slight smile curved Emily’s lips and she scooted closer to him, her knees pressing against his thigh. “I know they say it’s like riding a bike, it’ll all come back to you, but I have a different idea.”

  A soft kiss punctuated her sentence and Paul let himself float back into her delicious mouth as she ran her tongue along his upper lip. “What’s your idea?”

  “Let me take care of it, take care of you.”

  “No, I—” Paul’s halfhearted protest didn’t seem to register with Emily. She placed her warm hands on his bare shoulders and pushed gently at him until he fell back against the bed.

  “Let me have my fantasy.”

  “Being with a washed-up widower can’t be your fantasy.”

  “You’re right, it isn’t. Having a handsome man at my mercy is.”

  She had him there; she definitely had him there. All Paul could do was nod once and watch her as she swung one round thigh over as she settled herself against him, leaning down to nuzzle her way across his chest. She pushed up to whisper in his ear, assuring him he wasn’t washed-up, he was so sexy she could hardly stand it. His whole body tightened as her weight shifted, and she rose up to unhook her bra, sliding the straps off her arms but holding the cups in place with crossed hands. God, he wanted to see her. He was so grateful she’d wanted to keep the light on.

  Her gaze fixed on his; she lowered her hands and the flimsy underwear, revealing her breasts. His mind froze for a second. They were amazing. He leaned up to touch them and kiss her at the same time. So full and soft against his palms, her mouth so teasing.

  “Good?”

  Nodding agreement, he stroked his thumb across each of her hard nipples, and she shivered in his arms.

  “Maybe I can do better.” With a tiny smile, Emily eased away and pulled at her last remaining clothing. It felt like they’d been playing strip poker and he’d won the jackpot. When she removed her underwear, they twisted into a little rope as she pulled them past the heels of her boots, and then she cuddled close, draping her arms around his shoulders, running her fingers along his scalp, close enough to invite touches in return. She didn’t do anything to lead him, but soon enough, he coaxed soft groans and tensed muscles from her as he teased her back. Once he’d made a cautious caress between her legs, Emily reached for him, stroking his flesh underneath the cotton of his boxers with a shaking hand. His blood roared in his ears.

  “Paul, please.” Her throaty little beg seared away any lingering hesitation he might have held on to, and her hands tugging at his underwear was a pretty direct indicator she was ready.

  After he finally kicked them off, Emily’s hand circled him, and the intense sensation of her skin against his erection nearly shattered him. Condom. He needed to get one of those quickly. He must have said it out loud, because Emily asked where they were. As he rolled toward the nightstand, he wondered for a moment if she had put it together, that he’d bought them specifically because of her. After he’d retrieved a packet from the drawer and met her gaze, he knew he didn’t care. With her cheeks flushed and her arms reaching out for him, all that mattered was getting as close as possible to her.

  His hands were shaking so much he found it difficult to tear the foil and once the condom was out, he panicked. He hadn’t used one in decades and couldn’t remember which way to place it. As he fumbled, one of Emily’s hands reached out and captured the circle of latex.

  “Let me.”

  Surrendering to her, he released his hold and watched mesmerized as she placed it over the head and slowly rolled the stretchy material down his shaft. It was one of the most erotic things he’d seen, and felt, in his life.

  With a huff of breath, Emily reclined and guided him over her, circling her thighs around his hips as he pressed close to her. She reached to guide him, and with a tight welcome from her body, he found bliss.

  She widened her legs and angled her hips as he slid inside; his heart hammered and his breath caught. Heat and joy rose inside, and he shook with pleasure. How a woman’s body felt, how Emily felt, made his brain short circuit, and all he was conscious of was being enveloped in snug heat. Her hands slid along his shoulders and up to his cheeks as she watched him.

  “Okay?”

  “Superb.” He knew he was gasping like he’d run a marathon, but Emily didn’t seem to notice as she smiled and nodded.

  Commanding himself to take it easy and not lose himself in a few amazing seconds, Paul moved slowly, watching Emily’s face all the while. She flung her arms back over her head as a delighted smile bloomed and her breasts shifted. All that warm, soft flesh against him; her rich scent and tight grip as he pressed into her was overwhelming. The heels of her boots pressed into his legs, and their cool leather slid against his skin.

  His mind didn’t know what to do with the sensations, and he closed his eyes as his breath tightened in his chest, and his blood shook in his veins. All too soon, everything tightened and convulsed, and he was lost in the electric rush.

  Relaxed from their lovemaking and cozy next to him, Emily made little movements to adjust her body to fit more comfortably against Paul. He’d dozed off which gave her some time to reflect on what had just happened. On the surface, it was very cut and dried: they’d engaged in foreplay, had sexual intercourse, and were now resting. Underneath, were more momentous things. She’d taken the lead with him. Paul had had sex for the first time since his wife died. She’d even come close to an orgasm, which was shocking considering it was her first time with him. Definitely not the simple dinner date they’d agreed to.

  She wondered how they would treat each other now. She didn’t want him to act any differently with her. He was kind and funny and that’s exactly what she wanted. That, and more sex. She really wanted an orgasm.

  Emily realized pillow talk might be on the menu when Paul cleared his throat and rolled on his side to spoon against her. She decided to relax into him instead of wonder how things might go wrong.

  “Everything okay?”

  Emily um-hmmed and smiled even though he couldn’t see her.

  “I’d like to say thank you, but that seems inadequate.”

  “You’re welcome, and an inadequate thank to you, too.”

  Paul stilled his hand, which had been sliding over her hip. Emily reached out and drew it over her belly, splaying his fingers out as she pressed her rear more firmly to his groin. Then she remembered her boots, and her face flushed. She’d kept them on the whole time, and now she was getting his nice, clean sheets dirty. She struggled to a seated position.

  “These boots, I’ll rip your sheets with the heels.”

  She stared at Paul as he fell back against his bed and laughed.

  “Why are you laughing? I don’t want to ruin them.” With quick movements she unzipped them and slid them over the side of the bed and then debated on removing her socks. Paul reached for her legs and even as he chuckled, he rolled them down her calves and off her feet, shaking them out before folding them together and dropping them on the bedside table.

  He was still laughing as he pulled her back to his side. “My God, those boots. I’d consider it a badge of honor to rip up everything on this bed with you.”

  Oh. Well, that was certainly a compliment. She relaxed into his arms and indulged in touching his chest as he nuzzled her hair.

  “Mmm, you smell like oranges and vanilla. Like something I remember.” Paul’s voice was a quiet rumble, and she closed her eyes and listened to the vibrations in his chest. “A Dreamsicle. That’s it.”

  She stifled a laugh. Paul Ellison was goofy after sex. She could be, too. “So, I’m cold and hard like ice cream?

  Paul’s nose tickled her ear, and as he tightened his grip around her waist, she squealed. She knew that wasn’t what he meant, but she felt too good to miss the opportunity to joke. “I haven’t done yoga in a while; wasn’t I flexible en—”

  “Stop it.” He twined her fingers through his and lifted her hand to his mouth for a kiss. Em
ily’s heart hurt wonderfully at the gentle gesture. “You made me see stars.”

  “I rocked your world?”

  “Yes, and you blew my mind. See, I’ve moved a step up from using great so much, but I’m awash in clichés now.” Paul chuckled again, his expression open and relaxed.

  Emily could barely admit to herself how much he’d affected her, how tender she’d felt when he’d given himself to her for the first time. For some reason, tears threatened to well up in her eyes, and she ducked her head, burrowing back to his side, where he tucked her close.

  “Tell me how you got here.” His voice was quiet as he pushed some of her hair behind her ear. “You know why I’m alone. Why are you?”

  She struggled for a moment, not wanting to ruin this sweet moment with sad stories. “I didn’t have the easiest time in college, or once I graduated,” she began. That was an understatement. She’d made some naive choices her freshman year, become very ill, and had taken a semester off to deal with physical and emotional problems. Once she’d returned to class, she’d felt behind for the remainder of her enrollment. When she’d gotten out into the “real world,” her friends had married, succeeded at professions, and made their way in the world, while she watched from the wallflower position, unable to find herself a career or partner she could put her shaky trust in. “Every time I thought I’d made a good choice in anything, a class, a boyfriend, a job, it always seemed to go wrong. Nothing clicked for me and my parents and brother always thought, they still think, I’m wasting my talents. I’ve never been quite sure of what my talents are, but I’m wasting something.”

  “So, no marriage?”

  “Not even an engagement.” With a little ache in her chest, she thought of the family she’d never have, but with over a decade of practice, she pushed the fantasy aside.

  “You like what you’re doing now?”

  Emily nodded, her head sliding against the soft fabric covering his down pillow. She sensed he was looking at her but she kept her eyes averted, unwilling for him to read anything she wasn’t saying out loud. “I always wanted to travel, so I got a job in a travel agency when I graduated. Of course, I timed that to coincide with the rise of the Internet travel sites, so that job didn’t last long. Then I worked as a wedding photographer’s assistant until that got too depressing.” No need to tell him why, and thankfully, he didn’t ask when she paused. “I was a hostess in some nice restaurants, but when a job opened up here, I jumped at the chance.”