Mia smiled. “That was fun. Thanks.”
He hesitated. This wasn’t supposed to be a date, but he didn’t want the evening to end. “Yeah, I’m glad you came.” He looked across at Mac’s Brewery. “Look, do you fancy a quick drink before I take you home? Say no, of course, if you’d rather go, but—”
“I’d love a drink,” she said quickly.
He grinned. “Come on, then.”
He bought them each a Mac’s Gold and they went over to one of the outside tables. He plonked the books on a chair and took the seat next to her.
“Cheers,” he said, clinking his bottle against hers. “Happy birthday.”
“Yeah.” She didn’t seem enthusiastic. It was as if her spirits were sinking along with the sun.
He sipped his beer and wondered why she was single as she began to talk about the monasteries in Britain. They chatted for a while about this and that, but eventually he had to ask, “I would have thought you’d have been out with a boyfriend tonight.”
Her lips twisted. “No boyfriend. Haven’t had a date for…” She sighed heavily. “Eight months now.”
“That’s a positive crime.”
Real humour curved her lips then. “You’re such a flirt.”
“Yeah. I know.” But only where you’re concerned.
She drank her beer, surveying him curiously. “Why did you break up with your girlfriend?”
How did she know about Juliet? “She moved to Christchurch.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Oh. That’s a shame. Were you broken hearted?”
He laughed. “No, not really. It was a casual relationship.” Unable to help himself, he added mischievously, “Just sex.”
“Ah.” Her eyes twinkled. “I see.”
He leaned back in his chair and twirled his beer in his fingers, immediately regretting the words. He didn’t want her to think he was that sort of guy. “No, I’m being unfair—I’m not really that callous. Juliet was nice. We got on well because we didn’t have high expectations of each other. I miss her, but like a friend, you know? It was never going to be anything other than a brief fling, and we both knew it.”
“So you don’t have a special someone back in Ireland?”
“No.”
She nodded and looked across the sea. He tried to suppress a sigh as she tipped back her head to drink the beer, exposing her long, pale throat. He wanted to plant kisses along that skin, cover her lips with his own.
“So why’d you split up from your last boyfriend?” he asked.
She glanced at him. Laughter danced in her eyes. “I can’t tell you.”
“Well, now you’ve got to, else I’ll be lying awake coming up with weird and wonderful reasons.”
She rubbed her nose. “Actually, I’m a bit embarrassed.”
“You? Never.”
“It makes me seem shallow.”
“I once broke up with a girl because she couldn’t spell ‘archaeology’. Does that help?”
She giggled. “Not really.” He raised his eyebrows and she sighed with resignation. “Oh all right. Enough of the third degree.” She sipped her beer. “He had trouble…” She tipped her head as she thought how to phrase it.
“Getting it up?” he suggested.
“Well, yes, as you mention it.” She seemed amused at his outspokenness. “In itself it’s not a problem. I mean I know it happens to all men at some point, yada yada, and I’m not unsympathetic. But I think the root problem was that he just wasn’t interested. In sex, I mean. Or in me,” she added sadly. “I wasn’t sure which.” She sighed and took a swallow of beer.
“That’s crazy.” He didn’t have to feign his bewilderment. “The guy got you naked and couldn’t get a hard-on? Seriously, he needs to see a doctor.”
She coughed into her bottle and wiped her mouth delicately. “Nicely put.”
“I’m serious.”
“I can tell.” Her eyes took on an impish glint. “So you don’t think you’d have the same problem?”
He didn’t like to say that his erection was currently trying to break the zipper on his pants at the thought of getting her into bed. “Er, no. I can safely say that would not be an issue.” He smiled as she giggled. She was enjoying flirting with him.
He sipped his beer and surveyed her with similar playfulness. “So you like sex, then?”
“God, yes.” Her reply was so heartfelt it made him laugh. She grinned. “Sorry, was that a bit eager?”
“Mia, a woman can never be too eager for sex.”
“Not every guy has that opinion. I’ve been told I can be a bit…um…overenthusiastic.” The slip of her smile told him she wasn’t lying.
Now he was genuinely puzzled. “What the hell? Mia, seriously, what sort of freaks have you been dating?”
She twirled her bottle absently as her gaze settled on his mouth. “You don’t mind your women being enthusiastic in bed?”
“Honey, I encourage it.”
“So you like to be…dominated, then?” She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue.
His pulse sped up as if he’d drunk too much coffee. He thought he knew where she was going with that question. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. Usually I prefer to do the tying up.”
Instinctively he knew he’d said the right thing. Her eyes darkened with desire, her gaze coming back to his. He held it long enough to let her know he was serious.
Oh, he knew what she wanted all right. A man who wasn’t afraid of a woman showing him what she wanted in the bedroom, but who wasn’t going to let her have it all her own way. What a shame he’d never get a chance to show her he was just what she was looking for.
“Oh,” she said faintly, and blinked. Her eyes glassed over as if she were imagining various scenarios involving being tied up.
With similar thoughts passing through his mind, he sighed and finished off his beer. Now he was really going to have trouble getting to sleep.
Chapter Six
For about the tenth time that evening, Mia’s cheeks warmed. She hadn’t blushed so much for years. What was it with this guy? He was hardly the type to sweep her off her feet and wow her with his movie-star charm and good looks. But every time he’d come near her, brushed her arm or stood behind her, barely touching, in the museum, her whole body had burned.
And now here she was talking sex with him, for God’s sake. And not just vanilla sex—kinky, bondage-style sex. I prefer to do the tying up. Oh dear Lord. If he carried on like that, she’d be close to pushing him onto the tiles and doing him there and then.
He was watching her, his expression half-amused, half-turned on, the desire in his eyes giving her goose bumps. She cleared her throat and touched the back of her hand to her forehead. Maybe she was coming down with something.
“Are you all right?” he asked. Ye Gods, his beautiful Irish accent made her tingle. Like Colin Farrell and Liam Neeson rolled into one.
“I’m sorry,” she apologised. “A thirty-year-old woman shouldn’t behave like this. I should be learning how to crochet and bake Victoria sponges.”
He grinned. “And I should be putting up shelves and tinkering with car engines, I suppose.”
She laughed. “Yeah.”
“I’d rather talk sex, though.” He tipped his head. “Well, or have it.”
She met his gaze. “Mm.”
As fun as it was, though, it really wasn’t good to have this sort of conversation. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea and think she was interested, nor did she want him to accuse her of being a prick-tease. Besides which, it was inappropriate talking about tying up one’s work colleague. She’d never be able to look at him across the history department table again without thinking of being handcuffed to the bed.
Oh dear. Now she was positively aching for an orgasm.
She finished off her beer. “I’d better get going.” Before she said something really inappropriate, like oh my God, please, just take me now.
He chuckled and stood to collect her books
. Together they walked down the quay to where he’d parked the car.
She slid into her seat, her spirits sinking a little at the thought of returning home.
“Had a nice evening?” he asked as if he’d read her thoughts, sitting beside her and starting the engine.
“Yes, thank you.” She cleared her throat as he looked over his shoulder to reverse. “Um, I’m sorry about the inappropriate topic of conversation.”
“Monasteries are very controversial,” he agreed.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “You know what I mean.”
He laughed and put the car in drive before heading down the road. “Don’t worry about it. It was fun. We’re both grown-ups, Mia. We can chat and have fun without it turning into anything more serious.”
She remembered that he’d told her he’d dated his last girlfriend on a casual basis, mainly for sex. Was it possible to do that? Go out with someone knowing it was never going to get more serious? She always approached every relationship with the expectation that it might develop into something more. Otherwise what was the point?
But then again, maybe it would be nice to not have the pressure of wondering what the future held or thinking about the past, to just concentrate on the present and lose herself in someone else.
Unbidden, the memory of the boy in the car flashed through her mind, and she turned her gaze out of the window and watched the houses flash by. She didn’t deserve to forget the past. She wore it constantly, like a necklace, as a reminder of what she’d done.
Colm didn’t speak again while they travelled the last few minutes to her house, as if he’d sensed her mood. When they arrived, he collected her books for her and followed her up to the front door. She opened it and went inside, and he followed her in.
“Where shall I put these? Is there some sort of order here I’m not seeing?” He looked vaguely around the room.
She shook her head and switched on a couple of lamps, casting a golden glow over the darkening room. “Not really. On the coffee table, I suppose. That’s my current reading section.”
He stared at the pile of twenty or so books already on it. “You obviously have a lot of spare time.”
“I don’t get out much nowadays.”
He bent, put the books on the table and picked up a bookmark. It was a leather one her parents had bought her when she’d first graduated, with a picture of the Stone Store in Kerikeri stamped on it. She used it all the time when reading.
“Nice,” he said.
“Mm.” She smiled, but weariness washed over her. Her shoulders ached, and for some reason she felt near to tears. It had been a long while since she’d had a man in the house, and she liked Colm. He was pleasant and funny, charming and sexy, and he seemed to care about her, which warmed her from the inside out. She would have liked to ask him to stay longer, but again she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. Right now she just wanted friendship, or maybe to cuddle up with someone and watch TV. Human contact. She was lonely.
He turned the bookmark over in his fingers, his gaze meeting hers. “Don’t be down, not on your birthday.”
“I’m not down,” she said as a halfhearted protest, puzzled that he’d picked up on her mood.
He gave her a look that told her he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he said, “I suppose I should go.”
“Yes,” she said reluctantly.
He scratched the back of his neck. “The thing is, I’ve had a great evening, and it’s only seven thirty, and it seems a shame to go home now.”
Hope flared inside her, but she kept it down firmly. “Colm, look, I know I flirted with you, and I’m sorry about that, because I’m really not in the market at the moment for anything more serious.”
He looked surprisingly unaffected by that. “Yeah, I know. I just wondered if you wanted a cup of coffee or something. Maybe watch a movie before you go to bed.” He indicated her row of DVDs.
She couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on her face. “Really?”
He shrugged. “I’ll only go home and do the same on my own.” He smiled. “I like being with you. We can be friends, can’t we?”
“I suppose.” Happiness flooded her. “Okay. I’ll go put the kettle on. You choose a movie.”
She went into the kitchen and made them each a cup of coffee, then brought the cups into the living room and squeezed them onto the table in between the books. He was still standing in front of the DVD shelf, but he had a case in his hand, and she pointed to it. “What did you decide on?”
He showed her. It was one of the later series of Doctor Who.
Her eyebrows rose. “Really?”
“I love science fiction. And I haven’t seen this series.”
“Excellent. Come on, then.”
She turned the TV on and he inserted the DVD in the player. Then they sat together on the sofa. After moving some of the books, they put their feet on the table.
He was only about six inches away from her, but she fancied she could feel the heat from his body. It was strangely comforting. The subtle smell of his aftershave mingled with the warm aroma of the coffee, and she felt oddly at ease, relaxed and contented sitting there with him as Matt Smith began his travels in the TARDIS.
In the end they watched three episodes, stopping halfway through for another coffee and a biscuit, talking about their favourite movies and quoting lines from The Lord of the Rings and Gladiator and The Thing. And gradually they closed the six inches between them until their arms touched.
It was only as it drew late and the third episode finished that Colm sighed and stood. “I guess I should be going, let you get some sleep.”
The happiness that had buoyed her through the last few hours dissipated, and once again depression settled over her as she stood. “I suppose.”
“I’ve had a great evening,” he said, smiling.
“Me too.”
He had such a lovely smile. Two small dimples appeared in his cheeks, and his teeth were straight and white. Why had she never noticed before how gorgeous he was?
“Happy birthday, Mia,” he said softly.
She smiled back. “Thank you for making it special.”
He rolled his eyes. “By showing you twelve-hundred-year-old manuscripts and watching Doctor Who? Jeez, I really know how to show a girl a good time.”
She laughed. “I enjoyed it anyway.”
He collected his coat from the coat hook by the door. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“Yeah.”
He turned to go.
“Colm?”
He turned back. “Yes?”
She bit her lip. “It seems a terribly tarty thing to ask…”
His lips started to curve. “Okay…”
“But we’re friends, right?”
“Of course.”
“In that case, with no hidden agendas or anything and because it’s my birthday and I’m sad…”
His brow furrowed. “Yes?”
“Kiss me good night?”
Chapter Seven
His expression softened. He met her gaze thoughtfully for a moment.
Fuck. What a stupid thing to say. In spite of the fact that they’d talked about it earlier, she was too tired and in pain to want sex now. She’d spoken on impulse, desperate for…what? Some comfort, maybe. But he was either going to laugh and peck her on the cheek, or think she was asking him to bed and start walking to her bedroom.
To her surprise, though, he did neither. He hooked his jacket back on the peg, took off his glasses and slid them into his pocket. Then he placed his hands on her hips and turned her so her back was against the wall.
“Crap,” she said, heart pounding, “I didn’t mean—”
“Ssh,” he said and cupped her face with his hands.
Her words faded away as the warmth from his touch seeped into her skin. His eyes—gorgeous without the glasses—were very gentle, and his gaze caressed her face for a moment as his thumbs brushed her cheeks, sending skitter
s of sensation running down her spine.
He moved a little closer until his body was just brushing hers, his hands sliding into her hair, and she rested her palms on his chest.
Then he bent his head and kissed her.
She closed her eyes when he pressed his lips to hers. I shouldn’t…flashed through her mind, but she pushed the thought away and gave herself over to the sensation of being intimate with another human being. It’s my birthday, she thought, somewhat fiercely. For once she wanted something positive in her life—if only for a few seconds.
But it seemed that now he had her in his arms, Colm wasn’t going to let her get away with a quick peck. His mouth moved across hers slowly, lips pressing, teeth grazing, and when his tongue stroked across her bottom lip and she inhaled with pleasure, he took the opportunity of her open mouth to brush his tongue against hers and deepen the kiss.
Desire rushed through her, and she groaned. In response, his arms slid around her and tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to pull her against him and let her know just how turned on he was and how much he wanted her. She moved her hands up to touch his face, her fingers scratching against his stubble, and then she slipped them into his thick brown hair, enjoying his answering shudder.
One of his hands slid into the middle of her back to hold her against him, but it didn’t descend any lower and grope her butt, nor did he grab her breasts or do anything inappropriate. Which she was kind of disappointed about, because her nipples throbbed as she raised herself on tiptoes so the impressive bulge in his pants sank gratifyingly into her soft mound, and her breasts hungered for his large hands to squeeze them.
But instead of taking advantage, he stroked her back and waist, ran his fingers lightly along her rib cage, brushed the nape of her neck and sent shivers running through her. He tasted sweet and smelled heavenly, like essence of man, overtaking her senses with an overwhelming intensity she hadn’t expected.
It was possibly the nicest, politest, friendliest, and yet somehow most erotic kiss she’d ever had, and when he finally pulled away, she was breathless with longing and aching with need.
Talking Sense: Sensual Healing, Book 3 Page 4