Talk Nerdy to Me

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  By the time he got the dress pulled down to her waist, damned if she didn't have some sawdust sprinkled on the prettiest 36B breasts he'd ever seen. It was his duty to brush off that sawdust. Some of it wouldn't budge, so he had to resort to licking it off. He'd never eaten sawdust before, but under these conditions he didn't find it objectionable at all.

  Inspecting his work, he decided that her nipples looked their absolute best when wet and quivering, so he endeavored to keep them in that condition. From the way Eve was quaking and moaning in his arms, he thought she might be happy with his efforts.

  He was beyond happy. Her breasts fit perfectly in his cupped hands with exactly enough gentle weight to be supported nicely against his palms. He imagined himself as a human underwire. And as much as he loved the sensation of rolling her nipple against the roof of his mouth, she seemed to love it even more. And when he tugged softly with his teeth, she shivered.

  Her shiver made the dress rustle against the denim of his jeans, denim that was under a strain at the moment. The situation below his waistband was fast becoming critical. A man with more finesse, the kind of man who dressed in suits and dined at Jean George's, would suggest moving to the bedroom.

  But Eve hadn't liked a man with that approach. Maybe she was the kind of girl who liked it in a dim hallway up against the wall. Charlie hoped so, because he suspected that was how she was going to get it.

  Vaguely he remembered there was something special about this dress besides the shimmery, stretchy fabric. Then the special part flashed across his brain like a streaking comet. As she'd walked toward him, each step had given him a breathtaking view of one long leg. The dress had a slit up the side, a deliciously long slit, long enough to send his imagination into very erotic territory.

  Kissing his way back to her mouth, he slid one hand down her hip.

  She put an inch between her lips and his. "Looking for something?" she murmured.

  "A way in." He barely recognized his own voice. The rough urgency was unfamiliar, but so was this desperation. He'd never known such driving sexual hunger.

  Her quick, shallow breaths tickled his mouth. "Keep going."

  At mid-thigh the material gave way and he slid his hand through the opening to touch her warm skin. The tactile pleasure of that brought a growl of delight from his throat. He pushed on, expecting to find the kind of silk and lace he'd seen draped over her kitchen chairs Monday night.

  Instead he discovered nothing but... Eve. He drew in a sharp breath. "Surprised?"

  He gulped. "Grateful." Smoothing his hand over her taut bottom, the blood pounding in his ears, he slipped his fingers between her thighs. There he found the wet welcome guaranteed to drive a man around the bend. His brain short-circuited and he was left with nothing but raw need.

  He lost track of the sequence of events after that. He remembered kissing her hard and using his tongue to let her know what was ahead. She must have unzipped his jeans and shoved down his briefs, because he didn't think he'd done any of that. Somehow he located the condom packet, ripped it open and rolled the latex over his quivering penis.

  When he picked her up, her skirt magically drifted to one side, or maybe she pulled it over to give rum access. The details blurred, except for that defining moment when she held on to his shoulders and wrapped her feet around his hips and he pushed deep inside her. That sensation burst upon him with such clarity that he expected to remember it when he was a hundred and two.

  One of her stiletto heels poked him in the small of the back, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered but the rhythm of his thrusting and the glow in her eyes. Her lips parted as she gasped for breath and her delicate nostrils flared.

  Every time he pumped, her dress rustled and her long earrings swung, brushing her shoulders. Although he shouldn't know anything about her responses, had never mapped the quickest route to her pleasure, magically he seemed to know everything. He played to the excitement building in her eyes, gauged the pattern of her breathing and moved in tone with her.

  Maybe this was how making love was supposed to be. Instinctive. Easy. Filled with wonder. And so good. So very, very good. He felt her tighten around him and joy surged in his heart that he would be able to give her this.

  She said his name once, the two syllables trembling and vivid with emotion. And then she came, her back arching, her shoulders pressed against the wall, her thighs quaking as the spasms massaged his penis. He managed a few precious seconds more, giving her a chance to revel in the sensation.

  Then he couldn't hold back anymore. With a groan of release he locked his hips against hers, closed his eyes and abandoned himself to the most powerful climax of his life. The force of it left him barely able to stand.

  Afraid he might collapse and damage all sorts of valuable parts, both his and hers, he leaned his head against her shoulder and fought to stay upright. He'd give this position a ten for sexual excitement, but a one for ease of recovery. He was the structural support for this operation, and the structure was definitely compromised by the orgasm of a lifetime.

  Then there was the problem of his jeans. Sometime during the action they'd fallen with a clank of the belt buckle down around his ankles. His briefs hung by the elastic around his knees. And he was still wearing a condom.

  Maybe this was why he'd never done it up against the wall before. The after-party could turn awkward. Nobody ever showed that part in the movies. He could use a good fade-out right now.

  She stroked her fingers through his hair as her breathing slowed. "Incredible."

  "Mm. Amazing." He hoped he wouldn't ruin the moment by falling down and getting hopelessly tangled in his clothes.

  She moved her lips close to his ear. "You can let me go, now."

  Gradually he became aware that he was gripping her bottom as if she were the handlebars of his Harley. Instantly he relaxed his fingers and hoped to God he hadn't bruised her.

  Still feeling pretty damned vulnerable and shaky, he found the strength to lift his head and look into her eyes. "If I left marks, I'll never forgive myself."

  She smiled at him, and her expression was all warm and misty. "If you left marks, I'll cherish each and every one. But now we have to figure out how to untangle ourselves, don't we?"

  We. She was willing to take equal responsibility for making this turn out okay. He didn't get that a lot. As an only child, the smartest person in his graduating class, and the go-to guy at the power company, he felt mostly like the Lone Ranger. Everyone usually looked to him for the answers.

  "Got any ideas?" he asked, thoroughly enjoying the idea of handing the problem to her to solve.

  She gazed at him, and the corners of her mouth twitched as if she wanted to keep from laughing. "First we have to gracefully do the disconnect thing."

  He could see how laughing might be a problem at a time like this. "I don't think there's a really graceful way to do that. I mean, sex is fantastic while you're doing it, but afterward, especially when you're vertical, there are ... issues."

  "That's why we'll both keep gazing fixedly into each other's eyes. Whatever you do, don't look down."

  "You mean like those Olympic figure skating pairs, who do all sorts of complicated things with their lower body while staring straight at their partner's face?"

  "Exactly." Her eyes sparkled and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. Then she cleared her throat. "We'll be just like those skaters."

  "Are you going to talk us through it?"

  "Sure. Just don't make me laugh."

  "I should warn you. I'm one of those people who can be funny without meaning to."

  Her expression softened. "I know. I like that about you."

  "You like that I'm clueless?"

  "Whoops, now you're making me laugh." Her body quivered against his.

  "See what I mean? I don't even have to try." Despite the jeopardy that put them in, he enjoyed the sensation of being tucked inside her while she laughed.

  "All right." She swallowed a giggle.
"I'm calm again. Just look into my eyes. I'm going to loosen my hold on your hips. When I do that, you should ease back a little."

  "So we'll make this a gradual unhitching."

  "Unhitching." She grinned. "You do have a way with words. Now, here we go. I'm loosening."

  "And I'm easing."

  "Loosening."

  "Easing." He felt her balance shift and started to lower his head to check out the situation.

  "Don't look down, don't look down! I'm maintaining just fine."

  "Okay." He locked in on her gaze again. "One foot on the floor."

  The moment came when he lost that magic connection, and he moaned softly.

  She paused in midmotion. "Problems?"

  "No." With his gaze fastened on hers, he couldn't hide his emotions. "It's just that I miss you already."

  Her eyes shone. "I miss you, too. But the night's not over, Charlie."

  "You're right." Yet he wasn't thinking about tonight. He knew she'd want him to stay until morning. He was thinking about the day he'd take the road out of Middlesex. He had to go. If he didn't, he'd always wonder how it would have been. But she'd just made leaving ten times tougher.

  "Two feet on the floor. You can move your hands, now."

  He didn't want to, but they couldn't complete the maneuver unless he let go of her silky derriere. Reluctantly he pulled both hands from underneath her skirt. "Now what?"

  "Give me a minute. Keep looking into my eyes."

  He did, but he could tell from the rustling around that she'd pulled her dress up. Then a zipper rasped.

  "Now I'll turn and walk down to my bedroom," she said. "You can follow when you're ready."

  "I'm impressed." Then he had an unwelcome thought. "You've done this before."

  "No, never."

  "But you choreographed it so perfectly."

  She smiled. "It's like building a hovercraft. You might not know what you're doing in the beginning, but if you take it one step at a time, you'll get where you want to go."

  "Guess so." For a guy who had always relied on directions and diagrams, it was a stunning concept. "Listen, do you want me to give you a certain number of minutes to yourself?"

  "Not necessary. All I need to do is take off this dress and climb into bed."

  Whoa. His blood heated at the implied promise, that he was welcome to climb in there with her. "Okay." The casual response had nothing to do with the fire racing straight to his groin.

  "See you soon." Turning, she used her runway walk as she moved toward the end of the short hallway.

  He, of course, stood watching her go because he was mesmerized by the sway of her hips, those same hips that had recently cradled him so beautifully. It wasn't until she was about to turn that he realized she could easily glance back and take in exactly the ungainly sight he'd been hoping to avoid having her see.

  He couldn't move fast enough to prevent it. "No looking!" he said.

  "I won't." She kept her head turned away from him. "I'll always play fair with you, Charlie." And she rounded the corner, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

  Once she was gone, Charlie wasted no time getting himself together. He planned to duck into her bathroom for a quick cleanup, and then he'd be bedroom bound. He'd loved the slinky-dress routine, but he was looking forward to a completely naked experience. Looking forward? Hell, he was like a power surge waiting to happen.

  As he gave the door one last check to make sure the hinges would hold, his cell phone rang. His mother's ring. Damn it. She was calling from the bakery. That wasn't unusual. Many times the two women were down there late at night baking and ran into a problem with one of the ovens or the large dough mixers.

  Charlie tended to stay up late, so they thought nothing of calling him in to handle the electrical emergency. But he didn't want to go now. Not tonight, a night that might never be repeated.

  Flipping the phone open, he answered the call. "Hi, Mom."

  "I hope I didn't wake you." His mother always said that. She didn't want to be a problem to him, but sometimes she couldn't help it.

  He needed to find her a good electrician before he left town. "I'm awake," he said. "What's up?" Then he swallowed the laughter that almost gave him away.

  "The mixer quit. I hate to bother you, but if we don't get it going, we won't have a good supply of booby buns. And they've been selling really well recently."

  So the booby bun craze hadn't died. If he didn't go down there and repair the mixer, he'd feel responsible if sales were slow at the bakery tomorrow. But if he did repair the mixer, he might regret missing the opportunity with Eve for the rest of his life.

  As he stood there trying to come up with a solution, his mother spoke again. "Charlie, it's okay. I shouldn't call you all the time. Myrtle and I can probably figure out how to fix it."

  He had grisly images of the two widows electrocuting themselves while they labored over a machine he could repair in ten minutes. "No, don't do that." He thought of the guys he worked with and wondered if he could call in a favor.

  It was after midnight. That was some favor, to ask somebody to leave a cozy home in the middle of winter so that the citizens of Middlesex could have their booby buns. Besides, Charlie wasn't crazy about the guys at work discovering firsthand the new direction the bakery was taking.

  Eve appeared in the hallway wearing a white silk robe. "What is it?" she asked softly.

  The robe clung to her in all the right places, as if to advertise what he would miss if he went down to the bakery. Besides, Eve had been through a shock. The door would probably hold, but he didn't want to leave her alone with her imagination right now. She had one powerful imagination, and she wouldn't sleep a wink as she tried to figure out who had pried open her door and stolen her notes.

  "Mom, can you give me a second?" Putting his thumb over the mouthpiece, he glanced at Eve. "There's an electrical emergency at the bakery, but I'm not going."

  She looked upset. "I hope that's not on my account. We can ... take a rain check."

  He wasn't so sure about that. Once the spell was broken, they might never recapture what they had tonight. But that wasn't the only issue. "I don't want to leave you alone." He tipped his head toward the back door. "All things considered."

  "Then don't. I'm not crazy about being by myself tonight, either. Let me get dressed and I'll come with you."

  "You have no clue what the repercussions of that would be. My mother would book the church."

  Eve shook her head. "Doesn't matter. You and I know that's not going to be the outcome, and I can make sure she knows that."

  "Good luck."

  "It'll be fine, Charlie. And after you've fixed whatever needs to be fixed, we can come back here."

  He could see that he wouldn't get away with refusing his mother's request, not while Eve had anything to say about it. And he had the prospect of continuing where they'd left off once his duties were completed. "All right," he said. "Want to take the motorcycle?"

  "Charlie, I would love to ride on your motorcycle."

  "You would?" That pleased him.

  "I would. Tell your mom we'll be there in fifteen minutes." She hurried back down the hall.

  Charlie put the phone to his ear. "Hey, Mom? I'll be there in fifteen minutes. And I'm ... bringing Eve." His announcement was greeted by silence. "Mom? Are you there? Did you hear what I said?"

  "I most certainly did, Charlie. I was just taking a minute to thank God for my blessings."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Eve was determined not to stand between Charlie and anything—not his dream of Hoover Dam or his obligations to his mother. He'd had enough obstructions in his life and she wasn't about to become another one. Once she saw the conflict in his expression she knew they'd be making a trip together down to the bakery.

  Throwing on jeans, a sweater, boots, and her quilted nylon jacket, she was good to go. Charlie had insisted she wear a helmet, so she'd put it on to please him, but she would have liked speeding do
wn the dark streets with her hair flying out behind her. She would have liked to nestle her cheek against Charlie's broad back, but the helmet had a face guard that got in the way of doing that.

  Still, she got to wrap her arms around his waist and hang on. She would have loved the sensation of riding with Charlie even before they'd had sex, but after they'd had sex ... oh, baby. The crisp air laced with the scent of leather and fine machinery was an aphrodisiac.

  Instead of resting her cheek on the back of his leather jacket, she leaned forward to murmur in his ear. "Want to know one of my fantasies?"

  He had to yell his response. "What's that?"

  "I'm naked, and you're wearing nothing but these chaps." She stroked his leather-covered thigh.

  Charlie swerved abruptly to the side of the road and squeaked the tires as he stopped and put both booted feet on the pavement. Then he sucked in air. "God, I almost wrecked."

  "Whoops. Sorry."

  He glanced over his shoulder. "And here I was thinking you were the girl-next-door type."

  "I am the girl-next-door type ...with ideas."

  "No kidding." He blew out a breath. "Sex in leather chaps. I honestly believe you'd like that."

  "I honestly believe I would, too. Am I shocking you?"

  He made a sound low in his throat. "No, but you bring up a good point. You're way too wild to hang out at my mother's bakery."

  "Oh, for heaven's sake. I would never embarrass you in front of—"

  "I'm going to call and tell her I can't make it, that something has come up and I have to take you home ASAP." He unclipped his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans and started to take off his helmet.

  "Wait." Laughing, she caught his hand before he could punch any cell phone buttons. "I can't have that on my conscience."

  He brought her hand up to his mouth, took off her glove, and started nibbling on her fingers. "I don't know how you expect me to repair my mother's bakery equipment when I'm thinking about sex and leather."