by Karen Booth
Donovan could hardly believe what she was saying. And he had no earthly idea what it would mean for her to be in charge. But he answered the only way he knew how. “Perfect.”
Chapter Four
Lela’s heart was about to pop out of her chest and run laps around the living room. What had she just agreed to? Only the thing that she’d wanted the entire time she and Donovan had been close, the thing that she’d only had a taste of, once. Today couldn’t get any more surreal. Or amazing. And even though Donovan was going to return to San Francisco in a few days and he’d be out of Lela’s life just as quickly as he’d managed to walk back into it, she was still on board. She couldn’t deny that she longed for another chance at the guy she’d always wanted.
She was, however, questioning the idea of taking charge. Allowing those words to pass her lips had been a misstep. Or… perhaps this was the universe telling her it was time to try new things. As she mulled it over, poor Donovan was sitting on the other end of the couch, looking like he was truly at a loss. This came as some amusement. After all, he was the man who seemed to breeze through life with everything and everyone at his whim.
Lela got up and took the two steps it required to be standing next to his legs. She peered down at him as he looked up. Everything about him was raw and breathtaking—the untamed hair, the unruly facial scruff, the way his eyes shifted darker like sex was the only thing worth thinking about right now.
“Are we doing this?” His voice hitched adorably at the end of his question. He was at least a little bit vulnerable. Just like her.
“We are.” She planted one hand on the back of the couch near his head, then a knee to the cushion next to his thigh. The next thing she knew she was straddling his lap and wondering how she’d so quickly shoved aside her more docile ways.
She settled her weight on his legs, closed her eyes and took what she wanted—a kiss. She felt her insides soften at that first touch. His mouth was warm and soft like she’d remembered, this time flavored with gin. But there was an urgency that hadn’t been there before. It felt like he truly wanted her. Was that convenient thinking? She didn’t want to believe it, and if this was a one-time thing, she had to make the memories she wanted, which meant telling herself that yes, he did want her. It felt especially true when he flattened one hand against the center of her back and pulled her closer while his other hand slipped under her dress, palming the bare skin of her thigh. She combed her fingers into his generous head of hair, curled the tips into the back of his head, erasing any empty space between them. She breathed in at the same moment that he groaned into her mouth, and that filled her with new confidence. She was invincible. For now.
“Do you want to go upstairs?” she asked. She really didn’t want to have sex with Donovan on the stupid couch her ex-husband had picked out. Yes, she’d slept with him in her bed, but at least that had new, post-divorce bedding.
Donovan kissed her cheek, dragged his lips along the line of her jaw, then skimmed the sensitive skin of her neck, especially the spot right below her ear. “I do.”
Lela felt dizzy, but wasn’t about to let her unsteadiness keep things from moving forward. She scrambled off his lap, grabbed his hand and made for the stairs up to the second floor. All the while, her needy body was screaming at her to go faster so she could tear off his clothes, while the out-of-practice seductress in her brain wanted to go for the slow burn. She settled on a medium simmer, making quick work of the trip to her bedroom.
As soon as they were inside, clothes started to go. His jacket. His shirt with what seemed like the most ridiculous amount of buttons she’d ever encountered. And the cuffs she hadn’t thought to undo first. He turned her around and unzipped her dress, pressing kisses along the channel of her spine and sending tingles over her entire body. If this little prelude was any indication, Donovan had definitely expanded his skillset. Of course, she’d been wearing jeans and a sweatshirt the first time they’d done this.
As she stood before him, she was glad for a few things—she’d worn exceptionally nice underwear, it matched, and she’d shaved her legs a few days ago. Still, she felt truly on display, and every little worry a woman has about her body, especially after forty, tried to creep into her thoughts. She fought them back, shutting out doubts about the perkiness of her breasts or how her ass simply wasn’t in the same zip code it had resided in when they were in college. Donovan didn’t seem to care as he unhooked her bra and slipped her panties past her hips. He didn’t care at all when she unzipped his jeans, took off his boxer briefs, and finally got a chance to wrap her fingers around him. His body wasn’t disappointing either of them. Of course, she wasn’t the only one who’d picked up a few tips and tricks along the way. Donovan seemed to appreciate every pass she took with her hand, especially as he kissed her hard and cupped her breasts with both hands.
Lela felt her body temperature spiking, or maybe that was just what Donovan was doing to her, but it wasn’t worth debating for too long because the reality was that the urgency between her legs was immense. This was impatience like she’d never experienced. She needed him to touch her there, set her on fire, and leave her in a breathless heap. Or however close he could get to that. No matter what she’d said downstairs, if sex was darts, she wanted the damn bullseye.
She walked backwards to the bed, learning how easily you could get a man to follow you if you had his dick in your hand. When her legs met the mattress, she sat, then released her hold on him and scooted back to the center of the bed, conjuring every seductive scene she’d ever seen in a movie, where a woman takes control.
Donovan seemed to take her lead, admiring her as he stood over her like a monument to sexiness and the maintenance of core muscles. “How did you get to be even more beautiful, Lela?” he asked.
The old Lela would’ve blurted something about how she was only better looking now because it had been her mid-twenties before she lost her baby face. But the Lela of tonight, the one who was seducing her college crush? She had a way better answer. “I take excellent care of my skin.”
He smiled and stretched out next to her, smoothing his hand over her bare belly. His skin against hers brought her back to life in a way that shocked her. She hadn’t thought of herself as asleep, mostly because everything had hurt so damn bad over the last few months. But apparently she’d at least been dozing, because right now, with Donovan, she felt wide awake. “What do you want, Lela?” he huffed the question into her ear with hot breath.
She took his hand and placed it between her legs. “This. I want this.”
Donovan knew exactly what to do, quickly finding the spot that made her suck in a sharp breath. He rotated his fingers in languid circles, and Lela closed her eyes and arched into him, kissing him softly while she gave in to every heavenly thing he did. She let her brain go, every negative thought, and simply focused on the sensation. The warmth pulsing through her body, the tension coiling in her belly, the need quickly doubling inside her. As good as his hand felt, it wasn’t enough. She wanted all of him, everything she’d wanted more than twenty years ago.
She gently broke their kiss. “Let me get a condom.” She didn’t wait for an answer, rolling to her bedside table and pulling one from the box. She didn’t think about the reason they’d been there in the first place. She was tired of the bad parts of her past. She wanted to gravitate only toward the good, and Donovan was one of the best things that had happened to her in a very long time. She didn’t want to wait any more, so she tore open the packet and rolled on the condom.
Donovan pushed Lela’s hair from her face as she settled in on her back and he loomed over her. There was a moment or two where all Lela could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. It was like he was marking the moment with a pause for dramatic effect, but then he thrust inside and it was yet one more thing about that day that made her think… wow. He was somehow different and familiar. She felt satisfied, yet still wanted more—which would always be her biggest takeawa
y with Donovan. As they found a rhythm, Lela focused on the present. The feel of his muscular ass beneath her calves. His soft, but white-hot, wet and craven kisses. The realization that she was free to do this now. As much as she wanted.
The pressure began to mount faster, and Donovan became more earnest with his charge. He was trying. Hard. She almost felt bad for admitting that he hadn’t given her an orgasm the first time… then again, men needed to know these things. They needed to understand that as much as they loved their penis, it was not magical. One had to exert some effort and pay attention. As if he’d heard the random string of things running through her head, Donovan adjusted the angle of his approach, leaving more of his bodyweight to ride over the exact perfect spot. Lela’s mind went blank, then black. And then white. And then pink, which seemed totally random. Just like that, the peak knocked her over like a steamroller. Her body froze, she threw back her head, and that was when she heard and felt Donovan, groaning his approval as his hips slammed against her one last time.
He collapsed on top of her for a moment, kissing her neck, then shifted on to the bed, letting his arm hit the mattress when he rolled to his back. Lela’s eyes opened and closed, over and over, as she had nothing to look at but the ceiling and she struggled to catch her breath. As the waves subsided, she was overcome with the warmest, most wonderful feeling. It was like a big fat piece of chocolate cake on an epic hair day in early spring, when the air is breezy and everything is blissful. Donovan was in her bed. They had a whole weekend ahead of them. Maybe they would sneak into a wedding as he’d suggested earlier, or maybe they would just stay naked for two days. If he could make her feel even half of what she felt right now, she’d be stupidly happy.
“Please tell me that was real.” He rolled back to his side and kissed her shoulder.
She snuggled closer to him, inhaling his scent, feeling drunk on the beauty that was Donovan. “I solemnly swear that was mind-blowing.”
“I’m so relieved.”
Lela’s brain was delightfully frothy, like a root beer float. Her thoughts were lighter than air, like brightly colored helium balloons floating off into space. “It’s not just about an orgasm, you know.”
“Sex?”
“Sex with you. I think I was so disappointed the first time because it felt like it meant so much. It was my only chance to get you to see me as something other than just your friend Lela.”
“Don’t say ‘your friend Lela’ like that doesn’t mean anything. You were always important to me.”
“Not as important as you were to me.” The words were flowing from her mouth now. She couldn’t stop them.
“I don’t know about that.”
“But you were my everything.” Lela closed her eyes, breathing in the heady aroma of Donovan and sex, as sleep was about to pull her into a deep slumber. “I loved you. So. Much.”
Chapter Five
Even though it was keeping him awake, Donovan was oddly thankful for the near-chainsaw level of Lela’s snoring. The buzz helped to drown out the sound of his own hyperventilating. His chest was tight. He was sweating. He felt like he might get sick. Lela had unburdened herself from a secret that might have changed the entire course of his life. She was in love with him? Why in the hell hadn’t she said something? Why had she chosen to keep that to herself?
He couldn’t get comfortable in her bed. The sheets were almost too soft, the mattress too perfectly supportive. The tingling sensation in his shoulders was compounding his restlessness. Meanwhile, he couldn’t stop thinking about how his life would’ve turned out differently if he’d had that bit of information at the time. Would he have still married Genevieve? That would’ve broken Lela’s heart. Oh, wait—it probably did break her heart, dumbass. Just because he hadn’t known about the way she felt, didn’t mean her feelings hadn’t been there.
That made his stomach churn, because he knew deep down that the minute Genevieve called him and told him about the positive pregnancy test, it was game-over for Donovan. He’d had no choice but to marry her. There was no way he would’ve shirked the responsibility of a child. He was not his dad. Or at least he’d been sure at the time that he wasn’t. Then he’d gone and repeated his mistakes just a few years later. So maybe he was at least a little bit his dad. At forty-eight years old, he doubted he could shake it now.
Panic coursed through him. He felt like he was caged in his own body, a prisoner of his thoughts. Go. Go. Get some fresh air. Get back your freedom. That seemed like the logical next step, but he’d taken off the only other time he and Lela had slept together. He had to stop repeating the mistakes of the past.
Lela snuggled closer to him and Donovan was truly torn. Last night was supposed to be pure fun, but Lela’s words had changed everything. If only he hadn’t been such a macho dickhead, wrapped up in the fact that the first time he and Lela had slept together, he’d failed to accomplish his mission. The mission. He wanted so badly to be someone different right now—the guy who wouldn’t think twice about pulling her closer, who’d have no problem drifting off to sleep, and spending a weekend with her. But would it ever be that simple? For him? The answer was no. It was never, ever that easy. The minute you introduced the idea of becoming entangled, the expectations kicked in, and Donovan always failed. Case in point, the way he was feeling right now, in Lela’s bed.
The faintest strains of moonlight filtered through the shades of her bedroom window, lighting up her face. Even though they’d spent so many years apart and not communicating, her friendship still meant so much. She deserved better than this. She deserved better than him. Donovan would bring nothing but misery and bullshit to her life and Lela was the last person he wished that on. As if his body wanted to push him closer to a decision, he felt a zap from his chest to his shoulder. Am I having a heart attack? WTF? I run like three miles a day. Although, I also eat too much cheese. He decided that this wasn’t physical. This was all in his head. And the sooner he pried himself from this situation, the sooner he and Lela could both return to their lives.
Silently, he peeled back the sheet and slipped off the mattress, doing his best to not disturb Lela. Unfortunately, he couldn’t turn on the light to find his clothes, so he was left shuffling around the floor, searching with his feet, then picking up the found clothing and determining whether said garment belonged to him or Lela. He located his boxers. Then his jeans. He was stepping into the former when behind him, the door to Lela’s room creaked.
A howl of a meow broke the silence. Ma-rowwwr.
“Shhh. Shhh. Shhh,” Donovan whispered at Rio.
The cat scampered through the dark and head butted Donovan’s leg just as he was balancing on one foot to put on his pants. He stumbled across the floor, his footfalls like boulders tumbling out of the back of a truck. He caught himself on a chair. Rio meowed again. Donovan froze at the earsplitting silence that followed, waiting for several heartbeats, which came lightning fast as he worried Lela was awake.
Snooooooort. Shhhhhhh. She went back to snoring.
He finally felt like he could exhale. Shit.
His escape plan was not going well. He decided he should finish getting dressed downstairs, so he hunted down his shirt and jacket and tiptoed out of the room. With every step down the stairs, guilt hit him a little harder. All he could imagine was Lela’s face in the morning and how grossly disappointed she was going to be with him. He would prove himself to be exactly what she’d most likely been thinking all these years—a total loser. It wouldn’t be pretty, but it was for the best. Lela had her entire life ahead of her now that she was free of her husband. Donovan was only going to hold her back.
He quickly finished dressing in the kitchen, then looked everywhere for something on which to write a note. He wound up in the living room, where a small desk was tucked into one corner. But when he reached it, there was no paper to be found, and he didn’t want to dig through the drawers. He then spotted the printer. Paper. The instant he slid it open, it started beeping like a garb
age truck backing up. He grabbed a piece and slammed it shut, his heart thundering yet again. He plucked a pen from the coffee mug, but as soon as he clicked it, he was stuck with a new realization—he had no clue what to say. No excuse was going to make him sound like less of an asshole. And he didn’t want to lie. Not to Lela.
So he decided that he wouldn’t say why he was leaving, only that he was.
Dear Lela,
Thank you for an amazing night. It was so good to reconnect. Hopefully I’ll see you before another twenty-five years go by.
Love,
Donovan
He sighed, knowing exactly how piss-poor this letter was. It was like a knife in the center of his chest to leave. But he didn’t see that he had another choice.
So he left the note on her desk, unlatched the deadbolt, and slipped out through Lela’s front door.
Chapter Six
The minute Lela woke up, she was overcome with another stupidly happy wave of bliss. Her night with Donovan had been wonderful. And there was more ahead. But then she cracked open one eye, saw that he wasn’t in her bed, and she immediately knew what had happened. Fuckity fuck fuck.
“Donovan?” she called. There was no answer.
He’d taken off. Again.
She rolled to her stomach, face-down in the pillow, wondering if it was possible to smother oneself. It wouldn’t be the worst way to go. Simple. Elegant. No blood. Although whenever the paramedics arrived, they would see her butt first and that simply wasn’t a fate she was willing to accept. How would they describe her in their report? Old divorced woman found dead face-down and naked on her bed, with cat lovingly curled up at her side.
Nope. Donovan might have done exactly what she’d feared, but she wasn’t going to let it defeat her. And least not right away. Lela forced herself to roll out of bed, then grabbed her robe. Not wanting to be the most hopelessly pessimistic person in the world, she tried his name one more time in the hallway. “Donovan?” She didn’t wait long for an answer. She was optimistic; not stupid. She started off for the kitchen, Rio threatening to trip her by snaking between her ankles, meowing his little furry head off.