GuardMyBody

by S. C. Wynne

  “Only my body is still lingering,” I said softly. I set my glass down rougher than I meant to and some of the apple-green liquid spilled onto the back of my hand. Instinctively, I licked it and as I did our eyes locked.

  A sizzle of attraction went through his brown gaze. “You need to remember the little things in life that make you glad to be on this earth.” His thumb caressed my flesh insistently, fanning a small flame inside me.

  “I know what you’re trying to say, but I just can’t feel…things.” My voice sounded tight and stiff.

  His expression seemed doubtful as he pressed his thumb harder against my wrist. “Your pulse is racing right now. You can feel.”

  I knew he was half right. My body was responding to him, no question. But that didn’t mean I could connect emotionally with another man. I didn’t only miss the sex, I missed the affection and companionship that had been ripped from me when Rory died. But there would be no room in my heart for anyone but Rory, I was sure of that. No one could replace what we’d had.

  He pulled his hand away and squinted at me. “Why did you agree to have drinks with me?”

  I was surprised by the question. “You asked.” I knew that was a lame answer, and his skeptical expression made it obvious he did too.

  “You go out for drinks with whoever asks?” He frowned. “You and I both know that’s not even close to the truth.”

  “Well, not just that.”

  “What else.”

  “To be honest, you’re the only man I’ve found sexually attractive since…since Rory.”

  He leaned back and crossed his arms in front of his strong chest. His expression was satisfied. “Well, that’s something, at least. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “We are?” It seemed more like a car careening off a cliff to me.

  “You find me attractive and I find you sexy as hell.” He wiggled his brows.

  My cheeks could have been on fire, they were so warm. I shifted to help relieve some of the pressure in my crotch. “But what’s the point?”

  He leaned forward, laying his hands flat on the tabletop. Looking at me under his brows, he asked, “Seriously?”

  I swallowed nervously and just stared. “I’m not up for a relationship.”

  “Who said anything about a relationship? You should start slowly. You need a reminder of what it feels like to be among the living. Nothing makes you feel more alive than fucking.” His voice was like velvet.

  A wave of what could only be called lust shot through my body. Every nerve ending came alive at his husky voice. “You must have better options than me.”

  “I can’t seem to help myself.” He laughed self-deprecatingly.

  “I wouldn’t think I’m your kind of guy.”

  “You’re definitely different from the type I usually go for,” he agreed. “But that’s a good thing. Guys like you, with substance and character, are what have been lacking in my circle of friends. I feel oddly drawn to you, even though you’re sort of a mess.”

  “It seems like a psychologist would be looking for someone more stable to be involved with.” I closed my eyes, trying to assimilate the conflicting emotions of desire and fear his admission gave me. Maybe he thought I was far more intriguing than I actually was. I didn’t want to be his project.

  “My guess is you were a responsible and solid man until this happened with Rory. Your world was rocked beyond belief and you faltered for a while. Anyone would have nosedived after going through what you’ve been through.”

  “I’m not one of those mysterious, interesting crazy people from the movies.” I opened my eyes and gave him a hard stare.

  He tilted his head and sighed. “I already find you more fascinating than ninety percent of the supposedly normal people I could date. I like that you’re nothing like my typical type.”

  “So you’re willing to make an exception?” My heart was tunneling out of my chest with excitement and insecurities I wanted to be cool about the whole thing but I was so far out of the loop of how to behave in these circumstances. Forget the fact that I was over fifty and hadn’t had sex in a year. I hadn’t had sex with anyone but Rory for thirty years. A part of me was terrified I’d forgotten how. Rory and I had known each other so well, we knew what the other one wanted without words. But I was intrigued by Michael because for the first time in a year there was someone I was attracted to who I also liked as a person. The fact that he was into me too was mind-boggling.

  “Are you serious about this?”

  He stood and leaned in a few inches from my face. “Oh yeah. Let’s get out of here. You should let Fredrick know he needs to find another way to get to work tomorrow. You’re going to be up way past your bedtime tonight.”

  Chapter Four

  Apparently, if you wanted a nice house in the hills the mental health field was the way to achieve that. Creamy walls and terracotta marble floors welcomed me to Michael’s spacious home above the city of Los Angeles.

  I followed him into the enormous kitchen, feeling like a kid on his first date. I almost didn’t know how to act. Should I show I was excited or should someone my age be uninterested and cool about the whole thing? I’d never exactly been smooth to begin with, so I didn’t even have old habits to fall back on. Michael uncorked a bottle of red wine. “You like red? I noticed you drank it at Fredrick’s house the other night.”

  “I do.” I perched on a chair at the kitchen bar. “You have a beautiful home.”

  “Do I?” He frowned. “You know what I hate about it? When I talk it echoes like a cavern in here.”

  “It’s mighty pretty though.”

  “I guess,” he said, pouring the wine.

  “Maybe you should downsize.” I took my glass from him.

  “I will as soon as the market is right. I should never have bought it to begin with.”

  “Why did you?”

  He twisted his lips. “My ex was into appearances and I was in the market for a home. When we split last year I found myself with a barn of a home that I won’t be able to unload for a while.”

  “I’ll do my best to try to feel sorry for you stuck living in a mansion.” I sipped my drink.

  He grinned. “You are a smartass, you know that?”

  I nodded. “I’ve heard.”

  I followed him into a spacious seating area. Expensive-looking brown leather couches and a big-screen TV were at one end. There were potted plants and brightly colored modern art hung on the textured walls. “Take this room for example. I never watch TV. What in God’s name do I need a TV that large for?” He scowled.

  “I’ll be honest with you, this room feels like the lobby of a hotel.” I grinned.

  “I know and I feel like a hotel guest in my own home. It lacks…character.” He waved at the room disgustedly. “Oh well, I’m a workaholic so it probably doesn’t matter much.”

  “Are you?”

  “What?”

  “A workaholic?” I ran my fingers over the smooth leather couch I was sitting on.

  “I’m always at work and rarely home. You tell me.”

  “I used to be a workaholic,” I said quietly. “I wish I could get back all those years I wasted working.”

  He watched me in silence and then said, “If I was to psychoanalyze myself, I’d have to conclude that I probably only work so much because there’s no real reason to come home.”

  I nodded. “So does this place have a continental breakfast and maid service?” When in doubt, make a joke.

  “I’m definitely selling this place.” He smiled and nudged my leg with his foot. “What’s your house like?”

  “Um, it has more of a motel lobby feeling to it.”

  He chuckled. “I like you, you’re funny.”

  “On that note I should probably go, because it’s all downhill from here.”

  He leaned toward me and said in a falsely sexy voice reminiscent of a lounge singer, “Oh, I highly doubt that, baby.”

  I grinned. I enjoyed this sort of li
ghthearted banter Michael and I shared. It reminded me of Rory in a way and that was comforting to me. If I thought about it there were other similarities between Rory and Michael. Michael had the same confidence Rory had exuded, where he was at peace with who he was. I’d always been more of a worrier and Rory had been the calming influence in my life. Was it really any wonder I’d been adrift after his death? I’d lost my anchor in this chaotic world.

  “I have a hot tub,” he said out of the blue.

  I jumped as the sound of his voice startled me and I laughed nervously. “I don’t know if I’m ready for hot tub love out of the gate. It’s been a while for me, remember?”

  “Okay. I guess I’m just showing off now.” He stood and held out his hand toward me. “I say we go upstairs and get comfortable. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m a therapist, we could just snuggle.” He gave a wide grin.

  “You got me drunk and brought me back here to be your snuggle buddy?” I took his hand and stood, admiring his flawless face.

  “Not a chance.” The look he gave me made my stomach flip. “Now don’t lose sight of me or you may never be found alive in this barn of a house.”

  “I’d feel safer if you’d attach a safety line to me,” I mumbled, following him closely up an elaborately carved staircase.

  “Was that a subtle request for bondage?”

  “No,” I answered quickly.

  His cheeks curved in a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not in to that.”

  His bedroom was a welcome change from the rest of the house. The walls were a warm espresso brown and the comforter creamy beige. Walnut floors and cozy tapestry-covered chairs kitty-corner to the small fireplace completed the feeling. “How did this room come to exist?” I asked. “I wouldn’t think this level of warmth would be allowed.”

  “I redid it after me and my ex split.” He sat on the edge of the bed and bounced up and down lightly. “You like it?”

  I nodded. “I do.” I hovered a small distance from him, self-consciously keeping my eyes off the bed. Thirty years with the same lover made that box spring and mattress an intimidating sight.

  “You said it has been a while.” He patted the mattress, encouraging me to join him. “Have you been with anyone else since Rory?”

  I shook my head. “No.” I hesitated a moment before moving toward him. “I just couldn’t…and no one interested me anyway.”

  “Let’s just talk and relax a little. Is that okay with you?”

  I nodded. It was more than okay. Now that we were in his bedroom, I was about to have a panic attack from just the idea of fucking a man other than Rory. It was so real at this point it was overwhelming. Could you become a virgin again? Was that physically possible after a year of no sex? Because right now I didn’t feel like a fifty-plus-year-old man with a sexual history. I was as nervous as the first time I’d ever been with a guy. Maybe more because after living for five decades, people would expect me to know what the hell I was doing in the bedroom.

  I sat next to him, my heart banging in my chest. “This is surreal.”

  “What is?”

  “To be sitting here with you. With another man, contemplating…” I couldn’t even finish my sentence. It all just seemed too stupid, too embarrassing to have to say. I’d never thought I would be with anyone else but Rory. There were so many confusing emotions going through my brain right now, like guilt, fear, and your basic performance insecurities. I realized with irony, that as terrified as I was, I had the hard-on of all hard-ons at the moment.

  “That’s why I want to talk. Figure out if this is really something you want to do.” He shrugged, a small smile playing around his mouth. “I guess I can’t help but psychoanalyze things. Sorry.”

  I squeezed his hand. “No. I’m glad.” My gaze fell to his full lips and the butterflies started up again in my stomach. I wanted to kiss him, touch him. But I was too shy to make a move. Would he like my body? Would I be able to satisfy him? Did he like to lead or follow? I hated that I was so unsure of what to do.

  “So you really weren’t tempted to be with any other guys since Rory?” he asked, his sweet breath warming my cheek.

  “No. I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said I was emotionally dead.”

  The hand that was holding mine moved our fingers and they came to rest on my crotch, where my erection was ridiculously evident. His warm thumb stroked my bulge lightly. “You seem pretty alive to me,” he breathed.

  Air hissed between my teeth at his touch and a spike of lust rattled through me. “I feel alive at the moment, Doc.” I closed my eyes and pressed our hands down against my straining cock.

  “Why do I tempt you?” he asked softly. “Is it just sexual?”

  I shook my head, trying to think rationally as his fingers squeezed my dick tantalizingly. “I like your eyes and your voice. You seem kind and funny.” I groaned as he rubbed at a different angle and tried to continue. “But you definitely have nice hands too.”

  He smiled. “Are you okay if I kiss you now?”

  I nodded. I wanted his mouth on mine, even as a tinge of guilt wafted through me. What if it’s better than with Rory?

  No.

  He let go of my hand and took my chin between his fingers and thumb, guiding my mouth to his. The first touch seared into me, his lips full and hot against mine. Our tongues intertwined, seeking and pushing hungrily. I gave a soft groan low in my throat and his kiss hardened, becoming more insistent, the tip of his tongue teasing mine. I reached up to touch his hair. It was soft and silky, the curls tickling my fingers. His lips were fuller than Rory’s, more insistent than the assured familiar kiss of a longtime lover. Rory.

  I pulled away with a jerk of my head, trying to rid myself of memories. “I can’t…I don’t think I can.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t shut off my mind.” I covered my face with my hands, ashamed of still picturing Rory at this moment, and of wanting another man at the same exact time. What did people do when they lost someone? Did they just give up forever? Would that be easier in the end? “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry.”

  I scooted farther onto the bed, rolling into a semi-fetal position. “Jesus, will I ever feel normal again?” My voice was ragged and raw. “I’m afraid I’ll never feel like myself again.”

  He followed me up onto the bed and stretched out beside me, sitting up on his elbow. He touched my hip, stroking me soothingly. “You will, Andrew. I promise.”

  I covered my face. “I’m not sure.” My voice was muffled, dejected.

  “It’s okay to notice things, differences. Don’t run away from it.” His warm fingers tugged at my chilled hands covering my face. “I’m not Rory. I’ll taste and feel different.”

  I nodded but didn’t speak right away, rasping breaths coming from between my parted lips, but I lowered my hands. “I miss him.” I met his gaze, afraid I’d see disappointment or anger. But his expression was compassionate and understanding.

  “Jesus, of course you do,” he said quietly. “It’s fine.” The gentle empathy in his gaze tugged at my heart. “You’re confused and with good reason.” He gestured toward my bulging crotch. “But you could put my eye out with that thing, so I think it’s safe to say you’re also pretty turned-on.”

  I flushed but I knew he was right. Part of me thought I was betraying Rory and another large part of me wanted to get on with screwing. “You picked a real winner to bring home, Doc.”

  “Your struggle just reaffirms what I already suspected about you. You have character and depth.” He sighed. “This little meltdown of yours just makes me like you more, damn it.”

  “You wouldn’t rather I just go home and leave you in peace?”

  “Oh God no.” He sounded horrified. “Please stay. I’ll keep my hands off you if you want, but stay. I enjoy your company.”

  My panic was subsiding slowly and I studied his handsome face, feeling calmer. With the drama passing I was better a
ble to acknowledge how much I still wanted him. “But I want you to touch me, Michael.”

  He swallowed. “Are you positive?” His voice was husky with desire.

  “I don’t know if it’s uncool to admit it, but I was sort of excited to see you tonight.” I licked my lips nervously. “Even though it made me feel like a horrible person, like I was betraying Rory.”

  “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I mean it,” he insisted.

  “What if I was always a lousy lay and I just didn’t know it?” I laughed sheepishly.

  He eyed me knowingly. “Ahh, yes. The old performance anxiety rears its ugly head.” He flashed his perfect white smile. “I have those anxieties too. Who says you’ll like me in bed? I’m not a kid anymore and gravity has been a bitch to contend with.”

  “Please, you’re gorgeous for your age. I could bounce a quarter off your ass. But I am intimidated because I get the feeling you have a lot more experience than me,” I said quietly. That was no exaggeration either. I’d been with a couple of guys when I was younger, but other than that, Rory and my hand had been my only sexual partners.

  “The way I was when I was younger, I’m sure I’ve had more sexual adventures. But because of that I know you’re putting too much pressure on yourself, maybe even both of us.” He laughed. “I’m only human.”

  I grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  “It’s okay, but don’t expect it to be the same, it can’t be.” His hand slid lower over my shoulder, along the curve of my waist and came to rest on my hip. “You don’t have to think right now. You just have to feel.”

  “I think I’ve forgotten how,” I said sheepishly, and straightened my legs, our feet brushing. His thick, dark lashes lay on his cheeks as his fingers gripped my hip.

  Michael slowly dipped his hand and brushed my obvious erection, he cupped me and a warm rush of air escaped from my chest. “Your body hasn’t forgotten,” he said.