Blogger Bundle Volume I: Dear Author Selects Unusual Heroines
Page 15
“Perfectly clear,” Marla said, nodding so her red hair flowed down past her shoulders, then back up. “I’m familiar with the pattern.”
“So? What’s the deal? Why can’t women say yes and mean yes?”
“Sometimes they do.”
“When? When exactly do they do that? What in hell does it take to make a woman mean what she says? I don’t get it.”
Marla patted his shoulder. “It must be frustrating. But it’s not personal.”
“It sure as hell feels personal.”
“Personal is usually when she says no and means no.”
“You’re saying rejection is final.”
“Almost all the time.”
“Almost?”
“Yeah, see, because there might be new information.”
“I’m not talking about court proceedings here. I’m talking about—” He stopped, unwilling to get more detailed about the situation. He was still working for Marla’s boss.
“It’s tricky when you’re talking about…stuff. Because with…stuff, there are a lot of factors. When women do say yes, they usually mean yes forever, so there aren’t many casual yeses. And sometimes women can think that they’re saying yes to one thing and then realize it’s a completely other thing they’ve said yes to, and then they’re not sure about the yes, so that’s when the maybe comes into play. But the no, that’s typically pretty clear, except when the no is because the woman is frightened about a new situation, and so she says no, but that really doesn’t mean no, it’s mostly a maybe, but the man, he needs to give her time to see that there’s nothing to be afraid of, and that she won’t ruin her career because she falls in love.”
Dan blinked twice. Shockingly, he’d understood everything Marla had said, specifically that last bit. “Okay, so let’s say some men get it about the being afraid part, and some men make allowances for that which seem to work but not really. Then what?”
“Keep trying?” she asked, her voice going way up high.
“But when is it real stupid for a man to keep trying? How does a man know when no is no and yes is yes?”
“That one I can sort of help with.”
“Oh?”
She nodded. “There’s a yes that when you hear it, you know that it’s a forever yes. It’s different from a maybe yes, and definitely different from a no yes.”
He looked at his vodka. Maybe he was drunk. “You’re sure about this.”
“Absolutely. So don’t worry about it. It takes time to get to the forever yes.”
He didn’t dare look at her, so he kept studying his drink. “What if I’m not sure I’m ready for a forever yes?”
“Then it’s good that it’s not here yet. Just be patient.” She touched his arm with two fingers. “She’s worth it.”
He met her sympathetic gaze. “Am I?”
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’d like to think so. But only you can answer that question.”
“Where’s your guy?”
Her face changed completely, lighting up from the inside. “He’s busy with one of the photographers, but he’s going to come get me when he’s done.”
“You seem pretty happy with him.”
“I am. He’s so wonderful. And interesting, and funny. Sweeter than anyone, and I love that he’s so much more than just his looks, you know? Not that his looks aren’t incredible, but he’s so much more than that. He’s got all these plans for the future and he doesn’t buy into all the artificial junk about modeling and stuff. I don’t know, he’s just…”
He smiled, happy for her. “Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
“I want to say be careful.”
“Careful? How is that possible? To be careful means not caring all the way. Not opening my heart. Then you wouldn’t know. And it would be too easy to miss out on the one thing that could be the most important thing of all.”
The band started again, playing “String of Pearls,” a Glenn Miller tune, as Marla walked away. Dan wished the boat ride was over. He needed time to think. He liked so much about Jessica, but was it love? Was his mother right about him? He’d always been a romantic and it had gotten him into trouble time and time again. Maybe this was just the same old, same old. Maybe he wasn’t really seeing Jessica for who she was, but as some amalgam of who he wanted her to be.
For sure, he’d never experienced anything even close to the experience of making love to her. And when they talked, there was a rightness to the conversations. He felt good with her, wanted to know more about her.
Maybe backing off was the right thing. Goddamn it, this was crazy. He’d never equivocated like this, not over any woman. Not over anything for that matter.
He no longer wanted to find out what women wanted. He wanted only to find out what one specific woman wanted. The question was, how?
THE NIGHT ENDED, at least for Jessica, just after midnight. Because she wasn’t officially in charge of the event, she didn’t have to stay to the bitter end.
Owen had hovered, of course, when she’d said good-night, and Dan had risen to the occasion once again. Attentive, respectful, charming. Everything she could hope for in a date, real or not.
They walked down to the pier, arm in arm, smiling, their bodies touching with each step. She felt the same shimmer of excitement that had been the constant since that first day. It was as if when they touched, they completed an electrical current. No one else did it to her. She’d never known it was possible.
They reached the street and got in line to wait for a cab. She turned to him. “What is it that you like about me?” she asked.
The question clearly took him by surprise. “Is this a test?”
“No. Think of it as research. Come on, what appeals?”
“There are a lot of things.”
“Name five.”
“Okay,” he said, stretching the word. Let’s see…”
“Nothing? Not one thing comes to mind?”
“No, no. Oh, God, no. Give me a second to get my thoughts together, that’s all.”
“And it can’t be about sex.”
His face fell. “Oh.”
She elbowed him. “I can’t believe—”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Come on. You’re…”
She stepped back, waiting.
His eyes softened and he touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “I like your drive, your intensity. You’re honest, and you make no bones about who you are and what you want. You certainly come up with creative solutions to your problems.” He nodded toward the boat. “This whole campaign is brilliant.”
Jessica frowned. “That’s it?”
A laugh escaped. “That’s it? I’ve just described an amazing woman.”
“But what about me?”
“I don’t understand.”
She turned, embarrassed by the sudden rush of tears. “I like to think I’m nice. That I have a sense of humor. You know, human things.”
“Oh, Jessica,” he whispered as he pulled her into his arms. “You’re all that. Funny and nice, and so much more. Marla adores you and wants to be just like you. I see how people talk to you, with respect, with ease. You don’t intimidate, you make people feel welcome and comfortable. Even that first time we met, at the bar, you were so willing to dive into my insane scheme. Willing to open yourself to a stranger. Don’t you see how remarkable that is?”
Her head rested on his chest, but she shook it anyway. “I was so mean to you tonight.”
“No you weren’t. You were just honest.”
“It’s not your fault. You’ve never pressured me, or made any demands.”
“Oh, but I have. And I’m going to demand more. I’ve decided we need to go back to our original agreement. I ask you questions, and keep Owen at bay. You answer questions, and you concentrate on getting through this week with all your energy and strength. Whatever I can do to help, I’ll do. If that means leaving you the hell alone, then fine. Just say the word.”
Now she
lifted her head to meet his gaze. Amazed, once more, at this odd, beautiful man. Unlike anyone in her experience, and yet she felt as if she’d known him for a long, long time. She rose on her toes, stretched her neck, but she couldn’t reach him. He smiled slowly and leaned down until his lips touched hers.
The shock of his kiss swept through her again, and for once in her life she turned off that part of her brain that analyzed everything, weighed every move. She just kissed him. A boy, a girl, a moonlit night.
A long, sweet, melting kiss.
THEY RODE BACK to the hotel in silence, comfortable, touching.
Dan had meant what he said, that he would step back, not make this more complicated than it needed to be. Jessica had enough on her plate without him adding to it.
There would be time, later, to explore the connection, the desire he felt for her. For now, he would appreciate what he had and not beg for more.
Once inside the suite, he guided her to the bedroom, then shut the door behind her. Knowing she would be a few minutes, he undressed quickly in the bathroom, brushed his teeth and cleared out. She tiptoed past as he made the couch into his bed. Despite his intentions, it wasn’t fun when she waved good-night and closed the bedroom door behind her.
But it was better this way. He needed to figure out what he wanted, and so did she. The sex, while fantastic, made things difficult, confusing.
He turned off the lights and climbed into bed. Putting his hands behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling for a long time, seeing nothing but dark. His thoughts went in circles, always coming back to being inside her. Why was it so unique? She wasn’t shaped differently, she hadn’t come up with some new and wild technique. Yet with her it was…
Shit. He didn’t know what it was. Great wasn’t the half of it. It changed him. How, he couldn’t explain. But it was true nonetheless. If it was still so after this week, then he could take the time to fully explore the reasons. As for now, he had to forget about making love to her. If he could. It was certainly asking a lot.
He closed his eyes, needing to sleep, knowing sleep was going to prove elusive. But he tried.
The moments ticked on, the night grew still and vast. He listened to the sound of his own heartbeat, trying to slow it down, but having no success.
Then he heard a new sound, the bedroom door opening. Whatever progress he’d made with his heart was shot to hell as his hopes rose. She was probably just going to the bathroom, nothing more. Besides, hadn’t he just gone on and on about stepping back? Putting sex aside?
Her footsteps were lost in the thick carpet, and he couldn’t place her in the room. That is, until he saw her shadow on the wall.
He turned his head, and there she was, made somehow silver by the light of the moon. She approached the bed slowly, quiet as a mouse, until she stood not a foot away, right next to the bed.
He could just see her expression. Worried. In fact, she was chewing on her lower lip.
Dan threw back the covers. Jessica sat down, making the slim mattress curve under her weight.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered.
“Lie down.”
“You said you didn’t want to.”
“I know.”
“I said I didn’t want to.”
He smiled, knowing she couldn’t see him. “I know.”
“But here I am.”
He reached out with his hand, grasped hers and squeezed. “Come,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
“What if it’s a huge mistake?”
He gave her a little tug. “Then let’s make it together.”
She nodded, then slowly stretched out next to him. He closed his eyes, achingly aware of the softness of her skin, of the way her hip felt against his, of her closeness, her scent.
“You know there’s a basic problem with your project,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“The premise. How can you ever understand women, when we don’t understand ourselves?”
He turned over on his side, and looked down into her shadowy face. “I don’t believe it. I think you understand every mystery in the universe. That you know all the secrets of the heart. You just have to listen to your own wisdom, that’s all.”
Her hand moved up to the back of his neck. “Is this wise?”
He answered her with a kiss.
What Women Really Mean
1. Do what you want—You’ll pay for this later.
2. We need to talk—I need to complain.
3. Sure…go ahead—I don’t want you to.
4. I’m not upset—Of course I’m upset, you moron!
5. You’re certainly attentive tonight—Is sex all you ever think about?
Source: Gallant, Jim “What Women Really Mean”
http://www.galisteao.com/gallant/humor/
16
THE MOMENT THEIR LIPS touched, Jessica’s fears drifted away, and she was right there, right then, and there was nowhere else on earth she’d rather be.
His hand moved to her sash, which he opened effortlessly, then he slipped inside to touch her bare flesh. It felt as if he belonged there, as if without his touch she was incomplete. Everything that had troubled her diminished to insignificance as she explored his mouth, his taste, as he stroked her stomach with infinite care and respect.
As for her, she had her own tasks to complete, getting him naked first on the list. She got hold of his boxers and tugged down, but she was only able to get so far. Whispering a soft apology, he left her momentarily while he yanked the shorts off, and as long as he was in position, he spread her robe completely open, and when he lay down again it was flesh to flesh.
He lowered his head until he kissed her once more, but only a peck. Turning so he could nibble the edge of her chin, he whispered, “I don’t understand this. How I feel when…”
“I know,” she said. “It’s crazy. But, oh, God.”
“Uh-huh.” He licked, then nibbled, then moved to her neck, kissing, murmuring sweet sounds that had no words, just the heat of his breath, the wet of his tongue, the sharpness of his teeth.
Distraction came when he cupped her breast, using the flat of his palm to circle her nipple, brushing against it so lightly it was as if she imagined the caress.
Everything in her wanted more. “Please,” she begged, pressing herself into his hand. “Don’t make me wait.”
He lifted his head and stared down at her. It was too dark and his face too shadowed to see him clearly, but the length of his pause made her think he could see her.
He said nothing as he moved on top of her, spreading her legs with his knees to nestle between them. Once settled, he found her hands, and slid his fingers between hers. He lifted both hands until they were above her head, brought them both together, then using one hand, so much larger than hers, he grasped both wrists tightly. When she tugged, he held her fast, immobile.
“What—?”
His low chuckle did all sorts of interesting things to her body. She tried to wiggle, but the way he held her captive, she could hardly move.
Spreading her legs farther, he touched her with his free hand, and after getting the lay of the land, he thrust a finger inside her, making her gasp with the sudden intrusion. The next second his mouth covered hers, swallowing her surprise as his finger plunged inside her.
There was nothing gentle or gentlemanly about anything he did. His tongue and his finger worked in rhythm, each taking her roughly, giving her no option but to surrender to the pleasure, to abandon herself to whatever wickedness was in store.
His body tensed as he ravaged her mouth, his fingers thrust inside her once more and then were gone, replaced quickly with the full length of him, filling her completely, making her gasp and arch her back.
He took her, plunged into her over and over roughly, the gentle man she’d known replaced by this animal presence, this predator.
She writhed beneath him, so awash with awareness and excitement she c
ould hardly breathe. She heard herself moan, although the sound was unlike any she’d made before. Her hands struggled to break free even though she didn’t want to be free. Her body was more hers than ever before, even as her moves were unfamiliar and jerky.
“Mine,” he whispered gruffly, the tone brooking no quarter, taking possession of her body, her mind, her soul.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, meeting each thrust with one of her own, two bodies crashing together like waves to a craggy shore.
Her orgasm came quickly, with such ferociousness she could only cry out, inarticulate, trembling. She squeezed him both with her legs and with her inner muscles, and he went over the edge, too, his cry and hers twining like their bodies.
When it was over, he released her wrists, collapsing on top of her in a heap.
She didn’t mind. She wanted to feel his chest rise and fall. She still had him inside her, and that she wasn’t willing to relinquish.
Dizzy from the exertion, her body continued to spasm in echoes of the fierce climax, and every time she did, he answered in the same way.
Finally, long after the main event had ended, he sighed deeply, then kissed her. Gentle Dan had returned, but now she knew that there was another side to him, darker, rougher, and she wasn’t sure which she preferred.
“I hate it,” he said, “but I have to.”
She whimpered. “Please, no.”
“I must. Cramp in my leg.”
She kissed his cheek. “Poor baby.”
“It’s your fault.” He rolled off her, leaving her empty and chilled.
“How is it my fault?”
“You make me crazy. I have no self-control when I’m around you.”
“That’s not me. That’s you.”
“Nope. I know it’s you.”
“How?”
He turned his head to look at her. “Because it doesn’t happen with anyone else.”