by Linda Seed
He hugged her, because she needed it and because of their history. Because of years of love and mutual support, and because of the sorrow that they hadn’t made it work. Then, they pushed each other away self-consciously, because they didn’t want to give Owen hope for a reconciliation when there wasn’t any.
“I do want you to be happy, you know.” Penny hugged herself as though she were cold, even though the temperature was mild. “It’s just hard.”
“I know.”
It was hard for him, too—being happy. But he thought he owed it to himself—and to Owen—to try.
24
On Saturday, Bianca shaved, waxed, moisturized, and wore a bra and panty set she’d bought for the occasion. As a matter of principle, she thought TJ should be responsible for the condoms, but as a practical woman, she tucked some into her purse anyway. She wanted to make sure she had everything covered—so to speak.
When she was dressed in a sexy but casual outfit she’d borrowed from Sofia—skinny jeans, boots, low-cut top, dangly earrings—she began to have second thoughts.
“This is stupid. This whole thing is stupid,” she announced.
Martina was sitting at the kitchen island jotting notes into her laptop for her latest interior design job, and Benny was rooting around in the refrigerator for something to drink.
“She’s freaking out. You owe me five dollars.” Benny shot Martina a know-it-all look, her eyebrow cocked.
“No, I don’t.” Martina didn’t look up from her computer. “I owe you five dollars if she freaks out so much she doesn’t go. We’re not there yet.”
“You’re betting on me? You made a bet?” Bianca was appalled.
“Hey, at least I actually found someone who thought you had the lady balls to go through with it,” Benny said. “Sofia wouldn’t take the bet.”
That stopped Bianca. “She wouldn’t?”
“Well, she would have, but she wanted me to give her odds.” Benny shrugged. “She thought it could go either way.”
Martina closed the laptop and focused on her sister. “You can do this, Bianca. I know you’re freaked out because it’s Troy and because you’ve still got all of those hormonal teenage feelings.…”
“I do not have hormonal teenage feelings.”
“But,” Martina continued, “you’re not a coward. You’ve never been one. And I know that if this doesn’t work out, it’s not going to be because you were too scared to give it a fair chance and see where it would go.”
Martina’s pep talk was surprisingly stirring, and it buoyed Bianca. She took a deep breath, let it out, and tried to focus.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay. I’ll just … I’ll go and have fun, and … if it works, it works, and if it doesn’t, I’ll be fine. He’s just a guy. He’s not some … some mythical man-god with the power to enchant me and keep me locked in his love dungeon until the end of time.” Which, when she thought of it, sounded pretty appealing.
“There you go,” Martina said encouragingly.
“Okay, that’s not fair.” Benny pointed one finger at Martina. “There was nothing in the bet that said you could make a big, stirring speech.”
“There was also nothing that said I couldn’t.”
Bianca checked the clock and saw she was running a few minutes late. She grabbed her purse and went out the door, leaving her sisters still arguing about whether Martina’s speech had voided their wager.
They would be having dinner at TJ’s place with the implied intention that, if all went well and both parties were agreeable, the night would end in sex.
That, alone, would have been enough to make Bianca nervous. But the fact that she had wanted him for so long—almost two decades—made the situation nearly unbearable.
Thank God he offered her a glass of wine as soon as she got there. She accepted it, then waited until his back was turned and downed half of the glass while Gary, his ancient dog, watched her with his head tilted to the side.
TJ looked … well. He looked like her teenage fantasy grown to perfect, peak adulthood. Dark, wavy hair still damp from the shower. Tall, strong body in jeans that fit him as though they’d been custom made. Shirt open at the throat, giving her a tease of the lean, muscled physique underneath. Good God. The idea that the man she’d spent so many years longing for might finally be hers …
“Bianca? Are you all right?” He was looking at her with curiosity and not a little concern. Had she been staring?
“Yes. Fine. I’m … yes. Just … thinking about something going on at work.” She couldn’t admit she was nervous. Her womanly pride prohibited it.
“Oh. Nothing too serious, I hope.”
“It’s … things should resolve themselves soon. Very soon.”
He smiled at her, really seeing her, and the fine lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. When was the last time any man had smiled at her like that? Her knees nearly gave out with her desire for him.
She needed to pull herself together, so she focused on things other than his eyes, his smile, and whatever unknowable, wonderful, frightening things he might do to her if she let him.
He was cooking, so she turned her attention to that. They talked about the food, how it smelled, and whether she could help. They talked about Owen, how he was feeling, and how Penny was dealing with his diagnosis. They talked about TJ’s day, his work, and how he’d felt about coming home to Cambria. They talked about Gary, and Bianca scratched the dog behind his ears while TJ told the story of his adoption.
They ate—a pasta dish with chicken and asparagus—and Bianca barely tasted it. She drank more wine, hoping it would relax her.
The wine didn’t ease her nerves, but it did make her tipsy. The overall result was that she was both nervous and afraid that her defenses had been lowered to a point where she would not be able to make a rational decision.
The whole thing brought her back to the point she’d made earlier in the evening with her sisters. This was stupid.
She excused herself to use the bathroom, pulled her cell phone out of her purse, and texted Martina.
Call me in five minutes with an emergency.
The response came back almost immediately: What? No.
Martina, please.
Did something go wrong? Is he being an ass?
Bianca considered the question. No. He’s perfect. And I can’t handle it, Martina. I can’t. Just call me.
If it had been Benny, she wouldn’t have called. She’d have refused in a stubborn attempt at matchmaking. But it was Martina, and Bianca knew she could count on her. She knew her sister wouldn’t let her down.
Bianca checked herself in the mirror, washed her hands, and went back out into the living room, where TJ was waiting for her.
He’d already cleared the table and stacked the dishes in the kitchen, and he was sitting on the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him.
“Do you want some more wine?” He’d put the bottle and their glasses on the coffee table, and he lifted the bottle, ready to pour.
“No, thanks. I think I’ve had a little too much already.”
“Okay.” He put the bottle down. “Do you want to come and sit down? I could put on a movie if you want. Or we could just talk. Or … we could go out. I didn’t really plan anything, so …”
He was fidgeting with the wineglasses, repositioning them on the table. Then he rubbed at his chin with his hand.
For the first time since she’d arrived, she realized that he was nervous, too. How had she not noticed that? All at once, it seemed to her that she’d built him up in her mind so much—Troy, her impossibly perfect teenage crush—that she’d failed to realize he was human.
It changed the dynamic, and for the first time that evening, her shoulders lowered from where they’d been up around her ears.
“Put on a movie,” she told him and sat down beside him while Gary curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace.
Half an hour later, Bianca had ignored Martina’s text and she an
d TJ were making out on the sofa like sixteen-year-olds on prom night.
Bianca was on her back on the sofa with TJ on top of her, his hands on her body, his mouth devouring hers. The movie—a romantic comedy—droned on, unheeded.
She’d imagined this for so long—so many years. Now that it was happening, she savored it, savored him. She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt in her hands, and he rose up a little to unbutton it and throw it aside.
“Is this okay?” His voice was ragged. “Bianca, if you’re not ready …”
She’d thought she wasn’t ready when the night began. She’d thought that if her dream became reality, she might break apart, never to be whole again. But now that he was here with her, now that she could taste him and feel the warmth of his body, the pounding of his heart under her hand, she felt no hesitation. Only desire.
“Take me to your bedroom,” she said.
He got up off of the sofa, held out his hand to her, and led her to his room, closing the door behind them so Gary couldn’t watch what they were about to do.
TJ had known Bianca as a shy, awkward girl in high school. He’d known her as a crisp, competent professional in her role as Owen’s doctor. When he’d thought of how this would be—how they would be together if this moment ever came—he’d imagined that she would be self-contained, reserved. Maybe even prim.
Instead, she was standing in front of him, looking at him with such raw need that it took his breath away.
He’d had it in mind to take things slowly, carefully. To gauge her comfort and willingness each step of the way, to be considerate of her needs. He wanted to be a gentleman.
But as she unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off of her shoulders, those doe eyes locked on his, he began to reevaluate his expectations. She wasn’t some delicate flower who needed his protection. She was a sexy, sensual woman who knew what she wanted.
What she wanted was him—and the fact of that made him nearly crazy with desire for her.
He held himself in check—barely—until she was down to nothing but a bra and panties, lacy slips of fabric that teased about the delights underneath. Then she said his name on a ragged breath—just his name—and his restraint broke.
He pulled her into his arms, his mouth taking hers, with a ferocity that made her gasp. He lifted her up, his hands cupping her ass, and she wrapped her legs around him as he moved her to the bed and lowered her onto it.
He stood beside the bed just long enough to undress the rest of the way, then covered her body with his. His hand slipped inside the waistband of her panties and found her wet, warm core, his fingers caressing her.
The sensation almost made her weep with pleasure.
It wasn’t a slow build. There was none of the gradual, rising tension, no long, gentle increase of anticipation. Instead, her body spasmed just moments after his fingers entered her. She cried out and bucked her hips, clinging to him, her eyes shut tight, every part of her consumed by him.
Orgasms weren’t a novelty to her. She’d had them regularly with Peter. But things with Peter had been … routine. Serviceable. Safe. And it hadn’t been out of the question for her to fake it just to avoid an uncomfortable conversation afterward.
But this wasn’t safe. It wasn’t predictable. It was a force of nature beyond her control.
TJ hadn’t wanted to rush things. He’d wanted to take his time, savoring all of it—taking off her clothes, basking in the sight of her, touching and claiming her body. But it had been a long time since he’d been with a woman, and even longer since he’d enjoyed it. The idea of taking his time was a nice one, but he didn’t know if he could manage it.
He pulled down the cup of her bra and took her breast in his mouth, teasing the erect nipple with his tongue. She threw her head back and sighed, and the sound of it—knowing that she loved what he was doing—made so much pleasure surge through him that it almost ended things there.
Penny—he didn’t want to think of Penny right now, but there she was—had mostly endured his attentions the last few years. Knowing that Bianca was enjoying this, enjoying him, sent a rush of pure electricity through him.
And, God, Bianca was beautiful. Her smooth skin with its subtle Mediterranean tones, her dark, thick hair, her eyes, deep brown and expressive. He felt immeasurably grateful to be here with her, to be allowed this intimacy.
He reached behind her and unclasped the bra, then pulled it off of her. When she went for the waistband of her panties, he stopped her. “Wait. Let me.” He hooked his fingers into the elastic and drew the garment down slowly, slowly.
When she was nude, he pressed his tongue between her thighs, tasting her. She gasped and grabbed his shoulders, clutching at him. Penny had never liked this—had never let him do it—and he reveled in the freedom of being able to taste and explore.
“TJ … oh.” Bianca breathed his name as she grabbed fistfuls of his hair.
He could feel her rising, rising, then she spasmed with pleasure again. And with that, he couldn’t wait anymore. Couldn’t resist anymore.
“I brought condoms,” Bianca said.
He grinned. “You brought condoms?”
“Well … I’m a doctor, so …”
He loved that she’d brought condoms, but they wouldn’t be needing hers. He reached into his bedside drawer and brought out a little square packet. She took it from him, opened it, and rolled the condom onto him, caressing and stroking him as she did.
“Ah … I’m not going to make it if you keep doing that.” He groaned, his eyes closed tight.
“All done.” She pulled him down to her, and at last, he slid into her silky, warm depths.
Once that happened, all thoughts of Penny were gone. There was no past and no future, only what he had right now. And this was enough. He didn’t need more if he could have this.
She made noises as he thrust into her—groans and purrs and sounds that might have been words—and it turned him on so much that he felt it like a hot vibration down his spine.
He reached between their bodies and caressed her nub with his thumb as he moved inside her, and she cried out and shuddered. When his own orgasm hit, it slammed into him like lightning, like a sudden, savage storm. He could neither speak nor think for minutes afterward as he lay heavily on top of her, gasping.
“TJ?”
“Uhnnn.”
“Could you …” She pushed at his shoulder a little, and only then did he realize that he was probably cutting off her breath with his weight.
He rolled off of her and onto his back, feeling obliterated. Was this what he’d been missing all these years? Had this been out there all the time, waiting for him? He felt doors opening, suns rising, new worlds being born.
She purred his name and tucked her body against his side, laying her head on his chest.
There was time to talk afterward, when they were standing in the kitchen with glasses of water, him wearing only a pair of jeans, her in panties and one of his T-shirts.
“So.” He leaned his butt against the counter, a glass of ice water in his hand. Gary sat on the floor nearby, watching TJ faithfully. “Did you … I mean … I really had a good time, and I hope …” He wasn’t accustomed to feeling painfully awkward, and yet, here he was, stammering and unable to complete a thought.
“Are you asking if I enjoyed myself?” Bianca asked.
“Well … yeah.”
“I enjoyed myself three times.” She held up three fingers.
“Right.” He grinned, pleased with himself. “That’s good.”
“I mean,” she went on, “have all of the other women you’ve been with enjoyed themselves three times in one night? Maybe it’s a regular thing for you, but for me—”
“There haven’t been any other women,” he blurted out. “Besides Penny, I mean.”
She froze, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. “What?”
He shrugged. “We got married young, and then after the divorce … I didn’t really date anybody until you.”
“I’m the first person since Penny.”
“Well … yeah.”
“And there was nobody before Penny.”
“No.”
She gulped some water while she took that in. “This is a big deal, then,” she finally concluded.
“It is. For me, anyway. If it’s not for you …”
“It is. It is a big deal for me. It … really is.”
They sat with that for a minute, each of them trying to gauge how big a deal it was for the other and what that might mean.
25
The next morning, Bianca was at home, sitting on the sofa with a mug of coffee while Sofia got ready to go kayaking and Martina worked in the kitchen. Sofia was packing her wetsuit into a gym bag along with a towel and travel-sized shampoo and conditioner bottles when Bianca finally broke her silence about what had happened the night before.
“You know how, last week, Benny was talking about how all men are man-whores who will jump on top of any woman who will lie still long enough?”
“Yeah?” Sofia stopped what she was doing to look at Bianca.
“Oh, don’t tell me TJ’s a man-whore. That’s why you’re not talking about the date. Oh, no.” Martina, who was standing at the kitchen island preparing a tray of homemade granola, tilted her head in sympathy.
Benny wasn’t home—she was out on a boat doing some kind of research on kelp and had left before dawn—but if she were here, she’d have been interested to know whether her hypothesis about man-whores had been proven correct.
“No,” Bianca said. “He’s not a man-whore. In fact”—she put down her mug and ran her hands through her hair—“he’s only slept with Penny.”
Sofia’s jaw went slack. “What, you mean in his whole life? Only Penny?”
“Well, and me now.”
The other two hooted in triumph.
“You did it!” Sofia pumped a fist in victory. “I knew it! At least, I thought so. But when you were so quiet earlier this morning, I thought … Oh, no. Was it bad? Was it terrible? Is he so inexperienced that he couldn’t find your clitoris? Oh, jeez …”