Operation Sizzle

by Darcy Lundeen

  “But guys usually don’t cuddle.” Of course he was gay and maybe gay guys did cuddle. After all, Rob sometimes cuddled her to make her feel better when she was depressed.

  “This guy cuddles,” he insisted, sitting up straighter. “Hey, I have a trio of sisters. If I didn’t learn to cuddle, I got beaten up pretty good.”

  “By your sisters?” She was tickled at the idea of big-guy Matt being intimidated by a few girls.

  “Only the youngest one. Sue. Got a real deadly right hook, that kid.”

  Grinning, Betsy kicked off her shoes and tucked her legs under her. “I think I’d like her.”

  He nodded. “Yup, you two’d probably get along just fine. I mean, I still shudder at the way you creamed those scrambled eggs a few days ago.”

  She smiled. “Hey, as stand-ins for Tyler, they deserved it.”

  Leaning over, he took the dumpling container out of her hand and put it on the coffee table. “Come on, forget the jerk, and cuddle.” He held out his arm for her to nestle against. “As my old granny loves to say, ‘It’s good for what ails you.’”

  Betsy thought about that for a minute and shrugged. Maybe, maybe not. But she willingly snuggled against him anyway, because spending the evening having a cuddle session with Matt Pollard sounded like a plan. And a damn good one at that.

  ****

  Betsy was getting ready for work the next morning when the doorbell rang. As she zipped up her skirt, she went to answer it, half expecting to find Lorena Lattimer out there, eager to inform her that she was next on the tenant association’s drop-dead list.

  But happily it wasn’t Lorena. It was the association’s current targets—a relaxed-looking Iris Donnelly, and at her side, a grinning Evie, with a sheaf of papers in her hand and what had to be a smudge of strawberry breakfast jam at the corner of her mouth.

  Betsy glanced from one of them to the other and flashed her happiest good-morning smile. “Hi, nice to see you guys.” And she definitely meant it. It was nice to see them both looking so buoyant and at ease.

  “I hope we’re not bothering you, coming so early. But there’s something Evie really wanted you to have.” Iris’ apologetic shrug told the rest of it—Evie had undoubtedly spent breakfast not only smearing jam on her face but also nagging mommy to make this eight a.m. visit.

  Betsy shook her head and moved aside to let them in. “Of course you’re not bothering me. Come on in.” As they filed past her, she threw a nervous glance at Lorena Lattimer’s apartment. She definitely wanted to be hospitable to the Donnellys, but her inherent cowardice was also kicking in and telling her it was equally important to get them out of sight before neighbor Lattimer opened her front door and found Betsy engaged in a friendly schmoozing session with the building’s newly christened criminal element.

  Quickly closing the door, she turned to Evie and flashed a relieved smile. “So what’s this something you wanted me to have?” As if she didn’t know.

  “Pictures.” Evie proudly held them out for Betsy’s approval.

  “Oh, wow!” Betsy shared a smile with Iris over the top of Evie’s head. “Let’s see what you’ve done.”

  She took them from Evie and shuffled through the collection of drawings. There were four of them, one more than Matt had gotten. Was she the chosen one, or what? Betsy carefully studied them, trying not to grin at the familiar content. Like déjà vu, it was Evie’s signature smiley-faced-flower-and-skirted-stick-figure combination all over again. On each and every drawing. Only the colors distinguished one from the other. The first drawing had black flowers and an orange stick figure. Well, hello, Halloween. Betsy turned to the second picture. That one featured orange flowers and a black figure. Even though October was still months away, the holiday season obviously ranked high in Evie’s thoughts. Biting her lip to keep from laughing, Betsy went to the third drawing, which was all in black and then to the fourth drawing, done up in…surprise, surprise…nothing but orange.

  “Beautiful,” she gushed. “Just perfect. Come on, I’m gonna show you where I plan to put them.” Taking Evie’s hand, she led her into the living room and over to her corner desk. “Right up there.” Betsy flourished her arm at the wall beside the desk. “That’s where they’ll hang, so when I’m sitting here working, I can look up and see an original Evie Donnelly drawing right next to me.”

  Evie’s eyes widened at that, as if she’d never heard anything so amazing before. “Yeah?” Her voice was soft with a sense of wonder as she stared at the wall.

  Betsy gave an emphatic nod. “Definitely. And you can come by too, whenever you like, and see how special they look hanging there. With frames too, because I’m definitely going to get frames for them.”

  Evie stepped closer to the desk, her face raised at the blank wall that would soon be home to her many masterpieces.

  Betsy put the drawings on her desk and reached for her bag. “I know they’re a gift, but beautiful art should always be rewarded for the joy it gives to people, so I’d really like to buy them from you. You know, for the start of my Evie Donnelly collection.”

  Standing behind her daughter, Iris shook her head and mouthed “no money,” but Betsy had already dug a few coins out of her wallet.

  “Just a small token. You know, a little loose change,” she said softly, holding the coins up for Iris’s approval.

  “Matt told you what I said about loose change, didn’t he?” Iris whispered, leaning close to Betsy.

  “He mentioned it,” Betsy admitted, also in a whisper.

  Iris wiped a hand across her eyes to dash away the tears that had begun glistening in them. “You two have been so nice.”

  Betsy shrugged. “Not nice, just doing our part to support a budding artist.”

  Iris shook her head. “No, it’s more than that. Thank you so much for helping.”

  “Anytime.” Betsy really meant it. “My pleasure.”

  ****

  By the following week, a dozen more drawings had been delivered to her door, and Betsy began to wonder where she was going to put them once she ran out of wall. But at least Evie was happy and Iris relieved, and that was the important thing, she decided as she left her office one afternoon to toddle over to the employee lounge for a much-needed coffee break.

  To her consternation, Tyler was toddling there at the same time. He walked along just a few paces in front of her, and as he turned to enter the lounge, she turned to make a strategic retreat back to her desk before he saw her.

  “Betsy.”

  She froze. Too late. He’d already seen her. Even worse, he’d acknowledged her.

  Now the pale blue eyes that sometimes seemed almost transparent were focused on her with an expression that at first looked surprised to see her there, then settled into resignation. With maybe just a trace of nervous apology?

  He inclined his head and came toward her, then cleared his throat and smiled. “Hi, haven’t seen you in a while. How’s it going?”

  “Fine, simply fine.” She studied him to assess what she’d lost in their breakup. He didn’t have much facial hair, but he did have a good voice. Nice broad shoulders, too and beautifully shaped hands. Maybe not as rugged as Matt’s, but as hands went, they were definitely above average. She looked at his mouth and thought about Matt’s appetizer kiss, then there was his main-course kiss and his dessert follow-up. She averted her gaze from Tyler’s mouth because thinking about Matt’s menu of kisses was making heat pool in completely inappropriate parts of her body.

  “So everything’s going well,” he said.

  Betsy smiled, baring her teeth in what she hoped wasn’t a blatantly hostile way. “Couldn’t be better.”

  He nodded and cleared his throat. “Well, good.”

  Then he cleared his throat again. Betsy frowned. It was his third throat-clearing since he started talking to her. Either the man was nervous, or else he was coming down with one hell of a cold.

  “Um, Betsy…about what happened between us. That day in the street—”
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  She held up a hand to stop him before she was forced to relive her humiliation. If he did that to her, she might easily break down and have a good cathartic cry all over the front of his pristine shirt. Then, again, she might do something even more cathartic and deck him with a well-aimed sucker punch. “No need to discuss it, Tyler. What happened, happened. And we’re adults, after all. We’ve both moved on.”

  He gave her a strange look, as though wondering how someone like her could move on from an affair with someone like him. “You’ve moved on?”

  Betsy brushed past him to enter the lounge. “Of course,” she said over her shoulder. Of course it was to a gay guy. But moving on was moving on. And tonight she’d be moving on to her seventh lesson with Matt.

  During lesson four, she’d practiced flirting with Matt. Lesson five involved fine-tuning the art of how to give a guy a truly mind-blowing massage. Lesson six had been the crazily contortionist one where they’d practiced a delicious assortment of sexual calisthenics while on her desk, clothed. Matt explained it was so that once she had recaptured Tyler with her brand-new sizzle, she could tell him in no uncertain terms what she wanted while trapped in a supine position between a gaggle of research books and her computer monitor.

  And tonight’s lesson would be…well, she didn’t know what it would be since Matt usually chose the subject. She only knew she was looking forward to it because she sensed his instruction was slowly turning her into a babe who’d someday be able to sizzle the pants off any man she fancied, including Tyler Matheson.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Lesson seven coming up,” Matt said when he arrived at her apartment that evening.

  There was that patented I-am-teacher-you-are-student look gleaming in his eyes as he breezed merrily through her foyer and into the living room. Betsy quickly turned to follow him. “I liked lesson two.”

  And, God, how she’d liked it! He’d done all the hard work, bringing her to orgasm over and over again while she lay there having the best time of her life. It was to gauge her body’s reaction to sex, he’d claimed when he started. By the time it was over, he generously declared her reactions to be as good as reactions ever got.

  He stopped at the center of the room and pulled off his coat. “Lesson two? I did all the work in lesson two. God, you are the laziest female I’ve ever met, wanting everything done for you. Well, no way. Lesson two was weeks ago. Onward and upward to more knowledge. That’s always the ticket.” He tossed his coat on a chair and held his arms out to her. “So today it’s lesson seven.”

  Betsy frowned at him and slowly backed away. “But I really liked lesson two. I think we should do it again.”

  “We’re in the classroom now,” he reminded her. “So first we take care of lesson seven.” Then he paused and lowered his arms, his voice softening in a way clearly meant to reassure her. “But if you’re not getting anything out of this, we could stop. Do you want to end it now?”

  She shook her head.

  End it? Never! Not after the wild ride she’d had in lesson one, the explosive sex she’d had in lesson two, the gentle holding she’d had in lesson three, the laugh-out-loud flirting of lesson four, the erotic massaging of lesson five and the desk-contortion antics of lesson six.

  Matt nodded. “Then lesson seven, it is.” He held out his hands again. “Come here.”

  “Why?” She questioned him but still obeyed, walking slowly toward him.

  “Clothes have no place in lesson seven.” He pulled her closer, carefully undoing the buttons on her blouse and the zipper of her skirt, then stripping the clothes off until she stood there wearing only panties and a bra.

  Then he reached out to remove those too, and she panicked. Oh no, not that. Please. Not her whole body on display with all the lights shining cruelly down on her imperfections. She backed away, shaking her head. “Not in the light. With Tyler it was always in the dark. I begged him to do it that way and—”

  He frowned and placed his hand to her lips. “There is no darkness between two people who sleep together. At least there shouldn’t be.”

  The words sparked a strange sensation inside of her, and she looked at him over the edge of his palm and nodded.

  He nodded back at her, smiling as his hand slid away from her mouth and slowly smoothed down her throat.

  Betsy stiffened when he drew her closer, but his movements were so gentle that she forced herself to remain silent and motionless as he put his arms around her and unhooked her bra, sliding the straps down her arms, then stripping the garment off and tossing it behind him.

  She didn’t even think to see where it had landed. She was too consumed with trying not to cross her arms over her breasts. Then even that feeble effort at obedience took second place to struggling not to flinch and slap his hands away when he got down on one knee and slipped his fingers into the waistband of her panties, easing them over her hips, her butt, then down the length of her legs.

  He got to his feet again and stared at her, his eyes giving her the message before his mouth had time to echo it. “You have a beautiful body, Betsy Kincaid. Don’t ever be ashamed of it.”

  Her breath went crazy because he meant it. He might be gay, but he obviously understood the female body, and respected it, and she knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t lying to her. “Thank you.” She was wildly exhilarated at how free she suddenly felt, even with the lights blazing and her naked body boldly on display. “What now?”

  Matt raised an eyebrow, looking amused and more than a little wicked. “Showering together is always a good thing to do.” He shrugged. “Of course, you can say no whenever you want to.”

  But she didn’t want to say no. Already her body was reacting to the image of their slick, soapy skin sliding together. Stepping out of her panties that still lay around her ankles, she nodded to him. “I’m ready.”

  His eyes made a quick tour of her, nothing crude or lascivious, just appraising and approving. Then with a grin, he swung her into his arms.

  The fabric of his shirtsleeves rubbed against her back and thighs, but it was a soft fabric and didn’t hurt, so she closed her eyes and relaxed, her body going boneless as he carried her into the bathroom.

  “Hey, wake up,” he said quietly. “No sleeping in the shower.”

  Betsy opened her eyes and smiled at him.

  He smiled back, hugging her more firmly against his chest so his shirt rubbed her breasts too, making the tips feel sensitive, alert, eager for anything he had planned for them.

  “Can’t help it.” She lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Being carried by you is very relaxing.”

  “Hey, sex isn’t something you relax through. It’s something you get hot and bothered doing.” He bounced her a little in his arms. “So come on, get hot and bothered.”

  Betsy leaned her head against his shoulder. “Make me.” Her self-satisfied grin all but dared him to do it.

  Raising an eyebrow, he bent toward her until his face was so close she thought he was going to kiss her, and her heart began to race at the prospect. But he didn’t kiss her. He just bared his teeth in an answering grin. “A challenge, eh? Okay, lady, you’re on.”

  Setting her on her feet in the shower, he pointed a finger at her. “Now stay right there. I mean, if you think you’ve got enough energy to stand on your own. I’ll be with you in a minute.” Pulling a condom packet from his pocket, he tossed it to her. “Neon yellow. Open it for me while I get undressed.”

  Betsy ripped the packet open. From the corner of her eye, she saw his clothes flying all over the place. When she looked up again, he was stepping into the shower with her, completely naked. She moved back against the tiled wall of the shower stall, trying not to gawk at the embarrassment of riches his body offered—arms that bulged with muscles, a chest furred with a smattering of dark hair, a rock-hard stomach, and below it…her gaze flicked downward…below it a penis that even now looked vaguely distended, as if it was already preparing for action. Which surprised her, sin
ce he preferred men.

  Looking up at him again, she held out the condom.

  He shook his head and tapped his palm against his mouth as he feigned a yawn. “You do it. Think I’m starting to feel a little lazy myself.”

  Betsy frowned at him but still grudgingly got down on her knee to do the honors, gently rolling the garish yellow sheath up over him. At first, she tried not to touch his skin, then decided, What the hell! and let her fingers slide slowly along his shaft, pressing the tip to drive him crazy, then stroking his balls until he sucked in a groan and grasped her arm, pulling her to her feet.

  “First things first.” He turned on the hot water and positioned the spray nozzle so the stream hit below their shoulders, sending up a steamy mist that enveloped them. “And the first thing is our little challenge to get you hot and bothered.”

  “You’re no gentleman, mentioning that.”

  He grinned at her, looking supremely pleased with himself as he took a bottle of liquid soap she kept on a shelf and poured some into his palm. The mingled scents of coconut and jasmine rose into the air, carried on the soothing warmth of the shower stall.

  Betsy inhaled the intoxicating fragrance, and a wave of relaxation seeped into her bones, making her sigh. Then he turned her around and stood behind her. Sliding his arms around her, he trapped her against him as his soapy hands worked the lather over her, concentrating on her breasts.

  Her fleeting sense of relaxation turned into a surging thrum of excitement when he caught each of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, flicking it into a peak.

  The sensation spiraled through her, sending a curl of heat across her skin, a heat that worked its way down to her crotch, making her legs automatically open as she silently and shamelessly begged for what she wanted to happen next.

  The hot water sluiced down the front of her body, its temperature paling in comparison to the heat caused when he traced his hand along the curve of her breast, then down, down, over her belly and toward her thighs that of their own volition opened even wider for him.

  Laying her head back against his shoulder, she stared into his eyes as he bent over her, watching her reactions when his fingers sank into her folds and he found his unerring way to her clitoris, pushing down on it with a slow, circular movement that made her press against him.