by ANDREA SMITH
I grabbed the wooden salad utensils from the counter and started tossing. “I didn’t say boring; I said conservative. I mean, come on guys, I don’t want him thinking I live with heathens, alright?”
“Hey, this is your gig, babe,” Cain said. “We’ll take our cue from you, how’s that?”
“Perfect,” I replied, taking the salad bowl out to the table.
Well, to say that dinner went well would be…an all-out lie.
Fuck me.
What had I been thinking, inviting Kenneth over? And I won’t say my guys didn’t try to find some topic of interest to draw my date into some masculine conversation. I mean, my God, they had to have been exhausted by the time the meal was blessedly over.
First off, Kenneth has no interest whatsoever in sports—any sports.
He has no interest in music, traveling, the arts, television programs, or even current events—with the exception of the national debt, about which he rambled on non-stop for nearly twenty minutes.
He also had no tolerance for being referred to as “Kenny,” which Eli managed to do several times, much to Kenneth’s obvious chagrin.
Finally, Eli and Cain retired to their room to give Kenneth and me some privacy, which to be honest, I didn’t want. The dude was flat out on my fucking nerves. In fact, he was running neck-and-neck with ol’ Trevor Mulroney at this point.
“Would you like a refill on your wine?” I asked Kenneth as we sat staring at one another at the now-cleared dining room table.
“Certainly, thank you,” he replied, holding his glass up.
I poured myself some as well, thinking maybe this guy would be a tad more tolerable if I were under the influence a bit.
“So, Paige,” he said quietly, leaning in as if he wanted to tell me a secret. “Is it safe for me to presume that your…uh…roommates are queers?”
I nearly spewed my mouthful of merlot onto his crisply-ironed white oxford shirt. I grabbed a napkin, wiping my mouth as I managed to swallow it instead.
“Uh, Kenneth? Exactly who uses that word these days?” I asked, looking him dead in the eyes.
“I apologize,” he replied, quickly. “Homos, then?”
Ah, fuck to the no…
“You know,” I started, trying to choose my words carefully, “I guess I don’t understand why the sexual preference of my roommates—who, by the way, are very close to me, would be of any consequence to you.”
He looked a bit taken aback at being called out on his own ignorance and stupidity.
“Well, it’s just that your living arrangement took me a bit by surprise. I mean, I’ve been trying to talk to you for months, but you didn’t seem interested. Then, out of the blue, you invite me to dinner this week and introduce me to your roommates, whom you obviously wanted in attendance for our date. It just makes me wonder whether you don’t feel comfortable being alone with me—or maybe if it’s something else altogether.”
What. The. Fuck?
“What do you mean by something else altogether?” I asked, not hiding my puzzlement at all.
I actually saw Kenneth squirm in his chair, and a blush appeared on his cheeks. “Well, uh, I am familiar with your reputation just a bit. I mean, well, Darin Murphy kind of likes to boast, know what I mean?”
I felt myself getting fired up at the mention of that douche’s name. “Go on,” I said firmly.
Kenneth was definitely out of his comfort zone now.
“Well, it’s just that Darin kind of clued me in when I told him you had approached me for a dinner date at…your place. He told me about your roommates—and he may have asked something about my having experience with—uh…foursomes,” he finished quickly. “I just want to tell you, right off the bat, that I’m not into any of that counter-culture stuff. It’s got to be a one-on-one with you and me, okay?”
I was fairly sure my mouth was gaping open by this time, and my eyes were the size of saucers.
Yet still, he babbled on.
“I mean, when the time is right for you and me to have sexual intercourse, I would prefer that it be at my place—not here. I just don’t think I could perform knowing that—”
So let me just stop right here and fast-forward.
Needless to say, Kenneth left our home before dessert was served. And when he left, there was no doubt in his mind that he’d never be back.
End of random date #1.
chapter 12
It was four days before Christmas, and here I sat at one of the nicest restaurants this side of D.C., across from Roger Falconer.
I’d gone all-out getting dressed this evening in a black knit dress, with heels and hose to boot. Both Cain and Eli had let out low whistles as I came out into the family room to let them know I was taking off.
“Wait a minute,” Cain said, narrowing his eyes. “Isn’t your date picking you up?”
I rolled my eyes, leaning over to give him a kiss on his cheek. “No, Dad, we’re meeting at the restaurant,” I replied. “After that debacle with Kenneth, I just couldn’t put you guys through that again until I know if he’s a keeper.”
“Well shit, Paige,” Eli piped up. “Don’t you even know this dude?”
I leaned over and gave him his kiss, and failed miserably in keeping the smile out of it.
“Yes,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I work with him. I told you that. But hell, I didn’t think Kenneth would be such a freakin’ idiot and I knew him from work as well. If we click, I’ll make sure I bring him home for your seals of approval before it gets serious, okay?”
“Well, you definitely look hot, babe,” Cain said, his eyes flickering over me from top to bottom. “Shall we expect you home tonight?”
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop the fluttering in my belly whenever Cain got all flirtatious like that with me. It was…unnerving, and yet I enjoyed it.
Eli never seemed to mind it either, which was why I didn’t feel badly about the belly flutters he gave me.
“Yes, I’ll be home. I quit practicing skankery, or haven’t you noticed?”
“We’ve noticed,” they both said at the same time.
“‘Kay, then see you guys later.”
“Be careful,” Cain called out as I hit the door.
I turned back, giving him a smile, watching the intensity that he occasionally threw my way. I think my dating intrigued him for some reason; or maybe it simply bothered him a bit.
“Paige?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, coming out of my thoughts to pay attention to my date. “What were you saying, Roger?”
“I said that I have to be totally vigilant when ordering off of menus. I have quite a few food allergies.”
“Oh really?” I asked, looking up and over at him. “What kinds?” I figured I might as well know what they were, just in case I invited him over for dinner some time.
“Just some of the more common ones,” he replied, giving me a smile. “Fish, including shellfish, poultry meat, nuts, including peanuts, wheat, soy, rice, chocolate and citrus.”
Dayumm…
“Well, I’m sure there’s something here on the menu that you can tolerate,” I replied.
“The thing is,” he continued, “I have to make sure that nothing is made using peanut oil. You’d be surprised how many different recipes call for peanut oil.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah,” he replied, nodding his head. “One time I was at a restaurant in Norfolk, enjoying a dinner salad, when lo and behold, my lips swelled up and my throat started constricting. I was literally gasping for air. It seems that the house dressing was made using peanut oil, unbeknownst to me.”
“Damn,” I said, “What happened?”
“Well, thank God I had my atomizer with me. I never leave home without it,” he replied, tapping the pocket of his jacket. I was okay after a few minutes, but it was a scary few minutes, I can tell you that.”
“I can imagine,” I replie
d, glancing down at my menu.
“So even with breads and rolls,” he continued, “I have to make sure that they’re gluten-free, on account of my wheat allergies.”
As dinner droned on, so did the conversation.
But at least Roger had interests in things like sports and music, though he said as a child his allergies to dust, ragweed, and certain types of grasses and trees had made it impossible for him to play outdoor sports.
Roger loved to travel, so he talked about some of the places he’d been. I was genuinely impressed when he told me that he had been to forty-eight of the fifty states.
“So, when are you going to close the loop and hit Alaska and Hawaii?” I asked, as I buttered my dinner roll.
“Not in this lifetime, I’m afraid. I have a fear of flying. So my count stops at forty-eight.”
“I see,” I nodded.
Roger went on to talk about his job with the bureau, which was actually kind of interesting. He worked for the BAU as a research technician, tracking trends and movements of serial killings.
“You might know my brother,” I said. “He’s with the BAU, Trace Matthews?”
“Taz?” (My brother’s nickname) “Hell yeah, I know him. He’s a righteous guy for sure.”
Okkaaay.
I could’ve kissed the waiter as he rolled the dessert cart over to our table to see if we wanted to make a selection. There was a gorgeous crème brulee custard that looked big enough for us to share.
“Can you caramelize the topping?” I asked the waiter.
“I have my trusty kitchen torch right here,” he replied with a grin.
“Want to share a crème brulee, Roger?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. I got nothing but a blank stare.
“It’s caramel custard,” I explained, nodding toward the dessert cart, where the waiter was now torching the top of the sugary topping to make it warm, gooey and crunchy at the same time.
“Oh heavens no,” he replied, fanning his face. “You go ahead. I’ve got a horrible phobia about touching anything sticky,” he explained. “I think it goes back to when I was five or six years old, and my twin brother stuck his half-melted caramel apple in my hair at the county fair. My mother damn near scrubbed the hair right off of my scalp.”
Dear God. There’s another one out there like him?
I turned my attention back to the waiter. “No dessert for us. Check please?”
I insisted on paying for my portion of the dinner bill. I didn’t want to give Roger any reason to think that I owed him a good-night kiss, let alone another date—which, by the way, he suggested, and which I politely declined.
I was too embarrassed to return home as early as it was. I didn’t want to have to explain to my guys why the hell I was home at nine-thirty from a date that had started at eight.
I stopped at a neighborhood pub that wasn’t too far from home and ordered a gin and tonic. I nursed it slowly, killing time until I could head home, making it look as if my second random date hadn’t been the complete disaster that it was.
At ten-forty, I paid my tab and headed for home. They had left the front porch light on for me, and I half-expected they’d still be up, even though it was a week night. Cain usually stayed up until midnight. Eli was more regimented in his schedule, being that he got up early for work.
When I came in from the garage, I heard the television going from the family room. I tried to be as quiet as possible, so I could sneak by them without the third degree. I thought I had accomplished just that until I heard Cain’s soft voice from behind me.
“How’d it go tonight, Paige?” he asked.
I whirled around to see that it was just him. Eli must’ve gone to bed.
I walked into the family room, taking my coat off and tossing it over a chair.
“Fortunately, it was nothing memorable,” I replied, plopping down next to him on the sofa. “Because, trust me, I’d just as soon gouge both of my eyes out than remember tonight’s dating disaster.”
“Oh come on,” he said, “It couldn’t have been as bad as the fiasco with Kenneth, right?”
I gave him an eye roll, and proceeded to fill him in on the fine points of my latest date, complete with the list of Roger’s allergies and his phobia of ‘sticky things.’
I’d never seen Cain so entertained and amused. Maybe I’d have to continue going on these dating disasters, if only to see his infectious smile and hear his beautiful laughter more often.
“Did Eli go to bed early, or did you just decide to stay up later to make sure I got home safely?” I asked, using my teasing tone with him.
“Yes and yes,” he deadpanned. “Want to watch a late flick with me?”
God…yes…
“Hmm,” I stalled, glancing up at the clock and seeing it was just a couple of minutes after eleven. “Let me change into my PJ’s, and brush my teeth, then I’ll hang out with you for a bit. No guarantees I’ll stay awake much longer, though. Tomorrow is a work day for me, too.”
I went to my room and changed into a pair of flannel pajamas, threw my robe on over them and brushed my teeth. When I returned, Cain had flipped the channel over to one of their subscribed stations, and some terror flick was on.
He had moved down to the end of the sofa.
“Come on,” he said, patting the long stretch of sofa next to him. “Stretch out and put your feet in my lap. I’ll give you one of my killer foot massages.”
Hot damn.
I did as instructed, and within ten minutes, Cain could’ve asked anything of me and I would’ve complied.
My God!
This man had some magic fucking fingers that made me glad my feet were nowhere in the vicinity of my pussy, because if they had been, I’d have come about five times by now. He knew every single pressure point and made damn good use of them. I heard myself moan a couple of times, I won’t lie; I couldn’t help it.
My eyes were closed, but he knew I was still awake.
“So, you’re a moaner, are you?”
I opened an eye to look at him.
God, he was so gorgeous when he was intense like that—which was nearly all the time. He hadn’t even asked the question in jest. He was dead serious.
“Sometimes,” I replied, “If the pleasure is just that good, I mean.”
He pulled my feet up and off of his lap, setting them beside him as he moved towards me, his one knee dipped into the cushion on the sofa, his hands supporting his weight rested on either side of me. He hovered over me; his eyes were deadlocked on mine.
“Cain,” I started, but never finished whatever it was I’d planned to say, which at the moment, eluded me, because his lips were now brushing against mine, his tongue ever-so-gently tracing my bottom one.
I closed my eyes and went with it, imagining how it would feel to be totally encased by this man. His lips and tongue teased mine almost playfully, but slowly and sensually, as if he were tasting me, centimeter by centimeter.
I raised my arms up and wrapped them around his neck, relishing in the warmth that I could feel with his closeness. Our kiss deepened, and I opened myself up to him, pulling his weight down upon me.
His lips moved slowly to my cheek, planting soft kisses there, his tongue gently lapped at my earlobe. He released a warm sigh against my ear that sent a shiver through me. His tongue traced the outside of my ear, and gently flicked at the edges, as his hands were now framing my rib cage, and moving towards my breasts.
He kneaded my breasts through the double layer of clothing, which still did nothing to repel the heat of his hands on me. His mouth moved to the very sensitive area of my neck, right below my ear, causing me to shiver yet again.
I could tell that he loved making me shiver, and he was an expert at finding other sensitive areas on my neck and throat, taking his time and making soft moans escape from my lips, as his lips and tongue found new ways of pleasuring my skin.
Something in me was responding to him in a w
ay that I’d never done with any other man. For that moment, I didn’t care about anything else but melting into him.
My legs struggled beneath him until he raised himself up a bit, so that I could free them up in order to wrap them tightly around his hips.
I pressed myself into him, my legs as strong as a vise in pulling him into me.
I could feel his hardness against my groin as his lips now returned to my mouth, where he found new ways of positioning his lips and tongue, sucking gently on mine as a soft moan now escaped from him.
He thrust his hips gently against me, and mine instinctively rose up to do the same.
Shit…I haven’t dry-fucked since eleventh grade.
Cain made no attempt to get underneath my clothing, which was good, because I actually think that no matter how good this felt, I would’ve stopped him from doing anything skin to skin below my neck.
We struck up a rhythm on the couch. I felt his hardness pressing and grinding against my clit, and that was quickly bringing me to a much-needed orgasm.
Our mouths were melded together, tongues swirling, breathing in one another’s breaths. My skin felt flushed with the passionate heat that roiled between us like flames from a fire.
I couldn’t stop now. I pressed myself up against him harder, as his hips swiveled against me; his hard cock beneath his jeans rubbed just the right spot, bringing my sweet orgasm to fruition.
I moaned against his lips as I came, trembling from the release that I hadn’t had for such a long time, and loving the fact that it was Cain who had given it to me.
In that moment, I didn’t feel as if it were wrong. I didn’t stop to analyze it, or to even feel guilty about it, because it had nothing to do with anyone other than Cain and me.
Once my orgasm had subsided, I wasn’t sure what to do.
I mean, it was kind of a conundrum. I’d gotten mine; he hadn’t gotten his and to be honest, there wasn’t anything further I was prepared to do to resolve that because of…Eli.
Finally, a bit of shame had sunk in. I moved out from underneath him, not really wanting to talk about it, or anything.
“I need to get to bed, Cain,” I said, not really looking at him. I started to get up from the sofa, but he hauled me back down.
