“And another sleepover?” She chuckled. “Do I get the s’mores I requested?”
“I’m still trying to figure out the double entendre there,” he mused. “If you really want them, we’d have to stop at Whole Foods and get the components. Can you melt marshmallows on an electric stove?”
“I’m trying to imagine Whole Foods having marshmallows.”
Dan laughed. “Oh, God, you’re right. They probably don’t. Or if they do, the marshmallows are made of free-range egg whites and fair-traded raw sugar.”
“And the chocolate will be seventy percent cacao something or other and have subtle hints of blackberry.”
“And the graham crackers are artisanal, and deliberately left in non-uniform shapes.”
“Okay, no s’mores,” Meghan conceded. “I’ll get over the crushing disappointment, eventually.”
“There’s a decent Thai place I can order from. Would that help to cushion the blow?”
“Mmm. How spicy do you like it?”
He laughed. “Okay, that time I definitely got the double entendre!”
She shook her head, but she could feel herself grinning. “You’re impossible. Look, does it even make sense for you to come back here? Give me the address and I’ll meet you at your place.”
“No need. I have to get my overnight bag. I should be back in half an hour or so. Hold on—”
Meghan could hear a woman’s voice in the background. All Dan said was, “No, that looks good. Can you make sure he files it correctly this time?” He didn’t sound annoyed, precisely, just a bit exasperated. Then he came back on the line.
“Okay, I should be ready to leave here. See you in a few minutes, okay?”
“Sure thing.”
Meghan was checking a database when she noticed she had a new email.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
On my way back now. Am mildly embarrassed to admit how excited I am. You?
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Now that you mention it I am. Literally. Before this, I was putting it firmly out my mind, the better to appear like the dedicated paralegal I strive to be. (Drooling on files not entirely appropriate here, you know.)
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Drooling, hunh? Wow. That’s so hot.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
It is if what’s got me drooling is the thought of you, me, and no more than an Old Threshers t-shirt between us.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Brat.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Hey, I’m of age. That’s all that matters.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Amen to that!
She was about to respond when she heard something and turned to see him, BlackBerry in his hands and a wicked grin on his face.
“Ready?” he asked.
She’d already put her computer to sleep by the time the word was out of his mouth. She answered by grabbing her handbag and the carry-on. She started toward the door.
Before she could get there, he’d pocketed the BlackBerry, closed the door behind him and turned off the lights. Her office lacked any windows, so they were in almost total darkness. She could tell where he was, though, because she could hear his breathing coming closer.
“Dan,” she whispered.
“I have been waiting all day for this, and I’m not going to endure another cab ride without kissing you properly,” he whispered back.
Then his hands were on her face, lightly, pushing her hair back and cradling her head. His lips were soft at first—moving, feeling, pressing, opening. She kissed him back eagerly. He was right, this was overdue. She hadn’t even realized how starved she felt for his touch, his scent, the warmth of his body. And his hands. Oh lord, those hands.
He’d pushed up her shirt, tugging it out from her waistband and leaving it to rest on his wrists. She could feel his hands on her back, caressing lightly. She wanted to reciprocate but his jacket was in the way, and anyway, it was all she could do to hold on tight, kissing and being kissed.
He broke free finally and pulled ragged breaths into his lungs. She could just feel his heartbeat, racing with excitement.
He collected himself.
“Much more of this and we’re not making it back to my place,” he murmured.
She could believe that. She wasn’t interesting in stopping anything he wanted to do, when and where he wanted to do it. Eventually, though, the cleaning staff would be trundling by, and they couldn’t risk being caught by the elderly Polish woman who cleaned their floor.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “We need to leave. It’s past eight, and the cleaning staff comes earlier on Fridays.”
“Right.” He flicked the light on and waited while she collected her things. She didn’t bother tucking in her shirt—it was coming off soon enough.
It was raining lightly when they left the building. No trouble hailing a cab from the taxi rank near the Four Seasons Hotel. After Dan gave the driver his address, Meghan turned to look at him. He was facing forward, not smiling. He didn’t even look particularly happy.
Meghan smiled and folded her hands in her lap. She knew precisely what he was feeling because she was feeling it too. Anticipation. A cardboard pine tree air freshener swung from the rearview mirror, its bad-cologne odor making it through the thick Plexiglas barrier behind the driver’s seat. If she even touched Dan, his body language seemed to suggest, there was no telling how awkward it could get.
She pictured them groping each other in the backseat, trying to tug clothes out of the way to expose skin and desire. An image equally ludicrous and sexy.
“How ’bout those Phillies?” she quipped.
He relaxed his body against the seat and cocked a sheepish smile at her. “Exactly. How about those Phils? Think they’ll make it to the World Series this year?”
They grinned at each other and waited for the cab to pull up alongside Dan’s building.
Inside, they rode the elevator side by side with a foot of air between them, as though the car was filled with Fergusson & Leith colleagues. As though not touching each other was a competition. Meghan’s body was taut with awareness of what was coming next, her imagination building on the fun they’d had last night. Even if things didn’t work out, she trusted Dan for tonight.
The apartment looked nice, just not yet lived in. He hadn’t been kidding about the cardboard boxes. He turned on lights and drew curtains across windows overlooking Ben Franklin Parkway and the Museum of Art.
“Do you want a drink? Beer, wine, soda?”
She shook her head.
“Food now or later?”
She was still looking straight at him. “Later.”
“Don’t say I didn’t try to be a good host,” he said, as he slipped her raincoat off her shoulders and hung it up in the hall closet.
When he came back to her, he undid her shirt slowly, deliberately, concentrating on each button. She thought he groaned slightly as her bra was revealed. Hard to tell—her heart was pounding loud enough to affect her hearing.
She stood still while he focused on her waist, working out the complicated system of hooks and tabs that topped the zipper. She could have started on his clothes, but her instinct told her that he wanted to undress her first, and she was amused to realize that she was just uninhibited enough to want it too. She had a pretty decent figure, mostly the result of all the walking she did. Her breasts weren’t too big. From the way Dan was admiring them, first with her bra on and then off, he was happy.
She kicked her shoes off before he pulled on her trousers, slidin
g them down her legs. That left her in her panties, which weren’t anything special. When she’d packed for their trip it never occurred to her where she would be spending Friday night. Just the thought prompted a smothered laugh from her.
“What?” Dan asked, his hands still skimming down her sides. He started to kiss the curve of her neck.
“I was thinking that I didn’t pack everything I needed for this trip,” she explained. “I’ve got way sexier underwear at home.”
“Meghan, believe me when I say I couldn’t be any more aroused,” he growled.
Her lips twitched. He was trailing kisses over her shoulders. She pushed him away.
“My turn.” She began to undress him. She carefully folded his suit jacket before draping it over a convenient chair. It amused her to be walking around his apartment wearing only her panties. She felt like a geisha or a handmaiden. After all, those positions were analogous to being a paralegal, weren’t they? They all called for attention to detail.
The gleam in Dan’s eyes reassured her that he had no objection to her attentions.
With his tie off and folded over the jacket, she gave his shirt the same care he’d given hers. He had a beautiful chest, smooth-skinned with a dusting of gold-brown hair. She let the shirt drop to the floor. When she started to undo his belt, he stopped her.
“The bedroom’s down there,” he gestured. “And unless you want to stay here on a hardwood floor, I would highly recommend we stay these proceedings until we’re closer to a bed.”
She gave him a sexy look before turning and padding down the hall. It was pretty clear which room was the bedroom as the others had more boxes than furniture. Dan had even made the bed. No way he’d suspected he’d be bringing someone home with him. Maybe he was the rare person who actually made the bed each morning.
Dan was holding a box of condoms when he entered the room. He closed the curtains before turning on one of the bedside lamps. He shucked his shoes and socks, and hung up his trousers with the same exaggerated care that she had shown his clothes before.
Meghan had a moment’s unease, a sudden sense of shyness, then it was gone when he touched her again. This was right. This was so right, she thought as he hoisted her up against his chest. She wrapped her legs around his hips and clung to his shoulders. He kissed her deeply. It felt different—as though all their kisses up till now had been the opening act, and this was the main show. She was falling even as he had her securely in his arms. The entire world was reduced to this room, this man, this kiss.
He lowered her to the bed.
“And to answer your question,” he said, looking down at her, “I like it spicy.”
Chapter Thirteen
Dan watched Meghan carefully, her shyness evident in her tight smile and wide eyes. She clearly wasn’t very experienced—which didn’t surprise him—and was very deferential. That did surprise him. Her take-charge, ask-all-the-questions, leave-no-stone-unturned demeanor of the past three days had been replaced by awkwardness. Eager but unsure.
Starting was the easy part. He reached down and kissed the corner of her mouth, which opened to receive him. As they kissed, deeper and faster, Dan stroked her hair, down her shoulder and along her back, finishing at her hip so he could tug her closer. His desire for Meghan—the urge to create pleasure for them both—warred with his worry that he was going too fast for her.
“Tell me what you like,” he whispered into the skin below her ear.
She giggled. “That tickles.”
He kissed her neck, then started to trace a path with his lips along her skin, which felt soft and cool.
“Hold on.” He shifted so that he could tug on the sheet and blanket, getting them loose enough that Meghan could tuck her body in.
He climbed in after her. “Better?”
“Yes, thanks.” She smiled at him.
He kissed her again, She slid her palm down his chest until it stopped at the elastic top of his boxers. She clasped his erection through the cotton.
“Why are we still wearing clothes?” She wriggled around until she could haul her panties out of the covers. She flicked them toward the door, then reached for his hips. When his boxers had landed near her panties, she reached for his cock.
Her touch was like fire, threatening to set him off far too soon. “Condom,” he groaned.
Meghan stretched over his body, reaching for the condoms. Her breasts were right in front of his face, so he yielded to temptation and flicked a nipple with his finger and thumb.
“Oh,” she said. Just as though she was surprised he’d do that.
Dan smiled, then rolled her onto her back so he could kiss her breasts properly. So pretty. She moaned, and batted at his shoulder with the hand holding the condom. He could hear the plastic crinkle.
“C’mon,” she said. “My turn.” She pushed harder at his shoulder.
Dan let her roll him onto his back, her fingers dealing with the condom wrapper, then the condom. Even sheathed, his cock felt huge and hypersensitive.
Meghan clearly knew what she wanted to do. She scooted down until she could get her mouth and tongue on the head of his dick.
Dan’s back bowed off the mattress, his body straining to get more of his cock into her mouth. He didn’t want to come this way, but oh, lord, that felt so damned good.
Suddenly her mouth was gone, and she was climbing on top, then pressing down onto him. Her hands rested on his shoulders, preventing him from getting closer. All the action was where their groins connected. It would be enough for him, but what about her?
Dan reached down to part her curls and find her clit. Meghan lowered her torso to his chest.
“Roll me over,” she said against his mouth.
Something was odd here. Dan prided himself on being an attentive lover, though, so if she wanted to be on the bottom…
Meghan raised her knees, planted her feet flat on the mattress and pushed her pelvis hard against him. “More.”
Urged on by her straining muscles, Dan started a slow thrust and withdrawal. Gotta love friction.
“Harder.” Her hands tugged at his hips.
Something wasn’t right, but Dan’s thoughts were dissolving in the rush of sensation. He tried to make it last. But all he wanted was to drive them both to orgasm.
When he’d come, and his panting had slowed somewhat, he turned toward her. “Did you—are you, I mean, was it okay?”
She smiled brightly. “It was lovely.” She pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Best ever.”
Dan narrowed his eyes. Not the best ever. He was pretty sure he could fix that. He started to get out of the bed. “I’ll go call in an order. Italian okay?” He reached for his boxers.
He felt Meghan shift behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. She’d pulled the sheet over her breasts.
“I thought we were having Thai?”
He grinned at her. “Change of plans. The bathroom is over there.” He nodded at an open door on the far wall. “And the closet is next to it. Grab something to wear if you like.”
He had to find some red wine.
Meghan frowned as Dan left the room. He knew. And he wasn’t happy about it.
Damn.
This had never happened before. Guys had fallen for the “more, harder” routine every time. Dan wasn’t a “guy” in that sense. This could be a problem.
She got off the bed, found her panties, used the bathroom, then went into his walk-in closet to look for a T-shirt or something.
Meghan was rolling up the second sleeve of one of Dan’s button-down office shirts when she walked out to the living room. Dan, dressed only in his boxers, stood by the island in the kitchen. He handed her a round-bellied wine glass a third full of red wine.
She held it by the stem. “What’s this?”
“A decent Cabernet.”
She took a sip. “Okay.”
Dan drew her into his arms. “You know I love your take-charge attitude, right?”
“Um, I gu
ess.” Meghan looked into her wine glass, which she cradled in her palms, chest-high. A little space between them, although she could feel the prickle of his leg-hair against her thighs.
“I’m guessing you’ve figured out that if you get dictatorial in the bedroom, men will miss a few key details.”
His tone was light, affectionate even, but Meghan’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment. He did know, damn him.
He let her silence pass, probably because he knew he’d gotten it right. “You didn’t come, did you?” he asked softly.
Meghan couldn’t look at him as she shook her head.
He clasped her upper arms very gently. “That’s what the red wine is for.”
Her eyes flew open. “Excuse me?”
Dan smiled at her. “Tonight’s the night, sweetheart.”
“What night?” Her stomach had fallen somewhere down around her knees.
“You’re going to have an orgasm. In bed. With a man.” He tilted his head, but his expression was still gentle. “Your first, right?”
Meghan’s gaze fell into the bowl of the glass again. She could smell the fumes from the red wine warmed by the heat of her hands, a sensual smell. She felt like Alice in Wonderland holding the bottle marked, “Drink Me.”
She took a larger sip. As she lowered the glass, she looked up at Dan. His lips curved sweetly, then lowered to hers.
He played with her mouth, tickling it with his tongue, lapping delicately to taste the wine. Then he pulled back.
His eyes. So blue. An ocean she could drown in. A shiver rippled through her.
The buzzer—must be the food he’d ordered. Dan pecked her lips softly. “Drink a bit more.” He left her to grab some jeans and a T-shirt, then padded across the hardwood floor to the apartment door.
Meghan took a sip of wine. She wasn’t much of a drinker, so she wasn’t sure how the wine was supposed to address—that other situation. She sipped some more.
No one else had ever guessed. She’d tried to uh, climax in bed with a man, but it seemed impossible. The harder she tried, the less sexy she felt, and if she stopped trying, there wasn’t anything there. Not to mention the stuff those guys had done just seemed silly.
The Cost of Happiness: A Contemporary Romance Page 14
