JUST A LITTLE FLING

by Julie Kistler

  He shoved her against the wall, greedily finding her mouth, releasing her hands as he lifted her off the floor. She didn't mean to kiss him back. She didn't mean to tangle her arms and legs around him. But she did.

  Somehow her skirt ended up bunched around her waist as her bare thighs rode his hips. She ripped his shirt open and he pushed her sweater up over her arms, casting it away, exposing her full, round breasts to his hungry eyes.

  "Fabulous," he murmured, in this low, thick voice that undid her.

  Trapped between him and the wall, with his skin pressed to hers, torso to torso, hip to hip, she already skated on the edge of incredible, intoxicating pleasure. But…

  "Wait, wait." Gasping for breath, she bracketed his face with her hands, searching his eyes. "We can't … in the hallway, I mean. What if someone comes?"

  "We're the only people up here." His voice was low and unsteady as he assured her, "My parents' room is on the other side of the house. Kyle and Jessie are downstairs. We're all alone up here."

  "Okay."

  And his mouth covered hers once more. His hands peeled her panties down, squeezed her bottom, urged her nearer, rocked her into a rhythm she couldn't deny. Oh, lord. They were actually going to do this in the hallway. She had never felt so turned on in her life. She twisted to reach for his belt, scrambling for the buckle, dying to get this moving, to fulfill her mounting need.

  As his trousers pooled around his ankles, Lucie moaned, hooking one leg behind him, rubbing up and down against him. She was so wet and so ready and they had barely begun.

  "Stop." He stiffened. His hand slashed across her mouth, keeping her still. "Did you hear that?"

  She didn't hear anything but her own heartbeat. Or was that his? But he held her there, smashed into the wall, as he listened. And then she heard it, too. Voices. Low, intense voices, coming up the stairs and heading for this hallway.

  Her eyes met his. What now? She was still dizzy with desire and in no condition to either get her clothes back together or crawl twenty feet down the hall into the bedroom. And yet they could hardly stay where they were.

  The voices grew louder.

  Just as she began to hyperventilate, Ian wrapped his arms tightly around her and hurled both of them inside the nearest door. A linen closet.

  It was large as linen closets went, but barely big enough for two people. She was still stuck to his body, still excited and trembling, as he dumped her onto a shelf full of sheets, spun around, ducked far enough into the hall to grab his pants and her sweater, and come careening back in.

  Quickly, he pulled Lucie back into his arms. He kissed her hard and fast and then held her there, secure in his embrace. She had no idea if this was a protective gesture, in case someone opened the closet door, or if he was just too far gone to rein in his libido completely.

  Breathing heavily, trying to get herself under control, Lucie could make out two voices now. And one of them was Steffi's.

  Her fear of discovery, and her curiosity over what Steffi was doing here and with whom, mixed together in a crazy way, heightening the adrenaline and desire still sizzling in her veins. She wiggled against Ian, just a little, enjoying the idea that she could torture him for once, and that he couldn't act on it while they were stuck in this place. By the way his eyes narrowed and his heartbeat quickened next to hers, she knew he understood the dangerous game she was playing.

  Outside their closet, Steffi claimed, "There's nobody up here. Just an empty hallway and you and me."

  "Oh, baby," the man returned hotly, in a nasal, almost whiny voice. Definitely not Kyle. "Wanna do it right here?"

  And Lucie heard slushy, smacky noises that could only mean one thing. Steffi and her boyfriend were making out in the hall.

  She swallowed. Ian's hands framed her face, pushing into her hair. Gently, he slid his mouth over hers. She closed her eyes … tasted his tongue… She savored every second of it, the goings-on outside the closet briefly fading from her thoughts.

  Inches away, Steffi suddenly moaned, "Oh, Paolo, I want you, big boy."

  Paolo? Big boy? She couldn't help it. A giggle bubbled up.

  Ian's hand immediately covered her mouth, but Steffi said, "I thought I heard something."

  "Naaah. It was nuthin'. Just a creak or somethin'. You know old houses."

  "Oh, Paolo," Steffi panted, "I want you now, but not here, not in the hallway."

  Lucie closed her eyes, pleading with whomever might be listening to the prayers of bad girls. Please don't let them pick the closet, too.

  But Steffi whispered, "Let's go outside, back to the garden, where we did it before." In a flirty, little-girl voice, she inquired, "You liked it there, didn't you, big boy?"

  "The bench in the garden shed?" Her lover's voice sounded perplexed, definitely whiny now. "I thought you said you got a splinter."

  "No, no," Steffi snapped. "I meant the gazebo. It's dark. No one will see us."

  The mysterious Paolo chuckled. There was a muffled thump against the wall and then another, followed by an audible groan.

  Lovemaking noises outside, lovemaking inside… What was it about this hall?

  The closet was hot and the air was close and perspiration trickled down her cleavage. But it was nothing like the heat raging inside her. Ian had one hand over her mouth and the other on her breast, tweaking her nipple, pinching her and quite deliberately plaguing her until she wanted to scream with frustration. She felt like sliding down his body and melting into a puddle on the floor of the linen closet. If her damn half sister and her horny beau didn't vacate this hallway within the next five seconds, Lucie swore she was going to climb on top of Ian and take him, anyway.

  Footsteps. She held herself rigid, listening. They were leaving. Thank God, they were leaving.

  As the voices and footsteps subsided, Lucie let out a long breath. She grabbed Ian at the precise moment he grabbed her, pushing the last scraps of their clothes out of the way. He pressed her back into the shelf, kissing her, caressing her, as she wrapped her legs around him.

  When he plunged inside, hard and hot and wonderful, so full and so welcome, Lucie met him stroke for stroke, crying out her immense relief, her escalating pleasure.

  Already. Already it was building and pulsing, pushing her higher.

  She remembered now. She remembered how fast and hard she came the first time and the second…

  But she'd have to think about that later. Right now, all she could take in was Ian and his flesh next to her flesh, his strong, long body ramming her into the wall, into a quivering, shattering climax neither one of them could contain.

  It was mindless. It was marvelous.

  And she wanted more.

  * * *

  He couldn't believe he'd just made love to Lucie in a closet.

  Towels, sheets and pillowcases had toppled from the shelves and spilled to the floor and they hadn't even noticed. His mind had been on one single thing—to make love to Lucie, rough and fast, to take her somewhere neither of them had ever been.

  To be honest, it wasn't making love. It was lust, pure and simple. Good old, healthy lust. Two people pushed beyond endurance by the combined force of their own frustration.

  That was his story and he was sticking to it.

  "Are you okay?" he whispered, pulling back far enough to survey the damage. He didn't know why he was bothering to keep his voice down now, after he'd growled her name and she'd shouted his. Not to mention the fact that they'd pounded into the wall loud enough to wake the dead. Thank goodness everybody else slept on the other side of the house.

  As he gave her a quick once-over, he saw that Lucie's face was flushed and her mouth a little puffy from relentless kisses, but otherwise she looked none the worse for wear, much to his relief.

  This conflagration between them, this bonfire in the linen closet, was exactly what he'd wanted for days. So why was he shaking in his boots, afraid he'd hurt her feelings or bruised her pretty little bottom as well as her pride?

&
nbsp; "Lucie?" he said again, carefully scanning as much pale skin as he could make out in the dim closet. "Are you sure you're okay?"

  "I'm fine." She smiled lazily, stretching and yawning. "Could we try this again, maybe take a little more time, maybe somewhere a little more comfortable?"

  He sagged with relief. She really was fine. She didn't hate him. Better yet, she wanted to do it again.

  Suddenly full of energy, he slid open the door enough to check the hallway. "All clear," he said out loud. "Let's go."

  With her hand in his, scooping up their various bits of clothing, he darted out of the closet and back towards Lucie's room, feeling as euphoric as a five-year-old playing tag on the playground.

  Inside the yellow room, Ian dived under the covers while Lucie took a quick shower. The minute he hit the bed, he realized how exhausted he was. Maybe a nap would be a good idea before they started round two.

  But the sound of her shower sputtered out, and Lucie strolled out of the bathroom wearing a towel on her head and a pair of shortie pajamas with puffy clouds scattered across them. Either she had sleep on her agenda or she was into getting her clothes ripped off again. How intriguing that she was just as sexy in cotton PJs, scrubbed clean, with wet hair.

  "Ian, while we were in the closet…"

  "Yes?" he murmured, wondering where this was going, not sure he wanted to know. He remembered now why he made a habit of not fooling around with complicated women. They had a tendency to overthink everything.

  Lucie knelt on the bed. "When we were in the closet, who in the world did we hear in the hall?"

  Not what he expected. A lot less intense than it could've been if Lucie had been experiencing second thoughts in the shower. Phew. "Well, I'd say it was Steffi, for sure. And some guy named Paolo." He shrugged. "Do you know anyone named Paolo?"

  "I don't think so." She chewed her lip. "But I could swear I've heard that voice before. Kind of gritty, wasn't it? And nasal?"

  "Who cares?" he murmured huskily, drawing her hand into his, trying his level best to tip her over on top of him.

  He unwound the towel from her hair, flipping back the covers to invite her in. After all, they had all the time in the world, and he wanted to test out a theory. Could they do this soft and slow? How long would they last if they took their time to make love, and didn't get caught up in the mad rush of lust?

  "Let's worry about Steffi later," he breathed. "Who knows? Maybe by the time we get up, she'll be gone. But right now, this four-poster has our names written all over it."

  * * *

  Morning light drifted slowly into the room, casting a soft, warm glow on Lucie.

  She opened one eye. "Mmmph," she mumbled, unable to recognize the fuzzy shapes in front of her.

  Stretching out an arm, yawning she blinked, then opened both eyes. A draft tickled her skin, making her quite certain she wasn't wearing a top. Or a bottom. Naked. In a high, soft bed she vaguely recognized, with intricately carved posts and beautiful, lemon-colored linens bunched around her.

  She could hear steady, regular breathing in the bed. Not only that, but she could feel hot puffs of air ruffling her hair, as if someone were lying there, his head just behind hers, breathing on her.

  Ian.

  "Déjà vu all over again," she whispered, clutching the crocheted edge of the sheet to her front.

  "G'morning Lu," Ian said drowsily. Draping an arm around her shoulder, snuggling closer, he felt warm and cozy, all heated skin and delicious masculine angles.

  But Lucie eluded his grasp. She sat up, slipped into her robe, and tied it tight. What in the world had happened to her hair? She peered at a Medusa-like strand.

  "Why is it I completely lose my mind around you?" she inquired, not really expecting an answer. "We weren't going to do this again. You're not my type. I'm not your type. This isn't going anywhere. I realize we were celebrating… What were we celebrating anyway?"

  Ian's eyes were hooded as he lifted his head far enough to gaze at her. "Do we have to do this again?" he asked with exasperation. "How many times have we had this conversation? We're good together, Lucie, over-the-top good. How often does that come along?"

  For me? Never.

  "So why not stop worrying about where it's going long enough to ask yourself why it has to?" he ventured. "Why aren't we entitled to a careless, no-strings fling like anybody else?"

  Lucie kept her mouth shut. She had plenty of thoughts shooting around her brain, but none fit for company.

  What if it's not careless or no strings, not on my side of the bed? What if I fell in love with you somewhere in between the kilts and the condoms and the watermelon-mango sorbet?

  But there was no way she was sharing even an inkling of that with Ian.

  "But what about…? Oh, never mind."

  "What about what?" he repeated. She could tell he was trying to be patient and it wasn't working.

  "What about last night, in the closet, and after the closet?" Lucie's gaze flickered up to meet his. She could feel warm color flushing her face. "Before, I mean, when we were at the Inn, remember all those condoms?"

  "Who could forget?" he asked mockingly.

  "Well, this time, in the closet, we were in a rush and we didn't…" She frowned, speeding up. "We didn't use any protection, Ian."

  "I know. And we were stupid. We're old enough to know better." He rose partially, leaning on one elbow. "In case you're worried … I know you think I sleep around, but I really don't, and anyway, I swear, Lucie, I have a clean bill of—"

  "That's okay." She raised a hand. "I believe you. And I'm healthy, too. I mean, I never do this, so I'm safe." Heavens, this was embarrassing. "But there are other things to consider…"

  "Oh." She saw comprehension dawn in his eyes. "Oh!"

  Way to go, Lucie. Way to panic a commitment-phobe. Bring up babies, for goodness sake.

  "You know," he said after a moment, "I could kind of get into that. And it would make my mom delirious. So, if it turns out that we, well, need to, we could just get married."

  "What?"

  Her mouth dropped open. How could he be so freaking casual about this, as if he spouted marriage proposals every day? Was she mistaken, or was he the one who thought marriage was for idiots? And why couldn't he behave the way she expected him to for at least five minutes?

  She sat back down with a thud. "No, we couldn't."

  "Why not?" He slid out of the bed on the other side, pulling on his pants. "Are you just being negative to be negative, or is it me?"

  "Neither." She yanked on the ties holding her robe closed, knotting and unknotting them. "I just… I know you think I'm this, thirty-year-old walking biological clock, so you probably think your half-baked proposal is like music to my poor spinster ears, but you're wrong, okay?"

  "I never said any of that."

  "Yes," she said firmly, "you did."

  "Lucie—"

  "No, I'm serious. I am not in the market." She shook her head. "I have things I want to do first—"

  "Like Pandora's Boxers. I know that."

  "Not just that." Lucie fixed her gaze on him, desperate to make her point. "I want to go to Paris, in the rain, and drink champagne and read sonnets and—"

  His eyes narrowed. "Then why did you get mad at me when I said something like that?"

  "Because you… Because I… Because I don't want you appropriating my romantic fantasies and turning them into cheap sex!" There, she'd said it. And Ian looked totally mystified.

  "I hate complicated women," he muttered.

  "I'm not that complicated! I just don't fit your stereotype, that's all."

  "Listen, I gotta go. I'll see you downstairs." He grabbed the rest of his clothes and made for the door. Before ducking out, he turned back. "Guess I'd better pick up some condoms, huh?"

  Lucie pitched a pillow at him, but it was too late. Her missile hit the door with a useless thump and then fell to the floor.

  "He's impossible!" she declared. "Why would I want to mar
ry him?"

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  «^»

  Lucie hovered outside the doors to the morning room with a serious case of trepidation. What could she say to Ian after the disgraceful way she'd behaved? The poor man probably thought he was being a stand-up guy, offering to do the right thing if the need should arise, and she'd retaliated with anger and recriminations. Jump through the right hoops, Ian, or I'll never allow you to sacrifice your principles and humiliate yourself by marrying me.

  The whole thing was depressing. Not to mention silly, since she never should've brought it up in the first place without some suspicion that it might actually be a problem. "I was just trying to raise the issue of how rash and short-sighted we were being," she said out loud. Talk about a big, fat, ugly backfire.

  Still, she wouldn't have been quite so angry if he hadn't added that parting shot about going out for condoms, as if to underline the fact that she was putty in his hands, whenever and wherever he wanted. Even in the linen closet!

  But then, she supposed she didn't have to call his marriage proposal half-baked, either. Even though it was.

  "What am I going to do about him?" she said under her breath, pushing open the doors. "What am I going to do about me?"

  Luckily, she didn't have to decide right now, since Ian wasn't present in the morning room.

  Unluckily, Steffi was.

  Her half sister was poking at a plate piled with muffins and fruit. "Oh, it's you," she said in her usual snotty tone, and went back to slathering butter on a muffin.

  "Why, Steffi, what a surprise." Lucie crossed her arms over her chest. "I thought maybe you'd left after dinner last night. You seemed unhappy."

  "I'm fine," she returned with a smug smile. "It takes more than a few rude people to make me turn my back on my wedding vows."

  "Uh-huh."

  "What did you say?"

  "Nothing." Lucie was dying to wipe that smile off Steffi's pointy little face. All she had to do was mention Paolo and the gazebo to make her point about how little it took to distract Steffi from her vows. But Lucie didn't want to blow the whole thing by letting Steffi know too early that her secret was out.