She wants me. Oh my God, she wants me!
If she wanted him as badly as he wanted her, they’d never make it through this meal.
Speechless, they gazed at each other. The spell broke when the waiter placed their soup on the table. Nicholas shook his head, feeling the ferocious tide of lust subside into the more gentle sea of diffuse desire. Yeah, he could make it through dinner. And he could wait as long as need be afterward until she was ready. Until she wanted him as fiercely as he wanted her.
He glanced up and saw Sally McGee enter the restaurant with John Hoffman. The pair stopped when they caught sight of Dana and Nicholas, and Sally started whispering urgently into John’s ear. Probably reminding him what a dweeb I am, Nicholas thought. While John had never bothered him much in school, Sally had never actually acknowledged his existence, except to giggle loudly with her girlfriends when they walked past him in the halls. He half-expected her to burst into the same harsh giggles she used to. And he didn’t give a damn. Dana liked him. Dana wanted him. That’s all that mattered.
But Sally didn’t burst into vicious, snickering laughter. Instead, with John trailing behind her, she hurried over to their table, shouting, “Nick! What a nice surprise!” as everyone in the restaurant turned and stared. Nicholas came politely to his feet.
To his horror, Sally threw her arms around him, exclaiming loudly, “What a thrill it is to see you after all this time! I’ve missed you so much!” She tightened her embrace when he tried to back away. It seemed as though Sally wanted John—and everyone else in Harvey’s—to think she and Nicholas had been really good friends back in school. It was odd. And very unpleasant. He tried to step away again, but Sally held on even tighter.
Mercifully, John interrupted, “Hey give me a chance, Sal.” When she let go, John shook Nicholas’s hand enthusiastically.
“Good to see you. Glad you could make it for the reunion, we’ll have a blast right? Just like old times.”
Old times? The old times seemed all too often to involve dumping on him. Was John actually sucking up to him? Disgusted at the thought, Nicholas barely restrained a groan.
He introduced Dana, in case they didn’t recognize her, but beyond a perfunctory “Hi, Dana,” from John and a patronizing, “My, but you’ve been on a diet at last,” from Sally, they clearly were not interested in her.
Sally, clutching his arm in a vice-like grip, began telling him about old classmates—dissing every one of them while Nicholas continued standing, aware that Dana shifted uncomfortably in her seat while their roasted three-onion soup grew cold.
Sally only stopped blabbering when Jay Bunting shouldered her aside. He clapped Nicholas on the back saying, “Barberis, my best bud.” Then he gave him a one-armed hug. “God it’s good to see you, Nick, been a long time.” He added something about Nicholas stealing his favorite girl as he gave Dana a wink. “Hey there, Dana. You’re looking good, you know?” Nicholas thought she winced.
Seemed like suddenly, horribly, he was Mr. Popularity among people who had despised him and whom he had despised in turn. Well, he did not want to spend time with these clowns; he wanted to be alone with Dana.
“Okay, you guys,” Jay said to Sally and John, “let a guy have a chance to talk with his best bud.” He pulled out a chair from the table and sat down announcing, “Me and my best bud, Nick, have a whole lot of catching up to do.”
Clearly it was time to cut and run.
“We were just leaving,” Nicholas said. Dana looked surprised but stood as he pulled back her chair. He was about to say a polite “Nice to see you” to everyone, but decided against it, seeing as it wasn’t true.
He steered Dana toward the door. They passed the waiter bringing their food and Nicholas told him they had to leave unexpectedly and stuck a few bills in the man’s pocket, asking him to take care of the bill and to keep the rest.
The man said something about the owner being on his way to which Nicholas said, “Tell him I’m real sorry I missed him.” Holding her elbow, he steered Dana out the door.
“How about we go back to the hotel and order room service, if that suits you? I don’t think the food will be as good, but at least we won’t be interrupted.”
That,” she said, smiling, “would be lovely.”
He offered her his arm, which she took. He remembered how their hands had touched back in school when they’d hung out at the Dairy Queen. Her touch as they passed the cone back and forth between them had thrilled him and caused strange, new sensations and desires to course through his adolescent body.
Now his heart beat fast and loud. When he gathered his courage and laid his hand over hers, the feel of her hand beneath his own ignited a flame in his belly. Made his cock begin to stiffen. Made him want desperately to stop right there and take her in his arms, to kiss her—
She sighed softly and he wondered—no, hoped—that perhaps she felt something too.
He was speechless all the way back to the hotel. They’d been talking so easily before, but now he was overwhelmed with all his pent-up yearning for her. He longed to explore her beautiful body, to see, to caress, to kiss and lick and—but he was determined not to show it. For an instant he’d been certain that he’d seen desire flash in her brown eyes at the restaurant, but then it had passed. Perhaps she regarded him only as an old friend, her pen pal in the flesh. He didn’t want to scare her with the ferocity of his desire for her.
We’re just going to share a meal in peace, that’s all that’s going to happen, he told himself.
He led her to the door to his suite, fumbled with the key card though he’d used others exactly like it a hundred times, and clumsily opened the door.
Not in complete control of himself, he let go of her arm, strode over to the desk, and picked up the menu. Dana came and stood beside him. He could smell the slight fragrance of freshly washed hair and the delectable, indescribable scent that was hers—something like mown grass on a summer morning. That scent had sent him reeling when he was four years old and in the sandbox with her. It did the same thing now.
He managed to say, “How about...” and he put his finger on the menu, without having read a word of it. “This.”
“Sure,” she said, looking at the menu. “That sounds great. I love scallops.”
Uh-oh. He despised scallops. Trying to recover as quickly as possible, he moved his finger down the menu and pointed again at something. “How about...” He forced his eyes to focus. “The beef stroganoff?”
“Sounds great.” He wondered for an instant if she cared as little as he did about the food. Wondered if she was feeling...something for him, something like the urgent desire he felt for her. He wanted—no, he needed—to take her in his arms, to hold her close, to feel her breasts against his chest, to nuzzle that fair hair, to feel that beautiful body beneath his hands.
In spite of his resistance, his cock had taken control of most of his mind. He imagined Dana pulling that sweater over her head, revealing her breasts—he couldn’t quite imagine what they would look like, yet he knew when he put his hands on them they would be cool, yielding to his touch. Somehow, dazed as he was, he managed to call room service and order the food and the best champagne they had.
When he put the phone down, he tried to brush away images of Dana, face serious, stepping close to him and unbuttoning his shirt. He must stop these fantasies. He’d have a fine case of blue balls by morning.
“Let’s raid the minibar,” he managed to say, walking over to the kitchenette to open it up. “I’ll start with bourbon.” Maybe that would dull his desire.
“Same here,” she said.
“All ready for tomorrow night?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light, trying to sound normal as he emptied a small bottle into each of two glasses that stood on a small tray on the desk beside the minibar.
“Yes, I am, though I have mixed feelings about the whole thing. I never made any close friends at Aurelia. Besides you.”
He stopped himself from stepping to
ward her and taking her in his arms although he wanted like hell to do that.
“Me neither. Except you.” He rubbed his eyes, willing himself to stop imagining Dana beneath him, smiling up at him as he plunged into her.
She considered him with those big, heavily lashed brown eyes of hers. “I did consider you my best friend.”
“And I thought you were my best friend.”
He wanted desperately to tell her that he still considered her his best friend, and that he wished that they could be much more than friends, but he held back, not wanting to risk ruining the moment. If he told her what he felt and she didn’t share his feelings, it would be too awkward, too painful.
“Did you ever take those dance lessons you were considering?” she asked, her voice light, casual.
“Just one lesson and I felt like a total klutz. Then I got so busy...”
“Well,” she said, “Let’s fix that right now. Can you get music in here somehow?”
Chapter Four
A few hours later, after they’d done serious damage to the contents of the minibar along with a good bit of the beef stroganoff and most of a bottle of Dom Perignon Rosé, Nicholas could slow-dance and execute some passable moves with fast music. For those few hours his yearning for Dana seemed manageable, though the flame of desire for her burned unabated in his belly. As they slow-danced, Dana nestled closer and closer to him, convincing him that she really did consider him to be more than a friend. Then again, he warned himself, that could just be the booze.
He would have danced all night with her, but at two o’clock, she pointed out that they should hit the sack.
He accompanied her down to her room. As she opened her door he felt awkward again, but when she turned and looked up at him, her dark eyes gleaming in the light of the hall, he couldn’t help himself. He put his arms around her and bent to kiss her.
Her lips were soft, sweet. Her luscious body yielded to his own. With one hand he held her to him as the other stroked her soft-as-silk hair. He felt her hands against his back holding him as tightly as he did her.
They both jumped at the sound of raucous laughter echoing down the hallway, followed by the sound of the elevator door opening.
“Quick, let’s go in,” Dana said, and he eagerly followed her into the room.
He closed the door behind him and when he turned back, Dana was right there watching him, a half-smile on her lips, her blonde hair tumbling about her face.
Nicholas whispered her name as he stepped toward her and took her in his arms and she wrapped hers around him. As they kissed he savored her cool, soft, lips yielding against his own.
Dana is here in my arms at last, he thought. I’m kissing Dana! The thought nearly blew his mind before he gave himself up to pure sensation. He ran his hands up and down the voluptuous shape of her, loving the gentle arch of her back, the swell of her hips, the curve of her small waist. He caressed her tantalizing, firm, lush bottom. He pulled her tightly against himself, reveling in the feeling of her breasts against his chest, her belly against his hard cock. And always that glorious green-grass scent of hers.
“Dana,” he said breathlessly. “Dana.”
He heard her sigh. She lifted her hands to his face, her fingers stroking and caressing. He rolled his head from side to side, intoxicated by the feel of her gentle touch.
When she raked her fingers through his hair, he brought his hands up and did the same through her blonde curls. Suddenly her touch grew urgent. She pulled his hair, dragging his mouth to her own, bringing him closer, closer. He grasped the back of her head and pulled it toward himself, crushing her lips against his own. Their kiss was savage. His need for her, the flame alight in his belly since they had touched on the way to the hotel, flared wildly. The fiery heat rose to his heart, consuming any uncertainty, any inhibition.
He groaned, overcome by his own unrestrained need for her, for Dana. All of Dana. He had waited so long, he had hoped and dreamed so much, and now she was here—a lovely woman whose curves made him crazy with want. She was beautiful, yet she was still Dana. And she was here, in his arms, warm, responsive, and overwhelmingly—almost unbearably—desirable. He ran his hands over her body, pitiless now in his raw need.
She stroked his sides, always seeming to pull him closer and closer although it was impossible that they could be closer than they were. Only their clothes kept them a fraction of a millimeter apart.
He pushed her away and she gasped, an alarmed look on her face.
“Clothes,” he muttered, “I need to feel skin on skin.” He shrugged off his jacket. Yanked at his tie, then dragged it off. He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. She stepped toward him; he supposed she was reaching out to help, but he tore the shirt open before she could. Buttons flew everywhere.
She laid her cool hands on his chest. In spite of their coolness they made the fire within him rage wildly through sex and heart and brain. She stepped back and for an insane moment he wondered if the heat within him had scorched her hands. But she smiled at him.
He pulled off her sweater, revealing luscious, full breasts encased in a white satin bra. She bent and untied her boots and pulled them off along with her socks. He skimmed his hands over her back, shoved his fingers into the gap at the top of her jeans, reveling in the feel of her smooth flesh.
As she stood, his hands swept upward to those enticing breasts and he caressed and squeezed them, his gaze riveted on her face, gauging her response and being driven madder yet by the desire he saw there.
He stopped, desperate now to get out of his remaining clothes, desperate to get Dana onto the bed. He yanked off his boots and threw them God knows where and his socks right after them. He undid his jeans, dragged them off and his boxers after them, allowing his rock-hard cock to spring mercifully free.
He scooped her up and carried her to the bed, threw back the scarlet cover with one hand, and laid her on her back on the white sheets. Kneeling over her, he kissed the her breasts where they rose above the bra. He slipped his fingers under the sleek garment and stroked the yielding flesh, his fingertips brushing roughly against her nipples as, sighing, she arched toward him.
He dipped his head and sucked the peaks that pushed against the silky fabric—first the one and then the other—while he toyed with the opposite nipple with his fingers. The bra grew transparent where he had sucked and he groaned at the sight. God, she’s perfect.
He kissed her lips savagely once more and licked and nipped them as she kissed him back, giving as good as she got. Then he kissed her throat, her chest. He reached beneath her and released the bra. He pulled it off and threw it to the side.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured. “Each part of you is lovelier than the last.” Her body undulated beneath him as he kissed and sucked her erect brown nipples, then skimmed his hands around her breasts, squeezing pitilessly, ruthless in his need for her.
He undid her jeans and stood to drag them off. He grunted when he saw the white lace panties. Clean, pure, innocent, flashed through his mind. Take it easy with her, he thought for a second, but fiery desire overwhelmed all reason. His craving for her, for release with her, was almost painful.
He inched the scanty garment down and trailed kisses in its wake, groaning at the sight of the curly hair he exposed. She murmured his name as he slid his hand beneath the lacy fabric and over her hot mound. She was wet.
His control broke. The fire exploded within him and he tore the flimsy garment apart, wild with wanting her.
“Nicholas,” she said hoarsely, as he stroked her sweet cleft. She was ready for him. Their gazes locked as he knelt and straddled her hips.
He entered her. Some vestige of his mind reminded him that he could be gentle, could go slowly and carefully, but when she smiled up at him as she held his hips and pulled him deep within her, he became so hopelessly overwhelmed with passion he could not hold back.
He plunged into her again and again and yet again. And her hips rose again and again, meeting
him stroke for stroke as her cries grew louder. He felt her swell and grow tight about him as she cried out, pushing him to the edge of release, but somehow he managed to pull himself back from the precipice.
He withdrew and turned her over onto her knees and entered her, drinking in the sight of her rosy bottom turned up to him as he buried himself inside her. When he felt her hot, slick walls grow tight again and heard her scream as the blush covered her shoulders, he could contain himself no longer. He cried out as, ecstatically, he exploded into her.
Chapter Five
The late afternoon sun peeked around the curtains as Nicholas propped himself up on one arm and watched Dana, who slept peacefully, her blonde hair spilling over the pillow like a golden halo. God, he loved her so much.
Had he been too aggressive? Should he have plunged them into incredibly hot sex when he didn’t even know how she felt about him? This was Dana after all, not a one-night stand, not like the kind of women he’d preferred in the past who only wanted to share a night or two of passion and then go on their way. Dana wasn’t like that. And she wasn’t like the hard-hearted gold diggers he’d always avoided.
Yeah, she’d been willing, and yeah, she liked him okay, but he didn’t think she felt more for him than that. She’d had a lot to drink. Had he taken advantage of her?
Perhaps the whole deal had been alcohol-driven. Without the drinks he might never have found the courage. Without them, Dana might never have agreed.
He feared he had been brutally aggressive, never giving her a moment to think about what they were doing, never giving her a chance to say “no” should she have wanted to. This hadn’t been at all what he had intended—not at all like what he had in mind when he dreamed about going to bed with her. He’d imagined maybe a glass or two of champagne, long hours of tender kissing, getting to know each other’s bodies, caressing, and loving words. Instead he’d been insanely swept away. Gloriously swept away was how it had felt, and Dana seemed to have been just as overwhelmed as he. When she woke up, though, she might well think it had been a drunken one-night stand. Might well be that he’d be lucky if she didn’t hate him for it.
Class Reunion Page 2
