So Many Men...

by Dorie Graham

  He relaxed in his chair as she took a tentative sip of her wine, smiling her pleasure at the robust flavor. She was stunning tonight. Not that she’d looked bad on any of their previous encounters, but tonight she seemed almost radiant.

  “That’s a beautiful dress.” He nodded toward the slinky black number she wore, wishing he knew better words to describe exactly how lovely she looked. The dress accentuated her curves, making them impossible to ignore. His pulse thrummed.

  “Thanks. You clean up nice yourself.”

  Their server approached, dwarfed by the huge dishes she carried. Her eyes sparkled as she set their entrées before them. “Here you go, Dr. Davies, the snapper with snow peas and new potatoes, just the way you like them, light on the salt and butter.”

  “You’re spoiling me, Donna.” Mason grinned at the woman. This was what he liked—a restaurant where they knew him and his preferences.

  “You’re one of our best customers and we aim to please.”

  He surveyed the steaming dishes on the table. “You’ve certainly done that. Everything look okay to you, Tess?”

  Tess breathed in the aroma of her steak and loaded baked potato. “It smells heavenly.” She took a taste of the potato and closed her eyes as she savored the bite. “Delicious. Could we get some more rolls, please?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ll bring them right over.”

  “And butter?” Tess asked.

  “Certainly.” Donna turned to Mason. “Anything else for you, Doctor? More wine?”

  “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

  The woman nodded, then hurried away, weaving a path through the white-covered tables. Tess cut into her steak and he took a bite of his fish. “You want to try some?” he asked her. “The chef here is wonderful.”

  She leaned toward him. “You really like this place, don’t you?”

  “Andre’s is the best. Been coming here for years.”

  “It’s all wonderful as far as I can see. Great food and service. Nice atmosphere.”

  “What else could you ask for in a restaurant?”

  “Nothing. It’s perfect.”

  Warmth filled him. Her approval pleased him more than he wanted to admit. “Exactly.”

  “Except…”

  “What?” He stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. “You just said it was perfect.”

  Her gaze pinned him. “Define ‘best customer.’”

  He stared at her, frowning. “What do you mean? I’m a regular customer. I’m friendly and appreciative. I take care of the staff.”

  “Define ‘regular.’”

  What was she getting at? “Regular. I dine here often.”

  “How often?”

  “What’s with all the questions?”

  She shrugged. “I have this feeling about you, Mason.”

  Something told him this wasn’t the kind of feeling he was going to like. “What kind of feeling?”

  Her lips pursed. “You like the tried and true.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You like being where you’re known and where you know people.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “You like knowing what to expect and what’s expected of you.”

  He raised his hands in appeal. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Ever feel like you’re in a rut?”

  “No.” A rut? Who was in a rut?

  “You don’t ever find yourself doing the same thing over and over again?”

  “I like a routine. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Define ‘routine.’”

  “Come on, Tess, what are you driving at?” He swallowed. How could the woman badger him and still look so damn tempting?

  “I don’t know you well enough to make any judgments, but there’s a fine line between a routine and a rut.”

  “Well, I am not in a rut. I eat here three, maybe four times a week, because I like it for all the reasons we’ve already stated. That does not mean I’m in a rut. I’m happy with my life. People in ruts are not happy with their lives.” He took a sip of his wine to calm himself.

  The woman had a way of riling him.

  “No need to get all defensive. You do agree that a little change is healthy, right?”

  He stiffened. “Change is part of life. I accept that. I can roll with the punches as well as the next guy.”

  “But change can be a good thing. It isn’t always about rolling with the punches. Sometimes it’s about going with the flow. Ever do that? Jump in a raft and let the current take you?”

  “Some of us don’t have the time or inclination to just drift about.”

  “You should try it sometime.” She ran her finger along the edge of her wineglass. “Imagine the two of us, drifting along together with the sun warming us, a nice breeze caressing our skin.” Her gaze met his, the blue of her eyes as enticing as ever. “No phones or pagers. Just all the time in the world to enjoy each other.”

  His mouth ran dry as she took a long swallow of wine. Visions of her floating along in the water wearing nothing but sunshine filled his head. “Well, honey, when you put it that way, it does have a certain appeal.”

  “Of course it does. You know I’d take really good care of you.”

  “I have no doubt you would.”

  Her smile—filled with promise for the night to come—sent heat rippling through him. He smiled back at her, ignoring all the warning bells going off in his head. He could enjoy a night with her and not get tied up in a relationship.

  As far as he could tell, Tess didn’t have relationships. She had affairs, which were by nature temporary. “I suppose drifting might not be a bad thing as long as one knew in advance that it would be a short trip.”

  “The point of drifting is that you land where and when you land, with no predetermined time frame. But since it’s new to you, I’d say a short bout—a testing of the waters—would be in order.”

  He raised his glass, letting his gaze fall briefly to the swell of her breasts. “To a testing of the waters.”

  She clinked her glass to his. “May it be all we’ve dreamed and more.” She held his gaze while they both drank deeply.

  Notes from the piano shifted into a livelier tune. Tess took another bite of her food, while he continued sipping his wine. The murmur of voices filled the space around them, but their booth remained a private refuge amid the bustle of the restaurant.

  “So, tell me about your family. Parents, siblings?” she asked.

  “I have a few uncles.” He set down his glass and picked up his fork, clenching it in his fist.

  “Uncles?”

  “Yes, uncles. That’s it. No parents. No siblings.”

  She blinked. “Oh, Mason, I’m so sorry.”

  When she reached for his hand, he pulled back. This one with her questions. She’d probably keep asking until he told her. “The quick of it is that my mother split when I was a kid and my father drank himself to death shortly after. I was passed from uncle to uncle until I could make it on my own. End of story. End of discussion. So how about you?”

  She sat straighter, but seemed to take his brusque explanation in stride, nodding almost as if she’d expected as much. “Let’s see, I have a mother who’s usually off traveling somewhere, two sisters, both of whom I lived with until one moved out recently. I’m pretty sure the other one is still there, though I don’t see much of her these days. I also have an aunt, my mother’s sister, who’s around most of the time and who keeps us all sane. And we have a family friend who’s more like a father to us than anything, though he’s not a blood relation.”

  “Sounds like quite a crew.” He set down his fork and pushed away his plate. In spite of himself, envy ate at him. Her tone was warm as she spoke of her family.

  He mentally shook himself. No use wishing for something he wasn’t meant to have. He had his uncles. They were family enough.

  “What are your uncles like?”

  “They’re okay.” He shrugged. “Stout Republicans, do
ctors mostly, old school. My favorite is Uncle Gabe. He’s my mother’s brother. I lived with him the longest. I don’t really have anything to do with them these days, though.” He glanced at his watch. “We should get going if we don’t want to be late.”

  “Late?”

  He smiled, again on stable ground. “Yes, my dear, the theater awaits us.”

  MUSIC SWELLED IN THE darkened theater. The audience sat seemingly entranced as the actors moved across the stage at the Coconut Grove Playhouse. Tess stretched and glanced surreptitiously at her watch.

  How much longer could this play last?

  Not that she wasn’t enjoying it. As far as plays went, this one wasn’t bad. She was just finding sitting still for such a long time a bit challenging. Mason appeared to be into the drama and his pleasure was always nice to feel.

  It made her think of a different kind of pleasure, though, and she was itching to get the man alone. He, however, seemed in no hurry to leave. It was disconcerting to have him so oblivious to her.

  Did he not realize what a true hunk he was?

  She shifted in her seat. A man of convention. Good God, what if he didn’t believe in kissing on the first date?

  He glanced at her and smiled, his attention diverted from the play long enough to squeeze her hand and let his gaze drift over her. She’d chosen this dress with seduction in mind and he hadn’t been unaffected by it throughout the evening. His focus lingered over her breasts, her cleavage exposed just enough to tantalize.

  She leaned toward him, so her leg pressed into his. She lowered her hand to her thigh and slipped from his grasp, so his hand rested on her, warming her through the thin fabric of her dress. His fingers flexed over her and desire buzzed around them.

  Smiling, she slid her hand up his chest and raised her face to him. His gaze fastened on her mouth. He cupped her cheek, then leaned in close to whisper in her ear, “Don’t be a tease, Tess. I promise to kiss you later.”

  “Later?” Sighing, she rubbed her cheek against his, her lips a breath from his. “Why not now?”

  He groaned softly and frustration sounded in his voice. “This isn’t the proper place or time.”

  “Who wants to be proper? It’s dark and no one’s paying any attention to us.”

  She skimmed her mouth along his jaw, then brushed his lips with hers. He stilled for a long moment as heat spiraled out from him. She absorbed his desire, darting her tongue along his full bottom lip.

  He pulled away, his muscles rigid. “Not here.”

  She pressed her hand over his, where he gripped her thigh. If he thought she’d give up so easily when he obviously wanted her, he was sorely mistaken. The man was way too into this repression and she could sense the toll it had already taken. Before all was through, she’d show him the wonders of embracing his desires.

  Slowly, his hand relaxed as he made a pretense of watching the play. She stroked his long fingers until the tension in him lessened. She shifted, so his hand slipped farther up her leg. Pausing, she drank in his heightened awareness, almost feeling the thudding of his heart. His fingers flexed again, then tightened. She prepared for him to pull away, but instead, he made an exploratory circle with his thumb.

  Taking a deep breath, she savored the moment where he hovered on the verge of giving in, but the action on the stage picked up and the audience burst into a round of spontaneous applause. Mason clapped along with them, leaving the impression of his hand burning on her thigh.

  For a moment she was disappointed, but as soon as the applause died, he seized her hand and rose. She grabbed her purse and followed as he maneuvered to the aisle, then out the door.

  “What? We’re leaving? And before the end of that most engrossing play?” she asked, all innocence when they reached the lobby.

  “That’s right and don’t you dare complain. You asked for this.”

  “I did?” she asked as he towed her out onto the street.

  He didn’t spare her a glance as he made a beeline for the car. “Indeed you did.”

  “But where are we going?”

  As he yanked open the door for her, he gave her a fierce frown. She had a flash of him as a warrior of old, dealing with his latest conquest. Her pulse quickened.

  “I’m taking you home, where I am going to kiss you,” he said.

  Smiling, she brushed up against him. “Then…?”

  The ghost of a smile floated across his lips. “Then you get what you want.”

  She cocked her head. “And what do I want?”

  His gaze pierced her. “Me.”

  5

  TESS EYED MASON AS HE ushered her into his compact kitchen. The chrome surfaces and neat cabinets spoke of efficiency. A digital clock on the wall showed that it was just after eleven. She turned to him smiling. “So…”

  He scooped her against him with one arm as he lowered his mouth to hers. He stopped, a breath away. “Now for that kiss.”

  She shivered, both from the cold of the air-conditioned house and in anticipation. His lips brushed hers, caressing her with deepening strokes, until she opened to let him explore at his leisure. As promised, he took his time. He tasted of mint and an excitement that she hadn’t expected in him. Below all his careful reserve, Mason Davies was a man full of surprises.

  His tongue soothed hers with slow, steady strokes, kindling her desire and sending her blood thrumming. She’d known she’d enjoy kissing him. She pressed her body closer to his and shivered again.

  “Cold?” He broke away to rub his hands up and down her arms.

  “Excited.”

  “Really?”

  “Kiss me again and see for yourself.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers once more, but this time his tongue was more demanding, his hands bolder in their exploration as he swept them down her back to cup her bottom. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body close to his. His pleasure—his excitement—radiated to her, mingling with the rampant emotions rushing through her. It had never felt like this.

  And this was just a kiss.

  His hands slipped down to the hemline of her dress, then underneath to her skin. Every nerve in her body came alive as he skimmed his fingers up the back of her thighs to her buttocks, bared by the thong she wore. He kissed her again while kneading her, until she whimpered and hooked her leg around his in an effort to move closer.

  When one of his hands found her breast she sighed with delight. He maneuvered past her bra, until the warmth of his fingers melted into her. Her nipple beaded under his careful ministrations, sending tendrils of wicked desire licking through her.

  Her fingers fumbled on his shirt buttons before she could run her hand along his firm abs and chest. He stalled in his attentions for a moment as she found his nipples and plucked them to attention. Then he was on her in full force, lifting her to the counter and nestling himself between her legs. Her dress loosened, then slipped down to her waist as he kissed her and seemed to touch her everywhere at once. She lost herself in the sensations, the building heat.

  Cool air from a vent above them hit her as he slipped off her bra, but first his breath, then his mouth warmed her. He sucked hard on her breast, taking her nipple into his mouth and teasing the tip with his tongue, until she closed her eyes and moaned.

  “Oh, Mason, that feels so good.”

  She stroked his hair, surprised at its softness, then gasped as his fingers found the folds of her femininity. Without prelude he thrust deep, but she was wet and eager for his attentions. His thumb caressed her clit, while he drove two fingers into her. Never breaking his rhythm, he nibbled his way to her other breast where he laved her to the brink of endurance.

  “Oh…sweet…”

  He answered with a sound of pleasure from deep in his throat and she lost all thought as he increased his pace. With true magic in his touch he pleasured her, until the sexual tension coiling inside her built to an unbearable pitch. Meeting him thrust for thrust, she gripped his
shoulders as the first tremors of orgasm hit her. Her body tightened as blinding white bliss burst through her and she cried out, the sound tearing from her throat.

  She melted against him, too drained to even hold on properly when he carried her into his bedroom. He turned on the light and desire shone in his eyes as he deposited her on the bed. She lay limp as he stripped off her disheveled clothes, then slowly removed his own, his gaze never leaving her.

  She licked dry lips at the sight of him. He was as magnificent a man as she had ever seen. His build was adequate, but he had that bearing of the warrior she had glimpsed earlier. And his evident desire was a force to be reckoned with. A sigh left her at the thought of all the pleasure he was so well equipped to deliver.

  She managed a weak smile, her muscles still feeling a little like jelly. When had she ever been this spent after just one orgasm? And he hadn’t even been inside her yet. How would she feel after that? “Do with me as you will. I am too drained to protest. Besides, I kind of like the thought of you losing control.”

  His lips thinned and a cloud seemed to pass over his features. As she’d suspected, she’d hit on another sore spot. She opened her arms to him. “We’ll take it any way you want it, Mason.”

  He moved to the bed and covered her with his body, bracing himself on his elbows. When he kissed her, she slipped her hand down to caress his erection. Ah, the feel of him—so vibrant, so very alive. She stroked him until he nuzzled her ear.

  “I want to be inside you,” he murmured, his voice low and gruff.

  “I want you inside me.”

  His gaze met hers and, for a moment, she felt exposed, as though he could see into her soul. Then he moved away to ready himself. After he’d rolled on a condom he returned to her, his body hot and wonderfully hard. She let him arrange her like a rag doll, happy to have him take control as he draped her legs over his shoulders.

  It was strange, really, this lethargy. Normally she was full of energy and well in charge of her sexual encounters. How nice it was to let him lead for a change. They both watched him slip slowly into her, intent on the joining of their bodies. She shifted as he eased his way in, giving her time to adjust to him.