Leo’s mouth went dry. “Well, actually—”
“There’s a drug store on the corner.” She pointed. “I’ll wait.”
Leo hurried off, wondering again what had got into him. But the alternative, returning to his apartment rather than hers, remained so unappealing it drove him into the brightly lit, over-warm pharmacy. In front of a dazzling array of prophylactics he stood bewildered as a twelve-year-old boy and chose blindly before making his way to the checkout counter.
The clerk eyed his sole purchase with raised eyebrows but said only, “Will that be all, sir?”
“That’s it.” Would Miss Webb have gone when he returned, disappeared into her apartment and left him like the fool he undoubtedly was?
But she’d asked him. Prompted by the candy heart, sure, but still…
“You mean to pay with those?” The clerk nodded at the bag of candy he still clutched in his hand, and he obediently dug out his wallet.
Hurrying back, his thoughts pounded at him. If she’s still there, I’ll know I’m doing the right thing.
The breath streamed from his chest in a rush when he saw her, dark and slender, kicking her heels in front of her house. Was he really going to do this? Take her inside, unwrap her, and see if she had any other tattoos?
Hell, yes.
****
Gerri led the way up the three flights of stairs, mentally reviewing how she’d left her apartment. Housework rarely came first with her, and she certainly hadn’t expected to bring anyone home.
She clutched the as-yet-unwrapped book beneath her arm and examined her emotions. She felt excited for this, ready to touch him, taste him.
One night, just one, when I get to choose and enjoy the pleasure of his company—and then walk away.
All too often in past relationships she hadn’t been smart enough to walk away even when she should. She seemed to pick men with attitude, with a dark side, and then hold on while they took advantage.
She opened the door of her apartment and turned to look at him. This man appeared to have no dark side.
The corners of her mouth twitched. He stood looking around at the outré furnishings of her small apartment like a man transported to the future. She’d put her personality into it and gone with a steampunk theme, from the satin pillows to the fringed Victorian lampshades and an open-geared clock.
Quite suddenly, Leo looked like he wanted to bolt.
Very offhandedly she said, “You don’t have to stay, you know. That’s the idea behind this—it’s all on a whim. We try something we haven’t tried before, but nobody’s forcing it.”
He focused on her, blinking as the fog on his specs cleared. “I want to try you,” he said.
To Gerri’s surprise, her pulse leaped. She took a step closer, and they continued to gaze into one another’s eyes while heat flared through her. “I want to try you, too.”
He leaned forward and kissed her, a gentle contact of lips on lips, tentative and sampling. He was so tall she had to strain on her tiptoes for him.
“Umm,” she murmured involuntarily. If the rest of him tasted this good, she was in for her best Valentine’s ever.
And would he be so gentle all night long? Gerri, used to men who took what they wanted and thought mostly of their own pleasure, hoped so.
“Interesting apartment,” he murmured when the kiss ended. “Not what I expected.”
Gerri, unable to look away from his eyes, confessed, “This is my haven.” And yet she’d asked him back here. “I like to sew and created most of the décor.”
“You’re very talented.” He kissed her again, with more intensity this time, his lips persuading hers apart and his tongue seeking admittance. Gerri dropped the book on the floor, let her bag slide from her shoulder, and wrapped both arms around his neck.
It felt like an electrical charge flowed through her from the place his lips touched hers, sizzled when his tongue touched hers, and pierced her. She heated from the sheer pleasure of it and promptly began to melt.
He concluded the kiss in a wet trail across her cheek to her ear, where he whispered, “So, Miss Webb, how do we begin this?”
“I think we just did. And you’d better call me ‘Gerri,’ right? If we’re going to get intimate.”
“Oh, we’re going to get very intimate.”
She drew away from him, not far. “Let me take your coat. Get comfortable; I’ll light some candles. And I have a bottle of wine.”
“Okay.”
He stripped off his long wool coat, juggling the little sack of candy hearts and the bag from the pharmacy while he did so. Gerri removed the latter from his hand and withdrew the packet. Her eyebrows soared.
“You bought the big pack. And, bubble-gum flavor. My goodness, Leo—what do you have in mind?”
“To tell you the truth, I was so rattled I chose those at random.”
Charming, that he would be forthcoming enough to admit it. But she saw nothing tentative, now, in his eyes.
She leaned up and kissed him again. “That’s okay. Lucky for you I like bubble gum.”
Chapter Three
Gerri divided the last of the wine between her glass and Leo’s, and realized with some surprise they’d finished a second bottle. How long had they been cozied up on her sofa, sharing bad-luck stories?
She knew she’d regaled him at length with tales of losers she’d known and left—possibly not optimum conversation for a first date, only this wasn’t a date but something else, something exciting and unprecedented. And he’d shared his own horror stories—the woman who’d bought not just one but five wedding dresses and hung them in her closet after their first date, another who’d started out perfectly nice only to turn unaccountably insane.
“She stalked me for three months,” he’d concluded with his charming modesty, “and I’m hardly stalking material.”
Now he peered at her through the specs. “You’re not crazy, are you?”
Gerri set her wine glass down very carefully, reached out, and removed his glasses. “Maybe just a bit. Do you mind?”
“I think we’re probably both crazy, to be sitting here talking when we could be—” He kissed her once more, a long, luxurious, and wine-flavored kiss. She moved toward him eagerly, and he gathered her into his lap.
She’d removed her boots when they sat down; now he ran a hand down her leg and captured her arch.
“Nice feet.”
“You don’t have a hidden foot fetish, do you?” she asked.
“No. Well, maybe for your feet: pretty, and small enough to fit into my hand.” He began to massage her arch with hypnotic, circular motions. Electricity soared through her again, stronger this time.
“You’re right,” she murmured, “it may be time to move on to the next stage of the evening. Let’s see what the candy hearts say.”
She dug into the bag he’d set on the coffee table and snagged a heart, which he blinked at owlishly.
“You’ll have to read that, I’m afraid. I can’t see it without my glasses.”
“It says, ‘Ask Me.’ ”
He stared. “You’re kidding. Again? Okay—Gerri Webb, will you come to bed with me?”
Her pulse leaped ravenously. “I will.”
He gathered her up and stood, displaying unexpected brawn. Suddenly she wanted to see—and feel—all of him, so much her throat went dry.
“Bring the bag of hearts,” she suggested. “We may want some guidance.”
He obeyed but told her, “I assure you, Gerri—I’m going to need absolutely no guidance.”
The bedroom, mere steps away, felt cool and looked hazily dark. Gerri could hear sleet tapping against the window, and she shivered as Leo laid her on the bed tenderly. The only light came from beyond the door, but it allowed her to see the intent expression on his face when he deposited the bag of hearts on the bedside table, along with the packet from the pharmacy, and unbuttoned his shirt. Soft radiance flowed over him as he stripped it off and cast it aside, and Gerri na
rrowed her eyes judiciously. He had a slim, well-muscled torso with nary a tattoo.
Well, that made a change.
She sat up with the intention of removing her sweater and skirt, but he came down onto the bed, cradled her head in his hands, and kissed her again.
“Let me,” he said then.
“Umm—nice.” Luxuriant desire streamed through her in a warm wave. Sudden fantasies teemed in her mind. Would he fulfill them all?
It seemed so. His warm hands moved up under her sweater to explore her with gentle dominance. He cupped her in one palm, and Gerri went weak.
“Sweet,” he murmured, and even as she wriggled out of the sweater he bent his head.
Oh, what talented lips he had for a mere professor of history! And what clever hands—still waters must truly run deep. Who would have thought from looking at him he’d know just how to touch her in order to set her on fire?
Still wearing his ivy league-style trousers, he removed her garments piece by piece, following each with hot, wet attentions from his tongue. Gerri, afire with delight, couldn’t miss the fact that he was now more than ready to culminate proceedings. But, oh, she wanted this to last.
“Come here,” she growled as soon as he’d disposed of all her clothes. She wrapped herself around him and buried her fingers in his hair. He smelled wonderful, and tasted even better.
Had she ever gone to bed with a gentleman before? She ran her mind back swiftly over the men of her past—some of whom she’d met at work, customers. Nothing wrong with that, but they’d proved, to a man, rough and ready—more interested in their own gratification than anything else.
Not so, with Leo. She could tell, by the way he touched and kissed her, he focused on making her shiver with desire. He gave every indication he could go on all night just caressing.
Well, she couldn’t.
“Off,” she told him between hungry kisses, and attacked his belt. He laughed deep in his throat, one of the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard. Fingers clumsy with eagerness, she conquered the buckle and moved on to the zipper, which strained over a generous bulge.
“Where are the—?” she gasped, and he laughed again.
“Oh, not yet, Miss Webb. Allow me.”
Now as devoid of clothing as she, he began to conquer her slowly with his tongue. A thorough man was Leo Rankin, she quickly found, and one who paid attention to detail. The fantasies in Gerri’s head evaporated, chased by hot reality. Who needed fantasy when his mouth coaxed maximum response from every inch of her body, lips to toes? When his fingers knew exactly where to caress and invade?
Eagerly she returned the favors kiss for kiss and lick for lick. His control never faltered till she pushed him onto his back, crawled up his body, and asked, “What did you do with that package?”
“Bedside table.” He could barely speak. “You sure you like bubble gum?”
“Let me show you.”
There in the half dark, with sleet skittering against the windows, she did. So strange, how natural it felt being with him—a virtual stranger—and how right when at last he plunged into her. The ensuing light show nearly blinded her and left him lying like a man slain.
“Well,” she whispered, settling on top of him, “that sure beat spending Valentine’s Day alone.”
He opened chocolate-brown eyes and gazed at her. “Oh, Miss Webb—I hope you don’t think we’re done.”
****
So this, Leo thought hazily while staring up at Gerri Webb’s ceiling, was why men indulged in one-night stands. He’d heard other guys brag about it in bars or the locker room at the gym and had always been too cautious-natured to do anything more than contemplate the possibility.
Only this didn’t feel like two strangers hooking up. Gerri Webb didn’t feel like a stranger at all. She felt like another part of him he’d never suspected he lacked.
Whatever the case, that had been, hands down, the best sex he’d ever had—or imagined.
He reached across the bedspread—they’d never made it beneath the sheets—and groped for her hand. Her fingers met his, meshed and slipped between them without effort.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Better than okay.”
She rolled onto her side and cuddled up to his shoulder. He could barely see the color of her eyes in the dim room, but a rakish smile teased at her lips. Very talented lips, this woman possessed—and yes, she obviously favored bubble gum.
Good thing he’d bought the big pack.
He supposed this moment might prove awkward. What did one say to a woman after sharing the most intimate acts possible?
His lips moved without conscious intention. “You’re beautiful, Gerri Webb.”
Her eyes widened. “Me?”
“So beautiful.” He ran his hand down the length of her hair, just for the sheer pleasure of it. “Any regrets?”
“None.”
“Good. I don’t want any regrets between us.”
Her smile turned wicked. “I’m just wondering how far we can stretch things.”
She trailed the fingers of her free hand down his chest, across his belly, and further downward. “You said we’re not done.”
He smiled back at her. “Does that feel like we’re done?”
“I have to say”—she planted little kisses on his mouth—“you’re quite something, for a button-down professor.”
“We’re exploding some stereotypes here, aren’t we? I think I like this new genre.”
“Me too. Listen to that.” She cocked her head, and her long, black hair slid over one shoulder to brush his chest. “The weather’s turned pretty nasty. Makes this feel even cozier, doesn’t it?”
“I’m sure glad I’m not alone tonight.”
He kissed her once more, and it didn’t feel like seduction but deep and genuine emotion. Danger, his brain screamed at him. Don’t go thinking you’re attached to her just because the sex is monumental. Casual sex means no strings.
So she was smart, funny, and beautiful—that didn’t mean he’d ever see her again.
He half sat up and fumbled on the bedside table.
Gerri raised an eyebrow. “Already?”
“I’m looking for my glasses,” he explained.
“We left them in the other room. Why?”
“I thought I noticed one or two interesting tattoos in passing. Ah, yes.” Abandoning the search for specs, he peered at her. “Let’s perform a proper count.”
Her lips curved. “Now you do sound like a professor.”
She had a sweet little butterfly at the top of her left breast, just over her heart, and a tribal band around one bicep. He caressed and kissed them both lingeringly, marveling at how they turned him on.
“Any more?” he inquired raggedly.
“Here, on my hip.”
He kissed that one—a flower—and laved it with his tongue for good measure.
“And here,” she continued, and flipped onto her stomach, displaying her buttocks to best advantage.
Two mounds of perfect white flesh confronted Leo, one graced with a tattoo of what, to his blurry vision, looked like a leaf. His pulse leaped as he reached out to caress and part her cheeks gently.
A thousand images tumbled through his mind, things he longed to do, ways he’d like to taste her. Did he dare ask her?
Carefully, he bent his head. When he traced the tattoo with his mouth, she stirred luxuriantly and parted her legs a bit more. An invitation?
“Ask me,” she breathed into her pillow.
“Miss Webb, would you like to try an alternate position?”
“Do I like the taste of bubblegum?” she returned.
Chapter Four
Gerri opened her eyes to a room full of gray morning light. She lay in Leo Rankin’s arms, her cheek pressed against his warm chest while he slept quietly, without snoring—a wonderful thing, she reflected.
So, this was the dreaded morning after. As she’d told Leo at the outset, she didn’t do one-night stands—far
too smart, she’d always supposed. The men she’d slept with were, for better or worse, men with whom she was in long-term relationships. The fact that they’d proved to be jerks for the most part had nothing to do with it.
She eyed Leo from a distance of mere inches. Was he another jerk? She didn’t think so, and, anyway, it didn’t matter. This wasn’t a relationship, long-term or otherwise.
That was the beauty of it, right? They’d saved one another from being alone on Valentine’s Day. Period.
And had an astounding, magical time into the bargain.
Gerri resisted the temptation to brush her fingers down his cheek, now downy with brown stubble. None of that, my girl, she told herself sternly. Tender impulses had no part in this. She and Leo Rankin clearly came from two different worlds—the sort that seldom met. Just because they’d shared one night of blinding passion…
She knew one thing: she’d never again be able to taste bubblegum without becoming hopelessly aroused.
She slid from Leo’s arms and off the bed. He sighed and stirred but didn’t wake. The corner of her mouth twitched in a self-derisive smile. Somehow she resisted the impulse to wake him for another kiss.
Still naked, she padded to the bathroom, where she took a quick shower. When she came back, Leo had awakened and risen; she caught him half clad.
“Morning,” she said softly. “You hungry?”
Still devoid of his specs, he inspected her slowly. She wore her black velvet Victorian robe that dripped lace onto the floor, and appreciation filled his eyes.
“Well, yeah—though maybe not for breakfast.” His smile held a hint of mischief. “Don’t worry; I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I find all my clothes.”
“You can shower first, if you like.”
The heat in his eyes intensified. “I’d love to, but—that wasn’t the deal, was it?”
She tipped her head. “What was the deal, exactly?” She knew, but wanted to hear him say it, require him to request a little more. What if he asked to see her again? Not a good idea, but…
Ask me, she urged him silently.
“Blind Valentine’s date with a book—and each other.” He made a show of looking around. “Where is the book, anyway?”
Ask Me Page 2
