She looked down at the two very distinct points in the front of her black satin halter. “I’m cold.”
“Uh-huh.” He brushed his knuckles across her left breast. Her lips parted and she sucked in a breath. “You’re turned on.”
She bit her top lip and shook her head, but they both knew she lied.
He sighed and dropped his hand. “Show me the damn house.”
She turned on the heels of her boots and left him to follow behind. Yes, the last thing she needed was for Sebastian to work his moves on her in her mother’s house. But there was another part of her, the new part that had just discovered the pleasure of meaningless sex, that wanted him to do that and more.
She showed him the parlor her mother used for an office, the main living room, and the library. He kept his hands to himself, which was almost as frustrating as when he’d touched her. “I used to spend a lot of time in here as a kid,” she said, pointing to the floor-to-ceiling rows of leather-bound books. The room was furnished with old leather chairs and several Tiffany lamps.
“I remember.” He walked along the built-in mahogany shelves. “Where are your books?”
“Oh. Well, my books are paperbacks.”
He looked across his shoulder at her. “And?”
“And my mother doesn’t think paperbacks belong with leather-bound books.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. You’re a member of her family. Much more important than depressed Russian authors and dead poets. Your mother should be thrilled to put your books in here.”
Well, she’d always thought so, or at least thought she should be given equal shelf space in her own mother’s house. To hear Sebastian say it stirred unwanted feelings in her chest. “Thank you.”
“For what? Does your mother know how hard it is to get a book published?”
But this was Sebastian. She could not allow herself to feeling anything for him but a mild friendship and a raging physical attraction. “Probably not, but it wouldn’t matter if she did. Nothing I ever do will be good enough, or exactly right, or perfect. She’s never going to change, so I’ve had to. I don’t kill myself to please her nor purposely irritate her anymore.”
“No.” He laughed quietly. “You just deflect attention off yourself and onto me.”
She smiled. “That’s true, but you really should suffer a little for eating poor Mr. Bananas.” She nodded toward the doorway. “I’ll show you upstairs.”
He followed close behind as she moved up the curved staircase. She showed him three guest rooms, her mother’s bedroom, and finally the room she’d occupied growing up. It still held her queen bed with heavy wooden pineapples on the posts, the same armoire, dressers, and five-drawer vanity. The only thing that had changed was the bedding.
“I remember this room,” Sebastian said as he moved farther inside. “But everything was pink.”
“Yes.”
He turned to her and said, “Close the door, Clare.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t want your mother to see what I’m going to do to her little girl.”
“We can’t do anything in here.”
“You almost sound like you mean that.” He walked across the room and shut the door himself. “Almost.” He walked back, ran his hands up her arms to her shoulders and the back of her neck. He kissed her, and before she realized what he was about, his fingers were at the bow at the back of her neck and he lowered her halter to her waist.
She pulled back and covered her bare breasts with her hands. “What if someone walks in?”
“They won’t.” He grasped her wrist and placed her palms on his shoulders. “Your nipples are hard and your panties are wet, so I know you want this too.” He cupped her breasts and brushed the stiff tips with his thumbs. “I’ve been thinking about doing this since I walked into the house. All through your mother’s charity event stories, I wondered if anyone would notice if I disappeared beneath the table and kissed the insides of your thighs. I wondered if you were as turned on as I was. Then I felt your panties and I knew I was going to be inside you at some point tonight.” He kissed the side of her throat, and she slid her hands beneath his sweater and the T-shirt he wore beneath.
“I thought that after last night, you weren’t supposed to want to have sex anymore,” she said, and slipped one hand to the button on his trousers. “That it would be out of your system.”
“Yeah. I underestimated you. I predict it’s going to take at least one more time.”
He grasped the back of her thighs and lifted. Clare wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing her crotch against his bulging penis as he carried her the short distance to the heavy oak vanity.
“Tell me how bad you want it.” He set her on the vanity and worked her skirt up around her waist.
“So bad I’m letting you undress me with my mother downstairs.”
He pushed her thighs apart and touched her through her panties. “Walking around this house, knowing you’re this wet, has about killed me.”
She unzipped his pants and slid her hand inside his boxer briefs. Within her palm she felt his pulse beating and squeezed. “You’re hard.”
“I’m going to make you come.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Instead of pulling her panties from her legs, he slid the thin strip of fabric to one side. Then he pushed into her, thick and enormous, and she wrapped her calves around his behind until he was buried deep inside. His flesh felt hot and she tightened her muscles around him. The kiss he gave her was soft and sweet as he began to move, withdrawing slightly and easing himself back inside. “You feel as good as I remember,” he whispered just above her lips. “So slick and tight.”
Clare’s head fell back against the mirror, and he kissed the side of her throat just below her ear. “I want you so much,” he said. “I want to kiss all the good parts like I did last night.” He ground his hips against her and groaned deep in his throat. He pulled out, then thrust hard. If there’d been anything in the drawers of the vanity, it would have made a lot of noise. Thankfully, it was empty, and the only sound in the room was that of heavy breathing.
Steadily he pumped into her, stroking the inside of Clare’s wet walls and massaging her g spot. It didn’t take long for the first wave of orgasm to crash into her and wash her body in intense white heat. It stole her breath and curled her toes inside her black boots. Just as it eased, it started all over again.
“Oh my God!” she gasped as a second orgasm grabbed hold. In the midst of her own amazing pleasure, she felt his powerful ejaculation inside. He groaned deep in his chest, his knees buckled a little, and his grasp on her thighs tightened to keep him from falling.
“Christ Almighty,” he managed through a rough, hoarse whisper.
When it was over and the last pulsation subsided, she dropped one leg from around his waist as he struggled to find breath. She’d never experienced anything like it in her life. When she could finally speak, she looked up into his green eyes and said, “That was amazing.”
“I thought so.”
She blinked several times. “I had a multiple orgasm.”
“I could tell.”
“I’ve never had one before.”
One corner of his mouth slid up. “Merry Christmas.”
A few days after Christmas, Clare met her friends for lunch at their favorite Mexican restaurant. Over a huge combo platter they discussed books and brainstormed plots. Lucy was deep into deadline, as was Clare, and Adele had just finished a book. Maddie’s books didn’t come out as often as the three genre writers, and she was taking several months off to relax and get her head right after her last true crime novel. Well, as right as was possible with Maddie, Clare thought.
They chatted and laughed as they always did. Shared bits and pieces of their lives. Dwayne was still harassing Adele, leaving random stuff on her doorstep; Lucy was thinking about starting a family; and Maddie had just purchased a summer home in Truly, a small town a hundred miles north
of Boise. The one thing that Clare did not share with her friends was her relationship with Sebastian. Primarily because there was no relationship, just sex, and she wasn’t the type of person to talk about her sex life. Not like Maddie-if she’d had one to talk about. Another reason was because it was still all so new that she didn’t know what to think about it herself.
Sebastian had left town the day after Christmas, but not before driving to her house and waking her up one last time. She’d never met a man who wanted sex as much as he did. No. Strike that. It had been a while since she’d been with a man who wanted sex as much as he did, but she’d never met a man who was as good at it as he was. A man who said, “This is what I’m going to do to you,” and then not only did it, but exceeded all expectations.
When she got home from lunch with her friends, there was a message on her answering machine from Sebastian.
“Hey there,” he began as she took off her coat, “I have a big New Year’s Eve party here in Seattle that I need to go to. I was thinking that if you didn’t have plans, you could be my date. Give me a call back and let me know.”
New Year’s Eve? In Seattle? Was he insane? She poured herself a Diet Coke and phoned him back to ask him that exact question.
“It’s an hour’s flight,” he said. “Do you have plans?”
If Sebastian were actually her boyfriend, she might play harder to get. Pretend she did have plans but was willing to break them just for him. “No.”
“I’ll pay for the ticket,” he said.
“That won’t be cheap.” She grabbed her Coke and walked upstairs to her office. “What’s your ulterior motive?”
“I get to spend time with a beautiful woman.”
Just a few days ago she’d been thrilled when he said she was beautiful. The little part of her that still resided down deep. The part that had followed him around as a child. Now, she wasn’t so sure how she felt about the compliment. Now, it seemed like something a man would say to his girlfriend, and Clare felt she could not afford to let the tiniest hint of a relationship past the wall she’d built to protect her heart. She dismissed it as meaningless. Something men always said to women. It meant nothing. “Don’t tell me there aren’t any women in Seattle you could ask.” She waited for the first jealousy pinch. The gnawing on her heart. When she felt nothing, she smiled. She liked him as a friend. A woman couldn’t be jealous of a boy friend who wasn’t a boyfriend. Especially when he lived in another state.
“A few, but they’re not as interesting as you. Not as much fun.”
“Meaning they won’t have sex with you?”
“Oh sure, they’ll have sex with me.” His laughter carried across her phone line. “But since you brought it up, bring something sexy because I think we need to make love a few more times to get it out of our system.”
Make love. What they did together was not making love. They had sex. Hot, wild, unbelievably good sex, but it was different from making love. It was purely physical. The earth did shake, and her heart didn’t feel as if it might burst. That was making love, and she knew the difference. “Ah. Like ipecac.”
“More like sex therapy. I think we could use the workout. I know I could.”
Which she had to admit sounded good. After feeling undesirable for several years, having a man want her as much as Sebastian did was addictive. And right now in her life, hot, wild, unbelievably good sex was better than love. In the future, she would once again look for a soul mate. Someone to spend her life with. She wanted a husband and a family. She wanted a “happily ever after” with a “happily ever after” man. It was in her DNA to want those things, but for now she just wanted to have fun with a “good time” guy like Sebastian. Who could never, ever be confused with “happily ever after” man.
“Okay,” she agreed. “But I have to shop for something to wear when I get there. Are you up for that?”
There was a long pause, and then, “I might need extra therapy to get over the trauma.”
She laughed and began to tick off the stores in her head. Beside the regular list of suspects like Nordstrom, Nieman’s, and Saks, she’d hit Club Monaco, BCBG, and Bebe.
Wow, a shopping and sex binge. Just a few months ago her life had sucked, but what a way to start the new year.
Seventeen
Sebastian picked up the knife and cut several turkey sandwiches in half. He placed them on a plate and grabbed a tube of Pringles. He’d never flown a woman in just so he could spend the day in bed with her. But then he didn’t think he’d ever been with a woman quite like Clare before.
Wearing only his underwear, he grabbed lunch and walked from the kitchen. He’d picked Clare up that morning from Sea-Tac, and it wasn’t until he’d watched her come down the escalator toward him, looking gorgeous in her black coat and red scarf, that he realized how much he liked being with her. They had a lot in common. She was smart and beautiful and didn’t make demands. More important, she was just easy to be with. In his experience, once a man had sex with a woman more than twice, they always brought up the R word-relationship-which was always followed closely by the C word-commitment. Women just couldn’t seem to relax. They always had to complicate things.
He walked into his bedroom and his gaze went to Clare, sitting in the center of his bed, a tangle of white sheets pulled up beneath her armpits. “There’s nothing to watch but football,” she said with disgust as she flipped through television channels with the remote. “I hate to watch football. I dated a guy once who taped all the games.”
Her hair was a mess and there was a pink sucker bite on her shoulder. “I watch football if there’s nothing better to do.” He set the plate on the edge of the bed and crawled toward her. He handed her half a sandwich and kissed the mark. He liked the way her skin smelled and the taste of her in his mouth.
“I broke up with him when I caught him watching football while we were having sex.” She took a bite, then swallowed. “He’d turned on the television but kept the sound on mute so I wouldn’t know.”
“Sneaky bastard.” Sebastian popped the top of the Pringles can and ate a few.
“Yeah. I’m a sneaky bastard magnet.” She turned off the television and tossed the remote on the bed. “Which is why I’m taking a break from men.”
He paused mid-chew. “What am I?”
“You’re just a friend with benefits. And believe me, after Lonny, I need the benefit of benefits.” She laughed and took another bite.
Which was one more reason he liked her. He handed her some chips and grabbed half a sandwich for himself. “Tell me something. If you’re a girl who likes lots of benefits, and we both know that you are, how did you end up engaged to a gay man? Wanting to please your mother only explains it to a point.”
She thought a moment as she scarfed several Pringles. “It happened little by little. At first the relationship was fairly typical. He was less sexual than other boyfriends, but I told myself it wasn’t a big deal. I loved him. And if you love someone, you have to be accepting. Then once you’re that deep in denial, you really don’t see anything. Actually, you probably don’t want to see it.” She shrugged. “And other than sex, there really wasn’t one huge sign. Just lots of little signs that I ignored.”
“Like that lacy, girly girl crap hanging over your bed. A heterosexual guy wouldn’t have put up with sleeping under that.”
She looked at him and pushed her hair behind one ear. “You did.”
He shook his head. “I have sex under it. I don’t sleep under lace.” Which reminded him of the sex they’d just had. It started by his front door and ended in a naked tangle on his bed. She’d been as hot for him as he had been for her, and for a man to know a woman wanted him as much as he wanted her was a powerful aphrodisiac. The sex would have been even better if it hadn’t been for the condom she’d asked him to wear.
“I thought you trusted me without a condom,” he said and ate a chip.
“I did trust you.” She tilted her head to one side and looked at him. “
But I assume you are seeing other women now and I have to be careful.”
“Seeing other women? Since last weekend? Thanks for the compliment, but I don’t move that fast.” He’d assumed she hadn’t seen anyone, and the thought that she might have bothered him more than he wanted to admit. “Have you been with another man?”
She recoiled. “No.”
“Then why don’t we keep it that way?” He reached for a bottle of water and unscrewed the cap.
“Are you saying you want to be sexually exclusive? Both of us?”
He took a drink of water, then handed to her. He liked the idea of Clare only having sex with him, and he didn’t want to have sex with another woman. “Sure.”
“Can you do that?”
He scowled at her. “Yeah. Can you?”
“I just meant that you live in a different state.”
“That’s not a problem. I’ll be visiting my father a lot, and believe me, I’ve gone without sex before. I didn’t like it but I survived.”
She took a drink and seemed deep in thought before she handed him back the bottle. “Okay, but Sebastian, if and when you find someone, you have to tell me.”
“Find someone? Find someone to what?”
She simply stared at him.
“Okay.” He leaned forward and kissed her bare shoulder. “If I get tired of you, I’ll tell you.”
She slid her hand up his chest and scattered goose bumps across his skin. “I noticed you didn’t mention what happens if I get tired of you first.”
He laughed and pushed her down on the bed. That wasn’t likely to happen.
After they finished lunch, they showered and left the apartment for what Sebastian had thought would be a quick trip to Pacific Place Mall. He wasn’t big on shopping and he didn’t own a lot of clothing. He had a few Hugo Boss suits and some dress shirts, but he much preferred cargo pants, where he could stash gear, and comfy cotton T-shirts from Eddie Bauer. In fact, shopping was one of his least favorite things to do, but for some reason he allowed himself to be dragged around downtown Seattle while Clare tried on racks of clothing, inspected numerous handbags, and got a crazed look in her eyes when she discovered silver shoes in Nordstrom.
I’m In No Mood For Love Page 20
