They began to fuck hard and fast and it felt so good, Erin had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. Then her body dissolved in spasms. Her juices flowed. She moaned and Derek shouted as he shot his cum. She’d discovered last night he was marvellous in bed, and he’d just proved it again.
*
Erin hummed a tune as she sat at her desk, staring unseeingly at a work list and envisioning Derek’s face in her mind’s eye. He was beautiful. With the dark wave of hair falling on his forehead and the twinkle in his eye softening the honed planes of his face, he looked like a mischievous boy. Ah, but there was nothing boyish about him. He was all man.
She loved the feel of his moustache grazing her breasts when he laved her nipples, and the hair on his chest rubbing against her skin.
Margo seated herself in the client’s chair across from Erin. “What are you so happy about?” she asked. “As if I didn’t know.” Laughing, she rolled her eyes. “You came in this morning looking like the canary that swallowed a cat, and since you’ve done that every day for a week now, I assume you’re on a steady diet of sex with Lover Man.”
She leaned forward to see what Erin had written. “Have you finished my shopping list yet?”
Erin cast a startled gaze at the paper in front of her, and seeing her work was less than half done, shrugged. She didn’t blush. She smiled. She was a different woman these days. Derek came over each night after work, and he’d had last evening off so they’d gone uptown and eaten at a little Italian restaurant he knew and then went to the cinema where they held hands like a couple of teenagers. He made her happy.
“I’ll get right on this, Margo.” She’d jotted the notes Lea had called in and was putting them in legible order.
“So, how is that hot-blooded Italian?” Margo asked, leaning forward to plant her elbows on the desk.
“Wonderful. Terrific. Stupendous.”
“You’ve fallen hard, haven’t you? You were never like this with Mitch. Lea must have been right. He wasn’t your type.”
“I see that now. Mitch did call last night while I was out. He left a message, saying he missed me and to phone him if I’d like to get together. Of course, I didn’t.”
“I’m surprised you aren’t yawning after staying up late waiting for Derek each night.”
“It’s all the exercise I’m getting in bed that enervates me.” She chuckled, the throaty sound that her partners insisted she was famous for, reminding her she’d been laughing a lot lately. Derek was so much fun, they even chuckled in bed. “Here you go.” She pushed the list across the table to Margo.
“Has the L-word been mentioned yet?”
Love. “No. He hasn’t said anything of a serious nature.” Was that why they laughed so much? Was he purposely keeping things light? A shiver crept along Erin’s spine. She shook her head. It was just too early in the game for talk of love. “I think he may be one of those men who’re commitment phobic. Otherwise, he would have been married before now. So I’ll tread lightly and give him the space he needs.”
“What about Joey? Does Derek like kids? Will inheriting a stepson, if you two should decide to marry, bother him?”
“I’d guess he wouldn’t mind. Assuming he likes kids, most men like fathering boys so they can teach them masculine things, and Joe is old enough to appreciate that. Joseph is into cars but not in the sense most males are. He doesn’t rebuild engines or putter in the garage. He just buys and drives them. And he doesn’t like sports, so Joey could use another man in his life. One who isn’t so intent on culture and social standing.”
Margo shrugged. “Speaking of the latter, does it bother you that Derek’s a bartender? I’ll bet it would irk Joseph if you gave his son a man in that social stratum for a stepfather.”
“Tough. I don’t have any problem with it and that’s what matters. Why should I worry whether my ex thinks working as a bartender is low class?” She took off the half glasses she wore when working and sat back in her chair. “Actually, it might be good for Joe to find out that fine men who are intelligent and mannerly do exist outside his dad’s social circle. You don’t have to go to a private school or own a boatload of cars or cruise the Mediterranean to be a really great person, and Joey needs to know that. I don’t want him to grow up a snob.”
“Point well-taken, but you may be butting your head against the wall trying to prove that. Look at the house you live in. Look at your lifestyle. I’m sure you don’t want to give any of that up, and I’d guess tending bar isn’t the most lucrative job in the world. You like your life the way it is, don’t you?”
Anger simmered inside Erin, and she picked up a brass letter opener and tapped it against her desktop. “I don’t know anything about Derek’s income, nor am I worried about it. I have money and the house is free and clear, so maintaining status quo isn’t a worry. His money would just be icing on the cake.
“I like it that Derek does something totally different from anyone I know. It’s refreshing. I’ve had my fill of businessmen in their suits and ties. My father and former husband and their associates are those kinds of men, and so are the guys that hire Wives-R-Us to work for them. I want variety in my life. “After one last hard tap of the brass opener in her hand, she plunked it down.
Margo stood, backed away and folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
“I might have gotten on my soapbox, but I meant every word I said.”
“So, suddenly you’re a liberal.”
“This time you’d better protect yourself for real,” Erin said, coming to her feet.
“Sorry. I went too far but I was desperate to make a point. You’ve always been liberal and open-minded.” Margo picked up the list Erin had made and tucked it in the outside pocket of her Kelly green shoulder bag. “The problem you may run up against is that sometimes men are uncomfortable with the idea of marrying a woman who’s financially better off than they are.”
Like Mitch? Or wasn’t that his problem? “Derek acts comfortable at my place, and now that I think about it, he has the bearings of an individual who’s used to living large. However, at the Club, he seems at home in his role of bartender.”
Maybe he comes from old money, Erin mused, and when he decided to take a job at a nightclub in a converted warehouse, his family disowned him. As the black sheep, he might have taken an apartment in some scuzzy neighbourhood where he revelled in the freedom gained by his independent streak. Even when he lay in bed at night watching neon lights flashing in the windows of tattoo parlours and liquor stores, he would be pleased.
She’d like to visit him there and lie in his bed and see what he saw. She sighed.
“Erin?” Margo said. “I can tell by the expression on your face, you’re doing it again. Fantasising.”
“Guilty as charged,” she admitted before going on with what she’d started to say. “I have avoided asking Derek about his education or choice of vocation, afraid he’d think I was belittling him. I have also thought about whether he’d have a problem moving into my house with me continuing to pay the upkeep.” Erin dusted her hands together. “However, he’s a man who’s at home in his own skin, so I think he’d be all right with the idea.”
“You think he’s a chameleon?” Margo chuckled.
“It’s time you got going, Miss Troublemaker,” Erin said, tapping her watch.
“What about the wedding and the fiancé you have to produce?”
Now Margo was hitting below the belt, touching on a problem Erin was trying not to think about. She couldn’t push Derek into marriage. She knew that. She could only hope that he was falling in love with her…fast.
“All I can say is that Derek and I are living in the moment and loving every minute of it. Now, leave me alone.”
“So you can fantasise about Lover Boy some more? Fine, but be careful. That can get you in trouble.” Margo shut the front door of Wives-R-Us behind her.
Smiling, Erin leaned back in her chair and returned
to her thoughts of Derek. If love could get you in ‘trouble’, she was up to her ass in it already.
And Margo was right. Erin still needed a date for Angel’s wedding.
Chapter Eight
Derek’s heart wrenched every time he thought about marrying Angel and never seeing Erin again. He gazed out the window of his second floor apartment, down at the leafy trees and brick street where cars passed slowly in the morning light. He’d gotten used to this rental with its worn leather furniture and wall-to-wall Berber carpet and even learned to like it here. The buildings in the neighbourhood, in this old part of town, looked tired, but the sidewalks were swept clean and pots of flowers graced a few stoops.
His real home—the house he owned and where he ordinarily lived—was spacious, and comparing the view from his hilltop location to the one here would be like comparing two eras. At home, he looked out on houses of a similar nature with spreading lawns and privacy fences secreting swimming pools.
Sunlight poured in through a wall of windows in his great room onto colourful upholstered furniture and shining hardwood floors with area rugs. Neutral walls were splashed with framed modern art that he’d selected.
He liked lots of natural light and bright hues, but this somewhat bland setting suited the lull in his life. He crossed the room to sit in the recliner that faced a TV he almost never watched and which was turned off now. Erin was on his mind and he didn’t need distraction. He needed focus.
They’d been enjoying fabulous sex and, if he recalled correctly, sex with Angel had never been more than fairly good. Truth was he didn’t remember much about their occasional trysts in college, so they must have been unimpressive. Over the years since then he’d matured, and what he did remember about their dates seemed childish now. Walks across campus. Frat parties where he drank too much and she drove him home. Ballgames and pizza dates. Fun at the time but hardly the basis for marriage.
He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t considered bowing out of the arrangement, but he couldn’t wrap his head around treating Angel so shabbily. He’d postponed telling his parents about the intended marriage as long as he could, but he’d finally broken the news. They’d be hurt if they weren’t invited to his wedding, so he’d told his mom over the phone…the night before I first laid eyes on Erin.
Now that they knew and were planning to attend, they’d be horrified if he broke his word to his fiancée. It wouldn’t be honourable. Of course, they’d know the baby wasn’t his, but they’d accept it as if it was and consider Derek a good man for taking on this woman and her unborn child. Or, considering the way his mother tried to whitewash everything in her mind, she might have concluded the doctors were wrong about Derek’s sterility and convinced his father of that. Or maybe she’d just declare it a miracle.
They’d been happy to learn Derek was finally marrying, and they’d love having another grandchild. Once again they could root for a boy to carry on the family name.
Derek had thought about what Larrison said—that he would be sacrificing his life to save Angel’s—over and over, and it was true. He thought about Erin day and night and was afraid he’d fallen in love with her. He didn’t love Angel, but he didn’t hate her and he’d proposed…so what could he do?
He buried his face in his hands. The one conclusion he’d come to was that he couldn’t give the baby his name and not have a relationship with it. It wouldn’t be fair to the child, and if he married Angel, and his mother and dad thought the baby was his, or even if they knew it wasn’t, they’d want to be part of the kid’s life.
Whatever possessed him to offer to marry her? And God knew he wondered now why he had. He’d sunk the nails in his own coffin. Sure, she was pale and tearful, and he’d thought she was on the edge of hysterics, but he must have been carried away with his own sense of importance, playing the white knight, to offer to save a lady in distress. How conceited was that?
There was just over a week left before the ceremony, and he had to put his mind to the task. He owned a home that was tastefully furnished and would soon be their marital palace. Or prison. He needed to move back there, quit his job at Club Rendezvous and book a flight to somewhere for a honeymoon. He hadn’t rented a tux yet and thought he was supposed to.
Derek ran his hand through his hair and picked up his cell phone. Pausing to force a smile, he dialled Angel’s number. “Hello, s-sweetheart. How’s everything going?”
“Derek! It’s good to hear from you.”
She sounded relieved and he felt a wave of shame. She could have easily thought he’d changed his mind about the wedding. He had apologised after that night at the bar, but he hadn’t seen her since. He hadn’t encouraged her to come back to Rendezvous again and he hadn’t asked her out on his nights off, choosing to see Erin instead. There was plenty of time to spend with Angel after they were married, he’d told his conscience. A lifetime.
“You haven’t even called,” she whined.
Derek swept a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to pick up a phone?” She sounded snippy now. “When are you coming to town? The minister wants to meet with us. Remember?”
He remembered now, but he’d put it out of his mind. He felt as if he was sinking in quicksand with no one to pull him out. “Things are going to get better, I promise. I have the weekend off and I talked to my cousin a little while ago. He’s seeing his doctor today and if he’s dismissed to go back to work, I’ll be finished at Rendezvous.”
Angel went on complaining as if his words meant nothing. “Mama keeps asking about you. I believe she thinks you’re a figment of my imagination. Sometimes, I think so too.”
She sounded tearful now and Derek hoped she wasn’t going to start crying. Her whining and sniping were bad enough. “Look. The wedding is a week from Saturday.” And this is Friday. Time is going too fast. “What if I come over this Saturday…tomorrow…and we meet with your pastor then? Afterwards, I’ll take you and your mother and father to dinner so both of them can see I really exist.”
“Why don’t you spend the weekend? We need time together to talk about the wedding. Or spend the whole week. You could stay at the house.”
“No. I couldn’t do that.” He spoke quickly. Angel had always been needy, but pregnancy was making her worse or he was growing less capable of dealing with it. She was also mercurial, changing moods like a chameleon changed colours. “It might be bad luck.”
“Don’t be silly. You wouldn’t have to see me in my gown before the ceremony. That’s what’s supposed to be bad luck.”
“Angel, no. ” His pulse beat so hard, it echoed in his ears. His nerves were bad enough without her putting the screws to him. Seeing her in that wedding dress on any day was bad luck, as far as he was concerned. “I can’t spend the week. There are things I need to take care of, now and later, but I’ll call you when I’m headed that way.”
Breaking their phone connection, Derek rose and walked to the window again. He had to level with Erin even though she’d hate him for what he’d done, and then he’d embark on the journey that would change his life.
*
Derek approached Erin’s house on dragging feet, his heart heavy, but excitement surged through him at the sight of her, the way it always did. Clad in a silky yellow wrap-around robe that was almost transparent, her dark hair loose and her feet bare, she looked like a beautiful nymph.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered as he took her into his arms and held her tightly. “Kiss me,” he said, his eyes moist. He couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing, or having, her again. He should confess everything now, but he couldn’t. He had to make love to her once more. Make love. Not just have wild sex, but make love.
She raised her head from where she’d laid it against his chest, and he took her lips hungrily. He tasted and tested every part of her mouth, and she answered with her own delving. His breath came faster.
“Erin,” he whispered, fo
lding her close, her head against his chest once more, his hand buried in her hair, holding her there. She smelled so sweet, so feminine, and her curves pressing into his body fit perfectly.
I love you.
The urge to say those words aloud was so strong, it was almost as if he’d spoken them, but he hadn’t. He couldn’t. Not tonight. Not ever. “You’re beautiful,” he said instead, and taking Erin by the hand, he walked her up the stairway to bed.
Once in her bedroom, she smiled, pivoted, dropped her robe and stood there naked except for yellow lace bikinis. Her breasts were swollen tightly, her nipples peaked. With her eyes half closed, she could have been a seductress in a movie.
“You take my breath away,” he said.
She’d thrown back the bedspread before he arrived and, sitting up against the bed pillows, she drew her knees to her chest and raked her eyes over him. “Derek, is something wrong? You’re…acting different.”
“No. Of course not.” Except he wasn’t sure he could fuck her the way he knew she loved, not feeling as torn as he did at the moment. Yet he wanted to, more than ever before. Knowing this would have to be their last time, he was afraid he couldn’t perform, afraid he’d disappoint her. He climbed in beside her and she slid down in the bed. Lying on her side, propped on her elbow, she played with the hair on his chest. “I was just savouring the moment.”
She chuckled and slid her hand lower to gently tug his pubic hair. “It must be the quiet you’re savouring, then. We haven’t even started the good stuff yet.”
He laughed and grabbed her. Rubbing his moustache against her neck, he made her shiver. He knew she loved the soft bristles everywhere on her skin, but her throat was ticklish, and he liked to tease her this way.
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