He eased his way closer to her, stalking her. Watching her eyes follow him and shivers run through her body as she thought about what he had planned. “I’m going to make good on my word, though. I don’t think that makes me bossy, I think that makes me a man who keeps his promises.”
“I didn’t say that I didn’t like bossy.” She was breathless. He liked that.
His fingers skimmed over her skin, enjoying the goose bumps they left in their wake. “Now where was I?”
“Here,” she said, moving his hand to between her legs. “I believe you were making promises that you intend to keep.”
“Right.” He grasped the hem of her skirt and lifted with enough force that she went up on her toes.
“Well, aren’t these nice.” Under her hose, she was wearing bright pink lace panties. “I’m going to put my tongue here.”
He moved his hand down, touching between her legs. She was damp, and the smell of her arousal filled the room. He bent his knees and pressed his mouth against the silkiness. Her breath held and her body stiffened.
“Now, shall I pull you out of these things?”
“Yes,” she breathed. In one move, she pulled down the waistband of her tights and hopped up on the edge of her desk. He made quick work of the rest of her hose.
“I should take these off, too,” she said, shimmying and pulling at her panties.
“No. Leave them on for a bit. Let me play with them.”
His fingers danced over the wet fabric, teasing and playing. Occasionally, he would press a little harder and his breath would catch along with hers. Finally, after his fingers were damp from her moisture, he slipped his finger under the elastic of her panties. She pushed herself up just enough that he slid the lace out from under her butt and the panties dangled off one of her ankles.
He leaned back on his heels and admired his handiwork. “You’re beautiful.”
She laughed. Full-throated and guttural, the type of open, carefree laugh he’d been wanting to hear out of her mouth almost as badly as he’d not let himself believe he wanted this. “You’re just saying that because I’m naked.”
“Come on now. You’re not naked. You still have a bra on. And a skirt. And, hell, technically, you’re still wearing your underwear.”
She kicked a couple times and the bright pink lace that had been swaying from her foot came flying off and hit him in the chest. “Close enough to naked,” she said, stroking at his chest with her toe.
“You don’t hear me arguing, do you.”
“I’m growing impatient, Jason.” She was bossy and demanding and smart—a woman who knew what she wanted.
He held his hand just above her pussy. “Do you believe me when I say you’re beautiful?”
“What happens if I say no?”
“Well, probably the same thing as if you say yes, but I’ll be a little bit sadder.” Her voice was teasing, but he was completely serious.
She moved her head enough to look at him. “Well, I don’t want you to be sad. And I like that you think I’m beautiful. So yes, I believe you.”
A completely Marsie answer. She couldn’t give a yes or no without a reason. “Good.” Then he leaned forward again and began to lick.
Her neatly trimmed hair prickled at his chin as his tongue explored her folds. He traveled around lightly at first, getting to know her smells, her movements and her noises. One hand grasped at his shoulder, and he must have hit a good spot because he could feel her nails digging into his skin. She must be using her other hand to brace herself.
“Like it?” he asked, blowing lightly on the inside of her thighs.
She put her hands on his head and pulled his mouth back to her pussy. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said with a chuckle that made her shiver.
With her hand clinging to his head, he licked until her breath slowed, then got faster and faster until it caught and she came with an exaltation to God. He must have done well, because it felt like her bones melted against him.
He kissed the inside of one thigh. Then the other. Then he took the hand resting on the top of his head in his hand, as he stood, and pulled her against him. He kissed her hard. “Congratulations on your grant. Any other time you want to celebrate, you let me know.”
“I’ll be able to say something clever. Very soon.” She was limp against him. He had done a very good job.
She roused herself enough to unbutton his pants and take his cock in her hand. The touch of her skin on his was enough. After a couple strokes, he came in a grunt. In her hand. Like a teenager.
“Next time, I’ll last longer, I promise.”
“I don’t think I will,” she said with a giggle. “It’s probably for the best. Unless you have a condom?”
“No, but I will next time. I’ve got lots of plans for next time.”
“You’ve said next time a couple of times.”
He smoothed his hand against her shoulder. “That’s because I’m not done with you. And I hope you’re not done with me.”
She smoothed down her skirt, then touched him again.
Spark.
“I’d only thought as far as ‘celebration’,” she said. Her voice was small, and only when she turned to look for her panties did it occur to him that something was wrong.
* * *
NEXT TIME.
His words clanged in her head, hard, loud and discordant. She wanted next time and the wanting scared the shit out of her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JASON’S SEX-DEPLETED MIND was slow to respond. In fact, it took him an embarrassingly long to time to realize that, for the first time since he’d known Marsie, there was no sheen of confidence in her eyes. To his surprise and horror, she stood, holding her panties in her hand and looking...scared.
He came to attention like he had been struck with a lightning bolt, each formerly relaxed cell in his body alert with danger. “God, Marsie, what’s wrong?”
Even though life was slowly entering her eyes again, she still looked like shit warmed over. Not like a woman who’d just had the best orgasm of her life. He was no longer horrified; he was terrified.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.
“No.” She gave her head a quick shake. “No. You were great. Really. You, uh, know your way around.”
“Then why do you look like you’d rather be anywhere else than here, with me?” It was the kindest way he could think to phrase it.
“I should go home,” she said, as if she hadn’t heard him.
“Marsie, stay and talk to me,” he pleaded. Only when he took a step forward and his pants slipped off his ass did he realize that they were still undone.
“Um... I’m not ready to do that.”
His head snapped up, and he fumbled with the button on his jeans. “Marsie. You’re not a coward. You’re the strongest woman I know. Strongest person. Something is wrong and we need to talk about it. We’re friends and we just made each other come. Even if you leave, we can’t get coffee on Monday and pretend it never happened.”
She nodded. “I know. Just give me tonight.”
He’d give her anything other than silence. “So we’ll talk tomorrow.”
Relief was evident as her entire body seemed to relax. “Yes. Tomorrow. Tomorrow is enough time.”
He pulled his shirt down and swiped at the floor for where he’d dropped his jacket. “I’ll come to your house. Tomorrow. Early. I’ll bring breakfast.”
Her cheeks twitched and he could tell that she wanted to argue with him, but didn’t feel like she could. Whatever was bothering her was clearly bad, so he said, “We could do later. Marsie, I want to give you what you need, but I can’t let this go. That’s not fair to me.”
“Yeah. I know. Breakfast is fine. I’ll make coffee. It’ll be fine.”
Confused and angry with her for not trusting him enough to talk with him right then and there, but wanting her to have the space she needed, Jason left.
* * *
AS SOON AS Jason walked out of her office, Marsie collapsed into her chair. She could smell the near-sex they’d had in her office. If she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she could smell Jason on her, too. Probably his hair gel, which made her smile.
Everything about sex with Jason had made her smile. And scream. No pretending that there hadn’t been screaming and that most of it hadn’t been coming from her. Between his hands and his mouth, he’d hit all the right places. Amazing, considering that neither one of them had gotten fully undressed. And there’d been no need for a condom.
But then she’d peeled herself off him and her body had tingled and tickled and, even without penetration, she felt like she’d been fucked raw and vulnerable.
It had been the vulnerable part that scared her. The parts of her that screamed that she wasn’t good enough. The parts that could never be good enough, no matter how much she worked, because she might not care about the right thing, in the right way.
Jason could hurt her. She pulled her heels onto the end of her seat and hugged her legs, resting her head on her knees. Not just could hurt her. Probably would hurt her. Despite his recent comments about how awesome she was and how much he enjoyed spending time with her, how great it was that she’d gotten along with his friends, et cetera, he was looking for spark. He wanted to fall in love at first sight, and they hadn’t.
Were they even in love?
Sex wasn’t love. He’d never said he loved her. He’d never promised to love her. It’s not like she’d thought he was celibate as he waited for the one to walk into his life. He was a person with needs and a strong sense of honor. He probably had sex with women who knew there wouldn’t be anything more than a physical connection. Who knew he wasn’t looking for more and he wouldn’t love them.
Like her.
Hell, he’d pretty much said that he couldn’t love her. She didn’t fit into his rules for what love was.
He doesn’t fit into what your rules for love are, either.
The fluorescent light in her office buzzed. The hallway outside was dark. Jason had closed her blinds, so the rest of the world might as well not exist. There was nothing in her office to distract her from her thoughts, if she even wanted to be distracted. Because those pesky thoughts were right. He’d never promised to love her, had defined love as something other than what they shared, and she was no different.
She was stuck in her chair, her underwear getting sticky and uncomfortable, knowing that she’d gotten herself in this position. She’d helped define the rules of their relationship, as well as being strident about the rules for who she would fall in love with.
And then she’d gone and let herself fall in love with a kind, generous, interesting and funny man who made her blood hot and didn’t meet any of the expectations she’d set out for herself and the kind of man she would fall for.
Except that he’d exceeded expectations of kindness, humor and generally being interesting. Jason had all of the things that mattered and, ultimately, none of the things that didn’t.
She was a grown woman. She knew that she shouldn’t have shoved him out the door. They were friends. They should have talked.
And she knew that relationships took communication and honesty. All relationships, whether friends or lovers or something in between, had rules. She should have turned to him and said, “So what now? Because I just realized that I love you and that terrifies me.”
Instead, she’d chickened out.
She realized the tight grip her hands had on each other and let her feet fall to the floor. Then she stood, buttoned her shirt, shoved her hose in her purse and walked to her office door. She was going to go home, take a long shower, and repair the cracks in her shell before he came over with breakfast and the news that the sex was good, but he had a date later that week with a woman who seemed to have spark potential.
Okay. Jason wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t a jerk and he wasn’t cruel. But he’d been as upfront about what he wanted as she’d been about what she wanted. She’d keep that reality at the front of her mind all night. It would be fine. She would be fine.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
FOR THE SECOND time in a couple weeks, Jason stood before Marsie’s front door wondering what would happen next. Only this time, not only was the sun just cresting over the trees, but he wasn’t excited; he was nervous.
Last night, all he’d wanted to do was nuzzle against her and enjoy the afterglow. But she’d hopped away from him and kicked him out of her office. He was left wondering what the hell had happened. His feet had carried his body away, but his heart had been left back in the office and currently resided in Marsie’s house, with Marsie.
If only he knew how well she was taking care of the damn thing. He leaned on her doorbell, needing this morning to be over with and yet not wanting it to start. Because after they finished their breakfast, they would either be exploring dating or mourning their friendship. There was no going back.
The door opened and his heart stopped. His body buzzed with anticipation. There was the spark he’d thought was elusive and worried didn’t exist at all. It was real; he’d just been looking for it in the wrong place and with the wrong women. And he’d forgotten that the best fires burned slow and hot.
“You look great,” he said as he took a hopeful step across the threshold, his hand gripping the bag so hard the paper crinkled.
She glanced down, then immediately backed up and said, “This?” Disbelief was clear in her voice. “This is just leggings and a shirt.”
“But it’s leggings and a shirt on you, and you look amazing in them.” He got that there wasn’t supposed to be anything special about the outfit. She was wearing gray leggings and a white cotton shirt, with an open collar and strings like it should have a hood, but didn’t. She wasn’t wearing socks, and her pedicure wasn’t perfect.
What made the outfit special, at least to him, was that she didn’t let people see her when she looked less than perfect. Every detail of Marsie’s outfits was always carefully considered. He wasn’t so much of an idiot-guy that he didn’t notice how much care she took. The fact that he was seeing what she looked like when she was casual—when she was relaxed—made him feel like he was seeing a side of her that most people never got to see.
Like they were one step closer to an intimacy beyond sex. And that was amazing.
Clearly, she didn’t quite believe him, though, because she said, “Huh,” and turned to walk into her house, leaving him to shut the door and follow.
Which wasn’t so bad. The view of her ass was spectacular enough for him to forget his worries, at least until they got to the small, round table in her kitchen and he was confronted by the delicate mugs for coffee, flowered plates to set their breakfasts on and a steaming coffee urn.
Formal didn’t bode well.
He set the white paper bag of Rise biscuits and doughnuts on the table in the middle of the expensive-looking, fancy china. God, the clash between the nice plates and the cheap bag made his trepidation worse. If she was going to come up with reasons why they couldn’t be together, all she had to do was take a picture of the table. “I’m the flowered dishes,” she could say. “And you’re the paper bag.”
He’d know exactly what she meant. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he was good enough for her, but rather that she had this idea that people should partner with people like themselves.
And he wasn’t like her.
Then he looked up at her and she looked nervous, too. “Is it too much?” she asked, opening her hand slightly, gesturing to the set table. “I love fancy plates and stuff, but I don’t usually have people over, so I never get to use it.”
/> It was the word stuff that relaxed him. Marsie was precise. She would never use a generic word like stuff to refer to the nicely folded napkins and elegant flatware unless, like him, she was afraid of having her heart broken.
“It’s not too much,” he said, able to smile because he was no longer terrified. “I got us breakfast from Rise, so we’ve got fancy biscuits and doughnuts to go on your fancy plates. It’ll be great.”
“Okay,” she said, her nod short and still uncertain.
They both sat, and Jason waited while Marsie busied herself setting the food on a couple plates in the center of the table and pouring them both coffee. The creamer held real cream, and a small silver spoon rested in the sugar bowl. They each took half a biscuit sandwich and half a doughnut for their breakfast.
“Marsie?” Jason asked, and she looked up from her plate. “Are you okay? I mean, after last night?” He couldn’t eat a bite until he knew. No matter what happened, he didn’t want last night to have hurt her.
“I don’t know,” she said with a weak smile. “I guess that depends on how this conversation goes.”
“But I didn’t hurt you? Last night, you looked so frightened. You said you wanted space and I wanted to be able to give it to you, but you being scared scared me.”
“Well, that’s what we’re here to talk about today, right?” She put the uneaten doughnut back on the plate and dabbed at her hands with the napkin. The strength and directness he was used to hearing from her was back in her voice.
“Right. Where do we go from here?”
“Are you asking me, or are you reiterating the question we’re both trying to answer?”
“Both.” He would love it to be the former, and to have her answer first. But he wasn’t a coward. “I’ll say it first, though.”
He took a deep breath. “Last night was great. Better than great. It was amazing. I want more of it. But not just sex. I want more of you than just coffee in your office a couple times a week and maybe a lunch. I want a relationship. I want to see what we can be if we are more to each other.”
Dating by Numbers Page 18
