Dating A Saint

by Donna McDonald

  Then as he was pulling the garter belt down, it occurred to him for the first time in years, he was undressing a woman—and not just a woman. He was undressing Lauren. A low moan of satisfaction escaped him before Jim could bite it back. He pulled the garment free of her hips and slid it down the front of her thighs, stopping to grab the garters and using them to tug down everything else. Lauren moaned a little then, putting a hand to her stomach.

  Jim continued removing the hose, having to work them over her knees. She moaned a little again in her stupor, the sound a torture to him, but also the most exciting thing he’d heard in a very long time. Slipping his hands under Lauren’s calves, he stroked them as he finished pulling the sheer filmy material the rest of the way off her body.

  Jim was glad there was no one there to witness his reactions, no one to judge. He was even glad Lauren wasn’t awake. When the garters and hose were at last free of her body, Jim pressed the clothing he’d removed to his face, taking in her scent before hanging them on the back of a nearby chair.

  Feeling bolder now, he contemplated removing her dress, but thought he might wake her if he tried. So instead, he slid hands up inside her dress again lifting Lauren’s hips, tugging the dress back down so it wouldn’t be bunched up underneath her. In the process, he couldn’t resist cupping her backside in both his hands.

  For a woman her age, Lauren was solid and toned. She literally felt like heaven, Jim thought, willing himself not to dwell on how wonderful it would be to sink inside her.

  “Jim,” Lauren said, arching upward as his hands moved away from her rear.

  Startled she spoke, and not sure he’d heard correctly, Jim immediately backed away from her. He stood silent, waiting for Lauren to talk again, but she seemed to be sleeping instead. Coming close once more, he peered into her face and saw her eyes were still closed.

  He pulled the covers over her then, careful not to touch her legs as he pulled the layers up, until finally he tucked them loosely around her. As he leaned over her, a strong desire to crawl in beside her warm body and just hold her clawed at him. His breath was ragged with the effort of holding himself back from doing just that.

  “Jim,” Lauren whispered again.

  Again he froze, not able this time to pretend he hadn’t heard. His name had been clear, unmistakable. Drunk and asleep, Lauren was calling his name, looking for him—wanting him, Jim finally admitted. What Alexa said was a truth he’d been avoiding. Even if he’d been someone else touching her, it was his name Lauren called in the dark. The idea Lauren was that much his already lit a fire in his groin and an answering one his heart.

  His relief at being the man with her tonight was too strong to be ignored. Jim wanted to wallow in it, to let it convince him something this wonderful had to be right.

  “Sleep now,” Jim whispered softly, allowing himself to brush back her hair. “I’m not leaving this time.” He kissed her temple, pressing his cheek against hers briefly.

  Then before he could lose the rest of his shaky self-control, Jim walked back into the living room, stretched out on the narrow couch, and covered himself with his jacket. When Lauren didn’t make a sound for the next half hour, Jim finally drifted off to sleep as well.

  *** *** ***

  When Lauren opened her eyes the next morning, the light was filtering through the sheers, but that couldn’t be right. Her bedroom didn’t get morning sun. Peering around, she decided she was in her house, but didn’t know why she was in her guest room.

  Sitting up cautiously, she smelled coffee and heard a rustling in her kitchen at the same time her gaze landed her discarded garter belt and hose on the back of a chair. Oh God, she thought, instantly remembering details from the night before. Was Shaun in her kitchen drinking coffee? She put a hand to her stomach, relieved when she felt underwear still under the dress. Had she put her underwear back on after?

  She moved body parts to make sure things still worked. Why was there tension still in her muscles if she’d had sex?

  Shrugging, she had the uncomfortable thought that maybe Shaun hadn’t been as great as he looked.

  Then a new reality hit her. Oh hell, she thought. What have I done? The sobering thought of another man besides Jim inside her made her ill. Her stomach threatened to revolt.

  Oh please, God, she prayed. Let me not have had sex with the stripper. Let Shaun have been an honorable man. Let him just be drinking coffee in my kitchen and waiting to make sure I’m all right.

  It was a lot to ask for, Lauren knew, but she was not above calling in all her random acts of kindness in exchange for getting out of this situation with grace.

  She stood and weaved a little, still feeling woozy. But happily she didn’t feel anything else. If the man’s crotch had been any indication of Shaun’s assets, she ought to be feeling at least a little used this morning after being celibate for years.

  Lauren made use of the guest half-bath taking care of immediate needs. She smoothed her hair as best she could with her fingers, and then padded into the kitchen in bare feet to face the man she’d brought home last night.

  “Look, Shaun, I hope you didn’t get the wrong idea about me,” Lauren stated cheerfully, her smile dying slowly as Jim Gallagher lowered the newspaper to glare at her over it.

  “Well, I guess I do owe Alexa and Regina,” Jim said softly, sliding off the counter stool. He walked in sock feet to the coffee maker, pouring Lauren a cup and adding creamer just like he knew she liked. He had picked up knowing her coffee preference during all the charity work he’d helped her do. Jim padded over to her silently, lifting her right hand and putting the cup of steaming liquid into it.

  “Jim what—what are you doing here?” Lauren asked, her voice an embarrassed squeak.

  “I came by last night and stayed to make sure you were all right. You were really drunk when Alexa brought you home,” he said, walking back to the counter. “Better drink your coffee before the hangover sets in harder.”

  “Did you remove my—clothes?” Lauren asked weakly, listening to her heart beating as she waited for his answer.

  “Yes,” Jim said as reasonably as possible, strongly tempted throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to the bed right now, to lay a claim to her Shaun the stripper couldn’t top on his best day. “You tried to lure me into bed last night, but I nobly resisted. I thought it would be better for both of us if you were fully conscious the first time.”

  “We’re going to have a first time?” Lauren asked, her voice squeaking, wondering what had changed so greatly from yesterday’s reality to today’s. She sipped the hot coffee, welcoming the caffeine jolt. Maybe it would clear the fog from her brain.

  Jim lifted his cup and took a sip as he glared at her. “If wanting me has made you desperate enough to sleep with a stripper, I don’t see what other choice I have about it.”

  Fury, shame, and hurt churned in her stomach. So he didn’t mean what he said, didn’t really want her. Jim was just being hateful because he was jealous of another man.

  Lauren bit back the swear words that threatened, unwilling to reveal to him how much his words bothered her.

  “I think I’ll pass on your offer. That’s not exactly the kind of proposition that makes me hot to get you into bed,” Lauren told him, taking a sip of her own coffee.

  “Unfortunately, it’s the only kind of proposition you’re going to get from me when you walk into your kitchen expecting to find some man you propositioned at a club,” Jim told her.

  Lauren’s blood pressure rose and temper surged.

  “Well, since we’re being so honest about everything this morning, let me just say my hand on Shaun’s very impressive crotch last night was a hell of a lot more inspiring than some half-ass, condescending promise from you today,” Lauren said softly. “And at least Shaun the stripper was completely willing, That moves him to the top of the short list.”

  Jim slapped the paper closed on the counter, slid off his seat again, and walked over to stand in front of L
auren. He was afraid to touch her, afraid he would hurt her, afraid he’d throw her to floor and rip her clothes off.

  “You need to forget about your list. As of today, other men are nothing more than missed opportunities. No more dating, Lauren. No more kissing. For damn sure, no more groping.”

  Lauren laughed harshly. “Groping? I assure you I don’t grope. And why on earth would I agree to anything you say? You don’t even want me,” she said furiously, stepping backwards as Jim moved closer. “Stop. You’re making me spill my coffee. Jim, seriously. Don’t. . .” What she was saying ended when her butt hit something and she felt the pantry door pressing into her back.

  Jim put a hand on each side of her head and leaned in just a hair’s breath away from her lips. “Don’t say anything more to me about other men. Don’t make me any more upset than I already am. I want you so bad even my teeth hurt with it. Put your hand on my crotch lady, and I’ll fuck you on your kitchen floor.” He grabbed her chin, held it tightly so she had no choice but hold his gaze. “If you’re not on the pill Lauren, you better get on it because when I get my marital situation figured out I’m not letting anything be between us, not even a damned piece of latex,” Jim said, trying to stifle the rest of his tirade. He wanted to hurt her almost as much as he wanted to bury himself inside her.

  “But—well—I mean. . .” Why won’t the words come out? Lauren thought. He had no right to be so ugly to her.

  “Now shut the hell up and kiss me,” Jim ordered, stepping into her, his body hard against hers.

  “Jim.” Lauren said only his name as the coffee cup fell from her hands to the floor, coffee spilling down the front of her dress, and splashing his pants in the process.

  “Damn it, Lauren,” Jim said on a humorless laugh, leaning in and covering her mouth with his in the kind of kiss he had always hoped to give her. Despite the fierceness of his emotions, he traced the seam with his tongue, sucked her bottom lip feverishly, and then pressed the length of his tongue along hers inside her mouth, tasting the coffee between them.

  Lauren arms came up around Jim’s neck to hold him against her as her tongue happily mated with his.

  Jim pressed himself into her, wishing—wishing with all that was in him that he could find a way to free himself from every other female but her.

  “When?” she demanded against his mouth when they came up for air. Her knees weakened, and it was worse when Jim pressed his hips against hers. His erection was like a rod of iron against her thighs. She thought about begging him to thrust into her hard and now.

  “Not today, but soon. I just—I have some things I have to figure out about my life, but damn it, damn it—please wait for me,” Jim begged, his voice a harsh whisper against her mouth.

  “Shut up and kiss me again,” Lauren demanded, unwilling to listen to him telling her she would have to wait longer, when she already felt she’d waited forever.

  “Lauren,” Jim began, “would you care if I—oh hell, I have to have a little something of you. Let me touch you.”

  Spreading her legs with one of his knees, with no finesse at all Jim pushed a hand roughly up under her short dress. Yanking her panties down her thighs to give his hand access, Jim was elated when the material came unsnapped completely, and fell the rest of the way down her legs to the floor. He cupped her firmly between her legs, the softness of her hair there tickling the palm of his hand as he slid several fingers back and forth.

  Heaven, he thought. She was heaven.

  “I swear I’m trying to be gentle, but I have no patience left where you’re concerned. It’s been a long damn time, and what I feel for you is way past simple lust,” Jim said.

  “I don’t care about gentle. Do what you want—please do something,” Lauren demanded.

  Jim groaned as he slipped two fingers inside her welcoming heat, stroking the evidence of her longing for him. Lauren’s keening moan of pleasure had him all but exploding himself.

  Bad move, he thought, his hand stilling. If Lauren climaxed in his hand, he would definitely drag her to the floor and take her. He could already see himself doing it.

  The animal he’d kept leashed inside him for years was threatening to completely chew through the rest of his restraints to get to her. He wanted—no needed—their first time to be free of as much guilt as possible.

  He slipped his fingers out of her, smoothing her dress back down, and pressing his hips against hers in part apology and part promise.

  “I can’t do this yet,” Jim whispered regretfully. “Forgive me, Lauren.”

  He backed slowly away from her. “You can slap me if it will make you feel better. I know I deserve it for starting what I didn’t intend to finish.”

  On the very brink of a violent orgasm, Lauren hung suspended in wild disbelief as she felt Jim step away from her.

  Slap him, he’d offered. Well, she didn’t want to slap him. No, she just wanted him dead—right after he put his hands on her again and finished what he’d started.

  There were a hundred knots of need in her stomach, a tenseness in her legs and muscles that hurt worse than the most strenuous fight training, and the deep ache where his fingers had been almost made her ill. Passion-sick and hurting, she wanted to sink down at Jim’s feet and beg for the release he denied her. Her lack of pride hurt, but her body was in worse shape.

  What Lauren felt was the closest she had ever come to truly hating anyone.

  Kicking her discarded underwear away with one foot, Lauren walked stiffly through the spilled coffee and bent to pick up the cup she’d dropped earlier. It had somehow survived the fall without breaking. Lucky cup, Lauren thought. She felt ready to shatter into a million pieces.

  Taking the cup to the sink, she set it down carefully. What she wanted was to hurl it at Jim’s head, but that level of anger was unacceptable, even if she did have good reason. Turning to the side to dry her hands on a towel, Lauren watched Jim stand in her kitchen, looking sheepish and ashamed, watching her carefully. He probably expected her to cry, Lauren thought. Even after all they had shared, he hardly knew her, could not tell how angry she was.

  She re-hung the towel on the rack beside the sink while visions of breaking everything she saw ran through her mind. Needing to calm herself before she destroyed her house, Lauren decided she would go upstairs and take a shower. And when she got back, Jim would be gone.

  Or else she really would kill him.

  If she didn’t drag him to the floor and force him to finish what he—no, no. She would be calm, she thought. Calm, she ordered herself, thinking of Morrow Sensei’s lectures. This was certainly a part of her life needing to be resolved off the mat.

  Unfortunately, Lauren thought meanly, the out-of-control desire making her suffer was not going to be resolved today, unless she took care of it herself. The ache of longing in her muscles, the pain of want burning in every cell, sent instant fury along all Lauren’s nerve endings.

  She reminded herself Jim didn’t know her well enough to be afraid.

  “You need to leave—and I mean immediately,” Lauren said to Jim softly. “I’m going to clean up and try to relax. We’ll just have to talk about this later, after I’ve calmed down.”

  As she walked by him on the way out of the kitchen, Jim put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. Everything in her broke at his apologetic touch.

  The next thing Lauren knew, Jim was on the floor at her feet. She had one of his arms twisted, and her bare wet foot was pressed across his throat. Lauren had no memory, no conscious of thought of putting him there, but she was viciously glad Jim could do nothing more than gaze up at her in total shock.

  Good, she decided, staring down at him with a satisfaction that stunned her. Jim needed to learn it was not a good idea to sexually torture a woman with several black belts.

  “You don’t want to touch me right now,” Lauren informed him. “I’m no longer in a receptive mood.”

  She dropped his arm when regret flickered in his gaze, but was still glad he�
��d been caught off-guard—the controlling bastard. Well, she would not be controlled, not by her hormones or by Jim Gallagher’s decisions about what was okay or not okay.

  “If you tease me sexually again, I’ll put your testicles in your throat where my foot is. Next time you lay a hand on me, you better be planning to finish what you start. Are we clear?” Lauren asked, her voice sweetly firm, but strained.

  Jim nodded as much as he could with her foot still holding him down.

  “Good. You need to be gone when I get back.” Lauren lifted her foot and walked out of the kitchen. “I don’t trust myself not to hurt you right now.”

  Still in his prone position, Jim listened while Lauren’s feet pounded on the stairs as she went up. Then he heard the shower running. Rising up gingerly to a sitting position, he inspected the damage. The arm she twisted was a little sore, he thought, moving it around. Then he felt a knot coming up on the back of his head where it had cracked hard against the kitchen tiles as he landed.

  To say he was shocked to find himself on Lauren’s kitchen floor was an understatement, but he didn’t have adequate words to describe what had happened. She’d somehow physically put him there as if it had been nothing extraordinary. Reaching a hand up, he felt a wetness at his throat that Jim assumed was whatever coffee hadn’t been mopped up with his shirt.

  Damn, Jim thought. How had he messed things up so royally again?

  Standing, he tested his legs and was actually relieved to find them mostly functional.

  Ironically, his hard-as-iron erection had yet to disappear. Under different circumstances, Jim knew he would have laughed about his sustained arousal through what had just happened. It was Lauren’s effect on him, hardening him against his will, but he was too humbled at the moment to think beyond survival and protecting himself from more of her wrath.