The Virgin's Revenge

by Dee Tenorio

  “Uh-oh, what put that look on your face?”

  Amanda jolted out of her thoughts, finding herself pinioned by a very curious, sloe-eyed stare from Cass. “What look?”

  “The one that went from delirious to miserable in zero-point-three seconds. And don’t try to tell me it had anything to do with pizza either. I know man trouble when I see it.”

  Cass probably did. The whole town was well aware of Cass’s unhappy first relationship with Luke Hanson. The guy had left her at the altar with a note claiming he was gay. And that was after years of an on-again, off-again relationship in the first place. In the end, Cass had married Burke, her lifelong best friend, instead. If the rumors were true, that hadn’t been the easiest road to the altar either, though everyone in town knew Burke was possibly the most devoted husband on the planet. Cranky, but devoted.

  “Not trouble, exactly,” she admitted. She didn’t know Cass nearly well enough to divulge the whole convoluted mess, but the other woman had a definite understanding of men making her crazy. “Just…frustration, I guess.”

  “Cole, huh?” Cass’s eyes glittered with mirth. “I wouldn’t have taken him as a guy big on living with…frustration.”

  Amanda leaned on her other hand and smiled. No one would, if they’d only known the slicker, confident, post-high school Cole, who had grown into a masculinity that was rivaled only by his keen intelligence. Women enjoyed talking to him, and since they had started coming his way in college, he enjoyed letting them. She’d hated every single one she had the misfortune to see him with. None of them had looked…frustrated. “Neither had I.”

  He practically dragged himself out her door every time he left her. Which was about the only satisfaction she’d had in that quarter. She’d thought after all these weeks, after the nights of long, slow kisses and longer conversations, she would have worn him down. Just last night, she’d thought she finally had him when they fell asleep together on the couch. She’d woken up warm and relaxed, their legs tangled and Cole too close to resist.

  She’d kissed him gently, not wanting to wake him too fast. When he’d responded sleepily, she’d been pleased. When his hands had slid over her breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipples, she’d been breathless, excited. And when he moved over her, fitting his hips to hers, his kisses turning from dreamy sweet to fiery inferno in a heartbeat, she went downright ecstatic.

  Until she’d undone his zipper, her hand finding the thick length of him beneath his briefs.

  He’d groaned into her mouth—a sound she was guaranteed not to forget in this life or possibly the next five—his rigid sex hot and pulsing in her hold, and then, all of a sudden, he’d sprung away from her. He choked on some kind of explanation. If you could call the torrent of words—most of which she had yet to identify—an explanation. There were a lot of I’s and you’s involved. A couple of we’s. Then he was gone, promising to bring dinner after he finished his work.

  Of course, that could be tonight…or next year. Cole’s work could suck him in for weeks at a time if he let it. She just had a feeling that work had very little to do with why he’d run for his life in the middle of the night.

  “I didn’t realize you knew Cole very well,” she said, just to get away from her own confused thoughts.

  “Well, he’s a year younger than me, so we didn’t cross paths as much in school,” Cass admitted. “He became more of a friend from seeing him at Burke’s shop all the time.”

  Oh, yeah. The only obsession he had other than computers—his bike.

  “Cross paths?” That was the polite way of putting it. “You mean you were busy with the jocks and didn’t have time for quadratic equations? I’m shocked!”

  Cass laughed. “In my defense, I actually was the jock.”

  “It’s okay, I understand the AV Club was really selective back then. If you had clear skin, boobs or wore deodorant, you probably wouldn’t make it in.”

  “Damn, I knew all that powder-freshness was holding me back.” They were practically in tears for a few minutes. “Oh my God, does he know you say these things about him?”

  “A man as smart as Cole doesn’t go around speaking Klingon and Elvish without expecting to be mocked mercilessly. I swear, it’s like he dares people to do it.”

  Cass gasped suddenly, as if she just realized something. “Is that why he named his bike Mellon? Is that Klingon too?”

  Amanda rolled her eyes. “No, it means ‘friend’ in Elvish. He thought he was so cool when the Lord of The Rings movies came out and people recognized the design job on the bike tank.” Stony gray with the illuminated script and swirls so particular to his favorite books.

  “Burke and I just thought he’d misspelled the fruit and didn’t have the heart to tell him.”

  Amanda dropped her head in her hand. “I told him that’s what people would think.”

  “So you understand all his weird stuff?”

  “Oh, no. No, no, no. Not the math.” The equations he could do in his head made her eyes cross. “Calculus and I were never friends, but I love reading, so the books were easy for me. The guys were always watching sci-fi shows and reruns. It rubs off whether you like it or not.” But she had loved it. Loved knowing the inside jokes. Loved being part of that goofy camaraderie. Especially since the elder twins couldn’t grasp a second language, definitely not a fake one, to save their lives. That had been her one thing with Cole that no one else had ever been a part of.

  She cleared her throat and put on her best Shakespearian pose. “Heghlu’meH QaQ jajvam!”

  Cass’s eyes went wide. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Today is a good day to die.” Amanda bowed theatrically, which set Cass back to laughing. “It’s a Klingon saying, especially as they go into battle.”

  “Oh my God, you two are so perfect for each other!”

  “What?” Amanda blinked, her laughter fading bit by bit. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, come on,” Cass pushed her at her hand. “It’s adorable. Like…nerds in love!”

  Love? Luckily, Cass was too busy laughing to realize anything was wrong. That Amanda had put on the smile she always wore when thoughts were too painful. It hurt, to be so close to what she’d spent so long dreaming of and knowing she wasn’t going to be able to keep it.

  You could, her heart whispered. You don’t have to walk away from him…

  She could also just confront him. Tell him what she knew about his agreement with Locke, but she just couldn’t seem to do that. She knew why too.

  Because the same way she hadn’t been able to pull off seducing him, she couldn’t turn her heart off and tell it to stop loving him. It had starved for him for so long and now that she had him, his support and his touch, his attention, she didn’t want it to stop. She was in too deep.

  “Are you crying?”

  Amanda looked up at Cass, startled. The other woman had sobered, looking at her strangely. As if maybe she recognized something. Rather than deal with that, Amanda wiped at her cheeks and found thin trails of tears.

  “I know we don’t know each other too well, but I do have a little bit of experience with blockheads. Maybe I can help?”

  Amanda knew her smile was watery. “You ever get in over your head doing something that should have been simple, but suddenly it’s not?”

  “I hope you ordered a lot of pizza.” Cass rubbed her belly, the glint in her eyes definitely determined. “Because this is going to take a while…”

  Chapter Eleven

  You can do this. Don’t take no for an answer. Tonight, Cole Engstrom will be yours.

  Amanda looked at herself in the mirror one last time. She’d taken special care with her makeup after Cole’s phone call that he’d be coming by. Talking with Cass had been helpful. Empowering. A wee bit confusing, but overall, Amanda figured she had the gist. Turning a friend into a lover took a little more courage than turning a date into a lover. Dates had no real expectations, but friends… Friends had more to lose. Friends k
new you too well.

  “You can’t just wait for him to make the changes in the relationship,” Cass had said, her face so serious Amanda hadn’t been able to look away. “If you truly want Cole, you’re going to have to fight for him. Don’t take no for an answer. Make him see that you want more from him, that to you, it’s worth the risk. Otherwise, you two are going to dance around what could have been until it’s totally gone.”

  Amanda took a deep sigh, holding her hand over her stomach. The butterflies in there were flying around so much she wasn’t sure if she was nervous or sick. But she looked good, that much she had to admit.

  Her hair was loose, the way he seemed to like it, though she made an effort to fluff the front in hopes of having some volume. Pointless hope, but she tried. She wore a light pink, short-sleeved cashmere sweater set and a denim skirt that just kissed her knees. The sweater, a gift from Susie on her last birthday, was so soft she had to stop her fingers from petting her own hem. The skirt showed her legs, invited touching, but didn’t exactly scream, “I’m not wearing underwear!” According to Cass, the problems she’d kept having with her seductions weren’t that she wasn’t seductive, just that she was pushing too hard. Too much, too fast. Throw in her nerves, and it was kind of a miracle she hadn’t maimed the poor man with a golf club last time.

  “Let it happen,” Cass had coached. “Don’t make it happen. Trust me, that way just never works.” Advice Amanda wanted to take to heart as much as possible. “Subtle hints and actions,” Cass had added. “Men freak out when you change things too quick, you know that.”

  She did. She just wished she’d remembered it before she started her bid for separation from Locke.

  Finally, she reminded herself of Cass’s last important piece of advice. “Once you have his attention, add ever-increasing pressure on his senses. Like a good kiss, until you take his breath away.”

  Amanda really liked the idea of taking Cole’s breath away.

  Very carefully, she used long fireplace matches to light the oversized candles she’d placed around her bedroom earlier. Five of them, each in matching oversized glass vases that turned them into romantic lanterns while protecting the flames from escaping. They could burn for hours unattended, which was exactly what she needed. The only flame she planned on attending was Cole’s.

  The doorbell rang, tripping her heartbeat. A last smoothing of her skirt and she left her bedroom to get the door.

  Cole was facing the street when she pulled it open, his dark hair reflecting the inside light like bird wings and that leather jacket of his catching it in a textured gleam.

  “Cole?” she asked, worrying a bit when he didn’t immediately turn.

  “Yeah,” he sighed, finally shifting to smile at her.

  “You all right?” He wasn’t, she could tell. Nothing stood out, exactly. His shoulders weren’t rigid, but she could feel tension coming off him. And though his smile was real, his pleasure in seeing her warming a still-nervous part of her heart, she sensed strain. Deep strain.

  “I’m fine.” But he wasn’t. Not even a little bit.

  She took his hand, pulling him into the house. “Come on inside and tell me about it.”

  “There’s not a lot to tell.”

  “Then it won’t take long, will it?” She closed the door behind him, watching with ridiculous fascination as he shrugged out of his jacket. What was it about his lean strength that had her so entranced she could just watch him move all day long? She took it, setting it on the coat rack blindly. “You want to sit on the couch or go straight to the table?”

  Cole looked at the couch for a long second. Was he remembering what had happened between them there? Because she had been, her hands tingling every time she thought about how he’d felt in her palm. Hot, almost burning, but so silky over the steely hardness…

  “Table,” he said firmly, stalking through the living room and through the curved arch into the kitchenette. Amanda had to bite her lips not to laugh as she followed him. You’d think she was going to tackle him to the ground and disabuse him of his virtue.

  “We can talk over dinner. I made your favorite.”

  He turned halfway to the table, relaxing for the first time. “You made ribs?”

  “No,” she scoffed. “Vegetarian lasagna.”

  Now his brows really went up, that smile of his completely lighting his face. “When did you figure that out?”

  “About five years ago. Every time I made it, all the leftovers disappeared immediately. I knew right away it had to be you. None of my brothers eat it unless scurvy starts setting in, and only if I hide some sausage in it.”

  His bark of laughter burst out of him so hard he actually covered his mouth.

  “What?” she asked, giggling at him as he practically fell into his seat.

  “Are you kidding? Can’t you imagine how much fun I’m going to have telling them you’ve been playing ‘hide the sausage’ with them?”

  She let him laugh, chuckling a little herself as she went for the casserole in her oven. “There’s something so wrong with you.”

  That started him up all over again, and the butterflies in her stomach finally began to settle. This she could handle. This was natural. Comfortable. Wonderful.

  She served the food into bowls, setting it in front of him as she shook her head. Another trip to the fridge and she brought out the wine. That served, she settled across from him, sinking her fork into the cheesy goodness. They ate in an amiable silence, one that had his shoulders relaxing little by little.

  “So,” she finally said, the edge of her own hunger abated. “Since I told you my secret, how about you tell me yours.”

  The twinkle in his eyes brought a few of the butterflies back, but they were the good kind. “Oh? And which secret is that?”

  “The lasagna.”

  “You sure? Wasn’t that my secret already? Because if you wanna ’fess up about the lifetime supply of condoms you bought at Sid’s Pharmacy, now would be a good time.”

  Her face heated, she knew it, but she smiled anyway. “I was starting to wonder if anyone told you about that.”

  “Your brothers told me about that.”

  Her eyes widened. “The elder twins?”

  “Are you high? My spleen would be on parade right now if they talked to me about it. No, Steven and Peter. They thought it was funny.”

  Probably because they knew she wasn’t using them. No one bought two hundred condoms unless they were trying to make a point.

  “You didn’t get mad,” she noted. The temptation to get him ticked again after the catalog stunt was always just under the skin. Part of her had hoped, just a little, that he’d freak out and kiss her senseless again. When he was mad, he didn’t have nearly as much interest in saying no to her advances.

  “Hard to get mad when your girlfriend publicly buys industrial-sized boxes of extra-large prophylactics.” He winked, and she sucked in a breath. Dammit, he knew what that did to her, she knew he did. “What was the point of that, by the way? Other than inciting the masses?”

  “You don’t believe I wanted to be prepared?”

  He snorted. “For what? Moving underground for the next fifty years?”

  “It would take you fifty years to have sex two hundred times?” She scrunched her face, trying to sort out the math. “How often is that?”

  He blinked, and she could see him calculating without even wanting to. “Once every ninety-one point two-five days. Give or take.”

  “Give or take?”

  “Well, you could ignore that point two-five or save it until it adds up to a whole number, then use it to have extra sex.”

  “Like a leap year.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh. It’ll be that hysterical hyena laugh of a woman totally out of her depth.

  “You could call it that. Leap sex would make a hell of a lot more sense, though.”

  That was it, she was done. The man could squeeze all the innuendo out of a sex manual when he wanted. “Only you could tur
n your girlfriend buying an obscene number of condoms into a mathematical discussion.”

  “Technically, you’re the one who did that by asking how frequently you’d get to use them. You’re just unhappy because the answer means a three-month wait.” His gaze moved over her face, the teasing disappearing for a second before he cleared his throat and pasted back on his teasing grin. “Personally, I don’t think they would last a month.”

  At that she choked. “Now you’re a sexual Olympian?”

  “Anyone could be, with the proper motivation.”

  “To say nothing of hydration.” She took another bite, half-wondering if he could hear her heart starting to thud because of this strange conversation. “I bet I could make it.”

  “Only once every three months? For the rest of your life?”

  “Sure, why not?” After twenty-six years, three months would be nothing. “You know, if it was worth the wait.”

  “If it was worth it, trust me, you wouldn’t be able to stop at just once.” His husky voice froze her in the act of raising the fork to her lips.

  Be cool. Be cool. Oh, God, did he have to use that tone? When his voice got all rough and deep like that, all she could picture was him sounding like that with his mouth pressed against her ear, her lobe trapped between his teeth. She couldn’t swallow her bite now—she’d choke for sure. She settled for putting her still-loaded fork back on her plate and lightly saying, “Oh?”

  Because that sounded unflustered. Ish.

  His nod was solemn, his voice low. “When someone gets in your blood, when all you can think about is the way they feel, the way they taste and sound and touch…” There was no missing the intensity in his dark eyes now. Heat. Hunger. This time, she knew he wasn’t going to leave her wanting. “Once would never be enough.”

  She stared at him across the table, heart thudding, breath shallow, uncertainty threading through her. She licked her dry lips, startled when his gaze tracked the motion. A confident woman would probably get up and walk to the bedroom, taking her clothes off as she went, leaving zero confusion as to what she wanted. But hard as she tried, the confidence she had built for herself in everything else was impossible to dredge up.