Love Lessons

by Gina Wilkins

  She slipped her hands between them and unfastened his belt. He helped her by kicking his slacks aside when she loosened them.

  She was still trembling, but it was more from anticipation now than nerves. One gentle push from her was all it took to send him tumbling to the bed; probably because he didn’t try at all to resist.

  Their kisses turned hotter, deeper. Their hands moved more frantically. By the time their undergarments joined the other clothing on the carpet, Catherine had long since forgotten her earlier self-consciousness. As it happened, his hard, toned body fit very well against her softer one.

  His skin was hot, warmed from the inside. She nestled more snugly against him, soaking up that delicious heat and letting it fuel her own.

  No thinking tonight, she reminded herself. No analyzing or second-guessing. This had been building from the morning she had opened her door and found a drop-dead gorgeous man standing on the other side. She hadn’t imagined then that he would be attracted to her in return, or that they would be drawn together despite the odds against them. But she didn’t want to try to resist him any longer; not when this was something she wanted more than her next breath.

  And speaking of breath…She was finding it very hard to catch her own as Mike nibbled his way from her earlobe to her shoulder to her collarbone and then lower. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and her legs wrapped themselves around his. If he found any imperfections in her body, he certainly didn’t give any indication. The words he murmured were all appreciative, and so was his expression when he looked at her.

  He had brought protection—whether as a matter of habit or because he had anticipated this, she didn’t even want to know. No thinking, she reminded herself again. Better to just be grateful that he had been so well prepared.

  He moved over her, bracing himself on his elbows, cupping her face between his hands. “Have I told you how pretty your eyes are?”

  She smiled up at him. “They’re just ordinary brown eyes.”

  “No. Not ordinary. They’re beautiful. That first day I met you? After I left here, all I could think about for the rest of the day was you.” He dropped a kiss at the corner of her right eye. “Your pretty eyes.”

  He brushed his lips across hers. “Your beautiful smile.”

  He moved against her, making her arch reflexively beneath him. “Your fantastic body. And that was before I got to know you, and found out how special you are,” he added, resting his forehead against hers.

  She placed her hands on his hips, her fingers digging lightly into his flesh. “Mike?”

  “Mmm?”

  Her voice was a bit strangled. “As much as I appreciate the compliments—could you stop talking now?”

  His low laugh had a husky edge to it. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and then rendered them both speechless with a smooth thrust forward.

  Catherine lay with her cheek on Mike’s shoulder, almost idly reflecting on how dramatically one’s life could change in just one evening. How much she had changed.

  She would never think about lovemaking the same way, that was for certain. Before tonight, it had always been something she had considered usually pleasant, sometimes awkward, but not particularly important. Though her previous encounters had been few, she’d had no particularly traumatic sexual experiences. Nor had she had any particularly spectacular ones.

  Until tonight. Making love with Mike could truly be considered spectacular. And maybe a little traumatic, as well, considering that she wasn’t sure she would ever be satisfied with less from now on.

  She wasn’t ready to admit that she had fallen in love with him. After all, she’d known him for only a couple of months, and their time together hadn’t exactly been idyllic. But she was aware that her feelings for him were more than mere attraction, more than simple friendship. She was teetering on the edge, and it wouldn’t take much to push her over. A scary thought. Something told her the landing would be abrupt and ultimately painful.

  She felt his lips on her forehead. “You’re being awfully quiet. Are you okay?”

  “I’m better than okay,” she said, keeping her tone light. “I feel great, actually.”

  “Me, too.” He snuggled her closer and rested his cheek on her hair. “I should probably go, but I’ve got to admit I don’t really want to.”

  She should probably encourage him to leave, for several reasons. One of which was the gossip that could ensue if her neighbors realized that Mike had spent the night. And yet she heard herself saying, “I don’t want you to go.”

  “I wouldn’t want to make things awkward for you if anyone saw me here.”

  “We’re not worrying about anyone outside this apartment tonight, remember? But I’m not particularly worried about what the neighbors say about me. I hardly know them, anyway.” Who was she trying to convince—him or herself? Maybe she’d better not analyze that question too closely.

  “I don’t make a habit of this, you know,” he said, sounding suddenly serious. “I haven’t been with any of the other tenants of the complex. You’re special to me, Catherine.”

  She was glad to hear that, even though she hadn’t asked. She certainly didn’t want to think of herself as just another notch on his tool belt. Julia probably wouldn’t believe his assurance that Catherine was in any way special to him, but Catherine took him at his word. Julia would accuse her of being naive, of course, but—

  She frowned in exasperation. What was she doing thinking about Julia? Hadn’t she just said that they weren’t supposed to worry about anyone else tonight?

  His patience at being ignored having all run out, Norman began to meow on the other side of the door. “I’d better let him in or he’ll keep that up all night.”

  Mike chuckled. “Since neither of us wants to risk his wrath, I suppose you’d better do what he demands.”

  The moment the bedroom door opened, Norman padded across the room and leaped onto the bed. Mike greeted him with a chuckle.

  Leaving them to entertain each other, Catherine moved into the bathroom and closed the door. She was giving herself privacy for her bedtime preparations—and a few moments alone to make sure her composure was firmly under control. Searching her freshly scrubbed face, she was satisfied that she looked serene and almost nonchalant about having Mike in her bed. Which proved that she had more acting ability than she had ever suspected.

  After donning a short nightgown, she crawled beneath the covers with Mike, who had returned from his own trip to the bathroom and was now lying on his back with Norman curled on his chest. Mike reached out and pulled Catherine onto his right shoulder, snuggling her close with his right arm while his left hand rested lightly on her contented pet.

  Catherine closed her eyes and listened to Mike’s heart beating steadily in his chest, the sound almost drowned out by Norman’s loud purring. She realized that she was very close to purring herself. Yet just beneath the pleasant sounds she was aware of a small, insistent voice warning her that this wasn’t wise. That she shouldn’t allow herself to become too addicted to Mike’s presence.

  This couldn’t last, that inner voice reminded her. She would be alone in her bed again soon enough—with the exception of Norman, of course—and if she wasn’t careful, she was going to find herself hurting and lonely on those nights. Despite her longing for someone to share her life with, she had been fairly happy and satisfied before. Her heart had been intact, and she wanted it to stay that way.

  Even as that thought crossed her mind, a hard ache deep inside her chest made her wonder if it was already too late to protect that vulnerable organ.

  Mike stayed all night. They slept in, then locked Norman out of the room for a while again. By the time they were finally ready to leave the bed, it was late morning.

  Mike left only long enough to change into fresh clothing in his own apartment, since Catherine had invited him to join her for lunch. He was gone less than an hour, and she used that time to call her lab and arrange for someone else to check on her ongoing exp
eriment. She rarely took an entire day away from the lab, but she had quite a few favors to call in, since she was often asked to do things by the others who knew she could usually be counted on to be there.

  By the time Mike returned, she had a good start on lunch. Becoming familiar with his culinary preferences, she kept the menu simple. Baked chicken breasts with wild rice and vegetables, and crusty wheat rolls. Using some prepackaged mixes for convenience, she had the meal ready in a short time.

  “This is great, Catherine,” he said, digging into the food with visible appreciation. “You didn’t tell me you were such a good cook.”

  She laughed. “I’m not a gourmet chef, like Karen. Most of this meal came out of boxes or the freezer.”

  “Well, it’s good,” he insisted. “I tend to eat too many pizzas and sandwiches on my own.”

  Catherine stabbed her fork into a tender baby carrot. “No veggies? My mother would be appalled.”

  “So would mine.” He chewed, swallowed, then took a sip of his iced tea before asking, “What’s your mother like? Pretty much all I know about her is that she doesn’t approve of trick-or-treating.”

  “I don’t know. How do you describe your mother? She’s smart. Funny, in a quiet way. Loving, yet very firm with her rules and expectations. Her students like her, but they know she won’t let them get away with much. I was the same way.”

  “Strict, huh?”

  “Not excessively so. More so than many parents, I suppose.”

  “My mom’s pretty firm about her rules, too. I knew if I ever got into trouble at school, I could expect to double that at home. She didn’t tolerate cursing, drugs or drinking from her kids, and we’d better be home by curfew or suffer the consequences.”

  Amused, she asked, “What were the consequences?”

  “A ‘mama lecture.’ They could go on for hours, and leave our ears ringing. For a little bitty woman, she could get pretty darned loud.”

  She could tell by his tone that he was crazy about his mother, something she had already figured out about him. “What about your father?”

  “Mom’s total opposite. He’d have let us get away with just about anything, so it’s a good thing she was so strict or we’d have all been hellions. Especially the girls. They all have Dad wrapped around their little fingers. The only time he got strict with them was when they started dating, and he had a way of making their dates shake in their sneakers with his suspicious looks and his pointed questions.”

  “My father is so much like my mother that it’s almost scary,” Catherine confided. “They finish each other’s sentences. They like the same books and movies and music. They never quarrel.”

  “Never?” He looked startled by that.

  “Never. At least, not about anything important. They do enjoy debating current events. They take turns arguing the liberal and conservative interpretations.”

  “Damn, Catherine, that’s scary.”

  She laughed. “Tell me about it. My friends thought I had the weirdest parents ever. Especially when Dad cracked jokes about the Pythagorean theorem and Euclidean geometry. You would be surprised at the corny and obscure puns he can make with math terms.”

  “What do you suppose they would think about you seeing me? I mean, I bet they expect you to hook up with another scientist or a doctor or a professor.”

  “Don’t start that again.”

  “I’m just asking what they would think.”

  She gave the question serious consideration before replying. How would her parents react if they learned that she was sleeping with a twenty-eight-year-old college freshman maintenance worker?

  “Mother would probably warn me not to let myself be too distracted from my work,” she said after a moment. “Dad would respect your decision to return to school, and he would try to talk you into declaring a math major. I think they would both like you, and both be rather surprised that we have enough in common to want to spend time together.”

  Mike grimaced. “I did ask,” he muttered. “And you always give an honest answer, don’t you?”

  “I assume you wouldn’t ask if you didn’t want an honest reply.”

  His smile was a little crooked, but he seemed more bemused than perturbed by her innate frankness. “Something tells me you’re very much like your parents in a lot of ways.”

  “I’m afraid so,” she said, looking down at her plate.

  Mike reached out to cover her hand with his own. “I wasn’t saying that’s a bad thing. Your folks sound like very interesting people.”

  She thought suddenly of their agreement the night before to ignore the outside world and concentrate on each other. She decided she would like to continue that policy for a little longer. She changed the subject rather abruptly. “Have you thought yet about what classes you’re going to take next semester? Or whether you are going to take any more?”

  He drew his hand back to his side. “Yeah, I’m going to take a few hours. I haven’t really decided what yet, but I’ve got to make a decision pretty soon. Any recommendations?”

  “I suppose you’ll want to take more general education classes that are required for an eventual degree.”

  He nodded. “I’m sure it would be easier to choose classes if I’d declare a major.”

  “You have plenty of time for that.”

  “Do I?” Though he spoke lightly, his expression was somber. “I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

  “There’s a graduate student in our doctoral program who’s just turned fifty. She didn’t receive her undergraduate degree until she was forty-five, after raising two children and working as a lab technician for almost twenty years. This was something she always wanted to do, and now she’s making that dream come true.”

  “Good for her. How much longer does she have?”

  “If all goes well, she should graduate in the spring.”

  “At least she had a good reason to take so long. Raising her kids, I mean. And she knew what she wanted to do.”

  “Surely you’ve thought about why you’re taking classes. Do you plan to earn a degree?”

  He nodded and pushed his empty dessert plate away. “I’d like to. I mean, I know I signed up for this semester on an impulse because I was still steamed about the reunion. But now that I’m back in school and doing pretty well, I’d like to make it count, you know?”

  “I see no reason why you shouldn’t earn a degree if you want.”

  “It’s going to take forever if I only take two classes a semester. I suppose I should look into student loans so I can take more hours and cut back to part-time maintenance work. That way I could have a degree in four years—maybe a little sooner if I go summers.”

  “That sounds like a workable solution. Do you have some idea of the direction you want your studies to take? A liberal arts degree? Or something more specific, aimed toward a certain career?”

  He hesitated for a long moment, then shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

  She nodded and reached for their empty plates. If Mike didn’t want to talk about his future plans, she certainly wasn’t going to push him. “Would you like coffee or anything?”

  “No, thanks. I’m so full now I couldn’t even hold coffee.” He helped her carry the dishes to the dishwasher. When the kitchen was spotless again, he reached out to wrap his arms loosely around her. “Getting tired of me yet?”

  Resting her hands on his chest, she smiled up at him. “Hardly.”

  “Want to hang out?”

  “Hang out?” she repeated, raising her eyebrows.

  “Yeah. We could watch some TV or go catch a movie or play cards—whatever you like to do on a lazy Sunday afternoon.”

  She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I don’t have many lazy afternoons. I usually go into the lab for a few hours every day—or I catch up on laundry or housework or paperwork.”

  “All work and no play?” He clucked his tongue in disapproval. “You know what they say about that.”

&nb
sp; “Are you implying that I’m dull?”

  He laughed and drew her closer. “No. That is one thing I would never call you.”

  And that, she thought, was one of the things that drew her to Mike. He didn’t find her dull.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was surprisingly easy to ignore the outside world when they really made an effort, Catherine discovered that afternoon. It was also relatively simple to find activities both she and Mike enjoyed, especially for a few hours.

  They both liked games. Catherine owned several. She and her friends occasionally got together for a stress-relieving evening of games and desserts, she told him.

  “But I warn you,” she added as they set up the Monopoly board. “We tend to get very competitive.”

  “Honey, you haven’t seen competitive until you’ve played the Clanster.”

  “‘The Clanster?’” she repeated, thinking she must have heard him wrong—and trying to ignore the illogical little thrill of having him call her honey.

  He chuckled. “Bob,” he said, as if no further explanation was needed. And of course, it wasn’t.

  They played Monopoly. Mike won. They played Yahtzee. Catherine stomped him.

  Afterward, they went out for ice cream. After all, who didn’t like ice cream, even in November?

  Mike ordered double chocolate fudge chocolate chip. Catherine requested strawberry. They took their time enjoying the treats, their heads close together at the tiny ice cream parlor table. It was easier to ignore everyone else that way—not that either of them knew anyone else there.

  It took them a bit longer to agree on a film to see after the ice cream stop. Catherine loved quirky, arty films; Mike preferred gritty action. They compromised on a family-oriented, big-budget adventure film that turned out to be a pleasant diversion for a couple of hours.

  They couldn’t really analyze the plot afterward, as Catherine usually liked to do with her friends. In this case, there hadn’t been much plot to analyze. As for the dialogue—well, she supposed some things shouldn’t be critiqued too seriously on this sort of film. But the special effects had been awesome, and she had to admit that the lead actor had been handsome enough to make the two hours pass quite nicely.