Rebound Envy (Rebound #2)

by Jerica MacMillan

  We'd gone to a small French restaurant for our third date where Scott could find food that lined up better with his dietary goals. I guess since he told me about it earlier this week, he no longer felt the need to break his diet to impress me anymore. He'd just had water with dinner, though he'd encouraged me to get a glass of wine if I wanted. I had, but had felt awkward while he drank plain water with a twist of lemon.

  Conversation had flowed easily, even if it was a little dull. He'd talked more about work, his workout regimen, and how this time of year is horrible for sports—football's over, baseball hasn't started, and he doesn't like basketball very much. I don't watch any of them, so I'd just nodded and smiled, making occasional hmms and uh-huhs when it had seemed appropriate. To be fair, I'd talked too. I'd told stories about my students and life as a teacher. He'd seemed about as fascinated with my stories as I'd been with his.

  Now we're back at my place again. Since it's the third date, there are certain expectations. At least, I have certain expectations. I don't even have to wait for the third date if things seem like they're going well. Scott apparently doesn't move quite that fast, which is fine. But I wouldn't mind seeing what he's hiding under his blue button down shirt. With that face and working out all the time like he says, he has to have a body fit for a romance novel hero.

  I finally locate the little box of Celestial Seasonings Cinnamon Apple Spice that's been languishing at the back of my pantry. I don't drink a lot of tea. I just keep this on hand for when I have a cold. It's not bad, though.

  When I pull myself and my prize out of the pantry, I see Scott leaning against the doorway into the kitchen from the dining room.

  I smile at him and brandish the box of tea. "Found it."

  I pull my tea kettle out of a bottom cabinet, conscious of Scott's eyes watching me. Once it's filled with water and on the stove top, I retrieve a couple of mugs from the cabinet over the sink. I'm deliberately bending and stretching, putting on a little show, letting Scott watch my body move. Like I said, expectations.

  The kettle is starting to rumble a little as the water gets close to boiling. I set the mugs on the counter and reach for the box of tea to get everything ready once the water is hot enough. Once it's open, I look inside and let out a gasp of horror.

  "What's wrong?" Scott is at my side in a second, ready to jump in.

  I laugh, realizing that I may have overreacted. "Nothing. Sorry. It's just that there's only one tea bag left."

  He joins me with a low chuckle. "Holy crap. The way you reacted, I thought there was a giant spider covered in babies in there or something."

  I laugh harder. "That would be horrifying. My reaction would probably be to scream and throw the box across the room, though. Not just gasp."

  He's smiling at me now. "That's okay, Amy. I don't need tea. A glass of water is fine." He brushes a strand of hair out of my face. Then his mouth is on mine in a slow and gentle kiss. His tongue slips past my lips and I begin to lean into him.

  The scream of the tea kettle causes us both to jump back, breaking the moment. I turn off the stove and move the kettle to another burner. "I guess we won't be needing that."

  Scott steps back and gestures toward the mugs. "Don't let me stop you. If you want some tea, you should make some."

  I make a little face. "I'm not much of a tea drinker. I just keep this around for when I have a cold. Since you don't do caffeine or alcohol, I didn't want to offer the usual coffee or wine, and it seems lame to invite someone in for a glass of water."

  Scott laughs, low and warm, his beautiful mouth turning up in a smile. He steps toward me again, and pushes my hair behind my ear, letting his hand trail down to cup the back of my neck. "You can invite me in for a glass of water anytime."

  A thrill tingles up my spine at his words, and then his mouth is on mine again. This kiss is firmer, and his tongue is present immediately. His left arm snakes around my waist, pulling my body against his. My hands travel up his rib cage and around to his back, feeling the shape of his muscles under his clothes.

  Our kiss is heating up. Literally heating me up. Warmth is rushing around my body, my cheeks feel flushed, and the heat is centering itself low in my belly and between my thighs. This man knows how to kiss.

  I run my hands down his back to where his shirt is tucked into his pants, and start to bunch the fabric in my hands, pulling it up and out of the waistband. Once the first part is untucked, I start moving around toward the front untucking as I go.

  Scott's hands reach down and cover mine and he pulls back, searching my face. "Amy, what are you doing?"

  My eyes are flicking back and forth between his, trying to decipher the expression on his face. "Uh, untucking your shirt?"

  "No, I realize that. Why are you untucking my shirt?"

  My mouth opens and closes a few times. His eyes still hold their customary warmth, but his eyebrows are raised. I feel the flush on my cheeks deepen, from embarrassment now instead of arousal.

  Finally, I find my voice. "We were kissing. I thought—" I pull my hands away from him and take a step back. Looking him in the eye, I push down my embarrassment. I'm a grown woman. I have no reason to be embarrassed about wanting to have sex with the hot guy in my kitchen. "Look, I'm attracted to you, and you seem attracted to me. It seems natural that things would … progress."

  He studies my face for a moment, then steps forward and reaches for my hands again. He presses a light kiss to my lips and pulls back. "I am attracted to you, Amy. Very much. I just don't want to rush things." His face is the picture of sincerity.

  "You don't want to rush things?" I've never considered sex on the third date to be rushing things. Sex in the third hour of a date might be a little fast, though not unheard of. I thought that if things were going well, and the fact that there even was a third date, meant things were likely to move forward. It's funny, though. I've never had a man put on the brakes like this before.

  He nods. "I like you. Let's just take things slow and see where it goes. Okay?"

  My eyes flick back and forth, gauging his sincerity once more. His brown eyes are warm and earnest, his face open and frank. There's no sign of subterfuge or ulterior motive. A guy who doesn't want sex when it's offered. Who wants to take things slow. How novel.

  "Alright."

  He smiles, then, and pulls me into his arms once more. The fact that he's putting me off is even more surprising given that I can still feel what he's got going on in his jeans, the denim not quite able to disguise his obvious erection. He presses a kiss to my temple while he holds me. It's comfortable being wrapped in his arms like this. He's taller than me by several inches. My forehead is right at the level of his mouth. His torso is lean and strong, and his shirt does little to disguise the feeling of his well defined muscles. Whatever my opinion of his diet and exercise choices, there's no denying the results. I sigh inwardly, thinking how close I was to seeing those results. I guess I'll just have to be patient.

  Scott leaves about an hour later. He stayed for some more conversation and more making out. I guess hot kissing is fine with him. It's anything and everything beyond that that's off limits. Any time my hands started roaming further afield, he'd stop me, twining our fingers together, continuing to torture me with his mouth on mine.

  If he's that good of a kisser, I can't wait to find out what else he can do with his mouth.

  I lock the front door behind him after one last kiss goodnight in the doorway, lean against it, and groan. I don't find his work or his organizational system anywhere near as interesting as he does, but the man turns me on. He's left me needy and frustrated with his whole let's-take-it-slow dictate.

  I hope his version of slow isn't too slow. I'm not sure how much of this I can take.

  I scoop up our glasses from the coffee table—wine for me and water for Scott—and carry them into the kitchen, loading up the dishwasher and starting it before heading to bed. I definitely need to take care of myself if I'm going to get any sleep tonight. O
therwise I'll just be stewing and writhing in my sexual frustration.

  Retrieving my favorite vibe from my night stand, I toss it on the bed and strip out of my clothes from the evening. "It's terrible that I'm dating someone and I still need my battery operated assistant to help me out," I grouse aloud to myself. Let's take it slow. Why did he think that was such a good idea? It was not a good idea at all as far as I was concerned.

  I wonder what it will take to get him to change his mind.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "I'm starving. Let's go get food." I link my arm through Jenna's as we walk out of the bridal shop to her car. I've been in a dressing room for the last hour trying on what feels like a million dresses while Jenna takes pictures and texts them to Cate, Brian's sister and Jenna's other bridesmaid. Once we hear back from Cate, we'll come to a consensus on the dress and order them.

  "Me too. Good idea."

  Jenna takes us downtown where we settle in at a little café. After placing our order, Jenna lifts her glass for a drink and eyes me over the top.

  I shift a little in my seat. "What?"

  She smiles. "So, how are things with you and Scott?"

  I should've expected the question, but when she didn't ask right away when she picked me up this morning, I got distracted with the wedding planning and dress shopping. The question catches me off guard. And I'm not entirely sure how to answer.

  "They're strange."

  Jenna's eyes widen in surprise, and she cocks her head to the side. "Strange how?" Then her eyes get really big and she leans forward over the table, keeping her voice low. "Is he a sexual deviant?"

  I choke on my water, pounding my chest and trying to catch my breath. Jenna sits back in her chair. "I knew it. The pretty ones are always crazy in some way. So, what's his kink? Is he into whips and chains and all that?" Her eyes go big again. "Or is he the one that wants to be whipped? Does he want you to make him wear a collar and pretend to be a dog?"

  It's my turn for my eyes to go wide, and I finally manage to speak. "Oh my God, Jenna, stop!" I cut her off with her mouth open to say more. Apparently she's just getting started. "Where do you even get this stuff? What happened to my best friend who barely wants to tell me that she kissed a guy?"

  Jenna sniffs and tilts her head back a little to look down her nose at me. "I read things and I watch TV. Just because I don't like to tell you all the details of my own sex life, doesn't mean I don't know stuff."

  "Jenna, I swear to God, if you and Brian are doing kinky stuff, I don't even want to know about it. I know I made you dish with me when you were first dating, but now you can keep all those kinds of details to yourself."

  She laughs. "Okay, fine. I won't kiss and tell anymore." She leans in close again and whispers, "Just tell me one more thing, though. Does he want you to use a strap-on on him?"

  "Jenna, shut up!" I hiss back at her. "Holy crap, it's nothing like that. At all."

  Jenna gives me a fake pout, looking disappointed that I'm not having kinky sex with her hot coworker after all. Wait till she finds out I'm not even having regular sex with her hot coworker.

  "Okay, then. Tell me what's strange."

  The waitress brings our soup and sandwich specials that we ordered for lunch, and I wait for her to leave before answering Jenna. "So, last night was our third date."

  She nods, mouth full of her turkey club.

  "He's a nice guy, and really beautiful. I mean, I feel almost frumpy compared to him."

  "Shut up, Amy. You're gorgeous."

  "I'm not fishing for compliments. But he looks like he should be framed and put in an art museum, you know?"

  Jenna offers a closed mouth smile. "Yes, I've noticed."

  "We don't seem to have a whole lot in common, but he's nice. I like him. And it doesn't hurt that he's ridiculously good looking."

  "You both like to work out."

  I eat a spoonful of my soup and shake my head. "Not the same way. I like to go hiking and I'll use the gym when the weather's bad or I can't get out to stay in shape. Scott's almost religious about his workout routine. And he doesn't really eat carbs. Or drink alcohol. Or caffeine."

  Jenna's eyes grow wide. "What a horrible existence."

  "I know, right?"

  Jenna shrugs, holding her sandwich halfway to her mouth. "That doesn't sound so strange, though. Different people like different things. That's okay. We don't like all the same things and we're still friends."

  I finish chewing my sandwich. "That's true. But we do like a lot of the same things." She smiles and nods, her mouth too full to talk. "And you're right. That's not the strange part." I pause, trying to figure out how I want to say the next part.

  Jenna waits, finishing her mouthful and then taking a drink of her water. She makes an impatient gesture with her hand for me to get on with it. "So what is it?"

  "I invited him in last night and we were kissing. I mean, I'm obviously attracted to the guy, and he seems attracted to me. This was our third date, after all. And, you know, the third date is where things often progress."

  Jenna nods, quite familiar with my stance on sex and dating.

  "So, we were making out, and I started untucking his shirt. Nothing too crazy, just pulling the tails out of the waistband of his pants. And he grabbed my hands to stop me and asked what I was doing."

  Jenna stops mid chew, just staring at me. "What did you do?" Her mouth is still full, so it's a little garbled sounding, but the question is clear.

  "I told him I assumed things were going to progress, and he told me he wants to take it slow. That's kind of weird, right? Why would a guy turn down sex?"

  Jenna has swallowed by now, still staring at me with rapt attention. "Are you sure he was, ah … in the mood?"

  The corner of my mouth quirks up. "Yes, I'm sure. I felt his mood quite clearly."

  Jenna taps her finger on her chin, thinking, then she shrugs. "Maybe he just doesn't have sex that early in a relationship. Maybe he really likes you and wants to make sure you're both on the same page before you guys have sex."

  I stir my soup a little. "Maybe. But why wait? If we're attracted to each other, it's not like that's going to change. I don't get what the big deal is."

  Jenna studies my face. "I know, Amy. But not everyone feels that way. If you like him, then what's the rush?"

  I scoff a little. "Like you're one to talk. You had sex with Brian on the third date."

  "Yeah, and you wanted me to have a quick fuck on the first date and then dump him and move on."

  "Jenna." I'm leaning over the table and my voice is a stage whisper. "You just said 'fuck.'"

  She leans across toward me so our faces are close together. "I know." She uses the same stage whisper.

  I sit back. "Brian's gotten you to loosen up more than I ever did."

  She grins at me. "You have no idea."

  I almost choke on my drink of water again, but manage to get it down the right way this time. "Well, even if he wasn't a quick fuck, I'm glad I dragged your ass to The Barrel Room that night."

  Jenna's mischievous grin softens and takes on a dreamier quality. "Me too."

  We finish our lunch, talking more about Brian and his family and the various details for the wedding that still need ironing out.

  When Jenna pulls up outside my house to drop me off, she leans over and gives me a hug. She keeps a hold on my arm so I don't get out of the car too quickly. "You are going to see Scott again, though?"

  "Yeah. I am. I'm not going to dump the guy just because he hasn't put out."

  She smiles and gives my arm a little squeeze. "Good. I want you to be happy."

  "I know." I lean in and give her another hug before getting out of the car and waving goodbye.

  I want me to be happy, too.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The next weeks pass in a whirlwind of wedding plans and weekend dates with Scott. Since we both get up early in the mornings, we tend not to spend many weeknights together. The fact that I have papers to grade has
a lot to do with that. Between helping Jenna put together a wedding in under six months and keeping up with planning and grading for my classes, I don't have a lot of extra time.

  Valentine's Day was less eventful than I'd hoped. Scott invited me over to his place for the first time and cooked dinner for us. It was sweet and romantic, but didn't end up in his bedroom like I wanted. He's sticking to his plan to take things slow. I think the polar ice caps are melting faster than our relationship is moving.

  If I didn't know any better, I might think he's gay. Except that he gets turned on when we make out. I know he does. But he stops me every time I try to introduce something beyond just kissing. No fondling, no straddling and grinding, nothing. We've been together for over a month now, and haven't been past first base.

  I'm dying. I shouldn't need a battery operated boyfriend when I have a real live one. But maybe this is how real adult relationships work. Maybe it's my casual attitude toward sex that's made it harder for me to keep a long term relationship going.

  So, I'm giving Scott a real chance, despite my growing sexual frustration.

  I'm putting the finishing touches on my makeup when the doorbell rings.

  Scott steps across the threshold when I open the door, dropping a light kiss on my lips. The heels I have on make it so that he only has to dip his head to kiss me. I press another kiss to his mouth, this one firmer and more lingering.

  He breaks away and smiles. "I like it when you wear heels. It makes it so easy to kiss you."

  I smile back and give him one more quick kiss. "Let me just grab my jacket and then we can go."

  The days are starting to warm up now that it's almost mid-March, but the evenings are still cool. It's been raining most of the day, so the air is fresh and cold, the ground wet. The grass in my yard is starting to turn green, waking up from the dormancy of winter. The daffodils I'd planted in my flowerbeds are starting to bloom, and the tulips are budding.

  Scott ushers me to his car with his hand on my lower back and opens and closes my door for me like always. We're on our way to The Barrel Room to meet Jenna and Brian for a double date.