Marriage Lessons

by Katie Allen

  Dropping his head back, he stared at the ceiling. “I’m...out of practice.” He sent her a quick look so honestly vulnerable that her breath caught.

  “How’d that happen?” The words burst out of her, and she flushed, sure that she’d just given away how absolutely irresistible she found him. “I mean, why?”

  His mouth tucked in at the corners in the way it did when he was trying not to laugh, but Annabelle was sure that wasn’t the emotion he was trying to hold back at the moment. Blowing out a long breath, he finally answered. “For the first few years after I got back, there were surgeries and physical therapy and prosthesis fittings and hospital stays. Most of the time, I was in too much pain to focus on dating or even getting laid. Once I was stitched together as best as they could manage, I bought the studio. When I couldn’t sleep, I painted. Except for gallery customers and the artists, I was pretty solitary. Dating and sex just weren’t in my regular routine anymore.”

  She stared at the side of his face. There was something in his tone or his expression that made her think that what he’d shared wasn’t the whole truth. “Uh-huh. That’s the full reason? You just got out of the habit of banging?”

  Turning his head, he eyed her as he choked on a laugh. “That’s it. I’m out of the habit of banging.”

  There was a challenge to his words that made her sit up straighter and lean forward. He’d started this conversation on their pathetic social lives, and she wasn’t about to let him wiggle out of it now that the spotlight was focused on him. “Bullshit.”

  “If my reason is bullshit, then so is yours.” He didn’t drop eye contact, and Annabelle wasn’t about to be the first one to look away. “Out of the nearly fifty thousand people in Bozeman, no one’s caught your eye, even for a moment?”

  “Like I said, I’m picky.”

  He made a disbelieving sound. “Right. You’re not picky. You’re not interested.”

  “Is that what’s going on with you? You’re not interested in anyone?”

  There was a pause that vibrated with a thrilling tension. Annabelle was about five seconds away from grabbing him and kissing his face off. Before her long-restrained urges could snap free, he glanced away, breaking their stare-down. She slumped back against the sofa arm, feeling disappointed. As big of a mess as it would be for them to have kissed, she couldn’t help but want it, anyway.

  “I’ve been interested.” His shrug didn’t look casual, no matter how hard he was trying to play it off as such. “I just haven’t gone beyond the passing thought to actually acting on it.”

  “Why not?” It might not be any of her business, but they’d already delved too deeply into the conversation to back out and have their professional relationship be unchanged. Besides, she wanted to know. She needed to know.

  This time, when he looked at her, his mouth twitched with humor. “You’re like a dog with a bone.”

  “I know. It’s part of what makes me such a good employee.”

  He grumbled, but she could tell he wasn’t really irritated. His silent sigh moved his chest, and she had a hard time pulling her gaze away from his pecs. “I haven’t had sex since I was injured.”

  When he didn’t expound on that, she made a go-on gesture. “I think we already clarified that. The question is why you, beautiful Louis Dumont, haven’t danced the horizontal tango in so long—or, as you put it, even grabbed a cup of coffee with someone you possibly could see yourself be interested in eventually.”

  His grunt sounded a little frustrated. “That’s why.” When she continued staring at him with knit eyebrows, he threw up his hand in a dramatic mini-fit. “It’s different now. Being naked in front of someone is different. The physical logistics are different. At what point does my leg come off? What if I lose my balance and smush her? What if she’s disgusted at the sight of my stump? What if she laughs? It’s easier and less potentially humiliating if I just stay here and use my hand.”

  Annabelle stared at him. She knew she should say something—or at least close her gaping mouth—but she couldn’t seem to get over the shock of his words. “You think...” Her voice trailed off, and his head tilted, his forehead creased slightly, as if he was trying to figure out what she was attempting to say. “You actually think that anyone with eyeballs and a brain in their head could find you in any way disgusting? Are you high?” It was only one of the points that struck her as wrong, but her thoughts were back to their earlier scrambled state, and it was the first one she’d seized on.

  The corner of his mouth notched up as he answered seriously. “I’m a little tipsy but not high.”

  “Well, you have no excuse for thinking that, then. You were hurt in a war, being a hero, and you think some woman who was lucky enough to spend some naked time with Louis-fucking-Dumont would ruin her opportunity for open access to your ass by mocking you?”

  Those luscious lashes blinked rapidly, as if his mind was spinning, too. “I didn’t think she would mock me, necessarily. It was more that I was worried things would be uncomfortably awkward. The risk isn’t worth the reward.”

  She studied him, her brain spinning. His confession had knocked her issues to the sidelines for the moment. “Why not just go on a date? Usually you don’t have to be naked for those.”

  He made a face. “I hate dating. I even hated dating when I knew it was going to lead to fun times in bed.”

  “Really? Why?” She shifted closer, fascinated. As her calves slid along his thighs, it reminded her that she was draped over him, and he’d just told her that he didn’t want to have anything to do with tangling body parts at the moment, so she started to pull her legs back. “Sorry. I’ll move.”

  Before she could remove her legs from his lap, he caught them through the blanket and moved them even higher on his thighs. Her eyes bulged a little at how very close her right calf now was to penis-town, but he didn’t seem bothered by the proximity.

  “You’re fine.” Although his grip loosened, he kept his hands resting on top of her blanket-draped shins, and she tried very hard not to obsess about the way her legs were sandwiched between his rock-hard thighs and strong hands. “What’s to like about dating? Why would I want to spend time with someone who’s pretty much a stranger?”

  “Because...” Pausing, she considered the question. It was a good distraction from his touch, although she couldn’t quite ignore the way he felt completely. “It’s not always awkward. Sometimes two people click right off the bat, and they have a great time on the first date.”

  “Uh-huh.” His tone was heaped with sarcasm. “How often has that happened to you?”

  Quickly running her dating history through her head, she gave up and scrunched her nose. “Well, never. Except for when I met Leah. We were besties about ten seconds after first meeting.”

  “See? Even you, one of the most easygoing and amiable people I’ve ever met, has to suffer through stiff and uncomfortable early dates.” Before she could question whether she was actually easygoing or amiable, he kept talking, and she lost the opportunity to bring it up. “When people meet me for the first time, they’re either horrified or overwhelmed or a little bit panicked.”

  “What?” she asked, completely flabbergasted. “It’s like you live in a completely different and wrong dimension than the rest of us. When people first meet you, they’re enchanted and charmed and a little bit infatuated.” She had personal experience with all three. “Where are you getting these crazy ideas about how people see you?”

  When he just rolled his eyes, obviously not believing her, she took the conversation in a different direction. “Fine. Why not date someone you’ve already met, then? That’ll smooth out the first-date awkwardness.”

  “Like who?” He shifted down, tucking his pelvis underneath him and slouching against the sofa back. Annabelle froze. Although she couldn’t feel any of his body parts pressing against the side of her calf yet, she knew the b
ulge had to be really close. Could she actually feel the heat radiating from his crotch, or was that her desperate imagination?

  “Um...” How could she think when his private bits were giving off more heat than a bonfire? “Let’s say Velvet was bi. What about her? You seem to get along really well together.”

  “Annabelle Shay.” He turned her name into a groan.

  “What?”

  “You can’t just change something critical like that. The reason Velvet and I get along so well is because I know she’s not interested in me.”

  “Okay, then.” She racked her brain for single, eligible women in the general vicinity of Louis’s age—thirty-one—but the wine and the proximity of his penis to her leg and the many revelations of the evening made her head spin. The only person who came to mind was the one she didn’t even want to mention, but Louis was looking at her expectantly, so she just blurted it out. “Harper.”

  He grimaced. “No, thanks.”

  “Why not?” Even as her brain was yelling at her to let the whole Harper thing drop, her curiosity wouldn’t let her. “She’s beautiful and funny and self-sufficient.”

  “She is funny, but she’s willing to sacrifice people’s feelings to make her audience laugh.” He waved a hand, as if brushing an imaginary Harper to the side. “I’m not into cruel people, especially when their meanness is for such a shallow reason. Besides, I already told you I don’t find her attractive anymore.”

  “Good.” The word was out before she could stop it, and Louis gave her an inquiring look. She debated for a few moments of whether or not to share, but she decided to tell him her opinion. It wasn’t anything negative about Louis, he already said that he didn’t care for Harper, and Annabelle’d had enough wine to obliterate her filter. “She said something right before she left tonight that made me wonder if she, well...fetishizes your leg—the prosthetic one, I mean.”

  He gave her a wry look. “Well, I wouldn’t think she’d fetishize my intact leg, although I do have quads of steel.” Annabelle could attest to that. “Wait. Should that be quad of steel? Whatever. It’s quite shapely.”

  She snort-laughed at that, relieved that he didn’t seem to be traumatized by the news that Harper didn’t want him for his personality. Emboldened by the way he’d dismissed Harper as a hypothetical dating partner, she asked, “What about Regina, then?”

  “Nope.” There was no hesitation to his answer.

  “Why not? Again, she’s beautiful, classy, intelligent...?”

  “She scares me.” His confident smirk didn’t fit with his words.

  “Liar.” Annabelle flicked his arm and instantly wished she hadn’t when her finger stung painfully from the contact. There was no give to Louis’s biceps. Although she resisted shaking her hand to ease the hurt, the amused look on his face told her that he knew perfectly well she regretted it. He, on the other hand, hadn’t even flinched. “Nothing scares you.” She paused considering their conversation. Her slightly wine-fuzzed brain was a little slow in making connections. “Well, nothing except letting a woman see you naked.”

  His expression went blank, and she regretted blurting that out so baldly. “I’m not scared of that,” he said coolly in a tone much more suited to Regina than funny, irreverent Louis. “I was just...avoiding possible awkwardness, and then it became a habit.”

  Her stomach lurched with guilt. She hated that she’d so obviously hurt his feelings, especially when he’d been so open about his sensitive spots. Wanting to make up for her thoughtless comment, she impulsively blurted out something she never, ever would have otherwise. “I can be your guinea pig, if you like.”

  Chapter Seven

  His eyes went wide, and his mouth dropped open, and he stared at her. Annabelle realized that, for the first time ever, she’d shocked him speechless. That was understandable, because she’d horrified herself, too. The practical part of her was screeching Abort! Abort! in her brain, but she wasn’t sure how she could accomplish that. Heat burned her cheeks as she scrambled for something to say that would deactivate the word bomb she’d just dropped.

  “Not the, well, the sex part, since that would make things weird, and there’s no need to do the actual date part, since that’s not what you’re worried about—not that you’re worried about it, more anxious, I guess? I just thought it’d help to practice showing women your body, since you know me, and you know I won’t make things awkward.” She paused as she realized that she’d just made things beyond awkward, which didn’t help her case. “Just forget that I said anything. It’s the wine talking, giving me stupid ideas. Let’s move on to something else. Did you see how much better Roger looked with his new haircut tonight? I’m so glad he finally figured out that the plastic Ken-doll helmet wasn’t doing him any favors.”

  She stopped talking when she ran out of air and peeked at Louis’s face. His look of utter shock was gone, replaced by an expressionless mask that hid what he was thinking. There was an unfamiliar spark of heat in his eyes, though, that made Annabelle squirm—and then instantly still when she remembered how close her right calf was to certain bulges. After making that suggestion about him getting naked in front of her, she didn’t want to add injury to insult and leg-grope the poor guy. She’d already done enough.

  When he stayed silent, her shoulders fell along with her stomach. She’d done it. She’d ruined their happy wine-and-couch-cuddles night. The only thing to do was to go home and sleep and hope that Louis would be kind enough not to fire her and never bring up her stupid offer again. She started sliding her legs over, intending to get off the sofa.

  He grabbed her blanket-wrapped legs, pulling them back over his lap. “Where are you going?”

  “Um...home?” Her voice came out with a bit of a squeak, but it wasn’t her fault, since he’d tucked her legs right against him, and her right calf was pressed firmly against a hard bulge.

  “What about your offer to see me naked?”

  Even though she’d just made that very suggestion, hearing him say it out loud made her wince. What had she been thinking? The wine was to blame—and maybe her huge, unrequited crush, and also the feel of his growing cock against her leg. “I thought that you...by the way you were staring, I thought that you were kind of...horrified by the idea?”

  “Not horrified.” The glint in his eye was back, although there was another layer to it on top of his usual lighthearted teasing. From the monster erection pressing against her leg, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the added element was arousal. Although she was flustered and unsure and a little appalled at what had spilled out of her mouth, a tiny part of her was thrilled that she’d managed to turn him on. “Definitely not horrified. Surprised, but also...intrigued?”

  Intrigued? The word echoed through her head, and her heart started to race even faster. He was intrigued by her? Despite her excitement, the common-sense portion of her brain was screaming at her to stop this conversation and leave before the intriguing part happened. It was the logical thing to do. If she pretended she hadn’t meant it, that it had been a poor attempt at a joke, maybe they could return to their normal working relationship.

  The thought of going back to pretending that she didn’t want Louis, didn’t have an enormous crush on him, didn’t feel an almost obsessive adoration, made all the air go out of her, leaving her as flat as a popped balloon. She didn’t want to continue faking a casual friendship. She was tired of hiding how she felt. Gathering all her courage, she met his gaze. “Should we do this, then?”

  His smile started slow, curling up the sides of his mouth until it stretched into a wide grin. “Are you sure? If you say no, it won’t affect anything about your job. You’re the best gallery manager I’ve ever hired, and I don’t want you to think that any of this—” he made a broad gesture that encompassed them and his living room “—is going to have consequences out there.” Louis waved at the door that led to the studio
. “You can turn me down, and nothing will change between us. I promise.”

  The idea of nothing changing between them was so depressing that it convinced Annabelle even more that she should go ahead. “I’m not turning you down.” Needing to break the tension before she panicked and either ran out of the room or started ripping off his clothes, she gave him a challenging look and raised one eyebrow. “Let’s see it, Louis. What are you hiding behind those hideous pants?”

  His laugh boomed out, and there was a relieved edge to it that Annabelle couldn’t quite read. Either he was grateful that she’d shattered the tension or he was happy that she hadn’t walked out the door. “Well, I can’t really move while you have me pinned down, can I?”

  Although Annabelle’s first instinct was to yank her feet off his lap, she resisted the urge. If this was the only time she was going to get with Louis, then she was going to make it count. Scooting closer to him, she shifted around until she was straddling him on her knees, her butt resting firmly on his thighs. One of her butt cheeks hung off the end of his residual leg, so she shifted higher on his lap. The move flattened them together, and she heard his breath catch, a sound that mirrored her own suppressed gasp as she pressed against his erection.

  She met his gaze. “This okay?”

  Although his smile was still there, the heat in his eyes had increased until she could almost feel it burning into her. “I wouldn’t describe this as okay.” After pausing to pretend to consider, he spoke again. “Nice is probably more accurate.”

  His hands, which she only now realized had been hovering a few inches above her as if he’d been making an effort not to touch, lowered onto her thighs and slid to her hips, gripping her gently but firmly. The slight pressure of his fingers made her want to squirm with excitement, but she forced herself to stay still. This wasn’t about her fantasy finally coming true. This was about building Louis’s confidence in his body. Even though the idea of him dating other women made her chest burn with heartache and jealousy, she still wanted him to know how absolutely gorgeous he was.