“But this isn’t really our first date,” he said. “More like our third with lots of contact in the middle. We had a couple of coffee dates, I’ve insulted you at least once, we had a flower planting date with a take-out dinner chaser, and this is a dinner and movie date. And we saw each other almost every day for three weeks until you moved the trailer. If we were in high school, that would equal carrying your books to class all week, then meeting you at the burger barn on the weekend with the gang....”
“Then making out,” she added.
He grinned at her. “Absolutely.”
Leslie found the nervousness of her first post-divorce date had gone within ten minutes of getting in the truck with him. Being with him was so easy. He had this gruff exterior and a deep sexy voice, but he had a very soft center. His honesty charmed her to the marrow of her bones. Everything about Conner seemed spontaneous and real as opposed to premeditated. He was what he was, take it or leave it.
The movie was a sci-fi thriller, very tense. When she gripped his arm, he put it around her shoulders and pulled her protectively close. When they went to a nice restaurant in Arcata, she spent the whole meal praising the food and telling him all the things she liked to cook; he told her everything he liked to eat. On the long drive home she talked about how much she’d like to travel more than she had, which was very little, while he talked about how little wanderlust he had. Home was all that mattered to him. If he could stay in the same place forever and always know where a couple of beers and his TV broadcasting pro football games would be, he’d be content.
“I love football,” she said. “But I’d still like to travel.”
“I’ve never really had the time or money for travel, but if I did, I can think of a few things I wouldn’t mind seeing.”
“Like?” she pushed.
He shrugged. “The Super Bowl?”
She laughed. “I don’t know if we have a lot in common or nothing in common.”
“It’s really too soon to tell.” He parked the truck in front of her little house. He turned in his seat and faced her. “Let me come in, Les,” he said.
“Oh, right. The making out part,” she teased.
“Or coffee,” he said. “But I’m not done yet. Are you?”
“I am not,” she said, surprisingly happy about it.
He came around the truck to help her out. He lifted her to the ground. His arm around her waist both supported and hurried her, and when they were inside the house with the door closed, he swept her up to him, his lips on her lips, kissing her deeply once again as though he’d waited all night to do it. She dropped her purse on the floor and gave herself over to this kiss, wondering how she’d made it this long without it.
And that fast she decided—she was going to enjoy her life rather than subject herself to some kind of torture of denial to avoid ever being hurt again. If he wanted to devour her with these fabulous kisses, and more, she’d just have to endure it.
He backed off the littlest bit and said, “You have a very good mouth for this. Perfect, I think.”
“Are you just getting it out of the way again?” she asked.
“Nope. Just getting started. Do you have to listen to messages or let the cat out or anything?”
She shook her head. “Are we going to stand inside the door and make out?”
“I could. Where do you want to make out?”
She thought about saying the bed. Or the shower. Or maybe up against a wall? “Sofa?” she asked.
“You don’t sound too sure,” he said, slipping the blazer from her shoulders. He shed his lightweight jacket and tossed them both on the living room chair. Taking her hand, he led her to the couch. “Do you need anything? A drink? A little more conversation? How’s the mustache? Too bristly?”
She just shook her head, bringing a chuckle out of him. Once she was seated on the sofa he knelt on one knee and helped her out of her boots. Then he sat down and took off his. And then he had her in his arms again pulling her across his lap, going after her mouth with all his heat and power.
“I don’t want to jinx this,” he whispered, “but you’re a natural.”
“Are you saying I’ve missed my calling?”
He reclined with her on the sofa. “I’m saying, you’re very tasty and desirable and I could do this clear into next week.”
Then, with a hand on her butt pulling her against him, he pressed into her. She chuckled against his lips. “No, you can’t,” she said. He was hard. Ready. “All you want is sex.”
He grew still and serious. He gave her lips a little peck. Then he kissed her nose. “No, Les. That’s not all. But it’s not a bad place to start.”
Leslie could remember making out, but she certainly couldn’t remember anything like this. And she’d never been romanced this way—with a truckload of flowers and comments like, that’s not all, but it’s not a bad place to start. Although Conner was a large man, they somehow managed to lie on the couch together, bodies pressed close, mouths pressed closer. And hands, gliding up and down bodies. Leslie kissed his mouth, his chin, his brooding eyebrows, his cheeks, the place where his dimple would be when he smiled. She licked his upper lip, touching the mustache with her tongue, and made him moan.
“You like that, I think,” he said.
“I like it,” she confirmed. She tugged his shirt out of his pants so she could run her hands up his hard belly and over his sculptured chest. “You’re hard everywhere.”
He unbuttoned her crisp white shirt to find a very sexy, transparent lace bra. “And you’re soft everywhere. Did you wear this for me?” He bent his head and kissed the lace.
“I might’ve, yes. I wasn’t sure what would happen, but I did think about having the right underwear for it.”
His big hand slid down to the crotch of her jeans. “I can’t wait to see the matching panties.”
“One thing at a time.”
“You’re right.” He popped the front latch of her bra and enjoyed himself for a little while with her breasts, first fondling and then kissing and finally sucking. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “How’s that bristle on your breasts?”
“It’s very good,” she said breathlessly, without opening her eyes.
“Les, are we gonna get naked?”
“You mean more naked?”
“It’s up to you,” he said. “And if the answer is yes, let’s trade this couch in for a bed. If the answer is no, let’s put on the coffee.”
“I’m very nervous. I wonder if I’ve thought it through....”
He chuckled and ran a rough finger down her chest all the way to her navel. “You have no reason to be nervous. And I have a couple of brand-new condoms in my pocket. One week old.”
“You planned this?”
“No, sweetheart. I wanted this. Hoped for this. Wanted to be prepared for this.”
She bit her bottom lip for a second. “Will we still be friends after?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Oh, Leslie, better friends, I hope. Are you worried I’m just here for the sex? Because I’m here for the sex with you, but only because it’s you. I haven’t felt this in a long time. I was a little afraid I’d never feel it again. But…” He started to pull her shirt closed over her breasts. “I want you to be ready. This has to be about both of us, not just one of us. We can put on the coffee....”
She grabbed his wrists. “I’m nervous, but I’m ready.”
“Are you nervous because it’s me?”
“Because it’s been so long and because I really like you. And because I’ve never done anything like this before, this ‘friends with benefits’ kind of thing.”
“It’s more than that,” he said. “I think it’s friends with chemistry. You really turn me on.” He nuzzled her neck w
ith a low purr that almost turned into a growl. “I’m going to take very good care of you, Leslie.”
“What if I don’t take real good care of you?” she asked him.
He looked surprised. “Not possible.” He put his lips against hers, and then in a remarkable move, never breaking the kiss, he shifted her weight until she was sitting on his lap again. With one arm behind her and the other under her knees, he lifted her. “Which way?”
“Left,” she said.
When he reached her bedroom, he stood at the side of the bed, holding her, looking down. The comforter was folded back, the pillows fluffed. “Perfect,” he said. And he slowly lowered her.
Leslie lay on her bed in her jeans, socks and opened blouse and watched as Conner went through the ritual of emptying his pockets onto the bedside table. He took out condoms and wallet; his watch joined them. Then he pulled off his shirt and opened his belt. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, his process of getting ready for her. But it was hard to concentrate. He had an enormous bulge in his dress pants. And when he lowered the pants, leaving only black boxer briefs, it was all she could do not to gasp.
He knelt on the bed and gently touched her, his fingertips gliding over her lips, then her neck and breasts, her belly. Then he opened her jeans and gave them a little tug. She lifted up so he could draw them off, and he groaned at the sight of her transparent lace panties. He tossed the jeans and ran a finger around the elastic. “God,” he muttered.
She reached for the waistband of his briefs. “Come on,” she said. “I’m cold.”
“You won’t be cold for long,” he said. And he quickly got rid of his boxers, removing the mystery. She bit on her lower lip to keep from saying, Wow. It was a little intimidating. Very large. Very hard.
He sat down on the bed and pulled her into a sitting position. He pushed the opened blouse and unsnapped bra over her shoulders. “Let’s get rid of this,” he said, his voice gravelly.
“And these?” she asked, her hands going to her panties.
“Not yet,” he said. “Not yet.” He ran his finger under the elastic again. “Let me play with these awhile. God, Leslie. What an incredible beauty you are.”
“Because I say no to pie,” she weakly informed him.
“No, you can still take on plenty of pie and be beautiful. But, my God, I’m losing my mind.” He ran his fingers under the elastic at her legs, first one, then the other. “Hmm, you’re killing me.”
“We can take them off,” she offered.
“Not yet,” he said. “Let me have my fun.” And then his hands were spreading her, and his fingers were moving into that very personal territory beneath the panties. Of course she was completely ready. Swollen and hot and wet. He leaned down to her lips just as he let one finger slide into her, and his kiss carried a deep throaty moan with it. “Man, I’m having a very hard time waiting for you.”
“You don’t have to wait,” she offered. And without meaning to, without planning to, her pelvis rose into his hand. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to wait long.”
“Good,” he said, nibbling at her lips. “Good.” He sat up again and slowly, tenderly, drew down those lace panties. She was waxed except for a small patch on her pubis. He met her eyes, smiled, lifted one brow. “Maybe I should see your barber.”
She reached out and touched his mustache. “Don’t you dare.”
He tossed the panties and reclined, pulling her into his arms, holding her close. His hand was on her again, now rubbing that sensitive little bump that brought all the joy of the universe to her. “Stop,” she whispered. “I can’t wait if you do that.”
“Ready?”
“I’ve been ready since you brought me lantana in three colors.”
His laugh was a deep rumble. “I knew when it got down to it, you were easy.” He rubbed more ferociously. He put a finger inside and rubbed with his thumb.
She reached for him, filled her hand with him and said, “So, you wanna play dirty?” She stroked him. Not gently. She brought deep noises from him, and he pinched his eyes closed.
He kissed her again, deeply, wetly. “Dirty is the only way I want to play.” But he pulled his hands and lips away and went after that condom, suiting up. Then he covered her body with his, holding his massive weight off her. With a gentle knee, he parted her legs. “I just can’t right now. I’m on a pretty short leash.” And again he touched her with his fingers, getting her hotter than hot.
With slow and smooth searching, he found her and let himself inside just a small amount, checking her reaction. She nodded at him, and he pushed in a little more. Again she nodded and again he gave her more. Then he took her mouth, his tongue playing with hers, and he slid all the way in. She gasped.
“Okay?” he asked her.
“God,” she whispered. “Okay,” she said weakly.
“Tell me if it’s not comfortable. Don’t put up with anything that feels wrong.”
“God,” she said again. “It feels right....”
And she saw the crinkles at the corners of his eyes along with his smile. Then he began to move in and out, slowly. Too slowly. He kissed his way down her neck, across her collarbone, over her breast and pulled a nipple into his mouth. In and out.
She rose against him. “More.”
“Try this,” came his throaty whisper. “Just try it this way. Let me get you there nice and easy. Let it build. Then when it’s time—”
“Oh, God, it’s time....” she nearly cried, pushing against him.
“You’re killing me,” he told her. “Almost time…”
“Harder,” she asked in a whimper. She couldn’t believe it was her! She’d never cried out for what she wanted before! “Faster!”
And he laughed deep in his throat. “Almost time,” he said, slowly and deeply invading, one long stroke at a time, torturing her.
She moaned and rose against him. Her knees bent, her heels dug into the bed, she whimpered and moaned again and again. A cry came from her, and he must have known that her orgasm was on him; his fingers found her most erogenous spot, his lips bruised hers in a hard, possessive kiss, and he pounded himself into her. Deeper and faster. And she broke apart, exploding all over him. He growled low and with appreciation. And then he said it. “God…Leslie…” It went on forever, the pleasure, the whimpering and growling, and she wasn’t quite done when he suddenly let go of her mouth, moved his lips to her nipple, and he grabbed her hips to plunge himself deep inside of her, holding her still but for his powerful throbbing. He groaned in ecstasy. She wasn’t sure where her orgasm ended and his began, and it was beyond anything she’d ever experienced before. Then he grabbed her chin in one big calloused hand, tilted her mouth toward his and took her mouth with almost the same force.
She thought it was a wonder she didn’t faint.
Seven
She felt herself smiling and yet on the verge of tears. He held the bulk of his weight off her, his eyes closed. Then his features slowly relaxed, and he kissed her several times, on the lips, the cheeks, the neck, chin, forehead. She reached up to his thick eyebrows with her fingertips and smoothed them, and he opened his eyes.
He took a deep breath. “That was the most amazing…”
“Oh, my God,” she said. “I had sex on the first date!”
“You and I had very good sex on the first date,” he said with a laugh. Then he frowned again and wiped a thumb along her temple. “Hey, forget what your mother said. It’s not a bad thing! We’ve been over this—it wasn’t really a first date! Are you crying?”
“Sorry… I might be a little emotional or something....”
“Leslie, was I rough? Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “You were wonderful. I think I might be a little crazy,” she said. “I can’t beli
eve I was worried. I was so worried....” She gave a little hiccup of emotion.
“Because it was so long since the last time?” he asked.
“More than that,” she said. “Oh, Conner, you just can’t imagine the kinds of things I’ve believed about myself. That I wasn’t much of a lover, for one thing…”
“You can’t be serious. You put me on another planet....”
She laughed through a tear. “I’m just overthinking things again.” She put the palm of her hand against his cheek.
“Tell me,” he insisted.
“I’ve been told I…” She took a breath. “That I could be more interesting.”
“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “Whoever said that probably needed practice.”
“I’ve always wondered…you know…if that was one of the reasons…”
“That he strayed? That he left?” he asked.
She gave a weak little nod.
He laughed in spite of himself. “You’re wonderful, Leslie, you can trust me on this. You make love like a goddess. An angel. A very wild, wonderful angel.” He laughed again. “Jesus, what a mean way to undermine a woman’s confidence. From what I could tell, we worked together just great. Hmm?”
She let out a shaky breath. It was one of the most exciting, intense moments she’d ever had with a man, but she’d hold on to that information a little while. “Are you uncomfortable? Holding yourself up like this?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to move. Ever.”
“Me, either. I think it’s the mustache that makes the difference.”
“Oh, we haven’t even put the mustache to work yet.” She shivered, and he laughed, a low rumbling. She put her arms around his neck to hold him and just closed her eyes, comfortable and relaxed like never before. “Do you need to fall asleep?” he asked.
“Nope. Not tired.”
“Good. I’m not tired, either,” he said. “I’d like to check and see if it can get better than perfect....”