Chapter 4 #2
They lay facing each other, caressing, soothing, stirring. He pulled her tight against him and kissed her as if it was their first kiss all over again. “Georgie,” he whispered. “I want you so badly. I’ve wanted you for weeks.”
Startled, she said, “You have?”
He hooked her leg over his hip and slid his fingers through her moist center, denying contact to the spot that throbbed for him—again, already. “Did you really think I didn’t notice you when I ran by every morning? I never used to go that way until I saw you there the first time.”
Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, she said, “You didn’t?”
He shook his head, brushed his lips over hers, and slid a finger into her.
Sucking in a harsh deep breath, Georgie arched her back and pushed against his probing finger.
Adding a second one, he kissed her softly. “What a nice surprise to realize who was stuffing Styrofoam into the Dumpster today. You can’t imagine how sorry I was that I had upset you.”
No! He doesn’t mean that! He can’t do this to me. He can’t make this out to be more than it is. He’ll ruin everything if he does that. Desperate to put the focus back where it belonged, she shifted onto her back and reached for him, encouraging him to take what she offered so willingly.
Poised between her legs, he looked down at her, daring her to look away as he entered her.
Georgie gasped and struggled to take in his hard length, which was more than she was used to—much more.
He went slowly until he was fully sheathed in her, holding still for a long moment during which Georgie let go of the worries and the fears and the lingering disgust over what she was doing and gave herself permission to feel.
And then, as if he had no choice, he began to move.
She raised her knees to take him deeper and cried out in shock when a climax slammed into her.
Never before had it been so easy to get to that elusive place—never before had she gotten there so quickly.
As he tightened his arms around her and let himself go, she had yet another reason to worry that her night of mindless sex wasn’t going to unfold quite the way she had planned.
When Georgie awoke the next morning, she knew before she even opened her eyes that she was alone.
Sun streamed in through uncovered windows as she lay there trying not to think about the night she had spent with him.
But despite her best efforts, flashes and images that would be forever burned in her mind played like a movie—straddling him and riding him with abandon as he held her hands, his face buried between her legs, the intense way he had gazed at her each time he entered her.
She had lost track of the number of times and ways and orgasms. There had been a lot of them.
With a groan, she rolled over to bury her face in the pillow and was greeted by a scream of protest from muscles unused to such frenzied activity. A piece of paper crunched under her elbow, and she raised herself up to look at it.
Georgie, thank you for the most amazing night.
I’m sorry I had to leave for work so early.
Believe me, I’d much rather be in bed with you.
There’s a coffeemaker in the downstairs bathroom that’s all ready if you want a boost before you go, or there’s OJ in the fridge.
Make yourself at home, use the shower, anything you want.
The door will lock behind you when you leave.
I know you said this was a one-time thing, but I’d really like to see you again—and not just because of the s-e-x (which was incredible).
Call me or come by the house if you change your mind.
I’ll think of you today. Probably tomorrow, too. And the next day.
Nathan
He had included his cell number at the bottom of the page.
She released a pained sigh as she read the sweet note again.
Why couldn’t she have met him when things were normal?
When she had room in her life for all the things he could be to her?
Riddled with regret, she sat up, ran a hand through her tousled hair and, ignoring the protest from her sore muscles, darted naked into the bathroom, hoping his brother wouldn’t choose this moment to come home.
She eyed the shower with longing but decided to get out of there and take one at home.
His damp towel hung from a rack under the window, and she reached out to run her fingers over it. The air was heavy with summer humidity and his cologne, which made her want him like she hadn’t had him all night. “Knock it off,” she muttered.
Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, she saw puffy bags under her eyes from the all-but-sleepless night, red patches of irritation from where his whiskers had abraded her skin, and, oh God, was that a hickey?
“No,” she moaned. Ashamed, she cast her eyes down to find a pile of shiny black condom wrappers in the trashcan.
She couldn’t resist bending over to count them.
One, two, three. No way. Four. Her heart pounded, and her stomach surged with nausea as a fifth one appeared under the others.
Mortified by the discovery, she flushed the toilet and dashed back into his bedroom to find her clothes.
Her dress was a bundled-up mass of wrinkles, her bra dangled from the end of the bed, and her panties were missing in action.
Digging around in the sheets, she finally found them and tugged them on, certain she would never look at purple polka dots in quite the same way again.
Reaching for her earrings on his bedside table, she was swamped with longing.
To see him just once more. To feel the way he made her feel, even if just for five more minutes.
Was that too much to ask after what she had given him during the night?
“You’re the one who said it was a one-time thing,” she mumbled as she stared at the earrings, which all but dared her to leave them there to give him an excuse to seek her out again.
Before she could change her mind, she slid on her flip-flops and left the room—without the earrings.
In the hallway, she heard water running in the bathroom.
She went in to find the toilet still flushing.
When tinkering with the handle didn’t take care of it, she lifted the cover off the back and fiddled with the plunger thingy, but couldn’t get it to stay up to stop the flow of water.
“He’ll flip his lid if I leave it like this all day.
I’ll bet he’s a freak about water conservation, too. ”
She looked around for something she could use to fix it.
Feeling like she was invading his privacy, she opened the medicine cabinet.
Mixed in with all the guy stuff, she found a box of dental floss.
Her eyes darting from the malfunctioning plunger to the light fixture on the wall above the toilet, she mulled her options and decided there weren’t any. It was this or nothing.
With only another moment of hesitation, she grabbed the dental floss, tied it to the plunger and hoisted it up with a knot around the light.
Just for good measure, she added a second piece.
Satisfied she had done what she could, she returned what was left of the floss to the cabinet, closed the door, dashed down the stairs and out the front door, hoping no one would see her as she left.
She didn’t take a deep breath until she reached the foot of Extension Street and hung a left onto Lower Thames toward Dean Avenue, back to her mother’s house, back to her mother’s job, back to the aftermath of her mother’s death.