4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
“Dolly’s probably still at bingo,” Paige told David as they walked down the hallway to her apartment. They were holding hands and as they approached Mrs. Harte’s door, his hand tightened, almost reflexively.
“‘Probably’ means there’s a chance that she’s not.”
“I’m pretty sure she’s still at bingo. Is that better?”
“Better would be if you were really sure.”
She stopped and gave him an eye roll. “Fine. I’m really sure she’s still at bingo.”
He took her arm and quickly pulled her away from Mrs. Harte’s door. “What are you doing? She could look out her peephole and see me standing here—”
“Not if she’s still at bingo. Which I’m really sure she is.” Paige stopped again, grabbing his left wrist and twisting it so she could read the time on the Tag Heuer watch she’d given him on their honeymoon. “They usually play until 10 p.m., and it’s only 9:30 p.m.,” she said. “So, you’re safe for at least a half hour.”
They resumed the short walk to Paige’s door, where she dug her keys out of her purse. “Would you like to come in for a few minutes?”
“Maybe for more than a few minutes,” he countered suggestively. “So I can give you your something ‘good’.”
“Ooh, I can’t wait.”
With a slightly exaggerated expression of glee, Paige turned and put her key in the lock. As she did, his hands settled on her shoulders, gently squeezing, and he crowded her a little from behind. For an awful second her body remembered her Uncle Carter’s unwelcome touch, which had often come from behind when she wasn’t expecting it, and she flinched, then froze.
David felt her response and it gave him pause. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, forcing herself to get centered in the moment, where David’s hands were on her, not Carter’s.
“Bullshit. You just locked up on me.”
“I’m fine.”
“Again, I’m calling bullshit.” He turned her to face him. “Something’s wrong.”
Paige sighed. “It’s not you, okay?”
He looked pained. “Did I trigger you or something?”
“Sort of. Being touched from behind sort of took me away for a moment, but it’s over and I’m back,” she assured him, then wished she’d chosen a better way to explain it, instead of making it sound like she’d teleported somewhere.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He put his hands on the sides of her neck, holding her gently. “So, you’re with me now?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
His thumbs slid up and caressed her cheeks, then her bottom lip. “How about now?”
Instead of verbally answering this time, she gave the barest of nods, her lips parting for him. David noted her wide eyes and shallow breaths, and while he wasn’t used to seeing her like this, he’d been around the block enough to know when a woman was turned on. And even though she’d had an unpleasant moment, she was definitely turned on now.
Knowing this was for him was almost overwhelming. The knowledge raced through his veins like an electrical current as he slid his fingers up into her hair, which felt like silk. Holding her in place, he leaned in and kissed her.
He truly thought her lips had been made for his, and as they softened and molded so perfectly to his, he groaned low in his throat. He felt everything around him recede, until all that remained was Paige and his unbelievable need for her, which only seemed to grow as she kissed him back.
As did his cock, which was expanding at an exponential rate.
It was the soft thud of Paige’s back hitting her apartment door that reminded David they were still in the hallway. Blindly, he reached around until he found her keyring hanging from the lock and managed to unlock the door without too much trouble. Then he grabbed at the knob, and after turning it enough to get the door to swing open, they sort of stumbled into her dark apartment, kissing the entire time.
The second they were inside, he maneuvered her until the door was once again behind her and walked her backwards, closing the door in the process. After the bright lights of the hallway, Paige’s entryway was practically pitch dark, rendering them almost blind. Undeterred, they continued to kiss with abandon as their hands really got involved—hers finding their way into his hair and his finding their way to her breasts.
David cupped and squeezed for a few moments before his fingers went to the row of buttons on her shirt. “I’ve been going crazy all night, looking down this shirt,” he told her, a hint of rebuke in his voice. “But that was probably your evil plan when you got dressed.”
She hid her grin in the dark. “‘Evil’ is a pretty strong word, don’t you think?”
“That’s exactly why I used it.”
He pushed her shirt open, only to find that he’d somehow missed a couple of buttons, and made a sound of aggravation in his throat. “I can’t see shit,” he complained, as he took care of the stragglers. When his task was complete and her shirt was hanging open, his hands went to her bra. “Does this open in the front or the back? I don’t want to waste any time trying to figure it out by myself in the dark.”
Paige chuckled softly and reached back, feeling along the wall until she found the light switch. She flipped it on, filling the small space with a soft light that nonetheless had them both blinking like owls.
As his eyes adjusted, they widened in appreciation as he got his first look at her push-up bra, which was a masterpiece of peacock-blue satin, overlaid with black lace. He wasn’t able to admire it for very long, though, because she took the liberty of unhooking the front of the bra for him, answering his question. He immediately pushed both her hands and the padded cups out of the way, and in a matter of seconds her shirt and bra had been dispatched to the floor. It gave him an unrestricted view of her breasts, which he was just starting to take advantage of when she covered her chest with both hands.
“Quid pro quo,” Paige demanded.
With a twitch of his lips, he grabbed his shirt by the collar and pulled it up and over his head, then let it fall to the floor.
Her breath caught in her throat. It had been over five years since she’d seen him like this and for a moment, all she did was stare at him.
He was beautiful.
She let her hands fall and placed them on his abdomen, touching his heated skin before leisurely moving them upward. The smattering of hair across his chest was a little lighter in color than it used to be, but it still felt the same—slightly coarse and springy. It was almost surreal to be touching him like this, especially since Paige never thought she’d even see him again after the divorce.
And now, here they were, half-naked in her entryway.
Her hands trailed further up, until she was holding his bearded face. She held his hazel gaze for a moment before drawing him down for a kiss, which turned into a second, then a third. As they hungrily feasted on one another, she slowly became aware of his hands at her breasts, his long, warm fingers kneading and squeezing. He seemed to know exactly how much pressure to apply to get maximum pleasure, especially when he worked on her nipples.
“Hmm,” she murmured against his mouth, as one of her nipples was lightly pinched, sending a current of Yes, please! down south to her clit. “This is definitely something ‘good’. And worth all the aggravation you gave me.”
“Yeah. About that …”
“What?”
“I’ve actually heard “Pac-Man Fever”.”
It took a second for his words to sink in. When they did, she pulled his head back so she could glare at him. “What did you just say?”
He cleared his throat. “The song “Pac-Man Fever”. I’ve heard it. Many times.”
When he tried to kiss her again like nothing was wrong, Paige stopped him, even though it was a difficult decision. “You’ve heard it? Many times?”
“Yes.”
“So when you said you’d never heard of it, you were lying?”
It seemed like a rhetorical question, but he answered anyway. “Yep. Sorry.”
“You lied to my face?”
“Like I said … sorry.”
“Crappy apology not accepted.” She glared at him again, this time with more ferocity, and wondered what else he hadn’t been truthful about. “So, what about “Lady In Red”, and the girl with the big boobs at the dance?”
David’s head was still in a death grip, which meant he couldn’t kiss her, but his hands were still very active with her breasts. “Oh, that was real and so was the boner—you were right about that. Although, I got it after we danced, when she and I spent a little time under the gym bleachers making out, while she let me feel her up. God, that was amazing.”
When he realized he was essentially feeling Paige up while telling her how amazing it’d been to feel up another girl, he quickly said, “Feeling you up is even more amazing, though. Way more amazing.”
She tilted her head at how ridiculous he sounded. “Congratulations. You really know how to spread the bullshit around. And speaking of bullshit … were you really torn about “I’m Too Sexy”?”
“I actually was. But … I would’ve given you “Abra Cadabra” if you’d pushed back on my ‘It’s so bad it’s good’ whopper, but you didn’t, so that’s on you.”
“You jerk. What about “Ice Ice Baby”?”
“I could’ve given you that one, too. I’m actually disappointed you let me get away with that. Stolen bass line? Not okay.”
“I let you get away with it because I believed you were being honest and telling the truth when you said the bass line was still cool, so the song didn’t count. My bad.”
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“You’re. The. Worst.” She tried to sound stern, but even to her own ears, she just sounded breathless.
He was lightly rubbing both of her nipples. “What? I was trying to win.”
“So was I.”
“Well, you did win, so I don’t see what the problem is.”
“The problem is that you straight-up lied to me. Which makes you a liar and a cheater.”
“I know.” Her grip on his head had loosened, so he was able to lean forward and nip at her bottom lip. “And I was feeling kind of bad about that, because of our honesty pact, so that’s why I’m coming clean, now.”
“Is there anything else you need to come clean about? “MMMBop”? “I Touch Myself”?”
“No. Those two were legit. But …” There was a long pause as he peppered quick kisses along her jaw. “Weezer’s cover of “Africa” cover isn’t that great. I did screw you on that.”
“David!” Her outrage was ruined when she laughed.
“Quit pretending to be mad,” he said, now nuzzling at the tender skin of her throat. “You’re doing a shit job of it.”
It was actually getting really hard to remember why she was mad at him in the first place, especially when he was finding hot spots Paige didn’t even know she had, while rhythmically grinding his hard cock against her.
He was a master at multi-tasking.
“So, just out of curiosity,” David said, pulling back to look at her. “If I had won, what would my something ‘good’ have been?”
She had to force herself to focus on his question. “It would’ve been a lot like my something ‘good’, except I’d sweeten the deal by putting my hand down your pants.”
“Yeah? Well, now I’m really wishing I’d tried harder to win,” he said softly.
His unspoken invitation was clear, and she decided to accept it. Her hands went to the button on his jeans and there was a bit of fumbling before she got it open, his forehead resting against hers the entire time, his breathing heavy.
Feeling slightly shy, she pulled the zipper down, then eased her hand inside his briefs and wrapped her fingers around his hard length. As she reacquainted herself with all the contours of him, it struck her that if touching his chest had seemed surreal, then this was in the next galaxy over from surreal.
She had her ex-husband’s cock in her hand. And boy, did she like it.
Apparently, he did, too, if his deep groans were any indication.
David, for the most part, didn’t care if he sounded like a wounded animal, because her hand was torture. He got lost in the silk of her tight fingers as she stroked up and down in a gentle rhythm, until his legs started to feel weak and he had to brace a hand against her door.
He could practically feel the blood pulsing through his veins and hear his heart pounding in his chest—
No, it wasn’t his heart. It was … someone knocking on Paige’s door.
Never had there been a more unwelcome sound in his life. That is, not until—
“Paige, honey?”
Paige froze in mid-stroke, her eyes going comically wide as she stared at David, whose equally wide eyes darted to the door in a combination of disbelief and horror.
“No,” he whispered. “No. No. No. This isn’t happening.”
Mrs. Harte knocked again. “Paige, are you okay? Your keys are still in your lock.”
David came close to face-palming himself when he realized he’d been the idiot motherfucker who left the keys in the lock. It was his own fault he was being cock-blocked right now by a seventy-year-old barracuda. So, technically, he was cock-blocking himself.
Oh, the painful, awful irony.
David reluctantly removed Paige’s hand and then made a face as he hurriedly tucked himself back in his pants; it was a really tight fit. “Go out there and get rid of her,” he told Paige as he plucked her shirt off the floor and clumsily dressed her as if she were a child. “And for the love of God, don’t let her know I’m here. I’m in no shape to see her.”
“I’m not either, actually—”
“You don’t have a massive hard-on, so you’re good to go,” he said, pushing her toward the door.
“Stop. I can’t go out there without a bra,” she protested.
“Yes, you can. She’ll never know. It’s not like she’s going to be looking at your tits or anything … right? Right. Now get out there and get rid of her. Quickly.”
Her hands went to her hair. “Do I look okay?”
He took in her mis-buttoned shirt, her flushed cheeks with traces of beard burn, and messy hair—all of which were his fault—and gave her an encouraging smile. “You look fine,” he lied, because now was no time for the truth. He was concerned that the old lady was on the verge of using Paige’s keys and coming in. “Come on, please get rid of her. You can do it.”
This time the knock was sharper, and there was a telltale jiggle of the doorknob being grabbed. “Paige, honey, I’m—”
David opened the door just wide enough to shove Paige through, giving her no choice but to go out in the hall and talk with Mrs. Harte. Then, like the coward he was, he stayed behind the door, not taking any chance that the old lady would see him through the two-inch crack Paige left when she didn’t close the door all the way.
“Oh, there you are,” Mrs. Harte said, clearly relieved. “I was really starting to get worried. I thought maybe something terrible had happened, like maybe you’d been abducted or something while you were trying to open your door.”
“I’m sorry you were so worried, Dolly,” Paige apologized. “I didn’t realize my keys were still in the lock.”
“I’m glad you’re all right. My goodness, I almost had a heart attack.”
“I … when I got home a little while ago … you know what happened? I heard my phone ringing inside and must have accidentally left my keys in the door. You know, in my haste to answer the phone.”
David shook his head at the terrible lie. Paige didn’t even have a landline inside her apartment, which was hopefully something Mrs. Harte didn’t know.
“You do seem a little out of breath,” the older woman said.
At that innocent observation, David had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
“I know,” Paige replied. “I probably shouldn’t have bothered to answer it.”
“Was it one of those awful telemarketers calling you?”
“It was, actually. Someone wanting to sell me life insurance.”
David rolled his eyes, wondering what Paige looked like when she was laying out bald-faced lies.
“I get those calls all the time,” Mrs. Harte continued. “And those robot calls, or whatever they’re called, are even worse. That’s all I seem to get during election year—sometimes in the middle of the night. I’ve been unplugging my phone just so I can sleep.”
“Oh, me, too.”
David rubbed a hand through his hair, then over his beard. “Come on, Paige,” he murmured. What was she doing out there? Now was not the time for a long conversation with her neighbor.
“And then there’s the junk emails. It’s not as bad as real junk mail, but it’s close.” Mrs. Harte made a sound of disgust.
“Do you have any filters set up on your email account?” Paige asked.
“Filters? I’m sure I don’t.”
“I could come over and help you with that, if you’d like. Maybe this weekend? Then you wouldn’t get so much spam.”
David began pacing. What part of getting rid of the old woman quickly did Paige not understand? He thought he’d been very clear on that, but apparently he hadn’t.
“Spam?” Mrs. Harte asked.
“That’s what junk emails are called.”
“Oh, I see. Well, that would be wonderful if you could help me get rid of all my spam.”
“How about Sunday? Late afternoon?”
“That’s perfect. I’ll make us dinner,” Mrs. Harte offered. “How does that sound?”
“Are you sure? I hate to have you go to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. You’re the one going to the trouble of helping me, so it’s the least I can do. I’ll make some of my chicken noodle soup that you like so much.”
David stopped by the door, positive this was where Paige was finally going to bring the conversation to a close. His hard-on had long since bid him adios, but it wouldn’t take much to bring it back—
“That sounds good,” Paige said. “And I’ll bring something for dessert.”
“Maybe some of those delicious lemon squares?”
Paige laughed. “Sure.”
David threw his hands up in the air. Paige was supposed to be getting rid of the woman, not laughing and making plans for dinner, for Christ’s sake. Not knowing who he was more aggravated with—Paige or Mrs. Harte—he turned to start pacing again, only to be surprised by Sputnik standing right behind him.
“Oh, fuck!” he called out before he could stop himself, barely managing to avoid tripping over the cat by awkwardly twisting in mid-step, coming down heavily on one foot. Off balance, he threw his arm out and ended up basically hitting the wall with his elbow, hard.
As fiery tingles exploded from his funny bone, he did his best to remain silent and still, even though there was no way that ruckus hadn’t been heard in the hall. Especially with the freaking door cracked open.
“My goodness, what was that?” Mrs. Harte asked, sounding alarmed.
“Oh, um … you know what? It was probably Sputnik.”
“Sputnik?”
“Yes, he … probably knocked something over. He’s been climbing on stuff a lot lately, and jumping on things. You know how cats are. So, he probably jumped up on a shelf and … knocked something onto the floor.”
David rubbed at his elbow and inwardly groaned at the lame explanation. It was even worse than the story about running to answer the phone.
“I should probably go check on him,” Paige continued. “To make sure he’s all right.”
“Oh, absolutely. You go check on that precious cat.”
“I will. Good night, Dolly.”
“Good night. Oh, and Paige, dear? Be sure and tell Sputnik he should watch his language.”