24. 24
24
Tilly
I order a martini, which is a bad idea, but so is everything else about this night.
Professor Dexter Maclean is sitting across from me, sipping an IPA from some microbrewery the waitress recommended. And every time his gaze meets mine, he smiles a knowing smile, like he remembers what I sound like when I come.
I want to hear you.
I can’t stop looking at his hands. At his mouth. My gaze drops to his chest and wants to travel farther to see if his cock is straining against his jeans like it did the other night.
How am I supposed to sit in a lecture hall with this man talking about things that have no connection to him and me and how he makes me feel when he’s inside me?
“What you thinking?” he asks.
I wore my best underwear under my dress. Navy satin with black lace. The underwire digs in a little, but it makes my breasts look their best. And the panties are high-cut and makes my ass looks good.
The way your ass fits in my hands.
“I don’t think you want to know,” I say in a shaky voice.
“I bet it’s exactly what I’m thinking about.” He reaches out and strokes a finger over the back of my hand, and it’s like he’s stoked a weak fire into a raging inferno.
I’ve never been the type to hunger for a younger man, and now look at what I’ve found. Do I hunger for Dexter?
My body certainly thinks so.
I take a mouthful of my martini too quickly and the cold gin burns as it hits my stomach. “This is a really good drink.” My voice cracks and Dexter smiles.
“How long have you been divorced?”
I take a deep breath. This I can answer. “Two years. My husband left me for a yoga instructor fifteen years younger than him. They’re engaged to be married, and I’m on my first date in twenty years. Second, I guess, if you count Brian.”
“I don’t. And you have kids. I saw the pictures the other night. When I left—I’m sorry about that, by the way. I was flying to Cincinnati in a few hours to see my buddy in the hospital.”
“Oh no. Is he okay?”
“He will be. He’s a baseball player with the Reds and he took a fastball to the wrist. Broke it in multiple places, so the season is over for him.”
Dexter is friends with a professional baseball player? What is he doing with me?
“That’s horrible. I hope he’ll be okay. It’s good of you to visit—you were in Cincinnati for the weekend?”
“For the day. It’s a long story,” he hedges. “I’d much rather talk about you right now. There’s time for my friends another time.”
“Okay. This is awkward enough—if you had been there when I woke up, I’m not sure how I would have handled it.”
Dexter laughs. “You just say whatever you feel. I like that.”
“I lived with a very firm filter for a lot of years. My therapist taught me that my feelings and opinions matter and that I shouldn’t shy away from speaking them. See? No filter. I probably shouldn’t have told her about the therapist.”
“You can tell me anything. Where were your daughters the other night?”
“With their father. When I started back to school last year, he took it upon himself to take the girls during the week and leave the weekends for me.”
“Did it help?”
“Sure, it made going to classes easier, but I’ve been at home with those girls for sixteen years. Take them away from me and it’s like cutting off an arm.”
Dexter looks sympathetic. “Are they the reason you haven’t dated?”
“That and a lack of interest.”
“There was no lack of interest the other night.”
My cheeks are warm. “I was only out with Brian because my friend set us up and I was too tired to argue.”
“I’m glad you didn’t or I would have never met you.”
“Do you go on lots of dates?” I wonder.
Something crosses Dexter’s face. “Not really, no. Teaching keeps me busy. My friends try to set me up, too, but it works just about as well as it did with you and Brian.”
“He called me the next day.” I don’t know why I tell him that. Like I told Dexter, I have no idea what I’m doing.
“He should have. What did you tell him when you left that night? I watched you go, you know. I felt like cheering.”
He says the things that give me all the feels. The fact he finds me attractive is enough; the way he casually brings it up like it’s no big deal gives me butterflies. Butterflies that are doing back flips.
I take another mouthful of the martini and fish out an olive. The way Dexter watches my mouth move is…
Disconcerting. But sexy as hell. It’s as if he wants my mouth somewhere else.
I want my mouth somewhere else too.
I want his hands on me.
“I told him my girls needed me,” I tell him, trying to get my mind off what I want him to do if his hands were on me.
“And then you went home and called me.”
I lick my bottom lip, tasting the olive. “I’ve never done that before,” I confess.
“So you said. Doesn’t mean you didn’t do a good job of it.”
“A good job of what?”
“Tempting me to want to have sex with you.”
“To have sex with me,” I parrot, and shake my head like it’s a foreign concept. I guess it is. “You wanted to have sex with me when you saw me in the bar with Brian?”
“I did. I also wanted to get to know you—which you can do without having sex—but it’s not as much fun.”
“I’m having fun,” I tell him. “And we’re not having sex.”
“Yes, but don’t you think we’d have much more fun if sex was involved?” Dexter asks, and I laugh. “Why are you so surprised that I would find you attractive?”
“I was married and my husband didn’t want to have sex with me,” I say in a rueful voice. “Why would any other man?”
“Your ex-husband is an idiot.”
I smile. “He is. Doesn’t make it hurt any less. Actually, not much anymore.”
“Thanks to therapy.”
“And time. And the fact that I don’t think there was much of a marriage left. Most of my attention went to the girls and my husband was not the type of man who appreciated that my mothering skills were my first priority.”
“Again—idiot.” He motions to my empty glass. “Want another?”
“If I have more, I’m going to need something to eat.”
“Then let me buy you dinner.”
I look at Dexter—at the way he looks at me. Eager. I take a deep breath. “I make very good sandwiches,” I tell him.
“Grilled cheese sandwiches? Back at your apartment?” His eagerness is now like a dog asked if he wants to go for a walk.
“Actually, I make a great grilled cheese sandwich.”
He motions for the check. “I can’t wait to taste it. Let’s go.”