Just About Sex (32 page)
“Now,” she demanded, rubbing him in long, slow strokes. “I can’t wait. Now.
Now.
”
He couldn’t wait either. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he pushed her away a little, ignoring his body’s desperate protests. “Wait, Simone. I need to get to the bathroom. I don’t have any—”
A wonderful, sly smile flashed over her lips. Fishing in some pocket hidden deep in her skirts, she pulled out a foil package and gave it to him. “I thought this might happen.”
He laughed and ripped into it with his teeth. “Smart girl.”
But she wasn’t listening. Reaching up under her skirts this time, she frantically slid black lace down her legs and kicked it away. “Chair. Hurry.”
He did. He swung around the ladder chair farthest from the windows and sank into it. He’d barely managed to sheath himself before she straddled him and fitted him to the tight, hot, wet, plump entrance to her body.
Surging upward, he entered her. Whose cry was loudest, he couldn’t say. He slid his hands up under the fluttery skirt and held onto her rhythmic hips for dear life.
It didn’t last long. Throwing her head back, she ran her hands over her breasts, moaning and ecstatic. The second her body gripped him with those powerful, pulsating ripples, he was gone too. He cried out, a high, whimpering cry that should have embarrassed him, but didn’t.
Dizzy with pleasure, he held on to Simone and slid to the floor before he passed out and dropped like a stone. Still joined, they stretched out on the scratchy braided rug and clung to each other.
After a while, he raised his head and tried to speak through his panting. “I love you, Simone.”
She smiled, her eyes still closed. “I know.”
He kissed her, his lips skimming over her velvety throat. “I’m sorry you lost the syndication deal. And the house.”
“I know.”
“But not that sorry.”
Her lids slid open and she stared, bemused, at him with eyes now a startling green-gray. “Why’s that?”
He took a deep breath and willed away his nerves, and his stutter. “Because now you can move in here with me, can’t you?”
A shocked silence, the longest of his life, followed. Tears filled her eyes, turning them to glittering crystal. For one sickening second he thought she’d say no and he wondered how many more e-mails he’d have to write to win this woman. A thousand? A million? It didn’t matter. He’d do it.
But then she smiled. “Yes,” she told him. “That sounds like a good idea.”
Epilogue
Six months later
T
he book party was a huge success.
Simone floated through the evening in her bias-cut, red satin gown, her killer Manolo Blahniks barely touching the floor. Alex, smiling and proud, stayed by her side as she accepted congratulations from old and new friends, sipped champagne, and nibbled lamb chops. She could hardly wait to get him home and out of that sexy suit, so she could have her way with him.
Repeatedly.
Finally the champagne ran out, the candles burned down, and eyelids began to droop. One by one, the guests, including Laurel and Keith, filed by to give Simone a final kiss on their way out. Freddie and Pat had, oddly, come to the restaurant together, and managed not to snipe at each other. After Freddie drooled—again—over Simone’s stilettos, Pat took her by the arm and threw her other hand over her heart.
“Oh, Snow White,” she said to Simone, her voice choked with emotion, “number nine on the
NewYork Times
nonfiction bestseller list your first time out. You do this old agent proud.”
Laughing, Simone pulled her in for a hug. “Well, you made the sale.”
“Darn right, I made the sale.” Pat stepped back, her chin in the air. “And I got you six figures on your second book last week, didn’t I? Don’t forget about that.”
“How could I?”
Bemused, Simone watched Freddie and Pat leave, and then braced herself as her mother crept closer. They hadn’t had much time to speak tonight, and Simone discovered, as she saw the uncertainty in Shirley’s eyes, that, much as she’d needed a break from the drama of her mother’s life for a little while, she’d missed Shirley these past few months.
Sensing Simone’s turmoil, Alex shifted closer and squeezed her elbow for support. “You can do this,” he murmured, for her ears alone.
Taking a deep breath, Simone stepped forward and kissed Shirley on her cool cheek. “Hello, Mom.”
“Hi, baby darling.”
“You look great,” Simone told her, and it was true. Tonight Shirley wore an elegant, plain black cocktail dress, and looked like a million bucks. She’d cut her hair into a short, flippy, Meg Ryan style, which took about thirty years off her looks.
Self-conscious, Shirley smoothed the hair at her nape. “It’s short,” she said.
“It’s fabulous.”
Shirley beamed as if
People
had selected her for one of their beautiful people lists. But after a minute, her smile faded and her frail shoulders drooped. “I didn’t have a date tonight. First time in forty-five years I didn’t have a date.”
Simone knew what such an admission cost her mother. She squeezed her arm in support. “But you survived the evening, didn’t you? How do you feel?”
The question seemed to take Shirley aback. Her brows knit as she thought about it, then she broke into a grin. “Not bad.”
They all laughed, and then Shirley looked to Alex, who leaned down to kiss her. “Thanks for inviting me,” she told him.
Surprised by this bit of information, Simone swung around to look at Alex, but his expression gave nothing away.
He winked at Shirley. “Don’t mention it.”
Shirley stroked Simone’s arm, as if she was reluctant to let her daughter go. “Maybe we can…go shopping or something.”
“I’d like that.”
The two women stared at each other for an awkward moment, and then an invisible force made Simone step forward and hug—really hug—her mother, something she hadn’t done for years. They clung together for a long time, until Shirley pulled away and swiped at her eyes. She and Alex exchanged a look, and Alex nodded as if he understood some telepathic message Shirley had given him. Blowing a kiss at Simone, Shirley walked off, leaving Simone and Alex standing alone among the empty tables.
Alex immediately pulled Simone into his arms, his hands gliding over her dress and dipping into the small of her back. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her temple.
Simone melted into him, as she always did. “I want to know what’s going on with you and my mother. What’s with the invitation, and all the looks?”
“Shirley and I go way back.” His warm hand slid up to caress her bare back, making Simone coo. “We had lunch the other day.”
“Really?”
Simone said, her eyes drifting closed, not quite listening as Alex’s hand wrapped around her nape and began to knead.
“Umm-hmm. I didn’t know who else to ask for permission to marry you.”
“Oh.” Sighing, enjoying the raging heat from his body, she’d just snuggled closer, sliding her hands under his jacket and around his waist, when his words sank in. Her eyes flew open and she jerked back, looking up into his face. “
What
did you say?”
He stared intently for several heartbeats, and then took both her hands and pressed a hot, delicious kiss into each palm. “I said,” he said softly, “the only thing that could make me happier than I’ve been these past few months is if you would marry me.”
“Oh,”
she cried, too overcome to manage more than that.
Easing closer, he ran his lips across her cheek to her ear, which he nuzzled. As if Simone’s knees weren’t weak enough, he slid a hand over her breasts, which always ached whenever he touched her, and down to her stomach, where it rested. “I really want to take you diving in Phuket for our honeymoon, and start working on putting a baby in this belly. Will you marry me?”
Standing on her tiptoes, Simone tipped her chin up. “I thought you’d never ask,” she said, and then kissed her fiancé for the first time.
ISBN: 978-1-5525-4975-9
JUST ABOUT SEX
Copyright © 2007 by Sally Young Moore
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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