Just This Once (22 page)

“I did get it from a mate,” he objected. “His wife was
driving it, and he bought her a new one.”

“All right. Then tell me how much you paid for it, because I
don’t believe he gave it to you. And I’ll pay you back.”

“I’m grateful that you found me something,” she said, softening
her tone as she saw him stiffen. “But you must see that I can’t let you buy me
a car.”

“Can’t you just say I’m loaning it to you, then? I can
afford it, Hannah,” he said reasonably. “And you have so much to buy. Furniture
and all. I’d like to do this for you.”

“I know you would,” she sighed. “And I know you can afford
it better than I can. But I have the money saved. I was planning to buy a car
anyway. I can’t be dependent on you. I need us to be on an equal footing.
Obviously, you have more money than I do. But I can support myself.”

“Right, then,” he agreed reluctantly. “You can pay me, I’ll
put the money aside, and we’ll use it for a holiday later, when we have some
time.”

“And that’s as far as I’m going,” he added when she would have
objected, “so drop it, please.”

As she slowly furnished her little flat over the next few
days, Hannah was in fact appalled at the amount of money she was spending. She
hadn’t realized how much there would be to buy, starting entirely from scratch.
Even though she tried to keep her purchases as modest as possible, she ended
each day with buyer’s remorse, worrying about how much everything cost.

Never mind, she told herself. She would be starting her new
job in another week or so, and earning money again. She had been making a good
salary for several years, but had always saved a lot of it, planning towards
the day she could buy a house. Still, she would be more comfortable when this
spending spree was over.

“How’re you going, with the furniture and all?” Drew asked
her on Wednesday morning.

“Almost ready to move in. I’m getting the last big pieces
delivered today, and I need to do some more kitchen shopping. Then I should be
all set. I’d like you to come over and see it when I’m done. Maybe you could
stop by after practice today.”

When she heard the doorbell that afternoon, though, she
jumped, then pulled loose tendrils of hair behind her ears and wiped her face
on her shirt in sweaty exasperation. Climbing over the coffee table that
blocked the small entryway, she opened the door to Drew at last.

“Sorry,” she explained as she bent to push the pesky table
out of the way. “I thought I’d be done by now, but I’ve been trying to figure
out how to set everything up. I lost track of time.”

“So you’ve been shifting all this lot about by yourself,” he
said slowly, looking around the small lounge.

“I’m not that good at interior decoration, I’m afraid,” she
sighed. “I have to look at it in every position to see how I like it best.”

“Why didn’t you wait for me? I would’ve shifted it for you.”

“I didn’t think of that,” she admitted. “It’s not that heavy
anyway. I just have to push and pull a little. This is how I’ve always moved.
And I wanted to show it to you, not wait around and have to ask you to help
me.”

“That’s the point of dating a rugby player, though. You
don’t have to pick up heavy things anymore. I’m here now, anyway. Tell me where
you want it, and I’ll do it.”

With him to do the moving, she soon had the room arranged to
her satisfaction.

“Thanks. I appreciate you loaning me your muscles,” she told
him gratefully.

“Next time, call me first, before you start lifting and
carrying. I’ll be much happier doing it for you.”

“If it seems too hard, I’ll try to remember. But what do you
think?” she asked, turning around to look. Nothing was going to make her simple
furnishings elegant, but the little room felt warm and welcoming.

“Bit small, isn’t it?” he said dubiously, trying to stretch
out on her little couch.

“All right, it’s not long enough for you. It works for me,
though. And this is a small place. Big furniture wouldn’t fit anyway.”

But when he saw her bedroom furniture, Drew put his foot
down.

“No. This bed goes back, Hannah. The couch is one thing. But
I plan to be here too. A fair bit. And this isn’t going to work.”

“It’s a queen,” she objected. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s flimsy, that’s what. I’m not having that headboard
banging against the wall every night.”

She felt the traitorous color rising into her throat, up her
cheeks, at his words. “Furniture is really expensive here. I bought the best I
could afford. I guess we’ll just have to stay at your house, if you really
don’t like this.”

“No,” he said again. “I went along with the car thing. And I
reckon I don’t have to be comfortable on your couch. But I’m buying you a
better bed. I plan to be sharing it,” he insisted. “That’s fair.”

There was no budging him, she found. “All right. I see your
point,” she conceded at last. “But I’m not shopping for it with you. They’re
going to know who you are. That would be too embarrassing, with you testing how
solid it was. Everyone would know why.” She turned red again at the thought.

“Do you trust me to buy it on my own, then? I don’t trust
you to do it. You won’t want to spend enough to get something that will stand
up to a good workout.”

“Drew!” she laughed. “Stop. All right, you win. Buy the bed
you want. But please, don’t be here when they deliver it. That would kill me.
The delivery guys . . .” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, man,” she
breathed. “You embarrass me so much.”

He smiled and pulled her hands away so he could kiss her. “Reckon
I’m going bed shopping tomorrow, then. Because now I need to see just how much
more I can embarrass you. A challenge, eh,” he teased.

“Give me the receipt for the other one,” he added
practically. “I’ll see it’s picked up and you get your money back.”

Hannah wasn’t entirely surprised when the furniture
store—one she would never have shopped at, she admitted—called the next day to
arrange delivery for the following afternoon, a much faster turnaround than
she’d been able to arrange herself.

“Remember, I’m doing this by myself,” she told Drew firmly.

“I’ll lurk in the shrubbery, shall I?”

She laughed. “I’ll call you when you’re allowed to come
over.”

At last, the huge bed—with, she found, a massive leather
headboard and big, solid legs—was delivered and set up. She had wondered
whether she should tip the deliverymen, and had asked Drew what the rules were.

“No,” he had immediately answered. “No tip.”

“Are you sure?” she asked doubtfully. “I’d give them at
least a twenty, back home. They’ll be carrying in that heavy furniture.
Shouldn’t I offer them something?”

“You’d offend them, if you did. They aren’t servants.
They’re doing a job, and they’re paid for it. You’ve heard the saying, Jack’s
as good as his master?”

“I’ve read it.”

“Well, that’s how Kiwis feel. We aren’t Poms. English. Those
fellas earn their wage same as I do. They’d tell you they’re as good a man as I
am, or as any other New Zealander. And they’d be right. Except in a flash
restaurant, maybe, we don’t tip.”

So as hard as it was to do, she gave the men only a smile
and her thanks. Drew had been right about the egalitarian attitude, she
realized. They asked her cheerfully where she was from, and chatted about the
U.S. and New Zealand, even offering their recommendations of places she should
see while in the country. Then departed with a final wave to hop back into
their truck and continue on.

Hannah waved back, then called Drew. “The coast is clear,”
she informed him solemnly.

“I’m at the gym with the boys. Be there in an hour. You can
start without me. Get naked, at least. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Or
sooner.”

“If they can hear you say that,” she retorted, “you can
think again.”

He laughed. “Walked away, didn’t I. No worries. That was
just for you.”

 “You’re not naked,” he pointed out as she opened the door
to him forty-five minutes later.

“You didn’t give me time,” she smiled. “You’re early.”

“I may have cut my workout short a bit,” he admitted. “Had
an urgent appointment.” He kissed her, pulling her up onto her toes. “A job to do,
eh. Bit of furniture testing.”

“Let’s see how I did,” he suggested, taking her hand and
walking into the bedroom.

“It’s big enough, anyway,” she offered. “Solid, too. I don’t
think we’re moving that.”

“Bad idea to challenge me,” he murmured, pulling her down
with him onto the thick duvet so she landed in his lap. “Thought I told you
that.” He pulled her hair free of its restraints, then put up a hand to cup her
face and concentrated on kissing her.

There were advantages, she thought dazedly, to being with a
man with that kind of single-minded determination. When her hands moved down
and under his shirt, he pulled them back to his shoulders. He kept his own
hands on her back, her neck, her head, as he focused on kissing her senseless.
She could feel how aroused he was, but his mouth and tongue continued their
slow, patient assault, until her mouth was swollen and she was breathing hard
with excitement.

“You need to let me touch you,” she exclaimed at last in
frustration, as he pulled her hands away from him again.

“Mmmm, I don’t think so,” he smiled. “Not yet. See if I can
tease you a bit more first.”

He settled her astride him then, pulling her pelvis into
contact with him so she could feel him through the thin layer of her panties,
where her skirt rode up around her thighs. She squirmed against him, trying to
get closer, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

He continued to kiss her, his lips moving from her mouth to
her throat, holding her head in place while he licked, kissed, and bit at her
there. One hand around her lower back pulled her more closely against him as
she moaned and pressed her body to his. Was it possible to have an orgasm from
kissing? She didn’t know, but she felt like she was about to find out.

This time, when she pulled at his shirt, he didn’t resist,
letting her draw it over his head at last, to touch his skin. She drew herself
away so she could run her hands over his chest and around his back. Her fingers
found his flat nipples, and he pulled her lower body in even more tightly in
response. She felt him jerk against her center in response to her touches, and
smiled. So she wasn’t the only one being driven crazy here. She would
experiment some more, she decided. If he wouldn’t take her clothes off, she
would start with him this time.

He allowed her to push him back on the bed. She knelt over
him, her hands working at his belt and shorts, pulling everything down over his
hips and tossing them to the floor. She nudged him until he swung both legs
onto the bed, then lay over him.

“Your turn,” she told him. “Because I don’t think I can take
any more. Going to do it to you for awhile.”

Oh yes, he decided. He’d let her take over for a bit. Her
hands caressed, moved down his chest with the firm pressure he loved. Down to
his thighs, then up to hold him, stroke him, as she kissed his chest, moved her
tongue over his nipples. When he would have turned with her, she held him down.

“My turn, remember? You get to lie there and take it,” she
commanded.

He smiled, then groaned and gave in as she continued to
torment him. She moved down his body, kissing and caressing. Then her mouth was
on him as her hands continued to stroke. He reached down, held her head in his
hands, felt her hair falling over his body, and surrendered to the pleasure she
was giving him.

He stood it until he knew he was too close, then gently
pulled her back up to him.

“I wasn’t done yet,” she protested.

He kissed her, felt the salty taste of himself in her mouth,
almost lost it again. “Not finishing this way. Not this time. I have a few more
things to do to you first.”

“I don’t mind taking care of you,” she insisted. “I want
to.”

He groaned. “Stop, Hannah. You’re killing me.”

She was still wearing all her clothes, he realized, while he
was naked. Suddenly, he was done going slowly. He slid his hands under her
blouse as she lay on top of him. Pulled it over her head. Heard a button or two
pop off along the way.

“Hey,” she protested. “My blouse.”

“Buy you a new one,” he said impatiently. His hands went to
her skirt, popped a button there too, unzipped and pulled it off. Flipped her
over onto her back, and pulled back to look at her.

She lay beneath him in a bra and bikini set he hadn’t seen
before. He’d have remembered this one, he knew. Sheer lace embroidered with
tiny flowers, in a soft peach that was somehow sexier than any black underwear
he’d ever seen. He’d leave those on her for awhile, he decided. He moved down
to kiss her through the lacy cups of the bra. Her nipples pebbled at his touch,
allowing him to pull one into his mouth as he fondled the other.

His hand went down to feel her. “You’re wet,” he told her.
“So wet already.”

She gasped. “Am I too wet? I can’t help it.”

“No such thing as too wet,” he assured her, touching her and
feeling the moisture increase. “Just want to make you suffer a little more
first. Not ready to let you come yet.”

“Then stop saying that,” she groaned. “Or I will.”

He felt the evidence against his hand, decided he’d had
enough of the lacy bra, opened the clasp to reveal her breasts. Took one into
his mouth again, bit down just to hear her gasp, between pain and pleasure. She
bucked against his hand, hips urging him.

“Drew,” she moaned. “Please. Don’t stop.”

He kept his hand outside the little panties, loving the
feeling of her through the lace. Traveled down her body to kiss her there.
Moved his lips and teeth against her, through the fabric. She bucked again, and
her hands fluttered against the duvet as she lay under his mouth.  He slowed
down as she strained towards him. Then kissed her again. Licked. Moved his
teeth over her.