Ms. Match (13 page)

She pulled back. “What?”

He gave her a sorry look. “How would you feel about me using your shower?”

“I’d feel just fine about it.”

“Good. How about now?”

Again, she nodded. “Come on. It’s not far.”

The bathroom was white and purple, just like her bedroom. Everything looked soft. The towels, the bath mat. She had candles in there, and he could see she used them. Also a big boom box with a stack of CDs next to it. “You like to take baths, eh?”

“My favorite escape.”

“Maybe you’d like to escape in the shower with me?”

“I could be persuaded.”

He pulled her into his arms. “Please,” he said, just before he kissed her, this time with more abandon. Shower sex, with the right accessories, could be a very good thing.

She took her time kissing him back. Before she stopped, her hands reached between them and she started to undo her buttons.

Being a gentleman, he lent a hand, trying to decide if he should stop to watch her strip or just keep on kissing.

Watching won.

He stepped back, working on his own clothes as he witnessed her unveiling. They’d been in such a rush last time that he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate her body.

She was slender, but thankfully not as painfully thin as so many of the women he knew. She even had a little pooch of a tummy that was so sexy he wanted to get down on his knees and kiss it all over.

Her little pussy was trimmed, but not bare, something else that wasn’t the fashion, but that, too, appealed to him. Hell, everything about her did.

By the time he’d kicked off his shoes and undone his pants, he was hard. Before he let his jeans go, though, he took out his wallet.

“Wait,” she said. “I was a good Scout and bought some of those.” Naked and beautiful, she went to one of the drawers where she pulled a packet out of a box. “See?”

“I’ll give you your merit badge when we’re under the water.”

She saluted him, then crossed to the glass-enclosed shower and turned it on. When she looked back, he was ready, his clothes shoved unceremoniously to the side.

She took his hand and they went inside. There was simply no choice, he had to feel her naked and wet. Her body felt amazing, so slick and soft. He explored her with his hands, his eyes, with all the skin he could press against her. She was doing the same thing to him, and it made his cock stiffen further when she grabbed his behind.

After an experiment to see how long they could hold their breaths under the spray, she grabbed the soap and a purple cloth. She built up the lather and then she washed him. It was unreal to just feel her patiently, carefully wash him from his neck to his chest and back. Then she moved down, holding his cock with one hand and using her other hand to bathe him, only for this part the cloth magically vanished and it was skin on skin.

His moan echoed in the shower, and her laugh, as soft as her fingers, swirled around him in the wet. She didn’t miss anything, but it was hard to keep still as she left the lower middle section to concentrate on his legs.

He’d really liked that whole lower middle section.

He touched her wet hair as she knelt before him, then it dawned on him that he could do something wonderful for her. He grabbed the shampoo from her silver tray and poured some on his hands before he applied it to her hair.

Knowing how much he loved to be shampooed, he took his time. When she gave up caring if his feet were clean, he drew her up and around, so her back was to him. Since the top of her head reached his chin, it was easy to give her the spa treatment. Now it was her moans and his laughter, and it was all good.

When she was pretty much a damp rag in his arms, he got the spray nozzle and rinsed her so she wouldn’t get soap in her eyes. Then he went for the conditioner. Not for her hair so much as for its off-label use. He knew the stuff worked—gentle enough that it wouldn’t hurt her. His fingers went down to her pussy, where he took his sweet time getting her ready.

When the moans grew urgent and she had to hang on to him to keep upright, he tore open the condom and slipped it on. Damn thing. He wished he didn’t have to use it, but even so, it was more than he could have hoped for.

She kissed his chest and flicked his nipples with the point of her tongue while he adjusted the spray nozzle to hit the side of the shower, high up on the wall. Once his attention returned to her, he licked the moisture off her neck as he steered her toward the warm water spray.

Her gasp told him it was still cold for her up against the glass. Not that she seemed to mind. He took her hands in his, lifting them, pinning them up above her head.

Using his body as a chamois, he rubbed against her, teasing himself with intermittent brushes of his cock against her skin. He wanted this to last, but not enough to stop. She felt too amazing and, Christ, looking at her with the water running down her hair, her ragged breathing as he kept her arms still and high, he whispered, “This is going to be fast and hard. Later is for making love. Now, I want to be inside you so badly I can’t…”

It didn’t seem to matter that he couldn’t find the words.

Her tongue tangled with his as she tried to get the upper hand, but he was having none of that. He knew he was being selfish and didn’t give a damn. He’d held off for so long. Thinking about her, going to bed with only his slick hand for comfort.

He placed her hands together still against the wall. Holding on to them with one hand, he reached for his cock. It was raging hard and desperate to be in her.

Without hesitating, with no finesse, only need, he pushed inside her until he filled her completely. She cried out, then she kissed him with such ferocity he knew she wanted more.

Releasing her hands, he lifted her thighs. Gwen wrapped her legs around his hips, grabbed on to the top of the shower stall and squeezed his dick.

His head went back as he groaned at the sensation, but then there was no energy for anything but filling her, wishing he could disappear inside her, feel this forever.

With their grunts and groans echoing, each time he thrust into her the spray went everywhere. Her legs tightened, one hand went from the wall to his shoulder where she gripped him with bruising strength.

Too soon he started to tremble, to jerk in uneven spasms until he came with a roar in his ears and bright lights behind his lids. This was it, the perfect moment, and he strained and strained until there was nothing left. Even then, he didn’t want to move, but had to. There was no strength to hold her.

He let her down gently, moaning as he slipped out.

IT OCCURRED TO GWEN that they should leave the shower, but the task was too daunting. Her heart was pounding, her legs felt like rubber, and she never wanted to move from this spot, from this man.

“You okay?”

She nodded, trying to work up the energy to smile. Screw it. He’d have to take it on faith.

She’d never done it in a shower. Not like this, anyhow. It was just like one of her fantasies, the kind she’d never thought to ask a man to help her play out.

Holly was right. All she’d needed to do was stop thinking. Let herself be with him. He would continue to amaze and delight her, if she only let him.

He turned away after he got the soap, and she washed up a bit before aiming the water in his direction. Motivated, thinking about her bed with him in it, she got out of the shower to grab her towel. He was right behind, and they grinned at each other like kids as they dried off.

With his hair all spiked and his body so stunning it seemed unreal, he nodded toward the other room. They hung up their towels and headed over to the bed, him getting there first to toss pillows in the corner.

As she pulled down the bedding, she wondered what he saw when he looked at her. She knew it had to be pleasurable, but she wondered all the same. Did he see her the way she saw herself? Probably not. When she looked at his face, what she saw was filtered through her life experience, just as hers would be for him. Which confused her, given what his life experience had been. Whoops, that was enough thinking. She’d sworn off it, and she wasn’t going to spoil the night by using her pesky brain for anything more taxing than rudimentary speech.

He sighed as he got under the covers, adorably wiggling his feet as he yanked the comforter up his chest. She followed suit, grabbing a cold water on her way. “You want?”

“I think I’ll take that Heinie now,” he said.

When she stretched to get the bottle, he reached under the covers and pinched her butt.

“Hey!”

“I wasn’t talking about beer.”

“Oh, that is so lame.” She got him his beer, debated touching his chest with the icy bottle, but kindness prevailed. “I expect so much more from you, Mr. Bennet.”

“Do you? Bummer. And I was just gonna ask if any of the movies you had in mind were dirty.”

She opened her water, sighing as she sat back on the pillows he’d left. “Not a one.”

“Damn. So what are our options?”

She listed as many as her poor brain would give her, and he stopped her at Bull Durham.

“Really? Excellent. Don’t you just love his long-wet-kisses speech? And painting her toenails?”

He had his beer inches from his mouth. “I had no idea you were such a girl. I mean, come on. It’s a baseball movie. Yeah, Sarandon’s hot, but it’s about baseball. And just for the record, what’s with all the pillows? Don’t you have to take them off every single night, and put them all back every single day?”

“Pillows are what define a civilized society. That and the banishment of the designated hitter.”

“Wow,” he said, lowering his beer. “That was impressive. Pillows and baseball, together. It’s all starting to make sense.”

“Plebeian. You probably hired someone to decorate your house. A woman, right?”

“No. It was a man. And he wanted to put a pile of pillows on my bed, too, so what does that do to your fancy hypothesis, huh?”

“Actually, it proves it.”

Paul looked at her, slowly raising his right eyebrow. “I wish I’d had more to drink. It would have been awesome to belch right now.”

She laughed out loud as she shook her head.

The moment, however, was interrupted by a growl from his tummy.

“I need to feed you.”

“Don’t go,” he said. “I’m fine. I’m not hungry.”

His stomach protested. Loudly.

She put her water bottle on the nightstand. “I’m going to get snacks. Then I’ll put on the movie. You don’t have to do anything but think wonderful thoughts.”

“You don’t want a hand?”

“Nope. I’ll be back in a flash.” She got out of bed and took her robe from the closet door hook. It was more of a kimono than a robe, and it felt wonderful on her naked skin.

She put together a quick fruit and cheese platter. It wasn’t all that miraculous a feat as she’d prepared everything that afternoon. Oh, and she didn’t want to forget the chocolate. It had been too expensive and way too many calories, but she’d wanted to take her decadence in one giant swallow. She even grabbed the bottle of champagne from the fridge.

It felt silly, how she’d been too embarrassed to have the champagne in the ice bucket. Another thing she refused to dwell on.

With a full tray, she headed back to the bedroom, anxious about what would happen next. He’d been an animal in the shower. So hot. Remembering made her nipples hard, which was actually pretty neat.

Right before her bedroom door, she paused. She’d barely given herself a moment to relax all day. Because if she’d thought things through, they would have watched the movie on the couch.

She might have been the one who suggested this next step, but there was still so much that made her anxious. Not that she hadn’t tried. She’d been vigilant about her thoughts. But he was in her bed. This wasn’t a couch quickie. This meant something. It pointed toward a future, and that future couldn’t just be him in her world.

Stop it! she told herself. It would all work out. Or it wouldn’t. Tonight? Bull Durham and sex.

He was on his side, head resting on his hand, watching her as she came into the room.

“Whoa,” he said as she put the tray on the bed. “You did all that just now?”

“Of course. We pillow women know our snacks.”

“I’m impressed. I’d have had to order out.”

She felt a little guilty about the lie. “Want to open the champagne, or should we wait?”

“I’m still working on my beer. Let’s put it in ice until we’re ready.”

She did, and then she got the DVD ready to go. By the time she was back in bed, he was sitting up, eyeing some smoked Gouda.

WHEN THE MOVIE WAS HALF-OVER, the tray was already on the dresser, they each had had some champagne, and Gwen was curled up in the warm cocoon of Paul’s arms. She listened more than watched, preferring to toy with the body so conveniently positioned for her pleasure. Her fingers sneaked through his dark hair, curling it, stroking it.

She also played with his nipples, using not just the pads of her fingers but her nails, her lips, her teeth, her breath.

It wasn’t clear what he was doing, whether he was glued to the film or awash in sensations. Mostly because she didn’t look up. One of his hands was busy, though, rubbing her back, finger-combing her hair, brushing the back of her neck so lightly she shivered.

It made her love Bull Durham even more. She’d enjoyed her strawberries and chocolate and her grapes and the Brie. She’d even liked the champagne, which had never been a favorite. It had just seemed right for the occasion. The welcoming of this man into her life. Opening doors she’d kept so firmly closed. Opening herself, at least for the most part.

She hummed a little, the yummy soup song. Because he was.

He lifted the covers from around her shoulders, and she looked up at him. What a lovely sight.

“You do understand what you’re doing to me,” he asked.

“Hey, I’ve seen this movie before. I was just killing time until you were finished watching.”

He tossed the covers back. “Oh, I’m done,” he said, “with everything but you.”

“Wow.”

On his way down the bed, his very erect penis brushed against her tummy, then her thighs. Her heart started that quick time beat and she forgot how to breathe, but only until she knew he was about to kiss her. Inhaling his strawberry breath, she let him.

This was no against-the-wall kiss. It was slow and deliberate and it made her toes curl. His hand began to stroke her tenderly, caressing her as something precious and beautiful.

The movie hadn’t ended, but the sounds became a wonderful backdrop. Her sheets felt like silk, his skin softer still.

He’d been right. This was making love, and for the first time she allowed herself to think the word. Not just about what he was doing with his tongue and his fingers, but about him. About them.

It made no sense, but maybe love wasn’t supposed to. Maybe when the real thing came along it was meant to be crazy, to turn a person’s world upside down.

She’d thought it would be one of her weird scientists who would catch her eye and her heart. Someone she’d interview for a job at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory or NASA. It was unbelievable that she was with this man, and that this man had so many of the qualities she had always dreamed of.

He touched her everywhere, teaching her pleasure after pleasure. She held back nothing, loving the feel of every part of him. This dance was slow, erotic, teasing. He stole her breath again and again.

Finally, when it was time, when she was so aroused there were no words for it, he entered her. Slowly. His gaze locked on hers. His need for her as real as the stars. She couldn’t look away as he moved inside her. The world had stopped turning, time had paused, and it was just the two of them in all the universe.

Much later, after the movie was over and the lights were off and she was sure he was asleep, she whispered, “I love you,” tasting the words, letting herself get used to the sound. It was enough for now.