Plum Girl (Romance) (11 page)

Yes.
She started rubbing against him. Her breasts strained against his chest; her lower stomach stroked his erection, and he got painfully harder. Just when he knew he needed all of her mouth, she ran her tongue along the inner seam of his lower lip, urging him to open up. He opened for her, and her tongue swept inside.
Wet. Hot.
He groaned again, licked deep into her mouth, and finally took control of the kiss.

Their hands were everywhere. She tangled her fingers in his hair, gripping him to her while he rubbed up and down her back almost roughly. She stood on tiptoe, trying to align their bodies; Dominick helped her by taking her bottom in his hands, lifting her up, bending his own knees, and pressing his groin into the crotch of her jeans.

She let out a startled gasp. Within seconds, she was grinding against him, barely choking out her encouragement. "Ah... ah." She couldn't get out any more words. Instead, their mouths devoured each other. Fists of cotton filled Lonnie's hands as she clutched the front of Dominick's shirt, trying to balance herself.

How had this gotten out of control so fast? he wondered. Then he thought,
More.
Blindly aroused by her thick moans, he backed them against the counter and ground into her even harder. They moved to the same pulsing rhythm, feverishly rocking their bodies against each other, pressed to the tiny counter and desperately exchanging full, wet kisses.

Eventually, though, they stopped kissing and, breathing fast, focused solely on the heat of their bodies moving hard into each other. "Ah... God...
God,"
he muttered hoarsely, because her body was so warm and round and pliant, and the sight of her head thrown back and her eyes half closed was sending him dangerously close to the edge.

Then her head fell forward again, and she gasped into his mouth over and over—each breathy uttering making his lust more raw. He wanted her so much, he felt in pain with it, and his heart was pounding loudly in his ears. Pounding. Pounding...

Suddenly, he realized it was the door. Someone was pounding on the bathroom door. Lonnie must've realized at the same time as he did, because they both froze.

It took a few seconds for either of them to formulate an effective sentence. Lonnie spoke first. "Omi-god, someone needs to get in here." That probably shouldn't have taken as much thought as it apparently did. Both of them straightened and moved several inches apart.

"Just a minute!" Lonnie called to the faceless door pounder. She gathered up her bag, moved past Dominick to open the door, and braced herself for the inevitable embarrassment. Apparently the lead-fisted door pounder was a little old lady with tightly set white curls and a tightly set disapproving frown to match.

"Hmph!" she groused irritably when she saw that the two of them were in the one-stall bathroom together. It probably didn't help that Lonnie's face was even more flushed than before, and her lips were puffy and glistening from kissing. Not to mention Dominick's rumpled hair and the still-present bulge in his pants. Although he was hoping that without bifocals the little old lady was none the wiser about his state of arousal.

"Pardon me," Lonnie said sweetly but briskly, and she pulled Dominick by the hand out of the tiny bathroom.

The escalator ride and walk through the store to the main exit was wordless. Dominick could only assume that Lonnie felt awkward, even a little embarrassed, by what had happened. He couldn't believe it himself. He'd known he was attracted to her, but he'd had no idea it would be that passionate. All it had taken was one of her soft, gentle kisses.

He wanted more. What he'd felt of her body so far left him wanting. Lusting. Aching...

Lonnie trailed behind him through the revolving door, still shocked by what had happened. It was as if all the sexual impulses she'd kept buried for so long had come pouring out. She could feel the embarrassed heat on her cheeks.

They were outside again in cold wind that whipped their hair about ferociously. A big part of her wanted to stay, diffuse the momentary tension, and spend the rest of the evening with him. But she couldn't. Terry would be in town anytime now. He hadn't given her an exact time, and knowing him, whenever he got to Boston, he'd go right to her apartment without calling first. She really had to be getting home.

And maybe a small part of her was relieved. She didn't know what to say to Dominick; it was all such sensory overload. She felt infatuated and alarmed all at the same time. She didn't want to get hurt again, and realistically, just because he'd taken what she was so clearly offering a few moments ago, didn't mean he was looking for a lasting relationship. Sure, in theory she wasn't either. But she knew it wasn't that simple. Knowing Terry might be waiting for her only confirmed her decision. She had to leave.

"Dominick," she began, and he noticed that she'd lost the easy, light tone she'd had before. Now she seemed anxious and uncomfortable. "I, uh, I've got to get home, actually."

"But—" he started, then paused.
What the hell is she talking about?
he wondered, as he waited for her to explain.

"I can't explain right now," she said loudly so she could be heard over the wind. Unfortunately, her volume only made her sound more abrupt.

Dominick just stood there, looking confused. Then his face turned blank. Finally, he nodded, his expression unreadable. "Things to do?" he asked pointedly.

Lonnie blushed in spite of herself. What was her problem? Why couldn't she just tell him that a friend was in town visiting?

Because Terry was more than a friend, and she wasn't ready to get into that with Dominick.

"I... yeah, things... I'll talk to you later, okay?"

She turned and hurried up School Street, leaving Dominick standing there, watching her frantic departure. Abruptly, she turned around midscurry and called out, "Uh, I'll e-mail you. Um, bye!" With that, she bustled toward the subway. She tried not to think about the expression she'd seen on Dominick's face right before he'd disappeared out of sight. His mouth had been closed stoically, his dark eyes bored into her, and she could swear they were hooded in anger.

* * *

Lonnie walked into her apartment and threw her keys onto the wooden table that Peach had painted sunshine yellow. She did this every day, but today was the only day that the keys belted so hard against the table that they coasted savagely across it and knocked over the skinny vase in the center. In other words, she was mad as hell. At herself. Now there was a new emotion.

"Hey!" Peach called from the bathroom. "How did it go?" she asked cheerily.

Lonnie grumbled something unintelligible and threw herself facedown on her bed. Apparently, Peach wasn't taking the hint because she came out of the bathroom and repeated her question. "How did it go?"

"Go away," Lonnie mumbled plaintively, but with her face buried in her pillow, it was just immaterial muttering as far as Peach was concerned. She sat down on the bed next to Lonnie.

"What happened?" she asked, her tone neutral.

That got Lonnie's attention. So much for her attempt at high drama. She rolled over onto her side and looked at Peach. "Why don't you sound more alarmed?"

Peach said, "Because how bad can it be? After last night, it's obvious he wants you. He kept looking at you like you were made of chocolate. What could you possibly have done between then and now?"

Lonnie rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. "Oh, I don't know. I don't know." She rolled back over to her side and propped herself up with her elbow. "I don't know what happened. One minute we're having this great day together, the next minute I'm getting mugged—"

"Whoa—mugged?"

"And the next minute we're sort of, well, grinding against the sink—"

Peach blinked her eyes hard. "Wha—?"

"And then I ran off because I thought Terry might be here, and also, I felt weird, and now I don't know how I'm going to face him again."

Peach said, "Okay, I think you'd better back up and tell me exactly what happened. And don't leave anything out. Particularly the dirty parts; they could be important." Lonnie took a breath and started over, this time giving her the full story about the psycho purse snatcher and the erotic bathroom incident, as well as her awkward, abrupt fleeing. When she was done, Peach just sighed and went back to the bathroom, which Lonnie didn't take as a great sign.

"Peach, what? Tell me."

She stuck her head out of the bathroom door. "Lon, can I be honest?" Lonnie sat up eagerly, which signaled it was okay for Peach to proceed. "You're sabotaging yourself."

Her face fell.

"I'm sorry, but it's true," Peach said firmly. "Every time things start progressing with this guy, you act like... well, you act like..."

"Say it."

"An asshole."

"Great."

"Well, what do you want? First you say you don't want to get involved because of Terry."

"Right. That's why—"

"But then you obviously forgot all about Terry when you were kissing Dominick. I'm sorry, but I don't get it."

Lonnie sighed, feeling nauseous. "Me, either. Wait. What?"

"I don't get why you're clinging to this relationship with Terry when there's a new guy on the scene. And he's
local.
What's the problem?"

"I... It's complicated."

"Okay, well, I suggest you simplify it soon, because at the rate you're going, Dominick's gonna lose interest in you altogether. Is that what you want?"

No!
"I don't know what I want." Just then the phone rang. Peach grabbed the receiver off the wall. "Hello. Sure, hold on." She passed the phone to Lonnie.

"Hello?" Lonnie said.

"Hey." It was Terry. "Listen, I'm almost at South Station. Then I'll take the train to your place. Where did you say I had to switch subways?"

"Park Street. Change from the Red Line to the Green Line. But, Terry, are you sure you don't want me to just meet you at South Station?" She'd offered a few days ago, too, but he'd said no because he didn't want to commit to a time when he would arrive.

"No time. We'll be there in—" He raised his voice, obviously asking the other train passengers. "How long to South Station?"

Lonnie heard voices in the background yell, "Five minutes!"

"Thanks, you're beautiful," Terry replied to the crowd. "So, Lon, I'm really excited to see you. It feels like it's been longer than a month."

"Yeah," she agreed feebly. Terry being sweet was the last thing her conscience needed right now.

"Annnnd," he went on, dragging his voice, "I got you a little something, too."

"You did?"

Peach, who had started dabbing some paint on her mural, glanced over.

"Yep. I bought it last week. It reminded me of you."

"Oh... that's so... sweet."
Damn it.

"I gotta go. We're going through a tunnel soon, and I'm not just saying that," he joked.

"Okay. I'll see you in a little while," Lonnie said. "Bye."

She hung up the phone and Peach asked, "How did it go?" Lonnie flung herself backward on the bed again. Immediately, she bolted up again, ashamed of her melodramatic behavior. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm acting like this."

Peach sat down on her sister's bed and put her arm around her. "Don't worry," she said, smiling. "I'll help you through it."

* * *

Fuck!
Dominick walked angrily down the sidewalk, not even noticing the savage cold whipping against his face and undoubtedly giving him windburn.
That's it, I've had it. I'm done—adamantly, immutably, and irrevocably done with Lonnie Kelley.
He stopped in a convenience store and bought a pack of Camels. He ripped through the clear plastic and foil, and tapped the box on the side of his hand. A cigarette popped up. He snatched it out and brought it to his mouth.

Shit, what was he doing? He'd quit smoking eight months ago. Before he could change his mind, he tossed the cigarette onto the ground and chucked the pack in the nearest trash can. Lonnie might've messed with his mind—yet again—but he'd be damned if she was going to reverse eight months of progress. His forehead started throbbing, as the icy-cold wind blew harshly on the open gash. He kept walking. His apartment wasn't far from Borders, so he'd left his car parked at his building.

Maybe Dominick had no right to be so annoyed, but he couldn't help it. He and Lonnie had just spent a great day together, and then yet again, with no warning, she'd acted aloof and fled from him as fast as she could. Why did she blow hot and cold like that? And, more to the point, why did he let her? The truth was, Dominick was really angry with himself. He'd broken up with his last girlfriend over a year ago, and since then he'd only had some sporadic dates that didn't lead anywhere significant. It was always because of him. He worked too much to have the time to meet many eligible women, and he never seemed to get that excited about the ones he did meet.

And then came Lonnie. Why did she have this weird hold on him? So what if she was smart? So what if she was funny? So what if she was beautiful? And so what if he'd just found out she was also a great kisser? Did that mean he had to keep jumping through hoops every time she tossed him a crumb? Great, now she had him mixing metaphors. Enough was enough. He was done. This time he meant it. Maybe he'd give Mo a call, after all.

* * *

Terry's little gift—the one that "reminded" him of Lonnie—was an eight ball, which just happened to be her most known pet peeve. The guy thought he was a freaking comedian.

Now Lonnie, Peach, and Terry were stuffed in a cab, heading back home after a three-and-a-half-hour comedy show downtown. The show itself was fine; Terry hosted it wonderfully. So wonderfully, in fact, that a very skinny and very blond coed came up to him afterward and complimented his ear off. He practically drooled on her bare shoulder, and stood several inches closer than necessary. Not to mention, he couldn't seem to resist touching her arm more than once during their interminable conversation. Lonnie was steamed.

Okay, okay. It wasn't that she had deep, everlasting feelings for Terry. It wasn't that she expected him to have them for her, either. And it wasn't that they even had a commitment. But still. She couldn't help but remember the way they had met—the way he'd schmoozed her after the show, bulldozed her with jokes and flattering remarks, and called her promptly the next night to ask her out. Now she wondered if he still did that on a regular basis. If she hadn't been standing nearby tonight, would he have gotten that girl's number, too?