Talk Nerdy to Me (23 page)

Then she wound one arm
around his neck. The contact sizzled, and he knew that if she persisted, he'd
cave, sawdust or no sawdust. The wail of a saxophone urged him to give in,
give in, give in. He was a sucker for saxophones.

With
her free hand Eve took off his glasses and tucked them in his shirt pocket.
"Thank you for fixing my door."

He
held his arms out, scarecrow fashion, so he wouldn't make the mistake of
touching her with sleeves that had picked up sawdust like Velcro. Then he made
one last stab at reasonable behavior. "Eve, you're going to get all messed
up."

"Mess
me up, Charlie." She cradled the back of his head and massaged his scalp
lightly with her fingertips. "Mess me up real good."

He
moaned softly. "You should let me get cleaned up first."

"And
take all the fun out of it? Not likely." Her heels gave her enough height
to bring her mouth exactly even with his. "Let's kiss."

"But
you have on all that lipstick and stuff." He found it incredibly sexy to
look at
that
red, red mouth that glistened
and tempted him to dive in. Even a guy not wearing his glasses could find a
target like that. "Afraid to get it on you?"

"No."
He wanted it on him. He wanted to drown in her, but she looked so perfect, and
if he gave in to his needs, she would become smeared beyond belief. He couldn't
imagine that she really meant what she said about getting messed up. Women
didn't like that, at least not the women he knew.

'This
is professional-grade makeup. You could kiss me all night and it will stay put.
If you don't believe me, feel free to test it out."

He
held on for another couple of seconds. Then she ran her tongue slowly over her
mouth, which only made it wetter looking.

"Oh,
what the hell." A guy could be expected to put up only so much of a
protest. Charlie wrapped both arms around her, sawdust and all. "Let the
kissing start."

"Hallelujah."

She
tasted like raspberries. Whatever this professional-grade stuff was, they'd
flavored it with fruit, and raspberries were fast becoming his favorite taste
thrill. The delivery system was outstanding. Eve had a way of kissing that made
him forget everything but the feel of her mouth on his—moist, supple, open ...
oh, yes, very open. Exceedingly open to exploration, and he would do that. He
most certainly would do that. Mm, sweet. Wet. Good.

He
would have sworn that he was only aware of her mouth, but that must not have
been entirely true, because before he realized it he'd backed her up against
the wall, and his awareness had extended slightly lower. One moment he was
totally involved in mouth-to-mouth action, and the next he was incorporating
other areas—her chin, her throat, her collarbone, her shoulder.

His
breathing shut out all but the deep bass coming down the hall. But deep bass
fit the rhythm of his thoughts—his heated, incredibly focused thoughts. He
wanted . .. everything.

This
dress. Oh, God, this dress. The material was stretchy. He loved that about
clothing. The thin strap over her left shoulder went down without a fight, not
even threatening to tear. He could live with getting sawdust all over,
especially now that she'd said how much she loved contrasts, but ripping was
not acceptable.

She
must have been helping him out in some subtle way, because he wasn't sure he
could have found the zipper by himself. It was sort of hidden in the back, and
she had to arch away from the wall to let him find it. While she was arching,
she thrust her breasts forward, and that kept him occupied for a while so he
delayed on the zipper situation.

The thing was, she didn't
have on a bra, so her nipples poked against the shimmery material and he
couldn't resist that. He had to play with those nipples until she made little
whimpering sounds in the back of her throat. Touching her through the material
worked him up so much that finally he had to make use of that zipper in the
back so he could get rid of the top part of the dress.

By
the time he got the dress pulled down to her waist, damned if she didn't have
some sawdust sprinkled on the prettiest 36B breasts he'd ever seen. It was his
duty to brush off that sawdust. Some of it wouldn't budge, so he had to resort
to licking it off. He'd never eaten sawdust before, but under these conditions
he didn't find it objectionable at all.

Inspecting
his work, he decided that her nipples looked their absolute best when wet and
quivering, so he endeavored to keep them in that condition. From the way Eve
was quaking and moaning in his arms, he thought she might be happy with his
efforts.

He
was beyond happy. Her breasts fit perfectly in his cupped hands with exactly
enough gentle weight to be supported nicely against his palms. He imagined
himself as a human underwire. And as much as he loved the sensation of rolling
her nipple against the roof of his mouth, she seemed to love it even more. And
when he tugged softly with his teeth, she shivered.

Her
shiver made the dress rustle against the denim of his jeans, denim that was
under a strain at the moment. The situation below his waistband was fast
becoming critical. A man with more finesse, the kind of man who dressed in
suits and dined at Jean George's, would suggest moving to the bedroom.

But
Eve hadn't liked a man with that approach. Maybe she was the kind of girl who
liked it in a dim hallway up against the wall. Charlie hoped so, because he
suspected that was how she was going to get it.

Vaguely
he remembered there was something special about this dress besides the
shimmery, stretchy fabric. Then the special part flashed across his brain like
a streaking comet. As she'd walked toward him, each step had given him a
breathtaking view of one long leg. The dress had a slit up the side, a
deliciously long slit, long enough to send his imagination into very erotic
territory.

Kissing
his way back to her mouth, he slid one hand down her hip.

She
put an inch between her lips and his. "Looking for something?" she
murmured.

"A
way in." He barely recognized his own voice. The rough urgency was
unfamiliar, but so was this desperation. He'd never known such driving sexual
hunger.

Her
quick, shallow breaths tickled his mouth. "Keep going."

At
mid-thigh the material gave way and he slid his hand through the opening to
touch her warm skin. The tactile pleasure of that brought a growl of delight
from his throat. He pushed on, expecting to find the kind of silk and lace he'd
seen draped over her kitchen chairs Monday night.

Instead
he discovered nothing but... Eve. He drew in a sharp breath.
"Surprised?"

He
gulped. "Grateful." Smoothing his hand over her taut bottom, the
blood pounding in his ears, he slipped his fingers between her thighs. There he
found the wet welcome guaranteed to drive a man around the bend. His brain
short-circuited and he was left with nothing but raw need.

He
lost track of the sequence of events after that. He remembered kissing her hard
and using his tongue to let her know what was ahead. She must have unzipped his
jeans and shoved down his briefs, because he didn't think he'd done any of
that. Somehow he located the condom packet, ripped it open and rolled the latex
over his quivering penis.

When he picked her up, her
skirt magically drifted to one side, or maybe she pulled it over to give rum
access. The details blurred, except for that defining moment when she held on
to his shoulders and wrapped her feet around his hips and he pushed deep inside
her. That sensation burst upon him with such clarity that he expected to
remember it when he was a hundred and two.

One
of her stiletto heels poked him in the small of the back, but he didn't care.
Nothing mattered but the rhythm of his thrusting and the glow in her eyes. Her
lips parted as she gasped for breath and her delicate nostrils flared.

Every
time he pumped, her dress rustled and her long earrings swung, brushing her
shoulders. Although he shouldn't know anything about her responses, had never
mapped the quickest route to her pleasure, magically he seemed to know
everything. He played to the excitement building in her eyes, gauged the
pattern of her breathing and moved in tone with her.

Maybe
this was how making love was supposed to be. Instinctive. Easy. Filled with
wonder. And so good. So very, very good. He felt her tighten around him and joy
surged in his heart that he would be able to give her this.

She
said his name once, the two syllables trembling and vivid with emotion. And
then she came, her back arching, her shoulders pressed against the wall, her
thighs quaking as the spasms massaged his penis. He managed a few precious
seconds more, giving her a chance to revel in the sensation.

Then
he couldn't hold back anymore. With a groan of release he locked his hips
against hers, closed his eyes and abandoned himself to the most powerful climax
of his life. The force of it left him barely able to stand.

Afraid
he might collapse and damage all sorts of valuable parts, both his and hers,
he leaned his head against her shoulder and fought to stay upright. He'd give
this position a ten for sexual excitement, but a one for ease of recovery. He
was the structural support for this operation, and the structure was definitely
compromised by the orgasm of a lifetime.

Then
there was the problem of his jeans. Sometime during the action they'd fallen
with a clank of the belt buckle down around his ankles. His briefs hung by the
elastic around his knees. And he was still wearing a condom.

Maybe
this was why he'd never done it up against the wall before. The after-party
could turn awkward. Nobody ever showed that part in the movies. He could use a
good fade-out right now.

She
stroked her fingers through his hair as her breathing slowed.
"Incredible."

"Mm. Amazing." He
hoped he wouldn't ruin the moment by falling down and getting hopelessly
tangled in his clothes.

She
moved her lips close to his ear. "You can let me go, now."

Gradually
he became aware that he was gripping her bottom as if she were the handlebars
of his Harley. Instantly he relaxed his fingers and hoped to God he hadn't
bruised her.

Still
feeling pretty damned vulnerable and shaky, he found the strength to lift his
head and look into her eyes. "If I left marks, I'll never forgive
myself."

She
smiled at him, and her expression was all warm and misty. "If you left
marks, I'll cherish each and every one. But now we have to figure out how to
untangle ourselves, don't we?"

We.
She was willing to take equal responsibility for making this turn
out okay. He didn't get that a lot. As an only child, the smartest person in
his graduating class, and the go-to guy at the power company, he felt mostly
like the Lone Ranger. Everyone usually looked to him for the answers.

"Got
any ideas?" he asked, thoroughly enjoying the idea of handing the problem
to her to solve.

She
gazed at him, and the corners of her mouth twitched as if she wanted to keep
from laughing. "First we have to gracefully do the disconnect thing."

He
could see how laughing might be a problem at a time like this. "I don't
think there's a really graceful way to do that. I mean, sex is fantastic while
you're doing it, but afterward, especially when you're vertical, there are ...
issues."

"That's
why we'll both keep gazing fixedly into each other's eyes. Whatever you do,
don't look down."

"You
mean like those Olympic figure skating pairs, who do all sorts of complicated
things with their lower body while staring straight at their partner's
face?"

"Exactly."
Her eyes sparkled and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. Then she
cleared her throat. "We'll be just like those skaters."

"Are you going to talk
us through it?"

"Sure. Just don't make
me laugh."

"I
should warn you. I'm one of those people who can be funny without meaning
to."

Her
expression softened. "I know. I like that about you."

"You like that I'm
clueless?"

"Whoops,
now you're making me laugh." Her body quivered against his.

"See
what I mean? I don't even have to try." Despite the jeopardy that put them
in, he enjoyed the sensation of being tucked inside her while she laughed.