Uninhibited (Unlikely Lovers) (20 page)

“I could’ve told you that.” His eyes grew soft. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Em.”

A snappy retort regarding lust versus love was on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back. She’d already hurt his feelings once. “And you’re the sweetest man I’ve ever known. I’m not sure I deserve you.”

“Doesn’t matter whether you do or not,” he said. “What matters is that you feel that way.” Pushing back the curtain, he held out a hand. “It’s the same way I feel about you. Come on in here. I need you.”

She nodded.
“We need each other.”

Alan was hot and wet in her arms as his lips came down on hers, slanting over her mouth, depriving her of what little breath she had left. “We
deserve
each other.”

* * * *

Alan made oatmeal for her anyway—steel cut organic oats sweetened with stevia. He’d have put cranberries on it, as opposed to blueberries, if he’d had any. He was pretty sure they had the dried variety at the store, and he had every intention of stocking up on them—along with every other nutrient known to support feminine health.

Fucking poor Emily into a bladder infection… Jesus, he felt like a heel.

Better than giving her HIV.
At least bladder infections were treatable. He poured her a cup of tea and sat down. “Sorry to get you up so early.”

She shrugged,
blowing on her tea before taking a sip. “This is just another of those things we’ll have to work out.”

He hoped she wasn’t making a list of his transgressions.
Let’s see now
… A bladder infection, waking her up at the crack of dawn, not letting her get adequate sleep, squirting cum in her ear, not to mention fucking her into a stupor every chance he got…

Damn.
He was beginning to understand why Carol had left him—although he couldn’t quite get why Barbara had felt the need to tie him to the bed. He still rated that one as being a tad extreme.

“Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

She swallowed a spoonful of oatmeal before replying. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

He shrugged. “Thought you might not feel up to it.”

“I’ll be fine after a couple of doses of Septra.” She reached over and patted his hand. “Don’t worry, Alan. You aren’t the first guy to give me a bladder infection. I had a real doozie when Chad and I first got together.” She paused, frowning. “Although as I recall, he only lasted about three minutes. Must’ve been a weird angle or something. His stamina was nothing compared to yours. Wasn’t worth the pain, now that I think of it.”

That sounds promising.
“And I am? Worth the pain, I mean?” 

“
Maybe.” She shot him a sly grin. “But don’t get cocky.”

“I won’t.”

Truth be told, no one had ever referred to him as cocky. Then again, most people hadn’t seen his dick, and those who had—

His thoughts were momentarily diverted by the memory of
Vivian, the last woman he’d been with. She’d looked up at him with that sweet smile and told him he was the least cocky man she’d ever met. Of course, at that point in time, he’d been an absolute wreck, still reeling from Carol’s abrupt desertion. Vivian had never held that one transgression against him—was still a regular customer at the store—but the pity fuck she’d given him had brought him to his senses. Having sensed her underlying current of regret, he knew he couldn’t go on fucking any woman who felt sorry for him.

He didn’t think Emily was only there out of pity. No. There was much more to their relationship than that. It wasn’t purely physical, either—although sex played a major role. This next
day or two without sex should be interesting. Then again, there were other ways to have sex that didn’t involve a woman’s vagina.

Creativity, at least on Emily’s part, wouldn’t be a problem—not if their first few hours together
were any indication. She’d gotten him off half a dozen times already and most of those times she’d been fully clothed.

Still, as a lesson in control, he knew it would be good for him.

She was scraping the bottom of her bowl when he got up from the table. “Gotta run. Take your time and lock the door on your way out.”

Run. He’d missed his run for how many days now? Maybe he didn’t need that endorphin rush anymore. Not now that he had Emily.
 

Leaning over, he dropped a kiss on her forehead and murmuring a quick, “L
ater, babe.” Any smoochier and he’d lose it again.

“See you tonight.” 

She didn’t kiss him in return. Then again, she wasn’t the romantic lovey-dovey type. Maybe that would change. Maybe it wouldn’t. He certainly wasn’t going to blow it by forcing the issue.

He set his empty bowl in the sink and ran some water into it.

“Hold on a sec.” Hopping up from the table, she pulled his head down as though intending to kiss him, but licked the corner of his mouth instead. “Got a little oatmeal on your cheek.” She followed that up with a deep, sensuous kiss that made his nuts tingle. “Can’t let my guy go to work with oatmeal on his face, can I?”

My guy.

Alan liked that. He liked that a
lot
.

* * * *

“Okay,” Jason said. “What gives?”

Alan
had somehow managed to suppress his lovesick grin. Unfortunately, stacking the avocados in the shape of a heart had given him away. “Gives what?”

“You got laid.”
With a sniff, Jason flipped his ponytail back. “Didn’t you?”

Since
“getting laid” was such an inadequate description of that weekend’s events, words failed him.

“
Come on, ’fess up. You found some hot little mama and did the nasty with her.”

“How do you know it wasn’t some hot little
dude
?” Alan countered.
When in doubt, take the offensive.

Insane laughter added to Jason’s creepy tattoo made him look like something straight out of a slasher flick.
“My gaydar is working perfectly. You, my friend, are so straight you can’t even see around the damn corner.”

Alan blinked. “What the fuck does
that mean?”

“Means you like girls,” Shona put in from
behind her cash register.

With super short hair,
tribal tattoos, and a single earring—not to mention the stud in her lower lip—Shona had never once come on to Alan, not even when everyone else had teased him mercilessly about giving up women. If anything, she’d been supportive, leading him to assume that she liked girls too and was thankful for the lack of competition. Then again, after hearing the Carol story, she might’ve decided he wasn’t worth the potential loss of all her belongings.

“
I’m not sure we should be having this conversation while there are customers in the store,” Alan said.

“Aw, c’mon, man!” Jason urged. “We need details.”

They were bound to meet Emily eventually.
Better get it over with…
“She should be here around five-thirty. We’re going out to dinner.”

Shona gaped at him as though he’d suddenly developed
spots. “A date? After all this time, you’ve actually got a
date
?”

“Yes
.” Alan rolled his eyes. “I have a date.”

“Yeah, but
I bet you’ve already—” Jason had the good sense to leave off the rest of his comment as two elderly ladies approached.

Alan didn’t know her sidekick’s name, but he
certainly knew Jane. Tiny, frail, and every bit of ninety-five years old, Jane was persnickety about her produce—which may have contributed to her longevity.

“Alan, dear,” Jane began. “Are you sure this parsley is quite fresh? It looks a bit…wilted.”

“Came in on the truck this morning,” Alan replied, smiling. “Can’t get much fresher than that. Maybe we need to trim the stems again and add fresh water to the container.”

“That should help,” Jane agreed. “
And where is that lovely soap I used to get—the kind with sage and rosemary?”

“Temporarily discontinued,” Alan replied. “I’ll have to check my suppliers and see if I can get it from another source.”

“Thank you, dear. You’re such a delightful boy. Found a girl yet?”

Alan was beginning to suspect a
conspiracy. “Yes, I have. She’s—perfect.”

“
Oh, I doubt that.” Jane glanced at his groin, tapping her chin with an arthritic finger. “Is she a good,
strong
girl?”

I do
not
want to be having this conversation.
“She seems to be.”

“
That’s nice. Try not to run this one off.” Humming a lively tune, she strolled on down the supplements aisle, stopping by the feminine products section. “Might want to give her some of this,” she said, tossing him a bottle of cranberry extract. “If what I hear is true, she’ll need it.” With a nod in Alan’s direction, she turned to her companion. “Wish I’d known him seventy-five years ago.”

Jason and Shona were both
sputtering with barely suppressed laughter but threw up their hands in protest of their innocence when Alan shot them an accusatory glare.

Who in the world would’ve told
Jane
?

Vivian?
No way. She was married, which meant that keeping mum about their one brief encounter would be even more important to her than it was to him. Alan
certainly hadn’t shared the particulars with anyone. After all, a pity fuck followed by a crying jag wasn’t anything to brag about. Even Travis only knew that Alan had fucked a married woman. He knew nothing about her identity.

The
n again, the freshness of the parsley might not be the only topic bandied about among the regulars. If Vivian knew Jane, she might’ve mentioned that she’d heard some talk about Alan’s history with women.

Alan
started to put the cranberry extract back on the shelf, but carried it over to Shona’s checkout lane instead. “Here, hang onto this for me.”

Ignoring her snicker, he headed back to the produce department
. Keeping his relationship with Emily a secret was impossible, but he’d just as soon spare her all the wisecracks. Hopefully, his staff would get the snide remarks over with quickly. He checked his watch.

Five hours to go.
Should he call her yet? He’d held off this long, but would she think he’d forgotten if he didn’t call? Would she still show up?

“Damn. I need some tea.” Stalking back to the deli, he poured out a cup of the chamomile blend that had seen him through
a year of sexual abstinence. One sip informed him it wouldn’t be enough. Eighty-five percent cacao probably wouldn’t help, either.

Flipping open his phone, he hit the speed dial.

* * * *

Emily had just sat down to lunch in the office lounge when her phone rang.
“Hey, Alan, I’ve been wondering when you were going to call.” The way he’d talked, she expected him to call at least every two hours. “You aren’t thinking of backing out on me, are you?”

“Of course
not,” Alan replied. “I just wanted to check and see how you were feeling.”

“Not completely cured, but much better. Thank you for asking.”

“Good. I’m so sorry about that. I never meant to make you sick.”

She had to bite her lip to keep from giggling at his choice of words. “I know you didn’t.
Have you given any thought to where we’re going for dinner?”

A muted exclamation drew her eye
to Kathy, who was seated across the table, eyeing her curiously.

“I know this great Thai place over on Second Street. It’s very, um…romantic.”

Emily smiled.
So Mr. Sexaholic wants to be romantic, huh?
“Sounds great.”

“See you at about five-thirty?”

“You bet.”

She switched off her phone and met Kathy’s speculative gaze. “What?”

“I thought you were walking funny.” She arched a brow. “Now I know why. You’ve got a new boyfriend.”

Emily grimaced. “Is it that obvious?”

“Well…I suppose you could’ve gone horseback riding this weekend. The effects are similar, you know.” Somehow her sweet, grandmotherly smile didn’t quite match the suggestive nature of her tone.

“Not likely, seeing as how I’m terrified of
anything larger than a German shepherd.”

“Really? I didn’t know that about you.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not something I mention very often—one of my more ridiculous quirks, actually—but no, I haven’t been on a horse.”

“Ah, so
you’re
the one who’s been rode hard and put up wet—or is it that he’s hung like a horse?”

Considering that Alan had somehow grown at least one condom size—had he bothered to wear one—all Emily could do was nod.

“Have fun?”

Emily’s lips curled into a smile.