Wild for Him (8 page)

Apparently she didn’t mind Helena’s leftovers.

Pushing aside the ugly thought, Gwen grabbed a flute of champagne from a nearby tray and joined Helena in the shade. Helena was watching Josh talk with a family near the stage. He was tall and handsome in his security officer uniform.

“Your new boyfriend is hot,” Gwen said, taking a sip of champagne.

Helena murmured an agreement.

“How’s it going between you two?”

She moved her gaze from him to Gwen. “It’s good,” she said, smiling again.

Gwen was relieved. Helena didn’t appear to be having second thoughts about Mitch. She’d been spending every spare moment Josh, and he was clearly in love with her. They were a cute couple.

Gwen drained her champagne glass to bolster her courage. It wasn’t fair to do this in public, but she’d made her decision last night and she couldn’t bear to wait. If she didn’t hurry up and speak, she might chicken out. “I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“You know I saw Mitch at the evacuation center.”

Helena nodded.

“We kind of…well, we were worried about you.”

“I was fine.”

“You were getting attacked by animals left and right.”

Her friend shrugged, as if wrestling a lion was no big deal.

“Mitch really pitched in to help,” Gwen said. “We were working side by side for hours, and we talked a lot….”

“Mitch talked a lot?” Helena asked. “My Mitch?”

“He’s not your Mitch anymore.”

“Oh,” she said, appearing stunned. “Wow.”

Gwen cringed in regret. She’d never wanted to hurt Helena. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Even if you did, I’m the last person to criticize.”

Helena meant that she’d cheated on Mitch, so she couldn’t judge. “That’s not true,” Gwen said. “I’ve been your best friend since sixth grade. I wouldn’t make a move on your boyfriend.”

Helena waited for her to continue, her brows arched. Obviously, Gwen
had
made a move on her boyfriend. She’d just waited until Mitch wasn’t her boyfriend anymore. He’d still been off-limits, according to girl code. Gwen understood that she’d crossed the line, and she hoped Helena would forgive her.

“The thing is…I knew it was over between you.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“No,” she said. “But I felt it, and I started looking at him in a new way. He was lifting heavy stuff, and getting sweaty, and…”

“You wanted him.”

“Yes.”

Helena gave her a sidelong glance. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me this if nothing happened.”

“Something happened. After your breakup.”

“I see,” Helena said quietly.

“I feel awful,” Gwen said.

“Because he used you?”

“No, I didn’t mind that part. He was really sweet about it, actually.”

“Sweet?”

Gwen wasn’t sure how much to reveal about her budding relationship with Mitch. Since their first conversation last week, they’d talked every night, sometimes for hours. She’d learned so much about him. They’d also had blistering-hot phone sex.

“He’s called a few times,” Gwen said. “I’m thinking about going to visit him.”

Helena raked a hand through her hair, appearing flustered.

Gwen hadn’t planned on telling her that she’d slept with Mitch. There was no reason to throw their one-night stand in Helena’s face. The real issue was that Gwen wanted to date him—but she wouldn’t, if it bothered Helena. Gwen couldn’t throw away a twenty-year friendship for a man, no matter how good he made her feel.

“Are you mad?” Gwen asked.

Helena picked up a flute of champagne of her own. “No.”

Gwen grabbed a refill. She needed it.

“Is he planning to stay in Denver?” Helena asked.

“He doesn’t know yet.”

“And this thing between you two is serious.”

“It might be.”

Helena sipped her champagne, contemplative. “He’d better come back to San Diego,” she said finally. “I don’t want you to move away.”

Gwen’s eyes filled with tears. “You don’t hate me?”

“No, Gwennie,” Helena said, opening her arms. “I love you.”

Overwhelmed with relief, Gwen hugged her friend. Helena wasn’t the type to engage in public displays of affection, so this was a big deal for her. It was a big deal for Gwen, too. She would’ve been devastated if Helena had rejected her.

And it would have broken her heart to end things with Mitch.

Gwen realized that she was falling for him. She hadn’t allowed herself to consider the possibility before. Now that Helena had given the okay, Gwen was flooded with the feelings she’d been trying to hold back.

She was falling for him.

Mitch could actually be the one. It was an exciting, terrifying thought. He’d been hiding right under her nose for years. If he hadn’t moved away, and the earthquake hadn’t struck, and Helena hadn’t connected with Josh, Gwen would never have developed feelings for Mitch. No one could have predicted this outcome.

When Helena released her, Gwen found a napkin to dab her eyes. Josh had excused himself from the crowd to join them.

“What’s up?” he asked Helena.

“Gwen is dating Mitch.”

“Your Mitch?”

“He’s her Mitch now.”

Josh arched a brow at Gwen. “Mitch has good taste.”

Gwen laughed, wiping her eyes.

“If he doesn’t treat you right, let me know,” Josh said. “I beat him up once and I’m not afraid to do it again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gwen said, smiling through her tears.

Josh smiled back at her.

Gwen handed her empty glass to Helena. “I’m sorry,” she said abruptly. “I need to go for a walk and clear my head.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No. Stay and enjoy yourself.”

Although Helena protested, Gwen gave her another quick hug and left, clutching her handbag under one arm. Her spike heels dug into the grass as she crossed the park. She took a deep breath, trying not to break down again.

She had to call Mitch and share the good news.

CHAPTER EIGHT

G
WEN COULDN’T WAIT
for her next date with Mitch.

It was just another phone date, and she’d much rather see him in person, but she couldn’t plan a visit to Denver yet. The repairs were done at Native Ink and she was open for business. Unfortunately, she’d lost an employee. Jeff’s apartment building had burned down and he’d moved to LA to stay with his brother.

She still had Ian, and they were managing. Despite the city-wide construction and widespread tragedy, or perhaps because of it, the appointments had been full. She’d have to hire another artist for the busy summer months because she couldn’t afford to turn away paying customers. The earthquake damages had been expensive.

Mitch wasn’t sure when he could come back to San Diego. He estimated it would be at least a month before he got confirmation from his boss about the transfer. Then it might be six months or more until the expansion site was ready. He was taking a vacation at the end of June, so she’d see him in six weeks.

Six long weeks.

It was the same amount of time that had passed since their motel room hook-up. Six weeks since she’d touched him. Six more until she could touch him again.

They spoke on the phone almost every night. She’d tell him about her day, and he’d listen with genuine interest. Their exchanges often became heated. She was having better sex in this relationship than all the others combined—and they’d only done it once in person.

So far their cyber-encounters had been varied and imaginative. Mitch was awkward at dirty talk, which she found incredibly hot. He stammered and groaned a lot. His breath quickened when she described what she was doing. His responses were so earnest. It was obvious he’d never done anything like this before.

Neither had she.

He’d grown bolder over the past month, using more graphic language and making very specific requests. At his urging, she’d touched herself in front of the mirror in her bedroom. She’d gotten off in the bathtub, soapsuds clinging to her breasts. She’d climaxed on all fours on the living room couch. She’d stroked herself slowly to the sound of his voice, and climaxed in seconds with the help of her vibrator.

Although she hadn’t sent him any naked pictures, she’d been feeling naughty this afternoon at work. She’d slipped her phone under her skirt and snapped a photo of her lacy red panties. The shadow of her pubic hair was apparent beneath the sheer fabric. She texted the image to him, her heart racing.

His response made her laugh out loud:
brb, masturbating
.

Now she was home, lying in bed. He’d promised to call at the usual time. Her hands itched to get started. There would be no preliminary conversation tonight. She just wanted to touch herself, imagining him touching her.

The arrangement wasn’t completely satisfying, of course. If self-pleasure was enough, no one would bother with a partner. She longed for his heavy weight on top of her and his callused palms on her skin. Her hands were too soft and small.

Her vibrator, while effective, couldn’t compete with him.

She picked up her phone to check the clock. He was late. That wasn’t like him. Maybe he hadn’t been joking earlier, and he’d already gotten off. She waited ten more minutes, her nipples tight and her sex pulsing. Then her phone rang.

Finally.

“Sorry,” he said. “I got hung up.”

“It’s okay.” She’d fallen asleep on the couch once and missed his call entirely, so she could forgive a late start.

“I liked your text today.”

Her pulse kicked up a notch. “I liked yours, too.”

“Are you still wearing those panties?”

“Yes.”

“What else?”

“Nothing.”

His sharp intake of breath excited her. “Take another picture.”

She smiled at the request. “Why don’t you take one?”

“Of what?”

“Whatever comes up.”

He laughed, a deep rumble that sent shivers along her spine.

She was just teasing; she didn’t really expect him to send her a dick pic. “Speaking of photos, I found another good one online.”

“Tell me about it.”

She often browsed the web for tattoo art. Some of the images were pornographic, which was par for the course on the internet. Last week she’d come across one of a man with tattooed shoulders going down on a pretty blonde. Her face was contorted in ecstasy.

When she’d mentioned the picture to Mitch, he’d looked it up and said a lot of hot things about wanting Gwen in the same position.

“It shows a dark-haired woman with half-sleeves.”

“Like yours?”

“Kind of. She’s on her knees in front of a man.”

“Doing what?”

“Sucking his cock.”

“Describe it.”

“It’s big. Like yours.”

He cleared his throat. “What’s she wearing?”

“A frilly apron. It makes a bow in the middle of her back. Her head is turned toward the camera, so you can see her mouth on him. But she’s also bent forward, so you can see…”

“Her pussy?”

“Yes.”

“Send me a link.”

She did, waiting patiently for him to check it out.

“I want you like that,” he said, a moment later. “I want your mouth.”

Sliding a hand into her panties, she started stroking.

“Are you touching yourself?”

She stroked faster. “Mmm.”

“Christ. Don’t come without me.”

“You’d better hurry.”

“Are you wet?”

“Very.”

“Where do you want me?”

“Inside me. In my mouth. Anywhere.” She brought her slippery fingers to her lips and sucked them, moaning.

“Fuck, baby.”

He was breathing hard into the receiver. She imagined him with his pants around his ankles, his cock in his fist. Then she heard a click, as if the call was dropped. She was about to ask if he was still there when the doorbell rang.

She sat up in bed, startled. Who would drop by this late?

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“The doorbell.”

“Ignore it.”

“I can’t,” she said, putting on her robe. “It could be an emergency. A neighbor might need help.”

“I need help,” he muttered.

She hurried down the hall and turned on the exterior light, peering through the peephole. There was a large man standing outside her door. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, and she couldn’t see his face.

Heart racing, she stood on tiptoe to study the rest of him. He had an erection straining the front of his jeans.

Retreating in shock, she ducked into the hallway. “There’s a pervert at my door,” she whispered into the phone. “I have to call 911.”

“Wait—”

She hung up on Mitch and dialed the number with trembling fingers. The man rang the doorbell again. He started pounded on the door. Oh God.

“It’s just me,” the man outside said. “Gwen, it’s me.”

She paused, listening. “Mitch?”

“Yes! Open the door.”

When she looked out again, he’d tugged down the hood to reveal his features. She unlocked the door and let him in. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d surprise you.”

She smacked his arm. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he said, grinning. “I guess I overshot my mark.”

After a moment of staring at him in disbelief, it dawned on her that he hadn’t dropped by for no reason. He had news to share. He wouldn’t have flown in from Denver just to spend the weekend with her.

Would he?

“I got the transfer.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You did?”

He nodded. “I’m here for two weeks to check out the expansion site. Then I’m back in Denver for a month. After that, I’ll be in San Diego full-time.”

She threw her arms around him, unable to contain her excitement. He returned her embrace, laughing. Tears flooded her eyes.

He was coming back to her. For good.

“I can’t believe it,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“I’m really here. Your very own pervert.”

She pressed her lips to his, overjoyed. He lifted her against the wall and kissed her back with a hungry growl, his big hands roving over her lace-covered bottom. He was still aroused, his erection jutting at the front of his jeans. After a long, tongue-tangling kiss and some frantic groping, she tore her lips from his.