“But you still haven’t told me why you’re being so flirty.”
“Well, if you must know…”
“I must, I must.”
“Well, if you must know,” she repeated, “I’m in a good mood.”
“Oh. Okay. What’s up?”
She shrugged. “I’m just happy is all.”
I thought I knew why, but I didn’t press her on it.
She grabbed a bottle of lotion from the shelf above the toilet. She squirted some into her palm and lifted one foot to the toilet lid. She rubbed the lotion into her smooth, firm calf. Then she slid her hands up her thigh.
I watched out of the corner of my eye. Part of me—okay, most of me—
was hoping to get a glimpse of the promised land. She was too conscious of what she was doing to give me a free show, but she definitely noticed me watching.
“Would you do my back?” She handed me the lotion and turned away.
Then she strategically lowered her towel wrap. She stopped when it reached the top of her butt.
“Oh, you’re good.”
She grinned over her shoulder. “Have to keep some surprises for our wedding night.”
“The only surprise I’m going to have on my wedding night,” I said as I squirted lotion into my palm, “is that the woman of my dreams actually married me.”
I rubbed the lotion into her skin. It was smooth and flawless, with a light dusting of freckles. She pulled her hair aside, and I massaged her shoulders and neck. She closed her eyes and moaned softly, so I took my time. After a minute I squirted more lotion and continued down her back.
“So tell me,” I said conversationally, “what makes you think you’ll be able to keep any secrets from me?”
“I have a lot of willpower.”
Her breathing had grown quicker, and my hands felt the lie. I chuckled
and rubbed the top of her butt. She relaxed when my hands slowly moved up her sides. My fingertips came to rest just under her armpits. I could’ve easily reached around to cup her breasts. She must’ve been thinking the same thing, because she held her breath. I grinned and bent my lips to her shell-like ear.
“I have a lot of patience,” I said softly. “Which do you think will win?”
“My willpower.”
“Uh-uh. Guess again.”
“Your patience?” she said automatically.
“Mmm hmm.” I kissed her ear. A moment later I deliberately shattered the mood. “Want me to do your front?”
She blew out her breath. Then she pulled up her towel and tucked it securely over her breasts. She whirled around, but I caught her before she could push past me. I held her close and waited until she looked up.
“I really am patient,” I said. “And I’m completely serious about the secrets… we won’t have any on our wedding night.”
Holy crap! I thought. Did I just talk about our wedding?
Chapter 23
We made dinner in companionable silence, punctuated by plenty of smiles.
Christy broiled salmon steaks and cooked rice pilaf. Wren had left everything with instructions. I poured the wine and fixed a bowl of salad, no instructions required.
When everything was ready we took our plates into the dining room. On impulse, I searched drawers in the sideboard until I found what I was looking for. Then I made a production of fitting two long taper candles into holders.
“I thought we’d like some ambiance,” I said as I struck a match. “After all, it’s our first dinner alone together.”
“I’d’ve dressed nicer if I’d known,” Christy said. She was wearing a sky blue cashmere sweater that matched her eyes, along with light gray stirrup pants and dark blue leg warmers.
“Nah. You’re fine. At least you’re dressed nicer’n I am.” I gestured at my Park City sweatshirt and cutoff sweatpants.
“I dunno. I think you look ruggedly handsome.”
“Well then,” I said, and raised my glass, “to classically beautiful and ruggedly handsome.”
She laughed and clinked her glass against mine. Her eyes smiled at me over the rim as she drank.
“Oh ho!” I said. “Do I see flirty girl coming out?”
“Maybe,” she said coyly.
I refilled our glasses.
“We’d better eat before it gets cold,” she said.
We chatted about classes and projects as we did. Then we lingered over
the empty plates and finished the bottle of wine.
“Open another?” I suggested.
“Sure. Why not.”
“Let’s clean up first and then relax.”
“Okay.”
After we finished in the kitchen, we moved into the living room with our glasses and a fresh bottle of wine.
“You have homework?”
“Yeah,” she said, “but I don’t really wanna do it.”
“Me either. I feel like reading instead.”
She nodded.
“My book’s upstairs. Want me to get yours while I’m up there?”
“Sure. It’s on my nightstand.”
I returned a minute later. She was sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her. She held her wineglass loose in one hand and stared pensively at something only she could see. Her other hand was at her mouth, where she unconsciously sucked the tip of her thumb.
I watched her for a moment and felt a rush of pure longing. She seemed so small and fragile that I wanted to hold her and never let her go.
She looked up and saw me. Her expression went from cloudy to bright to cloudy again. “What?”
“Nothing. Just… you look really pretty.”
She blushed and studied her wineglass. “Thank you.”
I sat on the end of the couch and gestured for her to join me. She scooted closer, and I held out her book, The Little Drummer Girl.
“What’s it about?” I asked. “Any good?”
“It’s a spy novel. Israeli agents, Palestinian terrorists, an English actress.
It’s fun.”
“You’ll get along just fine with my mom,” I said with a chuckle. “She loves John le Carré. And Ian Fleming, Ken Follett, Robert Ludlum, all those guys.”
Christy smiled and then nodded at my book. “What’re you reading?”
“Prometheus Unbound.” I showed her. “It’s poetry, but not really. It’s a lyrical drama, basically a play.”
“Prometheus. Cool. He gave fire to mankind, right? I like that story. Will you read some to me?”
“Um… sure.”
Her smile lit up. She set her book on the floor and stretched out beside me. Then she rested her head on my leg and looked up at me with innocent blue eyes (that weren’t so innocent, I reminded myself).
“Comfy?” I teased.
“Yes, thank you.”
I opened the book and began reading. Then, ever so casually, I moved my left hand to her stomach.
She sighed instead of pushing me away, so I began rubbing gently. She closed her eyes.
I finished the page and turned to the next with one hand. I reached the end of a scene about ten minutes later.
“I love listening to you,” she said softly. “You take your time and don’t rush.”
And I’ll do the same to you, I thought.
She must’ve been thinking the same. Her breathing grew a bit quicker, and her nipples showed through her bra and sweater. I edged my hand toward them. Her eyes snapped open.
I smiled calmly and slid my fingers between her flattened breasts. I found her bra catch through her sweater. She still didn’t move or speak. I pinched the clasp and popped it apart. Her eyes widened at how easily I’d done it, but that was all.
“Take it off,” I said quietly. It wasn’t a request.
She sat up immediately but then stopped. “You too.”
“Me too what?”
“Your underwear.”
My eyebrows rose. “Okay,” I said at last. “But your panties too. All of it.
Off.”
She nodded jerkily. Then her eyes darted around the room.
“Trip’s office.”
She nodded and left the room.
I stood as soon as I heard the door close. Then I untied my shorts and shucked them and my boxers in one motion. My erection bobbed gently as I pulled the shorts back on. I sat down again and did my best to make my trapped hard-on look presentable.