“Just what?” My heart frolics along like a happy puppy in my chest.
She moves into me. Her firm breasts up against my lower chest. At this angle, our height differences are clear.
“Kiss me again,” she says on a breathy whisper.
I wrap my arms around her and lift her to be face to face with me. “No, you kiss me.”
She sighs and the sound resonates inside of me. Looking me in the eye, she holds my face delicately, saying, “I’m afraid I may never want to stop kissing you.”
“Let’s find out…” I cover her mouth with mine and see stars behind my closed eyes. Having her in my arms, pressed against me, makes my body sizzle and my cock hardens behind the flimsy costume, which isn’t going to hide anything.
Her hands search my chest, dipping under the costume to feel my pecs. Her hands are everywhere, on my chest, in my hair, around my back.
She wiggles against me and sucks in a quick breath as my situation below the belt quickly intensifies. “Wow. That’s quite the man sword you have there.”
I laugh. “Obviously I’m attracted to you, but I see something special in you, Meg.”
Her forehead presses to mine. “No, I’m not special, Henry. I’m just a girl trying to do her best but it’s never enough.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, setting her slowly to the ground, groaning as she slides over my shaft and it pulses with need.
“I’m never permanent in anyone’s life. Never have been with any man. And since it’s always them who chose to leave, I’m going with it’s me who’s the problem.”
“You’re not a problem. After watching you with the kids and talking to Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln, I think you’re worth getting to know, Meg. You were effortless with those kids, patient and understanding.” I brush a tendril of hair back into her headband. “And Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln gave us the biggest donation they ever have, all because of you.” I lift her chin so I can see those mesmerizing eyes. “I want to get to know the amazing woman they talked about. Have a drink with me. No expectations, just give me a chance to show you that not all men want to come and go.” I swallow the truth bubbling up in me. “Some of us are interested in more.”
She backs away and her eyes close. There is so much fight inside of her, fighting her instincts and fighting her desires. I curse those men who did this to her.
Her eyes open. “One drink.”
I cross my heart. “Just one, promise.”
“Okay. Lead the way, Wonderboy.”
I chuckle. “Wonderboy?”
“You just seem too wonderful to be true, Henry Zervas.”
4
Meg
I follow him to his office, hopeful that this is my chance to get what I need to just bow out with a headache and be done.
But instead, my head is in the clouds and my heart feels like it’s floating up there, too, and that’s not me. I don’t let my heart do the talking. I’m not falling for the rolling muscles, tight abs, pretty eyes, and an impressive package—and what the man’s packing qualifies as a big wow.
Just do what you need to.
He definitely walks the walk—and in that skirt, it’s quite the view. And he can talk the talk, but I’ve been here before.
Not going there again.
I try to convince myself and I feel like more of a fraud.
I walk his office, taking the lay of the land in.
He throws his messenger bag strap over his head and it sits on top of his gladiator sword.
“I have to go make sure all the lights are turned off. I’ll be right back.” His trust almost stabs me.
I wait until I hear him a few steps down the hall before I start looking. But the thumb drive isn’t where Hayden said it would be. Nothing is where it should be right now.
The flick, flick, flick of his sandals slaps on the linoleum squares and I move back to the pictures on the wall. He went to Harvard? We’re from such different worlds.
He steps close behind me, but doesn’t touch me. Soft breaths brush my hair and I shiver. “Are you cold?”
I nod and his arms wrap around me. There is a mountain of comfort in the moment and as much as I try to fight it, I settle back against him.
“I live about three blocks away, come to my place?” he asks.
There’s a chance what I need is in that messenger bag, but is that really why I want to go with him? I nuzzle back against him, the warmth sinking into me.
“Okay.”
His hands drop and one slips into mine. It’s been so long since I’ve held hands with a man, I swear a part of my soul awakens with the move.
We keep the conversation to the party on the way to his place. His apartment is definitely a step up from the traditional bachelor.
He lays his bag and sword in a red checked fabric chair in the corner of the room. The worn brown leather sofa belongs in a library in a mansion, not a living room in the city. Every piece looks like it was lifted from a swankier place and put here. But it’s all comfy and homey, if not a little mature.
He hands me a glass of red wine. One of my favorites. He motions with his glass of wine. “My parents gave me most of the furniture.”
I sip the ruby liquid and big flavors of berries and cigar smoke float across my palate. “I wondered if you’re actually a sixty-year-old man inside.”
“Nope. Thirty-six. And you are?”
I laugh. “Smooth…not,” I jest to him as I sit on the couch and my ass has never been happier. “I’m thirty-one.”
“You don’t look a day over twenty-one.”
“I feel fifty-one some days.”
“I feel like that some days, too. The weight of the community center is a heavy one.”
The tension in his body hardens his shoulders.
“Are you from here?” he asks and I take a sip of wine.
I shake my head. “I am. Grew up about six blocks from here.”
“That’s a rough part of town.”
I gulp a drink. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“Dog walker, gofer for single moms, and I have a line of jewelry that’s been turned down at about every boutique here in town.”
“Did you make the band in your hair?”
“I did.”
His fingers touch a few of the jewels. “It’s amazing. I love this one. What’s that?”
I reach up and cover his fingers with mine to find out what he’s touching. “Amethyst. My birthstone.”
Our hands come down and he slips his fingers between mine, his thumb rocking along the outside of my hand.
“February?” he asks.
“Yeah, how’d you know that?”
“My mother’s birthday is in February and Dad got her an amethyst necklace last year.”
I don’t need gifts. I don’t need lavish words. But I’m starting to think I need something from this man. The more I deny my need the stronger it grows.
Maybe it’s only physical. A moment between two adults.
“Your eyes are the color of an amethyst, Meg.” He hand slips along my jawline and close my eyes. He’s warm and gentle and the contrast to my past is clear.