Rachel Gibson - I’m In No Mood For Love

“Clare,” he whispered between ragged, rough breaths. “If I’d known you were so good, I would have thrown you in the bushes and done this the first night I kissed you back in September.”

“If I’d known it would be this good…” She swallowed and licked her dry lips. “…I probably would have let you.”

He was silent for several more moments as he kissed the side of her head, basking in the sweet warmth of afterglow. “Clare?”

“Hmm.”

“The condom broke.”

Her afterglow popped like a soap bubble. She pushed at his shoulders as she felt the blood drain from her head. “When?”

He looked down into her face. “About five seconds before I came.”

“And you didn’t stop?”

He chuckled and pushed her hair from her forehead. “I have some control, but not at that point. Not when I’m feeling your orgasm grabbing my cock like that.” He kissed the end of her nose and smiled. “I swear to God, Clare, I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard.”

“How can you smile?” She shoved his shoulders, but his arms around her tightened.

“Because you’re wearing that little birth control patch that’s ninety-nine percent effective.” His smile grew bigger. “Because you feel good, and because you’re clean, and I know I’m clean.”

“How do I know that for sure?”

“Because I would never lie to you about something so important. Trust me, Clare. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Trust Sebastian? She looked into his eyes. There was no teasing or laughter or trickery. Just the honest truth. He pulled out a little, then slowly thrust inward again.

“If I thought there was a remote possibility of anything bad, I’d tell you. Believe me.”

Believe him while he was still buried deep inside her? “If you’re lying to me, I’ll kill you. I swear I will.” He continued with slow thrusts, and despite herself, she moved with him.

He grinned as if he’d just won the lottery. “Coming from the author of Surrender to Love, that’s not very romantic.”

“Love and romance are overrated.” She ran her hands over his shoulders to the sides of his neck. “Crazy hot sex is so much better.”

“Merry Christmas.” Clare wrapped her arms around Leo and gave him a big hug. She glanced over his shoulder at Sebastian standing a few feet behind his father, wearing black wool trousers and a deep caramel-colored sweater, which was about the exact color of his short hair. He also wore a hint of a smile as his gaze held hers, and she recalled with perfect clarity the previous night. She felt a flush spread across her chest and looked away.

“I loved the picture,” Leo said as Clare dropped her arms and stepped back. “Sebastian told me you helped him pick it out.”

She focused her attention on Leo and tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. “I’m glad you like it.” Several months ago, she, Leo, and her mother had decided not to exchange gifts. Instead, they agreed to donate the money they would have spent to the Salvation Army.

“And he got me your book, but you know that.”

“Yes, and I know you’ll put it on your mantel with the others.” She held out her hand toward Sebastian, hiding behind the cool, collected facade she’d developed long ago. “Merry Christmas.”

He took her hand in his and his smile turned knowing. Last night and until late that morning he’d touched her all over with those big warm hands. After the first time on the couch, they’d taken a short break to eat a pizza before starting over in the bedroom and ending up around two-thirty in her shower, soaping their bodies and sliding their mouths across their clean wet skin. “Merry Christmas, Clare.” His thumb brushed hers and the tone of his voice suggested he was reading her mind.

Clare suppressed the urge to flip her hair or fiddle with the neckline of her black satin halter. She hadn’t dressed in anything new or different this year. She wore the ankle-length red velvet skirt and fringy belt she always wore on Christmas with knee-high black leather boots. Nothing special to attract extra attention. At least that’s what she told herself, but she didn’t bother believing it. She looked good and she knew it.

“What would you gentlemen like to drink?” Joyce asked. Sebastian dropped her hand and turned his attention to her mother. He and Leo had Glenlivet on the rocks, and while Joyce poured, she said she thought scotch sounded like such an excellent choice that she’d join them. Clare stuck with wine.

After a half hour’s discussions of the weather and the latest world events, they moved to the formal dining room. There, among the holly and tapered candles, they feasted on the Wingate traditional dinner of glazed ham, potatoes grandmere, candied sweet potatoes, and green beans with cashews and tarragon. In Clare’s great-great-grandmother’s individual crystal compotes, Roman punch was served next to each plate.

As the oldest male, Leo had been given the chair at the head of the table, with Sebastian to his right and Joyce on the left. Ever the etiquette stickler, Joyce had insisted that Clare sit next to Sebastian. It would not be right to have both females on the same side of the table. Normally it would not have been a problem and Clare would have exerted herself to engage the guests in conversation. But tonight she couldn’t think of anything to say to the man who’d given her three orgasms the night before, nor to Leo, who had always been a father figure to her. She felt sure she had a big neon Had Crazy Hot Sex Last Night sign above her head, and was afraid that if she did or said the wrong thing, everyone would notice.

She was so new at sex without commitment-or at least without a nice dinner and a movie date first. She wasn’t exactly embarrassed-or not as much as she probably should be, especially given the oral aspect of their shower-but just didn’t know what to say or do. She felt completely out of her element. Thank God no one seemed to notice.

Sebastian didn’t appear to labor under such uncertainty. He relaxed in the chair beside her, charming her mother with little stories about all the places he’d traveled and asking questions about her various clubs and charities. He was used to no-strings sex, and Clare had to admit that she was somewhat irritated by his composure. It seemed only right that he be as rattled as she was.

“I’ve been trying for years to convince Claresta that she needs to become involved in my Ladies of Le Bois club,” Joyce said as she tipped back her Glenlivet. “Through various benefits, we raised more than thirteen thousand dollars this year. We were especially excited to have Galvin Armstrong and his orchestra play for us at the Grove. I know Clare would enjoy herself if she’d just get involved.”

Galvin Armstrong was older than Laurence Welk, and Clare needed to change the subject before she suddenly found herself involved in next year’s benefit. “Sebastian ate a monkey.” Leo and Joyce abruptly turned their attention to Sebastian, who stared at her with the fork halfway to his mouth. “And a horse,” she added for good measure.

“Really, son?”

“Oh.” Joyce set her glass on the table. “I don’t think I could manage a horse. I had a pony as a child. Her name was Lady Clip Clop.”

Slowly, Sebastian turned his head and looked at Clare. “I’ve eaten a lot of different things. Some were good. Some not so good.” He smiled. “Some I wouldn’t mind trying again.”

The memory of him feathering her navel with warm kisses popped into her head. I think you’re going to like this, he’d said last night as he worked his way south. It’s a little something I learned from a French lady in Costa Rica. And she had liked it. A lot.