Susan Mallery - Sweet Trilogy

Not sure how to explain she was uncomfortable without giving away the truth, she didn’t say anything. When Wyatt unfastened her jeans and tugged them off, she was okay with that. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her shoes, which was also fine. Then he bent over her and drew her nipple into his mouth again. At the same time, he slipped his fingers between her legs and began to explore her.

While she liked what he was doing, she had the sense that everything was going too fast. The sensations were good, but she couldn’t seem to get lost in them. Her stupid brain kept asking questions. Did she really want to do this right now? Here? With him drunk? They barely knew each other and—

He brushed against one spot between her thighs. A single cluster of sensation that, had she been standing, would have brought her to her knees. Her brain went totally blank.

It was as if he’d found the feel-good switch and turned it on.

He touched that place again and she groaned. The third time she wanted to know exactly what she had to promise so that he would never ever stop.

She breathed his name. She closed her eyes and felt herself sinking into the floor. It was perfect, the way he circled and brushed and rubbed.

Teasing at first, getting close, then moving away. A single stroke, then more, deeper, faster, over and over again. Her muscles tensed. She pushed toward something… anything. She desperately wanted to get what all the fuss was about.

Her breathing quickened. She parted her legs, offering herself to him. Closer, she thought, pushing and tensing and hoping that—

He stopped. He actually stopped. She opened her eyes, assuming something horrible had happened to distract him. Maybe the house was on fire or something.

He gave her a quick kiss. “Can you finish with me inside of you?”

“I, ah, don’t know.” She wasn’t sure what he was asking. When he started undressing, she got the basic idea of the question.

Oh, no. This wasn’t right. She wasn’t ready and it would probably be better if she just told him the truth. But how, exactly?

In the few seconds it took her to consider her options, he managed to get naked. She had a brief impression of lean muscles and broad shoulders, then he was kneeling between her legs.

“Wyatt? We have to talk.”

He mumbled something, then settled on top of her. Really on top of her. Apparently with all his weight. She couldn’t breathe. Mercifully, he stopped moving. After a moment, she realized he pretty much stopped doing anything.

“Wyatt?” She shoved at his shoulder. He didn’t move. “Wyatt?”

He rolled off her, onto his back. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply.

“Wyatt?”

Nothing, except a soft snore.

Her gaze slipped from his face down his amazing body to his erection. Or what was left of it. As she watched, it got smaller and smaller, fully illustrating how she felt inside.

He’d passed out in the middle of almost sex. Just like that. She tried to tell herself that it was because he’d been drinking, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was her? Was if she was so unexciting that he’d actually preferred sleep to making love with her?

Depressed beyond anything she’d ever felt, she collected her clothes and pulled them on. While she desperately wanted to leave, to go home and hurt in private, she was worried about leaving him alone. What if he needed medical attention?

Confident the evening couldn’t get any worse, she threw a blanket over him and then curled up on the sofa and wondered what was wrong with her. Why did she have to be such a freak? And was she really going to die the oldest non-nun virgin in the history of the universe? If she did, it would be just her luck.

CLAIRE WOKE the next morning to find herself fully dressed, in an unfamiliar bed. She had a moment of wondering if she’d been abducted by aliens, only to recall the humiliating events of the previous evening. Abduction sounded a whole lot better than facing Wyatt. She could only hope he’d been drunk enough that he didn’t remember anything. Of course her place in what she would guess was his guest room meant he’d awakened to find himself naked, on the family room floor, with her curled up on the sofa. She had a feeling he was going to have some questions.

She walked into the attached bathroom and found a new toothbrush and toothpaste in the medicine cabinet. After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen where Wyatt, wearing only jeans, stood leaning against the counter.

They stared at each other, neither speaking. Claire didn’t know if she was supposed to apologize or not.

“I didn’t imagine you here,” he said at last. “I’d wondered.”

“I was here.”

“Want to tell me why?”

She didn’t know what he was thinking and couldn’t read him well enough to know if he was mad. She supposed she could fake some reason but why not go with the truth?

“Nicole told me about your night of drinking and self-recrimination. I came over to take advantage of that.”

“To make me feel worse about myself?”

“No, to seduce you.”

One eyebrow lifted. “You think you have to wait until I’m drunk to get me into bed with you?”

She stared at her bare feet. Hmm, it seemed it was time for a pedicure. “Not exactly. I just thought it would help.”

“Why was help needed?”

“You said on our first date that you wanted to sleep with me, but then you didn’t do anything about it. I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”

“So you decided to play your hand, so to speak?”

“I guess.” She raised her gaze to his. “Are you mad?”

“Because you came here and tried to seduce me? No.”

She exhaled. That was something.

“For the record, I was taking my time,” he told her. “I knew you had a lot going on with Nicole and Jesse and everything else. I didn’t want to push you. I was waiting for you to hint that you were ready.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “When you hint, you do it in a big way.”

He’d been waiting for her? Wasn’t that just her life? Because not only hadn’t she figured that out, she wouldn’t begin to know how to give that kind of a hint.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Okay. Thanks for telling me that.”

“You’re welcome.” He walked toward her. “While I distinctly remember some very hot kisses and a pink bra, I don’t remember us actually getting past the preliminaries.”

She felt herself flush. “We sort of, um, stalled.”

“Too much Scotch really kills a good time.”

“Apparently.”

He touched her cheek with his fingers. “Want to give me another chance?”

Her stomach tightened. “Yes. When?”

“Now.”

Now? As in the morning? Did people do that sort of thing?

Questions piled on each other, but then Wyatt kissed her and she found herself not caring about the time of day.

He tasted of mint and coffee and he kissed her slowly, thoroughly, as if he’d been thinking about doing this for weeks. He moved his mouth against hers, exploring her, teasing, making her strain toward him.

She’d never been much of a morning person, which could either be biology or the fact that she’d stayed up late every night since she was six. But despite the relatively early hour, her body managed to catch on fire pretty easily. She remembered the feel of his hands on her skin, that one place he’d touched the night before, until the giant hiccup of him passing out, and she wanted to feel all that again.

But first there was the kiss, she thought dreamily, as he pulled back slightly and kissed her chin. He licked along her jaw, to a sensitive spot just below her ear. He paused there, nipped the skin, which made her gasp, then moved down her neck.