Lori Wilde - It Happened in L.A.

As she’d predicted, he’d walked her to her car, but just as she’d unlocked her door, he’d gotten a phone call from a client. Voilà. No kissing awkwardness. A perfect ending all the way around.

She looked at her hand, still marveling that she’d been so giddy over such a simple thing. What was happening to her? Her maturity and good sense were going straight down the tubes, and she didn’t mind in the least.

Okay, so maybe it hadn’t been the absolute perfect ending to their evening. He could have thrown the phone into the bushes, pulled her into his arms and kissed her desperately, swearing his undying—

Uh, wait. That’s not at all what she’d wanted. Dramatic, yes, but it would have freaked her out so badly, she’d have run for the hills.

She didn’t want him that way. Not in real life. So she had fantasies. So she wasn’t immune to the romantic mythos. Yes, even levelheaded women who knew better could still dream about being in a fairy tale, right? That didn’t automatically knock off IQ points. It was just part of her girl DNA.

With that settled, she finished cleaning up the kitchen. It was past her bedtime and she didn’t do well on less than seven hours. She wished someone would invent a way to get a washed face and clean teeth without actually having to wash or brush. A knock on the door caught her just before her bedroom.

It was past midnight. Who could be knocking at this hour, unless it was Holly? Gwen ran to the door and opened it.

It wasn’t Holly.

“Good, you weren’t in bed yet. I’ve been standing out here for ten minutes worrying I’d wake you.”

“Paul.”

He gave her a wobbly smile. “Never mind. I’ll go.”

She grabbed his arm. “No, don’t be silly. I was just surprised, that’s all. Come on in.”

He followed her, stopping in the foyer. “The thing is, I didn’t really say good-night.”

“It’s okay. It was business. Something that clearly had to be taken care of.”

“Yeah, it did. But you left so suddenly. I wanted to tell you that I had a really great time.”

“Me, too—”

He stepped close, took her arm. “That’s not what I wanted to say. I mean, I had a great time, but I came here because I couldn’t just let it go.”

“Let what go? Did I do something wrong?”

“No. Nothing’s wrong except I didn’t want you to go. I wanted to kiss you good-night.”

Her eyes had locked on to his, mesmerized by the look of hunger there. It was the look she’d imagined in the dark of night, under the covers. Not something she ever expected to actually see. It felt…wrong. Heat filled her cheeks and she broke free from his grasp.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I thought…”

“It’s fine. I just wonder if it’s such a good idea to, you know—”

“No, no. I get it.” Paul took a step back, but he looked hurt. “My mistake.”

Insecurities she hadn’t felt for years stormed inside her. Could it be possible for them to be lovers? Everything in her experience said no, but just looking at him made her want so badly to be wrong. It didn’t happen this way. Beautiful women with unattractive men? A staple of TV sitcoms. Beautiful men with women like her? Not unless the women magically turned to swans. That wasn’t going to happen to her. Ever. But, oh, God, the way he looked at her.

He still stood frozen, stealing glances that only made him seem less sure. “What do you want?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know.”

“That kiss the other night. It didn’t feel like you hated it.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. “You know I didn’t.”

“Then what? If you want me to leave, I’m gone.” He closed the distance between them, and lifted her face to his. “But if you want me to stay…”

“I don’t understand this.”

“Don’t try,” he whispered as he stole her breath with a gentle kiss. Then his hands went to her waist, pulling her tight. The kiss changed, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Gwen’s body reacted as if he’d awakened her from a deep sleep. She felt everything so sharply. His chest pressing her breasts, his stomach and thighs against her and most especially the hardening length of his cock.

What was she doing, kissing him back? Sucking on his thrusting tongue, letting herself moan with awakening pleasure? This was wrong in every way. She was smarter than this. Paul was not hers, not for her, not remotely the kind of man who should make her moan outside of a dream.

She pushed against his chest but it was clear she didn’t mean it. His coming here, his wanting her had caught her off guard, that’s all. It had been forever since someone had been so eager, so determined.

His mouth widened, his tongue probed then withdrew and it was as if they were dancing again, both knowing the steps as if they’d practiced a hundred times. His low moans matched hers in spirit if not in tone, and she found her hips thrusting in that same swaying rhythm.

He drew back, breaking contact, only to stare at her, his eyes dark in the muted light. He took her hands, put them around his neck, and he kissed her again.

Another shock ran through her as it hit her who she was kissing, but just as quickly, her brain turned off, at least the thinking parts. The feeling parts wanted all the attention. More of his hands rubbing her back, more of the taste of him, peppermint slightly on his tongue. She remembered his scent from the hotel bed and it sent urgent messages that made her nipples harden and her knees grow weak.

There was nothing arm’s length about this. This was everything she’d hoped for in her most secret heart. It had no chance of ending well, not in the long run, but for tonight? There was a chance.

“I want to make love to you,” he said, his lips so close to her own she could taste his breath. “I’d wanted to before, but nothing like tonight. When I watched you drive away, I couldn’t get it out of my head.”

“It’s crazy.”

“So what?”

“I…We…Damn,” she said, then she kissed him again, knowing the millisecond had passed when she could have sent him home.

The difficulty was keeping the momentum going. If she stopped for the slightest thing she knew she’d find a hundred reasons why she was out of her mind. Clearly, her only choice was to not stop.

She began by moving them closer to the living room. No bedroom, no bed. The couch was fine. Once there, she slipped her hands between them and began to unbutton her blouse. It wasn’t easy, but she managed to keep their lips together as she slipped the blouse off, as her hands went to the clasp of her bra.

To his credit, he seemed to understand the whole momentum thing. His hands got busy divesting himself of his shirt in the quickest way possible, then pants, although for that they had to coordinate and bend down as a team.

Dancing. It was all dancing, and she supplied her own music. A tango, of course. There should have been violins and guitars, but her heartbeat would do, that and the sound of breathing, of too-quick inhalations, long held desperate gasps.

Then it all came to a crashing halt.

“What?” he asked, but it sounded like a curse.

“I don’t have a condom.”

“I do.”

“Where?”

“Pocket.”

“Thank God.” She found his mouth and they dropped the final garments in their separate heaps. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing to wait while he found his pocket and the permission-giving condom, but worth it. He pulled her close again as he rose, laughing in triumph even as they continued to kiss.

“Don’t think,” he said, running his hand down her back so lightly she shivered. “Just feel.”

She let him carry her down to the couch, her thigh brushing against his erection. Of course once she was sitting and he stood right in front of her, she had a whole new perspective on things. First, she completely got it that Paul’s enthusiasm wasn’t intellectual. His erection was impressive. When she could tear her gaze away and look at his naked chest, shoulders, arms and then that face…all she could do was drop her head in her hands.