Joanne Rock - Indulge Me

His feet seemed to have decided what to do, or maybe it was that other part of him. He nodded at Rosemary and climbed down the ladder, suddenly aware of his less-than-fresh condition, having rolled out of bed at the last possible second into his clothes and a cup of coffee to stand in the sun all day.

Ripe, to say the least.

Still led by his feet or maybe the part that stuck out the farthest and felt the most eager, he found her back door unlocked, found the oak staircase and climbed toward heaven.

At the doorway to her room, he stopped. A double room, a master bedroom suite in addition to the other two bedrooms he’d glimpsed. Unusual for these old houses, which usually fit only two bedrooms upstairs. Beautiful room, hardwood floors, decorative molding and thick solid doors. She’d decorated in a way that suited his taste—dark wood furniture, classic prints on the walls, colorful rugs, subdued rose-beige walls—nothing too modern or too girlie.

That analysis took him all of five seconds, which was all he was willing to dedicate to the decor. The woman interested him far more.

He walked through the outer room and paused at the arched entrance to her bedroom. She lay on the king-size bed, modestly covered by a sheet, expression slightly apprehensive, which put him at ease. If she was nervous then she wasn’t a habitual man-eater.

“Hi.” He grinned. He couldn’t help it, but at least he didn’t giggle. “You, uh, caught my eye in here.”

She laughed, which he liked. Not nervously, but as if she understood and enjoyed his understatement. “Noticed me, did you?”

“I don’t think I’ve noticed anything quite that much in a long time.”

“Mmm, really?”

“Mmm, really.” He moved forward until his thighs in their shorts rested against the bottoms of her feet. Now she even looked familiar. Had he seen her before? But there’d been no moment of recognition when he’d first set eyes on her three days earlier. “I was wondering…”

“Yes?”

“If there was something you needed my help doing.”

Her eyes stayed on his, her hand pushed up into her hair as she adjusted her head on the pillow. “There is, yes.”

“What’s that?” He reached down, rested his hands lightly on her ankles.

“I want to come.”

Sexual adrenaline surged. He made himself look calm. “And you don’t want to do that alone?”

“Not this time, no.”

“Hmm.” He pretended to consider. “You know, I think I can help you.”

The touch of shyness in her smile pierced him. “I thought maybe you could.”

“But…I could use a shower first.”

“Oh.” She bunched her lips as if trying to tolerate pain. “I’m not sure I can wait that long.”

He gave her foot an affectionate squeeze. “Trust me, you’ll be happier if I’m clean.”

“Yes. Okay.” She let out a long sigh of near despair.

“Bathroom’s to the right and straight ahead. Clean towels in the closet next to it. And, Garrett?”

“Garrett?”

“My name for you. It means ‘with a mighty spear.’”

He laughed—nervously. Though mighty was open to interpretation. “Yes, Rosemary.”

“Rosemary?”

“Mine for you.” He realized she was waiting expectantly. “It means Rose…Mary.”

Her brief laughter turned into the smile that was way too fast becoming familiar and dear to him. “Good enough. Now go. And don’t forget to come back. This is my first-ever seduction and I want to make sure it happens.”

He nodded and left the room before his latest ridiculous surge of emotion became visible. He was her first. God, he needed to get a grip.

Showering at the speed of light wasn’t humanly possible, but his didn’t happen much slower. He didn’t bother putting his sweaty paint-smelling clothes back on but wrapped the thick, generous towel around his waist. A glance in the mirror, wondering what the hell she saw in what he’d always considered average looks and build. Maybe she considered him a sure thing for her first attempt at seduction, given how much virtual drooling he’d done over her?

He’d rather think there was something powerful and exciting between them. Which would most likely get more powerful and more exciting in the very near future.

The hardwood creaked under his feet in that comforting way of old houses, to remind those inside not to forget their surroundings.

“Hi.” Rosemary sounded shy again.

“I’m clean.”

“So you are.” One dark brow arched briefly. “While I am still feeling pretty dirty.”

He knelt on the edge of the bed then stretched out beside her, no longer nervous, thank God, though he usually was the first time with someone, certainly had been a wreck with Annie. “I promised to help you with that. And I will.”

“Very grateful.” She lay on her side, facing him, both hands under her cheek. “I was serious when I said I’ve never done this before.”

“Had sex with a stranger?”

“I did that once. In college. But I was drunk and he was, too, and I bet neither of us remembers much about it. Probably just as well.” She considered him thoughtfully. “It’s funny, you don’t seem like a stranger. But I’m sure I don’t know you.”

“I’m sure I’d remember you.”

“Thank you.” She blushed and lowered her eyes, which made an unbearably appealing contrast to her boldness. “I meant, I’ve never taken the initiative like this with someone I didn’t know.”

“And?”

She shrugged. “So far, so good. You haven’t killed me.”

“Trust me, that’s the furthest thing from my mind.” He touched her hair, stroked it off her face, down the back of her head, over her shoulders and onto the bare skin of her back under the cool cotton sheet, stroked there, up and down, easing any tension with his fingers. “But if anything feels wrong at any point, tell me. You don’t have to do this.”

“Mmm, I definitely do. I like the way you touch me.” She arched into his fingers, stretched her long, beautiful spine.

“This is only the beginning of how I want to touch you.” His voice came out lower and more earnestly than he meant it to. He reached farther, to the curve of her lower back, then dared a slow glide over her firm shapely rear, which not only brought a sexy “Mmm” out of her, but also made her squirm closer and start her soft graceful hands on an exploration of their own. Of him.

Taking this as slowly as he wanted to might result in his death.

He tugged the sheet off her and pulled her flush against him, pressing his erection rhythmically against her, making sure he was stimulating her where it did the most good, tormenting himself in the sweetest possible way. Then he gathered her thick hair between his fingers, traced his thumbs along her jaw and did what he’d wanted to do since seeing her the first time. He kissed her full, tempting mouth.

The connection was immediate and electric, traveling through their lips, down his body, taking him over. He kissed her again and again, rolled her impatiently onto her back and followed to cover her, still tasting and fitting their lips together at every possible angle until the waves of eroticism and some other nameless feeling were so strong he had to stop.

He drew back slightly, breathing hard, feeling awed, met the awe in her eyes and became aware of the heaving rhythm of her breath, too. Both. They both felt it.

“Whoa.” She clasped her hands behind his neck and laughed uncertainly. “I guess I picked you for a reason.”

“Fate.” He didn’t believe in fate or any of the woo-woo crap that dominated his sister’s world, but the second he said the word he felt it was true.

Her eyes became cautious and he made himself grin to show he was kidding. Ha, ha. Fate. Ha, ha.