30 Days (6 page)

“Touching. No sex.” He sat back down, this time keeping a small distance between us. “Let's start off with something easy and then you can see if you want to go any further with those cards of yours. I get the feeling you're not too sure of them yourself.”

“But . . .” I might have been drooling, so I swallowed hard. “You're not naked.”

“It's close enough for our first time.” He leaned back, put his feet up on the coffee table, and closed his eyes. “Whenever you are ready, go for it. Or not. You can leave and I won't think anything bad about you. If anything, I admire the hell out of you even more now.”

That wasn't what I'd expected to hear. I wasn't sure what to say, or even what he was expecting me to do after that. He admired me for what I was trying to do? Was trying to get laid even an admirable thing? I pushed that thought from my mind and tried to focus on the matter at hand. I had a nearly naked attractive man sitting beside me, waiting for me to reach out and touch him.

I turned on the couch and pulled my feet up so I was sitting cross-legged. It gave me a barrier, albeit one I could easily breach when I was ready. It made sense to look first. I mean, I hadn't seen a lot of naked men this close up who weren't related to me, and none of them were as fit as Harrison.

Dude had definition.

I cleared my throat, but didn't look away. He didn't have any fat to him at all, which was something I wasn't used to either. “I have to talk or else this is going to be too strange.”

“I can talk. I do it for a living.” That damn smirk of his again. I could see it getting annoying. “What do you want to talk about?”

His nipples were hard, though I didn't find the air all that cool. I wanted to run the tip of my finger across the hard nub to see the reaction I'd get. My hand was up and moving before I questioned what I was doing. At the last possible second, I chickened out and shifted my attention to his biceps. I touched my fingertip to his muscle, circling around the peaks and valleys of his arm.

“You must work out a lot.”

Harrison swallowed hard. “I hit the gym every morning at five. I've been doing it for years. It helps to counteract all the sales lunches and cocktail hours I've been through.”

Goose bumps rose on his skin as I continued exploring with my single point of contact. Shifting closer, I moved my finger up to his collarbone. The scent of his deodorant was strong, as though he'd reapplied it before putting on his clean shirt. Maybe he had. “Tell me about your typical day.”

I changed from using one finger to three when I reached his chest. Careful to avoid his nipples, I raked my tips through his chest hair, sighing at the feel of its coarseness. Harrison had lots, something Rob's body couldn't produce. Shit, I didn't want to be thinking about him right now, even if it was understandable to draw comparisons.

“Gym, office, meetings, come home, make supper, work. I do some sightseeing if I'm staying in a city I'm not familiar with.” He let out a groan. “Stay away from my sides. I'm ticklish. You've been warned.”

“You can't wave that red flag in front of me and expect me not to charge.” I rose up onto my knees and walked my fingers across his stomach—rock-hard abs, soft hair around his navel—down toward his side. “Is Mr. Kemp ticklish—”

“Don't do it. I'm warning you—”

“Right about—”

“Alyssa—”

“Here!”

I squealed and laughed as he roared, his hips bucking fully off the couch. I had a bit of a mean streak when it came to tickling and now that I knew he had a weakness, I couldn't stop. Harrison was laughing as he tried to squirm away from my touch. All I wanted was to continue to run and press and squeeze his sides, loving the way his face turned red as belly laughs rolled from him. What I wasn't expecting was for him to turn, grab me by the waist, and press me back against the couch cushions.

“Stop! Can't breathe.” His eyes were squeezed shut and tears had beaded at the corners of his lids. “Evil woman.”

I was laughing just as hard as he was, all my earlier tension finally gone. It didn't even matter that he had my wrists pinned by my head, or that the only thing preventing me from seeing his cock was a thin pair of black boxer briefs. As my laughter subsided, Harrison finally opened his eyes. He had a glow about him, as though he'd needed that moment of silliness as much as I had.

“How long has it been since you've had a girlfriend?”

Something changed in his expression. It was so subtle that had I not been lying directly beneath him I would have easily missed it. Harrison shifted his hands to the side, freeing my wrists.

“It's been awhile for me. Not a lot of time for that given the nature of my job. I don't stay long in one place.” He cocked his head to the side. “Are you done exploring?”

I'd upset him, I could tell. If I was smart, I would have said yes, thanked him for indulging me, and left.

I never claimed to be smart.

“Not quite,” I whispered.

Using both hands, I ran them up the length of his arms to his shoulders. The movement had me coming up, my face now several inches from his. But as tempted as I was to kiss him, to feel what it would be like to have a pair of lips pressed to mine that weren't Rob's, I didn't. Instead, I let my fingers slide over his shoulders to his back. The muscles were every bit as firm there as his chest and arms. I didn't need to touch his thighs and calves to know how rock-hard they would be. With the way Harrison was straddling me, I could feel nearly every inch of him.

Well, except for a few critical ones.

I shouldn't have looked, but as soon as the thought of his cock flicked through my mind my eyes shifted down to see. As charming as his briefs were, they did little to hide his erection. His
impressive
erection.

Wow.

He groaned. I lifted my gaze to see him staring down at me. There was no mistaking his arousal, even if the obvious evidence wasn't staring me in the face. Harrison's body shook as he cleared his throat. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Letting me touch you?”

“Not having sex with you.”

My pussy was wet and I would have liked nothing better than to grind down on his thigh to get myself off. He was warm, smelled so good, and for the first time I could see myself with another man. The thought was as thrilling as it was terrifying. “You mean we can't?”

“Nope. It wasn't on the card.”

Stupid friggin' cards.
“I have more back at my place. I'm sure there are a few there that say we can have sex. More than one. Bunches of them.”

“I'm sure they do. But according to this one, it's only day three. I think you need to do them in order. There's no sex on day three.”

“I bet we'd be allowed to cheat and break that rule.” I was willing to break many things if it meant I could have sex.

Harrison got to his feet and held out his hand. “I'll make you a deal. Bring the rest of the cards over tomorrow night. I'll make you supper and we can take a look at them. Discuss . . . rules.”

My entire body was vibrating as I got to my feet. “Rules?”

He should have looked silly standing there naked with his hands on his hips, erection jutting out from behind his boxer briefs, but I wanted nothing more than to continue to touch every inch of him all over again. “Rules. That's the only way I can do this.”

I'm sure I looked like a gaping fish. “But, you don't have to. I wasn't really going to do all the cards. Just some. And then have sex with someone random.”

Harrison shook his head. “No. Tomorrow night. Supper. Cards. Talk.”

I rolled my eyes. “Caveman speak. Woohoo.”

“Alyssa.”

“Okay, okay. I didn't have plans anyway. I'll come over.”

“Good. Now I'm going to see you out so I can masturbate in peace.”

“Oh God.” I grabbed my sneakers as I jogged to the door. “Don't tell me those things.”

“I'm not big on lies. Even white ones.” I jerked open the door, stopping when he called my name. “Six o'clock work for you?”

“Yup.” I grinned and nodded toward his cock. “Have fun.”

I shut the door and scurried toward my condo before he responded. I jammed my key into the hole and yanked my door open, practically diving inside to safety. The second it closed I burst into giggles and slid to the floor. The wood was firm against my back and kept me from dissolving into a puddle of goo.

That just happened. I'd touched Harrison. We'd laughed. We'd almost had sex.

There were going to be
rules.

My body felt alive, aroused, and ready to take on whatever he was going to throw at me. My nipples were hard and my clit was pressed firmly against my damp panties. It seemed that Harrison wasn't going to be the only one masturbating tonight. With a laugh I got to my feet and stumbled to my bedroom in search of my new vibrator.

Tonight turned out way better than I'd been expecting. I could only hope tomorrow would be just as good.

7

I
'd called in to work sick, certain that there'd be no way I'd be able to concentrate long enough to open my documents, let alone add anything productive to them. While it would be fun to create screwed up process documents and see what the programmers did with them, it would only create more work for me in the long run. Instead, I'd tried to sleep in and not think about supper and what was to come after. That lasted for about twenty minutes past my alarm before I got up.

Apparently, I was excited. Or horny. Probably both.

I settled on watching the Food Network in the hopes of improving my culinary skills. After studiously watching a
Chopped
marathon, I got sucked in to a show that was featuring appetizers designed to seduce the palate. It made sense to bring something with me when I went over to Harrison's. Normally, I'd bring along a bottle of wine, but given my track record with beverages recently, food seemed like a more civilized option. I'd be less likely to dump it over his head at any rate. I grabbed a pen and started making notes.

The scent of roasting garlic and tomatoes filled my condo for the remainder of the afternoon. I so rarely did this sort of thing anymore the act of sautéing had a calming effect. I loved to cook, but it was hard to get up the energy when I was making a meal for only me. Maybe I made a bit more than what I planned to bring over tonight, but that was cool. Leftovers were my friend.

My mind wandered as I prepared the ingredients I'd picked up. It was fun to imagine Harrison's reaction as he bit into the skewers. I wondered if he'd lick the juice off his fingertips, if he'd suck them into his mouth to get every last taste. It was surprisingly difficult not to duck into my bedroom and get myself off. Who knew that my masturbation drought would end in such a spectacular way—porn and neighbor fantasies.
Woohoo!

I'd been so busy banging around in my kitchen that I'd actually lost track of time. A loud knock sent a bolt of panic through me. Shit, it was five-thirty and I hadn't even showered yet. I grabbed my hand towel to work the garlic juice from my fingers as I jogged to the door.

“Harrison.” This was still way too early. I peeked out the door to see if there was someone else around. “Everything okay?”

Now, I know I'm not very observant when it comes to the opposite sex. I've never been one to notice when a man or woman was checking me out. I used to assume that was because it rarely happened. However, I've been told time and again from a number of people that yes, I do get my ass checked out and yes, I'm oblivious. That said, even I could tell there was something heated in the way Harrison was staring at me. I'd thrown my hair into a bun and hadn't bothered to put on any makeup. My T-shirt and shorts were hidden beneath my linen apron, which was stained from years of use. Not my most attractive look.

“You're cooking.”

There was something in the way he said the words that didn't seem right to me. “Yes. I thought I'd make an appetizer to bring over. I wasn't sure what you had in mind, but I couldn't come over empty-handed.”

He licked his lips. “It smells wonderful.”

“I'm a woman of many talents.” And holy shit I was totally flirting.

Rather than retreat from it, I kicked my hip out to the side, flicked my hand towel across my shoulder, and braced my hands on my hips. If I was actually going to go down this road with him, then I had to own it.

“Are you still good for me to come over in thirty minutes, or do you need more time?”

His lips tightened and his gaze narrowed. As quickly as his body tensed, he let out a sigh and relaxed. “I had a meeting run late. As long as you don't mind watching me cook, come on over.”

Rob had zero talent in the kitchen. Most of the men in my family barely knew where the kitchen was, let alone how to make anything beyond cereal or toast. How cool was it to be with a guy who could do more than pop something in the microwave. “Sounds like a plan. I'll be there as soon as the skewers are finished and I can get cleaned up.”

“You look fantastic the way you are.” He gave me a nod, his gaze briefly slipping down my body, before he marched down to his condo. “We can start our chat when you get here.”

As tempting as it was to watch him go, I shut the door and dashed back inside to get ready. Ogling would have to wait.

There were
rules
to get ready for.

 

It took me a tad longer than thirty minutes to finish cooking and appear presentable. It would have taken far less if my goal was to continue with my sex-starved-dear-God-is-this-happening look, but I didn't want to come across as desperate. Or crazy.

Even though I
was
starting to question my sanity.

This time when I knocked on Harrison's door, he answered almost immediately. He'd clearly had a shower of his own, his hair still damp and his navy dress shirt sticking to his chest in places. I tightened my grip on the platter with the skewers and forced my attention to his face.

He was trying not to laugh at me.

“So hi.” I held up the platter and smiled. “I have these.”

“I have wine. Come on in.”

Unlike last night, Harrison's place was decidedly neater. “You didn't have to clean for me.” I followed him through to the kitchen, exchanging my platter for a glass of white.

“I didn't. I simply shoved a bunch of the boxes into the spare room.” Picking up a skewer, he lifted it to his mouth and pulled off a cherry tomato with his teeth. “Tasty.”

I whimpered.

“I'm roasting veggies to make my own sauce. I figured pasta would be a safe meal. Didn't know if you had any dislikes or allergies.” He stuck his tongue out to lick the chicken cube before he pulled it free of the stick as well.

This is the part of the conversation where you respond.
I cleared my throat. “I'll eat anything. I mean, I like it all. I don't have any allergies.”

He laughed. Not a soft chuckle, or polite tittering. Nope, Harrison let out a belly-deep laugh. “How freaked out are you right now?”

“On a scale of one to ten? I'm swallowing a bottle of Ativan.”

“This is going to take awhile longer. Why don't we go sit on the couch and talk?”

In a flash the image of his nearly naked body sitting back against the cushions flashed in my mind. “I'm good here. The wine's closer.”

He filled up my glass. “Fair enough. Here it is.”

Pulling up a stool, he perched on top of it and patted the seat beside him. A man that large shouldn't be subjected to such a tiny area, but there was no way I'd last ten minutes on the couch. I pulled the stool out to put more space between us. “Okay.”

The pause was unexpected. How the hell was either of us supposed to move forward with this?

“I'm sorry.” I sighed and rolled my glass between my hands. “I honestly have no idea what I'm doing, or why I'm considering enacting these cards. You were right when you said it's freaking weird. How screwed up am I to even consider doing this?”

“You don't strike me as screwed up. Lonely, yes. But not crazy.”

“I guess that's something.”

Harrison had propped his elbow on the counter and now bracketed the side of his face with his forefinger and thumb. It felt as though he was trying to get a read on me and still wasn't certain what he was seeing. This was the most awkward not-a-first-date I'd ever been a party to.

The first rule of being social was getting to know the other person. I could do that. “You're in sales? What's that like?”

His eyes sparkled as the corner of his mouth lifted. “I get to meet interesting people. Lots of verbal dancing.”

“I'm a technical writer for a software firm. No dancing of any kind.”

“I bet you're a champ.”

“It's boring as hell, but it pays the bills.” It wasn't really. I loved picking apart programs, outlining all the nooks and crannies so that some poor user wouldn't have to beat their head against it. I'd yet to find anyone outside of the business who enjoyed it, though, so I normally kept the work chat to a minimum.

“I've met all kinds in my line of work.” Harrison leaned in and lowered his voice. “Do you know Charlie Brown?”

I blinked. “Pardon?”

“Charlie Brown. Bald-headed boy, cute beagle for a pet.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Do you remember the bit where he'd line up to kick the football that Lucy was holding? Every time he gave it his all. He'd race down the line and give a huge-ass kick, only to have Lucy pull the ball away at the last second. He landed on his back. Every. Single. Time.”

He moved closer again and I could smell the soap that still clung to his skin. I became aware of my body, how close it was to his, how large he was compared to me. I wasn't sure if I wanted to lean into him or run from his condo.

“I remember,” I managed to squeak out.

“You remind me of Charlie Brown. Ready to race down that strip toward the football, ready to give it your all, knowing full well it might get yanked away at the last second. I wanted to let you know something.” This time when he shifted in, our lips were only a hair's breadth apart. “I'm no Lucy.”

The timer on the stove went off. In a blink, Harrison was up and around the counter, pulling the pan from the oven.

Fuck.

Fuck, damn, shit, lying bastard.

He
was
a freaking Lucy. Except it wasn't a ball that was getting yanked.

We chatted about inconsequential stuff while he finished preparing supper. I'm sure he intended to take the edge off, help me relax before the conversation took its inevitable turn toward sex, but it didn't work. As we sat down to eat, I couldn't help but admire his broad chest and the ease with which he moved. With every lift of his fork to his mouth, all I wanted to know was what it would be like to kiss him. Each time he reached for his glass, I wondered how hard he'd squeeze my breasts when having sex. When he'd reach for the rolls and I watched the muscles play along his exposed forearms, I fantasized about him pinning me to the mattress while he slammed into me.

“I have dessert. Chocolate cake.”

He was trying to kill me. “Please tell me you didn't make this? I can't handle a man who can cook and bake.”

“You're safe. Store-bought.”

“Thank God.”

I wanted to wait until he served the cake before I brought up the thing about
rules.
As pleasant as supper had been, I was getting tired of dancing around the reason I was here. The moment a microwave-heated chocolate lava cake was placed in front of me, I took a sip of wine, cleared my throat, and looked Harrison straight in the eye. “So.”

“Yes?” He picked up his fork and pushed a large, gooey bit into his mouth.

“I . . .”

He licked the back of the fork, giving me a wink. “I take it you're ready to discuss your proposition?”

“Huh?” There was a smudge of chocolate on his bottom lip. I so wanted to lick that sucker clean. “Right. The cards.”

“Did you bring them?”

The damn things had been burning a hole in my pocket since I'd put them there. “I know you said we should do them all in order, but that wasn't what I'd planned. I mean, they're just ideas, suggestions to get me back out there into the land of the dating.”

I don't know why I was hesitating to show them to Harrison, but it was far harder than I'd anticipated sliding them across the table. My chest tightened, making it necessary for me to consciously force myself to breathe. “So yeah, this is them.”

Harrison didn't take them immediately. He continued to devour his lava cake, his gaze shifting between me and the cards with each bite. Only once he'd finished did he place his fork on the plate, set it aside, and pick up the index cards.

Looking for a distraction, I ate my own dessert in three gulps.

He sorted through the cards until he reached what I could only suspect was Day One. He licked his bottom lip. “Now I know what you were doing that afternoon I thought you were getting murdered.”

And there was my blush again. “I'm never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope.” He returned his attention back to the cards. “Your late husband had quite an active imagination. I'm assuming you haven't done a lot of these things.”

“No. Rob wanted to expand my horizons.” I'd spent some time online doing a tiny bit of research on sex things to try. Yeah, that left me scarred for life. Seriously, the Internet is a scary place. “Honestly, some of those read more like his wish list than mine, but his intentions were good.”

“I'd be happy to help you come up with new ideas.” His smile made the skin around his eyes crinkle. “But as I mentioned, I think we need some ground rules first. Not just for you, but for me as well.”

It made sense. We were both about to engage in a sexual relationship with a stranger we'd only known for a few weeks and met a few times. In the same regard, it didn't seem right to reduce our experiment to a list of
dos
and
don'ts.
Sex had never purely been about the pleasure for me. It had been my way to connect with Rob, to reassure myself that we were still okay as a couple. Half the time I didn't even orgasm. Not because Rob was unwilling to do something for me, but because I didn't feel the need for the release.

What I was about to undertake with Harrison was a completely different animal. I had no idea if this would change me, or make me see the world differently.