Dating A Silver Fox (Never Too Late) (24 page)

“They’re supposed to be circumcised,” Ben said. “Not sure how that applies, but hey—that’s my two cents.”

“I wasn’t planning to ask Morrie any details about his body parts. How does that help me know what not to talk to him about?” Lauren asked.

Ben shrugged. “The three of you never cut me any slack. Why should Lydia’s Jewish boyfriend be any different? I think we need to have a party to check him out. We’ll help you test his potential as a family member.”

Lauren froze. “That’s an
excellent
idea, Ben. I think it would help Regina too. She’d see my mother in a whole new light. God knows I am. Morrie holds her hand and makes her giggle.”

Alexa laughed. “Giggling is good.”

“Giggling means a woman is relaxed,” Ben said.

“Giggling means a woman trusts you enough to let down her guard,” Jim said.

“Giggling means she likes your dirty jokes and you’re about to get laid,” Casey supplied. The other men looked at him. “Oh come on—you know you were thinking it.”

When Regina came back, they were talking about some new line of lingerie Alexa was selling before talk turned to considering a maternity line. She sighed in relief that the conversation had turned to subjects other than her clients.

Chapter 18

“What do you think? It’s a strange position, but I think it feels nice,” Morrie said, ignoring Lydia’s obvious emotional and mental discomfort to focus on her physical ease. He had his back to the couch, which was much better for him than sitting up with no support at all. So long as he had back support, this would be fine for him.

“Nice? Are you kidding? This feels ridiculous,” Lydia said, struggling to lie still. “I feel like a wing on an over-baked chicken with my legs splayed out this way.”

Morrie’s legs were interwoven with hers according to the diagram from the book Regina had given them. He studied the photo and Lydia swallowed hard at the feel of Morrie’s hands lifting her thighs and moving her into what he felt was the most optimal pose. It was nerve wracking.

And okay, maybe it was a
little nice
to let him touch her so intimately without worrying too much about his intentions.

“Now let’s just stay like this for the full fifteen minutes and see how we do. Instead of stroking your cli. . .doing what it says in the book, how about I rub your pelvic area just below your belly button,” Morrie suggested, glad Lydia hadn’t done more than freeze at his slip. It was Sunday evening, and it had taken him all weekend to talk her into trying this much. He put his hand on her a belly and rubbed lightly.

“How’s that?” he asked.

Lydia nodded.

“Don’t just nod. Talk to me. Part of this is supposed to be us communicating,” Morrie directed.

“It’s fine,” Lydia said tightly.

“Fine as in you’re able to tolerate it? Or fine as in it feels nice?” Morrie asked.

“It feels—okay,” Lydia said cautiously. “I’m not worried or feeling sick. You’ve done nothing so far to scare me.”

“Well, don’t try to enjoy our bodies being connected or anything else about this position. I’ll pretend I’m being forced to do it so all the fun can be completely sucked away from the effort,” Morrie said, sarcasm sneaking in and blooming until he realized what he was feeling under his hands. “Those are some remarkable abs you have there. I could probably enjoy stroking them if you’d relax and let me.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” Lydia said quietly. “I’m sorry for not having a better attitude. This is just too far outside my comfort zone.”

“Not as much as a vibrator though, right?” Morrie asked, his tone serious, the question not teasing at all.

“No—it’s not as bad as thinking about doing that,” Lydia admitted, letting out a ragged breath. “Why are you bothering with me, Morrison? I mean seriously. Don’t give me that ‘I’m falling in love with you’ drivel. I know you care about me. I like you too—sometimes. But
why
are you trying so hard to fix me?”

Morrie continued to rub her stomach lightly as he thought how he could answer that question and maybe show Lydia she wasn’t the only person who had ever hurt.

“After Evelyn died, I couldn’t ask her about us. Up to then, I was like most men, avoiding the hard intimate conversations when I could because they made me—well, probably as uncomfortable as you are right now,” Morrie said, keeping his gaze on his hand.

“So anyway, after her death, I spent a whole year asking myself over and over if I had done everything I could to make my wife happy. It was surprising to me how much regret I had. And it wasn’t regret over the things I had done with her, but rather all I hadn’t done. I was tortured by everything she ever mentioned that I had been too afraid to face. The second year after she was gone I spent my time making peace with what couldn’t be resolved and letting go. When I couldn’t bring myself to date, my grief counselor referred me to Dr. Logan. She talked me into taking chances again.”

He finally brought his gaze to Lydia’s and saw a truth that he had missed in the beginning. She was a mirror for him. Lydia was both the emotionally closed up person he had been and the woman asking for things.

In fact, Morrie decided, the whole package that was Lydia McCarthy had his name written in divine handwriting all over her. She was in every way his second chance to do it better.

“A year from now I don’t want to see you at some social function somewhere and think—look, there is that incredibly amazing, incredibly beautiful woman I met and fell in love with that I was afraid to try and make happy. I’d rather try now if it’s all the same to you. I’ve got a really good feeling about us, and my instincts are rarely wrong,” he said.

The sincerely offered explanation turned some kind of rusty lock inside her and down fell the last barricade she’d had been hiding from Morrie behind. Tears welled and burned until they spilled over hotly and ran down her face onto the pillow under her head.

Could she really believe this man was compelled to be in her life—and her bed?

Lydia put her hand over his rubbing one—the rightness of their physical connection finally, finally making some sense to her. She lifted Morrie’s hand and tugged. “You win. I believe you. Now stop rubbing, and come down here and hold me. I need you to squeeze me hard until I’m sure I won’t dissolve and just float away in the puddle of tears I’m crying.”

Morrie untangled their legs and crawled to lie at her side. She rolled into his arms without prompting and cried hard while he held her as tightly as he dared. She cried the way he had when he’d accepted Evelyn was gone for good.

He said nothing while Lydia tried to purge her heart of pain. He still didn’t know what pain the woman held so tightly, but it had definitely shaped her into the complicated woman he held in his arms.

After a while, he eased away and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing at her tears for her. Lydia laughed, sniffed, and took it from him to dry her own eyes.

“You carry a handkerchief? No one does that anymore,” she said, amazed.

“My dad always made me. He’d ask, and if I didn’t have one, he’d lecture me for hours about not being prepared. I own about thirty. I put them in my pants ahead of time because I have a tendency to forget them,” Morrie explained. “If I go out and forget totally, the guilt is almost overwhelming.”

“And you think
I’m
obsessive-compulsive,” Lydia quipped, dabbing at her nose as she sniffed.

“I never said you were OCD,” Morrie denied, rising up on one elbow to look into her face. He smiled at her disbelieving glare. “Okay. Maybe I thought it a time or two about your restaurant rotation habit. But I’m the perfect cure—I make you try something new every time we eat out.”

“Morrison Fox, you are a crazy man,” Lydia said.

“Yeah, crazy about you,” Morrie said sincerely, staring down into eyes stripped of all resistance to the idea.

Lydia lifted a hand to his cheek. “I think I’m crazy about you too—or maybe just plain crazy. I’m having a hard time telling.”

“Anything I can do to clear things up?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Lydia said, her throat dry and raspy. “My instincts are working too, but the meditation thing is just too much for me right now. I don’t think I can just open myself up that way to someone I barely know, even if it’s you.”

“From what you’ve told me of your past, I can understand that. So maybe we’ll just save OM for when we know each other better. Just know I am going to always be willing to make sure you have all the pleasure that is possible for you to have in this world. Fifteen minutes of focused attention is precious little to give you when I want to offer you a whole lot more than that,” Morrie said.

There was a long silence then, but a comfortable one. He was startled when she cleared her throat and spoke, but completely caught off-guard by what she said.

“Stay with me tonight. I just want to get the first time again over with. I’m willing now to deal with the fallout because I think you’re worth the struggle. Just don’t expect too much from me,” Lydia said.

Morrie stayed on his elbow. “Baby, I wasn’t expecting the offer. I’m so unprepared that I didn’t even bring condoms. I’m willing to wait.”

“Doesn’t matter, I feel about condoms the same way I do about vibrators,” Lydia said. “I’ll take my chances mentally and physically. I know that’s not smart in this day and age, but I’m taking your word about the other women in your life.”

“Hmmm. . .can’t decide if that was insulting or not. I’m going to give you the benefit of doubt. For your information, I used condoms with the other two after Evelyn,” Morrie declared.

Lydia exhaled loudly, her stress obvious. She breathed deeply for a moment, rubbing her stomach with her own hand.

“Kudos for not backing down from the conversation—or running to the bathroom to purge again,” Morrie said with a smile.

“I think I’m over most of that, but I am still nervous. You already know there’s been no one for me,” Lydia began, and then she sighed. “I don’t even know if everything still works. I might not be able to do anything with you at all.”

Morrie laughed. “We’ll go slow and make sure. I’m good with virgins. Evelyn was a virgin on our wedding night. We went slow and I made her scream—twice if I remember right.”

Lydia felt her face heat. “Great. If you tell me when to scream, I’ll just do it for you. I don’t need any pressure.”

Morrie rolled away laughing. “You are the funniest woman I ever met. You could lie there and do nothing but stare into my eyes, and you’d be better than the other two women.”

“Is that an insult to me or them?” Lydia demanded.

She watched him roll his head and give her the half-lidded look she well recognized by now. Did she really intend to let him fulfill the promise of his gaze?

“Crawl over here on top of me with that perfect ass and those tight abs, and I’ll show you what I really think of you,” Morrie said, his tone as serious as his words.

“Dear lord, what was I thinking making that offer to you,” Lydia said, her facing flaming. “You scare me to death.”

Morrie laughed, rolled to his side to face her again, and took her hand. “Now look at me—I mean really look at me—in the eyes, Lydia. Don’t look away. I’m doing this to make a point, not to scare you. So—trust me.”

He moved her hand to his erection, closing both their hands around it.

“Feel this reaction? This is to pleasure both of us. One of us doesn’t count. So if it scares you, or worries you, or does anything else that makes you want to run from me, then it’s not the right time for us to take this step. Don’t lie. Don’t pretend. Don’t fake. It’s enough for me that you offered because it means you’re starting to trust your feelings about me.”

When he pulled his hand away, Morrie was surprised to feel hers remain and move along the length of him tentatively.

“Are you bigger than the average guy or just normal?” Lydia asked, letting her gaze drop from his when his laser focus narrowed on hers.

After searching her gaze and finding no hidden motives, Morrie closed his eyes in disbelief. “Unbelievable, I’ve found the only woman over twenty-five who doesn’t have an opinion already formed.”

“Don’t make fun of me. And that wasn’t an answer,” Lydia said, moving her hand away, noting his gaze shifted when she did. “Are you going to tell me or make me look it up for myself? I own a computer you know.”

“Lydia, no man alive is going to answer that question honestly. If you’re asking because you’re afraid of my size, let’s just say I’ve never been put in any record book for surprising a woman,” Morrie said.

“No—it wasn’t your size,” Lydia said on a guilty laugh, then caught his skeptical look. “Okay. Maybe I am a little afraid, but it’s not fear of the mechanics. I don’t remember much of what being intimate was like, other than I felt awful afterwards. Usually I was just ashamed because I didn’t want to be with him.”

“That is really not something that should make me feel like pounding my damn chest, and yet it does,” Morrie said, almost embarrassed at his happiness to be the man Lydia actually wanted in her bed. “You may have to help keep me humble.”

Lydia rolled and rose in a smooth movement that had Morrie’s eyebrows rising at her agility. “Keep you humble? I’m not a miracle worker.”