His Fair Lady (5 page)

“Cripes!”

“Just answer the question, Marky-Mark. Did you grope my sister?”

“No. We were just kissing. Then all of a sudden, she was like, I can’t, I have to go.”

Kyle was silent for several moments, then seemed to reach a decision.

“I can’t tell you why she did that, Mark. It’s her business, and she’ll tell you when she’s ready, if she ever is. What I can tell you is it’s not you, so if you like her, don’t give up on her.”

“She’s not like crazy or anything, is she?”

Kyle laughed. “Oh, she’s crazy all right, but not like you mean. Listen, Mark. Josie is gold. She’s sunshine. She’s the best summer vacation you ever had. What I’m saying is she’s worth the effort, so if you really want to get to know her and see for yourself how freaking awesome she is, don’t let her push you away.”

On the way back to his dorm, Mark thought about what happened with Josie, about the confusing contradiction of an innocent and inexperienced girl who ignited in his arms like a fireworks display. He remembered that smoky, sexy voice, the fall of red-gold silk that was her hair, the softness and warmth of her mouth. Oh yeah, he wanted another taste of that mouth, a good long sample and not standing in the cold on her porch, but someplace quiet and private where he could take his time and where she would let him.

“Don’t let her push you away,”
Kyle had said.

But wasn’t that exactly what he’d done? Let her push him away. Close him out. Lock him out, for God’s sake.

What the hell had he done to spook her so badly? And how could he undo it?

Mark reached his dorm and slid his ID card through the scanner at the front door. The light turned green, the buzzer buzzed, and the lock clicked. He pulled open the door and walked into the chaos that was Brandson Hall. He lowered his head, then, on a sudden inspiration, pulled out his phone and held it to his ear. He pretended to listen intently. There was no conversation, of course, but it kept people from bothering him as he made his way up the three flights to the suite he shared with Masterson and four other guys.

The common lounge looked deserted except for the scattering of books and papers on one couch and an open laptop on the coffee table. The TV in the corner blared a mindless stream of what Mark thought of as sports yack. But that was pretty much a constant, given everyone in the suite was a jock except for him.

Mark’s room was thankfully dark and deserted, with Masterson and his ever-present stream of hookups nowhere in evidence.

The laptop open on his desk was the only indication he’d been there at all that day.

This was very good. The last thing he needed just then was company of the Masterson variety.

Mark dropped his backpack on his desk. He should do homework or at least get some of his reading out of the way. But somehow
Tess of the d’Urbervilles
held no appeal just then.

He yanked off his shoes without untying the laces, then quickly shucked his pants, shirt, and socks. As his jeans hit the floor, his phone slid out of his pocket.
Clunk.

He scooped it up. No damage done. That was good. Needing to buy a new phone would have put a serious dent in his budget. And there was no way he would go to his mom for the money, not with her already footing the bill for half his tuition.

Standing there with his phone in his hand, Mark recalled the sight of Josie’s phone sliding under her chair and the cascade of events that followed, culminating in him kissing her on her own front porch. He remembered the look on her face as she pushed him away. Terror? Fear? Sorrow? All of the above?

He had no clue.

“She’s gold. Don’t let her push you away.”

Mark stared down at his phone. As if of its own volition, his thumb clicked the Home button and unlocked the phone. He located her number in his contacts, then paused, his finger hovering above the display.

If she didn’t want to talk to him, she could easily just let the call go to voice mail. If he got her voice mail, he would hang up. Or maybe leave a friendly but noncommittal message asking if she’d gotten her keys from Kyle. Yeah, that was what he would do.

He made the call and, pressing the phone to his ear, lay back on the bed and listened to it ring

And ring.

And ring.

“Hello?” The single word was nearly a sigh.

“Hi. It’s me, Mark.”

A pause.

“I know, I saw your name on the display.”

Of course she had. Was that a smile he heard in her voice?

Idiot. Quit imagining things.

“I was just wondering…if you got your keys. From Kyle?”

“Oh yeah. He gave them to me.”

“Good. That’s good. I was just calling to, you know, check.”

“Yeah, well, he did.”

Another pause.

“I’m sorry—”

“You must think—”

They both spoke, then they both stopped.

“You go,” Josie said.

“I was just going to say I’m sorry if I did something.”

Josie laughed, but it sounded more tired than amused.

“You didn’t do anything, Mark. God, you probably think I’m a real nutjob.”

“I don’t think anything. I was worried about you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I liked kissing you,” Josie said shyly.

“Me too.” He pressed the phone hard against his ear and listened to her breathe. Once more he recalled the taste of her, the warmth of her lips, the scent of her hair, and the press of her willowy body against his.

His cock twitched and began to fill.

A little guiltily, he adjusted himself inside his briefs, then pulled the blanket up to cover himself in case Masterson chose that moment to come barging in.

“I’d like to kiss you again,” Mark ventured. He was testing the waters, maybe being a little too pushy, but she hadn’t hung up on him yet.

There was a long pause, much longer than before. He was on the verge of apologizing again when Josie spoke.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I think I am.”

“Maybe you’re the nutjob, then.”

He heard the smile in her voice and gave it back to her. “Maybe I am. But I do want to kiss you again.”

“Mmm.”

The sexy purr went straight to Mark’s dick. He reached under the blankets and gave it a friendly squeeze. Any more than that would make him a perv.

“What are you doing?” Josie asked. It was wild, as if she could see him and knew what he’d been doing.

“I’m in bed, actually.”

She laughed a little, though he couldn’t tell what about that was funny.

“Me too.”

The next question popped unbidden into Mark’s head. “What are you wearing?”

Ewww. That was creepy.

But if Josie thought his inquiry was stalkerish, she didn’t say so. Instead she asked, “Are you in your jammies?”

Mark moistened his lips. “Uh, sort of.”

“I bet they have little red-and-blue cowboys on them.”

“No.” Mark laughed. She was flirting with him, actually flirting. He could hardly believe it.

“C’mon, tell the truth. You look like a red-and-blue-cowboy-pajamas kind of guy to me.”

Mark pressed his palm against his cock, now fully hard. He squeezed his eyes shut and could see the pulse behind his lids.

“I had pajamas with red-and-blue whales on them when I was a kid.”

She laughed. “I knew it!”

“You said cowboys.”

“Whales, cowboys, what’s the difference?”

“You never saw John Wayne riding a whale in those old spaghetti westerns, did you?”

“Or Roy Rogers,” Josie added, and they both cracked up.

The laughter subsided, and silence settled between them. The laughter felt good, as did the silence, companionable rather than awkward.

“So now tell me what your pajamas look like?” There. That sounded a lot more innocent than
“what are you wearing,”
even if it amounted to the same thing. The creepy obscene-phone-caller music in Mark’s imagination went silent.

“Oh, I bet you could guess.”

Holy. Crap. She was definitely flirting with him.

“Hmmm.” Mark pretended to consider while in his mind’s eye he imagined her naked, that long slim body and all that creamy white skin laid out for him on black satin sheets. Not that he’d ever seen black satin sheets outside of porn.

“Where’d you go?” Josie asked, a note of uncertainty in her voice.

“Nowhere. I was just imagining you in bed.”

“You’ve never seen my bed.”

Recklessly, Mark took the plunge. “I know. I was imagining you in my bed.”

Suddenly the black satin sheets were gone, as were the mirrors and funky porno lighting, replaced by his actual bed and the image of the girl on the phone.

HE WAS IMAGINING her in his bed.

Josie closed her eyes and felt the smile curving her lips. “How do I look?”

“You look beautiful,” Mark said.

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me what I look like, in your bed. Make me see it, Mark. Paint me a picture.”

“Hmm, okay.” She heard him shifting around, the rustle of sheets; then the phone clunked against something.

“Sorry,” Mark said. “I’m just getting comfortable.”

Josie slid down farther in her own bed and scrunched the pillows behind her into a more comfy mound.

“Okay, so we’re in my house, in my room. And I have this big oak four-poster that came from my grandma’s house. The wood is beautiful and shiny from years and years of polishing. There’s a feather mattress under us and a goose-down comforter over us, and it’s like being wrapped in a cloud.”

“What color?”

“The comforter’s green and blue, like a wave pattern. And the sheets are white.”

“Mmm. Sounds nice and cozy.”

“It is.”

Mark paused.

“Go on.” She pulled up her nightshirt and dragged it over her head; then she lay back once more in nothing but a silk thong. She shivered, but not from cold.

“Are you sure?”

Instead of answering, Josie picked up the threads of the scene. “I’m lying there next to you. My tongue is tracing the edge of your ear as I run my fingers through the hair on your chest. I like the way it feels, so soft and springy under my fingertips. When I touch your nipple, you moan my name.”

Josie pinched her own nipple and nearly moaned aloud at the answering tug low in her belly. Arousal was easy, here, alone in her bed.

“Mmm, Josie, feels so good.”

A thrill rushed through her at the husky purr of his voice in her ear. She squirmed restlessly as that part of her, the part he could never know, began to fill. Reaching down, she stroked the growing bulge trapped by the silk of her thong as she imagined the hand touching her so intimately was his.

“Put your hands on me, Mark,” she whispered, thrusting up against her own palm, relishing the feel of skin against silk.

“I’m touching you,” Mark murmured. My hands circle your waist, you’re so slim, then skim over your belly and up over your ribs. You have the most beautiful breasts. They fit perfectly in my hands and in my mouth.”

Mark made that
mmm
sound like he had never tasted anything as delicious as her breasts.

With the hand not already busy stroking, Josie cupped her breast and rolled the sensitive tip between her fingers.

“Oh, Josie, you make me so hard. Want you so much.”

Josie concentrated on the touches and strokes, lost herself in the deep masculine voice in her ear and the wickedly wonderful things that voice was doing to her body.

“I’m pulling you close,” Mark said on a long sigh. “So I can feel your skin. You’re so soft and warm, and your body fits against me so perfect. I want to kiss you and lick you and taste every inch of you.”

“Yes.”

Josie’s hand stroked faster as the need built between her legs.

“I want to make you come with my mouth. I want to make you scream. Then when you’re hot and wet and ready, I push inside you, and you come for me. Come with me, Josie.”

Her hips jerked hard as she thrust again and again and again. Pink and gold and orange sparkles burst behind her closed eyes as the orgasm crashed over and through her, and she came with a cry and a gush of hot cum over her hand.

Once she recovered enough to notice, Josie could tell from the breath in her ear that Mark had come too. He panted, and though she knew it was impossible, she swore she could hear his heartbeat through the phone.

“You’re amazing,” Mark said. “I can’t wait to see you again. And I can’t wait to do this for real.”

Mark’s words hit Josie like a slap. She gazed down at her hand, sticky with cum, at her silk lingerie, soaked with it, at her half-wilted cock and the twin globes beneath.

God, she wanted that too, a man who would touch her and love her, every part of her, for the woman she was. But she could say none of this to Mark. So she settled for so much less.

“Good night, Mark. Sweet dreams.”

Chapter Four

“Everyone should have an index card on his or her desk. I’d like you to write your name on it, fold it in half, then pass it to the front.” Dr. Feni leaned down and pulled something from her satchel and set it on the desk in the front of the room.

Josie saw it was a black top hat, the kind magicians used in their acts.

“Do you want us to write our whole name or just our first name?” a blond with glasses named Aden asked.

“First names are enough,” Kierra Feni said.

There was a general rustle and murmur as people dug in bags for pens or pencils.

Josie scribbled her name on her card, folded it, and passed it to the girl in the seat in front of her.

“What’s up with the hat?” someone else asked. “You going to do a magic trick, Dr. Feni?”

“The trick will be that I’ll turn you all into Shakespearean actors with a wave of my magic wand.” She waved an imaginary wand over the class, making everyone laugh.

“It’s going to take more than that for most of these people.”

The comment was made sotto voce from somewhere behind Josie. Without turning completely around, she couldn’t tell who had said it. What was clear was the total lack of irony behind the statement. Whoever said it was dead serious.

Once the cards were collected and placed in the hat, Dr. Feni began drawing names and pairing people off.