Mr. Virile and the Girl Next Door (5 page)

Dropping his voice to an octave used to calm wild animals, he schooled his movements to a slowness his agitated state didn’t feel. “Sweetheart, we’re going to be just fine. This house is one hundred years old and still standing.” He pulled a towel from the basket on top of the dryer. “We need to get you out of those wet clothes.”

Holly blinked as though she were having trouble following along. She wet her lips several times and inhaled a steadying breath. “I’m sorry. I just…I hate tornadoes. Bad memories.”

Dane nodded and approached her slowly. “You can relax. I’ve got this.”
I’ll take care of you
. He brought the towel to her head and began rubbing her hair gently. “I’d feel better if you took your dress off.”

She rolled her eyes. “I bet you would.”

Okay, that was better. He fingered a strap of her dress. “I don’t suppose this can go in the dryer?” he asked.

“I don’t buy things that require fancy washing or drying. If I can’t dry it, I don’t wear it.”

He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat as he turned her body. Slowly, he dragged the zipper down, resisting the temptation to lick the wet skin revealed. She held the fabric to her breasts as he skimmed his fingers under the straps on her shoulder and swiped them down. Beneath the dress, she wore a plain white cotton bra and matching panties. Both were nearly transparent against her skin and did things to him that the raciest of lingerie had failed to do so far.

He turned her back around and waited for her to drop her dress.

“You’re soaked too,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

She was still scared and Dane wanted to rush out and wrestle the damn tornado to the ground for her so she would feel safe. He handed her the towel and reached for the hem of his sweater, pulling it over his head and tossing it the direction of the wash machine. He’d never felt more naked, standing there shirtless but still in his jeans. It didn’t make sense, but he felt like he was exposing himself to her in ways he’d never done with anyone before.

She bit her lip and handed him back the towel before she let go of the dress. Dane wrapped the towel around her as she stepped free of the wet material. Planting a kiss on top of her head, he grabbed her dress from the floor and put it into the dryer. Next, he pulled down a rubber bin full of storm necessities. Once he tuned in the local station, he uncorked the emergency wine and poured two plastic cups. He found her on the other side of the room brushing the dust off an old yearbook.

Shit.

Slight panic stopped him cold as she read the engraved name on the cover out loud. “Dante Martino?” Those crescents deepened above her nose again as she looked to him and then back at the name, connecting the two. “Dante? You’re Italian? You don’t really look Italian.”

Recovering some of his swagger, he crossed the room. “I was adopted by Italian parents.”

“Why did you change your name? Are you and your family not close?”

Dane loved his family. “My family is fine. It’s Dante that I’d like to forget.”

He wanted out of his wet jeans. He wanted her out of that towel and not opening the book. He could stop her. He should stop her. But, instead, he downed half of the cup of wine in one swallow and watched as she finished stripping him barer than he’d ever been just by turning the page.

Dear Girl Next Door,

I do not understand men at all.

How can two people have a wonderful time on a date, but then he never calls again? He was witty, charming, and attentive. The kiss at the door was romantic. He even sent flowers the next day. He just never went for date number two.

What am I Doing Wrong?

Dear WaIDW,

When it comes to men, there is a difference between attentive and attention. A man interested in having a nice evening even though he already knows the “it” factor isn’t there for him will still be attentive. He will be pleasant, well-mannered, and charming. He may even still try to take you to bed. But he’s in a different place than the guy who wants to give you his attention.

Attention, to a man, is thinking about the woman when they are not together. Does he send texts (not booty call texts) out of the blue? Does he seem to reflect on things you’ve said and continue the conversation on a subsequent outing? (i.e.” I remembered another favorite movie from our conversation the other night.”) If you have his attention, you are on his mind and likely will be asked out again.

Please know that an attentive date is nothing to sneeze at. Just because you didn’t click for a second date doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with either of you. Try to just enjoy your evenings out for what they are—good food, entertainment, sparkling conversation—and don’t put so much importance on what comes after, if anything. Making connections with people isn’t just about “I do.”

Sincerely,

The Girl Next Door

Chapter Five

Holly flipped through pages until she got to M and stopped on what must have been a senior prank. She looked at Dane again, but he was ghost white, despite the sexiness he exuded from being bare-chested while wearing jeans. God, it was positively unfair the way men could make a woman feel wearing denim and no shirt. She was pretty sure that his abs had abs. He was the hottest man she’d ever seen in person, that’s for sure. Which made his senior photo even more confusing. Dante Martino was either extremely non-photogenic or the most awkward teen boy in history. Coke bottle glasses: check. Unfortunate acne: check. Scrawny neck holding up too large a head: check. Braces: check. Bowl cut: check.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

He took a few steps closer and offered her a red plastic cup, taking the yearbook from her when his hand was free. “That is why I changed my name. I changed everything. I’m the biggest mother fucking success story ever,” he said ruefully, though at the moment, he didn’t look like he felt on top of the world.

So Dane Martin hadn’t always been the cocky, self-sure lady killer. Ten years ago, he’d been a geeky teen. Odd that. She’d have pegged him for one of the jocks that had things handed to them because they were blessed with good genes. She’d pined for the captain of the basketball team herself.

“So you were not quite as virile as a teen?” she asked.

An explosion outside hampered his answer, and the light flicked off, leaving them in total darkness and throwing her into an abyss of her own shadowy memories. She gasped and was suddenly embraced by two strong arms.

“It’s all right,” he murmured. “It was a transformer. It happens in storms all the time.”

She nodded against his chest, inhaling the scent of him and grateful for the strength of his embrace. “You must think I’m a total ninny.”

“No, sweetheart. I think you’re scared, though. But remember we’re safe in here. I’ve got two bottles of emergency wine, snacks, and best of all, flashlights. But they are in the box on top of the washing machine. So, the question is, can I let you go if I promise to come back with light?”

Holly nodded against his chest again, but gripped him tighter. “Emergency wine? You really are prepared.”

Dane stroked her wet hair and kissed the top of her head again. “Like a Boy Scout.”

She knew she was being ridiculous. She hated tornadoes. The one that killed her grandfather happened while she’d hidden in a dark storm cellar on his farm. She’d never forget the sound of it. Like a train sent from hell.

But she was safe here. Half-naked with the most notorious rake in all of Port Calypso, but safe. He moved away from her and she brought the cup to her lips to draw some liquid courage. The half-naked part might be a problem if she kept feeling needy and he kept being chivalrous. Especially if she let her mind wander to the kisses in the rain.

She’d never experienced anything like those kisses, hadn’t really thought it was possible to feel so much passion. Well, she’d always hoped she could feel that carried away, but so far it hadn’t happened for her. Did that make her a fraud? Telling people that sex was so much better when it involved love when the best, hottest, most provoking kiss she’d ever had was with a man she barely knew?

But the rain had practically sizzled on her skin, and had been the only thing that kept her from combusting from the heat of his mouth. If the tornado siren hadn’t gone off, she was pretty sure she would have had sex with him on the deck. And that it would have been amazing.

Dane flashed a light towards her and she felt her heart return to normal. At least until she looked at him again. He
really
knew how to fill out a pair of jeans. He’d certainly worked hard to overcome the gangly teen.

Boss sat on her feet and together they watched Dane work. By flashlight, he fashioned them a nest on the floor with sleeping bags. She encouraged him to get out of his wet jeans and they snuggled together under a blanket in their underwear. Needing a distraction, she asked him about the yearbook again.

Dane tensed up beside her. She pushed away erotic thoughts of what it would be like to be under him in the still moment of a climax, when every part of him would tense and harden before he lost control.

Shaking herself from the fantasy, she prodded him again. “Are you going to your ten year reunion this year?”

“No.”

That surprised her. “Why not? I’d think you’d want them to know how well you are doing.”

“I have no desire for anyone to link who I am now to who I was then.”

“Why did you change your name?”

“I don’t want to talk about
him
.”

“You say that like he is a different person.”

“He is!”

“Dane,” she treaded carefully. “I can see that you worked very hard to get to where you are as Mr. Virile, and that you were highly motivated by the way you felt as a teenager, but Dante is not a different person. He’s you. You’re him.”

Dane scoffed. “Dante Martino is dead to me. I am not him. He was a wimp with no self-respect. He got stuffed into lockers and pushed into the girls’ bathroom. He ate junk food and never went outdoors if he didn’t need to. He was content to play video games and watch sci-fi and never once talked to a girl. I am not him. He is not me.”

“You need to make peace with him or you’re always going to be hiding.”

He didn’t reply. They said nothing for a few minutes more, listening to the radio for the all clear. His body was furnace hot next to her. Everywhere their flesh touched felt alive, vibrant.

He reached for her hand under the blanket. “Tell me why you’re so afraid of the storm.”

His hand was warm and firm, and she felt protected and safe, so she laid out for him that which scared her most, as was fair since he’d done the same. He might not know he’d done so, but he had shared the terror that drove him to be the pinnacle of the esteemed man—the fear of the nerdy boy who lived inside. Didn’t he know that everyone felt the same? She’d often wondered when she would feel grown-up. Nobody ever really got over high school. Not really.

Dane soothed her while she spoke of a tornado that decimated parts of her hometown and left others untouched. The storm that took her grandfather from her. It felt good to talk about it, though she was surprised at how much. Dane listened carefully, squeezing her hand when the words came out rough.

The radio finally declared it safe to return upstairs, but neither of them moved.

Her heart inched up her throat when Dane caressed the skin of her wrist. Gently, so gently, he brought it to his mouth and licked the pulse point there, sending a rush of heat to her loins. They turned their heads to each other and without a second more of hesitation, they kissed.

Dane’s kisses in the rain had been passionate and erotic, but she liked these more. They were needy and unpracticed kisses, coming from a place inside both of them that required human touch, human need. Something raw had happened to them during the storm, and it felt organic and elemental that they exorcise the fears in a primal way.

He rolled over her and kissed down her neck and she shivered like she’d never been touched before. Her bra had a front latch and he growled his satisfaction as he unsnapped it, filling his hands with her breasts and groaning with appreciation.

His mouth clamped over her breast and she arched, crying for more. His mouth was so hot. She gouged her nails down his back, then clamped her hands on his ass. God, what an ass he had. His cock pressed hard against her panties and he sucked her nipple with a sweet, sweet violence, taking her to a dark place of want.

She was so close to coming already. She clamped her legs around his waist, urging him to slide against her harder. She was losing herself to him and didn’t care. A small but annoying voice in her head kept reminding her to stop, but then his hand slid between them and rubbed her through the cotton panties and all she could think about was his cock and how good it was going to feel deep inside her.

This was wrong.

“You feel so fucking good,” Dane said against her breast.

“We can’t do this,” she said in a voice so small she half hoped he didn’t hear.

He did, though, and his finger stilled on the button she wanted him to push more than anything. “Why?”

“We’ve only been on three dates.”

“That’s two more than I usually go on.”

Normally, that would have been a cold shower’s worth of
hell no
, but he smelled so good and felt so perfect on top of her. She wanted to taste him everywhere.

No, no, no. No, Holly.

“I advise my readers to wait until at least the seventh date to have sex. It sets up an expectation that you value intimacy and builds anticipation.”

“Seven?” He lowered his forehead to her chest and groaned, his hot breath making her squirm under him deliciously. “You better quit moving if you really want me to stop.”

That was the kicker, wasn’t it? She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted to throw her own rules out the window and have sex with this man that she vacillated between like and distrust with.

“So, we already agreed to date for a few weeks, why can’t we sleep together now? We’re guaranteed seven dates, right?”

“Because, the rule is important. It means that I respect myself and value real intimacy. It’s not just about keeping men committed to at least six dates…it’s about the value I am placing on my sexuality.”

“I value your sexuality really a lot, I promise.” But even as he said it, he was rolling off her to his back.

It was cold without him. She wanted him back.

He’d thrown an arm over his eyes and was trying to rein in the overwhelming lust she’d just made him turn off.

“I’m sorry,” she said. And she was.

“Don’t be,” he answered. “It’s okay, really.” He rolled back to his side and looked at her, really looked at her. For a moment, he said nothing, but the sexual tension between them wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “So,” he said, trailing his fingers lightly over her breasts. “It occurs to me that there are different levels of intimacy.” He tweaked a nipple and she gasped. “Building blocks, if you will. Perhaps…” His hand slid down, tracing the lace waistband of her panties. “Perhaps, we could do stuff…but not all the stuff?”

She arched her pelvis toward his hand without thought. “You mean like two teenagers making out in a basement under a sleeping bag in only their underwear?”

He cupped her in that big, warm hand, drawing all sensation south. “You know my deep, dark secret, Holly. I never got to do that as a teenager. No girls would even look at me unless they needed help with their Algebra.”

Holly grasped his wrist before he could go any further. “So, you want to use me to go back in time and face a childhood trauma?”

“Desperately.”

“I can work with that.” She loosened her grasp. “My personal boundaries back then were nothing beneath the underwear.”

“I can work with that.”

He was back on top of her, kissing her mindless and rubbing his cock on her. She soaked her panties through, she was so wet. She tried to think back to high school make out sessions, but none ever seemed as erotic as this.

Dane leveraged himself on one elbow and brought his other hand to the small of her back, tucking her up harder against his body. Then he used his hips, gyrating their bodies together in a primal rhythm. Once again, she wrapped her legs around his waist. Once again, she threw her head back as the peak of her orgasm was impending.

“You’re so wet,” he said, his voice low in her ear. “So goddamned wet for me.”

That was the extent of the dirty talk needed to send her to the edge. She slammed over the cliff, falling and reaching up with her hips to rock into him harder to ride out the wave of pleasure.

As she came down, she noticed he was shaking and impossibly tense. “Is it acceptable for a teenager to come in his pants?” he asked, gritting his teeth and biting back his own orgasm.

“It’s a rite of passage,” she assured him, and then, to help him out, she bit his earlobe.

He jerked and smothered her with a deep kiss while his body slammed into her as if he were inside her. She’d never felt as powerful and yet as empty. Her womb ached for him to be inside her. Even as she realized it wasn’t enough, he kept grinding and brought her to the precipice of another soul stealing orgasm, and they rode out the storms in their bodies by clutching each other tightly.

Awhile later, when the world reshaped itself to normal, Dane held her head to his chest and whistled. “Now I see I missed quite a bit during my teen years.”

She didn’t bother telling him it had never been that intense before, even when her hormones were peaking and all she thought about were boys. And not after, when she was dating or even when she was almost engaged to the man she thought she’d spend her life with. She didn’t tell him because that would be admitting too much to a man who offered very little.

She was the biggest kind of fool. But at least she was a satisfied one.