Nothing Personal (17 page)

She didn’t answer, but
she had shifted onto her back, and he could sense that her thighs had parted, that she had abandoned her qualms, surrendered to this. Had surrendered to him, and he felt another surge of excitement, hot and dark, somehow existing right alongside his concern for her.

If she wanted it, he vowed, he was going to make it good
for her. He moved onto one elbow, kept his fingers tracing over her abdomen. Leaned over to kiss her again, and he could finally do it exactly the way he needed to. With her underneath him. On and on, taking her little noises of surprise and pleasure into himself, feeling the faint shudders running through her, the urgency in the mouth that opened under his own.

He went slowly, and he was gentle
for just as long as he could be. And he was as thorough as he knew how to be, because he wanted to touch every inch of her, and he wanted to kiss her everywhere, and he wanted to make it the best she’d ever had.

He l
ingered at her neck, just as he’d thought about doing so many times. And he’d been right, the spot above her collarbone, that hollow where her neck met her shoulder was her favorite. Just kissing her there, using his tongue and his teeth on her, had her shifting beneath him. Especially when he reached under the undershirt, sent his hand slowly up, stroking closer and closer, felt her moving harder, squirming now, until he was at her breast.

When he finally
had his hand there, his thumb stroking over the nipple that pebbled under his touch, combined it with the stronger pressure of his teeth closing on her throat, she arched her back and cried out. And by the time he’d pushed the fabric up under her arms and had his mouth on her, his tongue busy, his teeth grazing her tender flesh, he found that her sensitive neck had only given him an inkling. Because with every place he touched her, every inch his mouth covered, he pushed her higher. 

Finally, he got both hands under the undershirt, pulled it over her head.

“I’m going to take off your underwear now,” he told her, reaching for that final strip of cotton. “Because I need you to be naked. And I need to touch you. I need every part of you to be mine.”

Her only answer was to lift her hips, to help him. He moved down the bed as he pulled the things down her long, slim legs,
dropped them on the floor. He started at the bottom, ran his hands up her calves, then up higher, his thumbs on the soft, delicate, secret skin of her inner thighs, the place he’d always wanted to touch. And he’d been right to want it. In fact, it felt so good, he did it again. Down, and then back up. Going more slowly with every inch he covered.

And then he touched her. So warm. So wet.
So open, wanting it so much. So he gave it to her, and she writhed and cried out and lifted into his hand.

And
after a while, that wasn’t enough either, and he had to put his mouth on her.

He pu
shed her legs further apart with a hand on each thigh, held them there as he began. Carefully. Slowly, because he wanted this to last. Wanted every moment of it to feel even better than the moment before, until the fire took her, and consumed her. Until she burned.

And i
f she’d been responsive before, she was wild now. He was holding her down, spreading her wide, moving faster, harder, past the time for gentleness, and her hands were stroking frantically over his shoulders, in his hair, and she was calling out.

And then
, all too soon, long before he was ready for it to be over, her cries reached a crescendo, and the spasms had begun, so strong that he could barely hold her.

He kept his mouth
hard on her, increased the stimulation, and he thought she was going to levitate right off the bed, her back arching, her shoulders rising until she was nearly sitting up, her thighs straining against the firm restraint of his hands. On and on for what felt like minutes, until she subsided with a few final shudders, her cries turning to moans, then sobbing little breaths.

He moved
up her body, took her mouth again, thrust his tongue deep, and kissed her the way he wanted to be inside her, invading every silken space. He knew that she could taste herself on him, and he wanted her to. To know where he’d been, and what he’d done.

He lifted a
hand to her face, stroked a thumb over her cheek, felt the wetness there, and came back to himself fast. Rolled off her, onto his side.

“Desiree.” His voice
sounded strained, and no wonder. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”
It was a sigh. Her hand came up to touch his chest lightly, and he could feel the languor of it, the fatigue. She stroked him once more, then her hand fell away. He heard her breath deepening, and knew that she was asleep.

Desiree came out of the bathroom, not sure what she’d find. She’d woken to the
soft sound of rain on the roof, a gentle drumming that had almost lulled her back into sleep, until she’d remembered. Her grandmother, the hospital. And Alec.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, his laptop open in front of him. He looked at her as she hesitated in the entrance to the living room, and smiled. Not a grin, just the very sweetest smile.

“Hi,” he said.

She pulled the sash of her robe tight with both hands. “Umm . . . hi.” Well, this was awkward.

“Want some coffee? I hope you don’t mind, I went ahead and poked around until I found it.”

“Sure.” But she wasn’t really paying attention
. Her purse wasn’t on the end table next to the door where she always put it. Had she left it at the hospital somehow? When had she last had it? She couldn’t remember, and felt a hot flash of panic.

“What’s wrong?” he asked with his hand on the refrigerator door, watching her wander
ing around the living room.

“Did you see my purse? I need my ph
one. Did I leave it? Do you remember if I had it?” The panic was taking full hold now.

“It’s right b
y your bed.”

“Oh.” She realized why he
knew. That he’d have seen it, because he’d slept there. But that didn’t matter right now. She needed to call.

“But your grandma’s doing fine,” he said before she’d even made it to the hallway again.

She stopped, turned. “She is? How do you know?”

“Called to check, soon as I got up.
She had a good night, and everything’s looking good. Still asleep, though.”

She sagged with relief. Meanwhile, h
e pulled the mug from the microwave, filled it from the coffeemaker, waved it enticingly in her direction. “Coffee right here,” he coaxed. “You have to come sit with me to get it, though.”

She had to smile. She couldn’t help it. She sat down opposite him at the dinette, picked up the cup he set before
her. “You heated my milk first,” she realized.

He looked confused. “Wasn’t that right?”

“How did you know I like it that way?”

That sweet smile again. “I’ve been watching you he
at up your milk for months now, remember? I know what you like.”

She took
a sip of the pale brown stuff. No sugar, and nearly as much milk as coffee, exactly right. He really
did
know what she liked, in more ways than one. But then, she’d liked everything.

She sneaked another peek
over the rim of her cup. Same soft flannel shirt in a deep blue plaid he’d been wearing the day before, the neck of the white T-shirt showing underneath, but the shadow of dark beard above was gone. He’d found the pack of disposable razors too, then. She remembered the scrape of whiskers against tender skin in the dark, and shivered a little.

Another determined sip of coffee. No choice. They had to talk about this.

“About last night,” she said as briskly as she could. “I put you on the spot, I realize that. I know you wanted to comfort me, and I appreciate it.”

He wasn’t smiling now. “You didn’
t put me on the spot. You gave me the chance I’ve been wanting for months.”

“
You didn’t even get anything out of it, though.” Direct was always the best way. “I fell asleep. So if you want me to . . . reciprocate.”

He stared at her with
what looked like anger. “What are you saying? That I did you a favor, and you’re willing to pay me back? Is that it?”

She could
feel the color rising in her cheeks. “I didn’t mean that. I just meant . . .” She reached for her coffee cup again to give herself time to think, but something went wrong, and it tipped. She grabbed for it, but not before some of the hot liquid had spilled.

“Shit.” He jumped up,
came back with the sponge and mopped up, then tossed the pink rectangle back into the sink. And then sat down across from her again and faced her squarely.

“
Desiree.” His eyes forced her to hold his gaze. “I wanted to make love to you. And for the record, yes, I got something out of it. I enjoyed the hell out of it. And if you want to do it all again, and add a little bit more in there too, I’m more than up for that. In fact, you can bet that the first store we pass on our way to the hospital, I’m going to be pulling into that parking lot and visiting the Family Planning aisle so I’m ready if you do. And if you don’t . . .” He stopped and took a breath. “I’m going to be pretty damn disappointed.”

“I need to . . .
We
need to think about that, and talk about it.” His words had filled her with a rush of heat, but she set them aside for later, because something else was nagging at her. “But I don’t understand how I could have done that when my grandmother was in the hospital. How could I have even wanted to?”

“Because you needed
somebody to hold you.” He reached for her hand, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles, and she felt the pleasure of even that simple touch. “Seems fairly natural to me.”

“That’s what I told myself.” She couldn’t
meet his gaze anymore, looked down at the wet spot that remained on the table, rubbed at it with the side of her fist. “When I asked you. But when you did, I wanted more. I wanted to have sex with you.”

He laughed. “Well, I wanted to have sex with you too, so that makes us even
, I guess.”

“But when
I’d been so upset,” she insisted. “So sad. It seems wrong.”

He
paused a moment at that. “This is when I wish my dad were here,” he muttered. Then hurried on at her obvious shock, “Not to discuss this exact topic, just to know the answers. I’m not sure, but it still seems normal to me. Maybe you wanted to feel connected. Maybe you wanted to feel alive. Any of that sounding good?”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh.

“Or maybe,” he said, still holding her hand, a coaxing smile starting to grow, “maybe you’re as hot for me as I am for you. No, on second thought, not possible.”

“That one.
That could be it.” She could feel her own foolish smile beginning. “Or all of the above.”

“Then,” he said with a little upward tug on her hand, “come on over here and kiss me good morning.”

Sitting in a man’s lap, she
discovered, felt even better than she’d imagined it could. His thighs made a warm, deliciously firm seat, and it was a satisfyingly long way around those shoulders. The nape of his neck felt pretty good under her fingertips, although it had to compete with his back, and his arms too, because she wanted to touch him everywhere. And holy habanero, but the man could
kiss.
Long, slow, and everlastingly patient, no rush to move on to anything else. Like he could sit here and do it all day.

“What time is it?” she
sighed against him at last.

“
Mmm,” he said, his mouth at the corner of hers, licking into her dimple, which felt just absolutely delicious, and her mind drifted again. “Eight, maybe. Around there.”

She pulled away fast. “
Eight?
How did I sleep that late?”

“
What? It’s not exactly two in the afternoon. Are you telling me you never sleep in?”

“Yes. Till seven
.” She stood up, ran her hands through her hair, which was falling around her face in a wild profusion of curls, because she hadn’t blow-dried it last night. “I need to get dressed so we can go to the hospital.”

“Your grandma
isn’t even going to get her breakfast till nine,” he said, shifting gears with an obvious effort. “I checked. And you need to give her a chance to make friends with all the nurses. So yeah, go ahead and get dressed so I can take you out to breakfast, because I’m not about to eat in that cafeteria again. I have some things to talk to you about anyway. Some plans I have.”

Forty-five minutes later, they were sitting in a café—but not the Chico Diner. She hadn’t felt up to seeing everyone who knew her, knew her grandmother. Let alone explaining the hospital, or explaining Alec.

“And besides,” she’d told him, “their coffee isn’t that good. True confessions.” Which had made him laugh.

He’d brought her here for breakfast instead, and she was feeling a lot more like herself now that she had a little makeup on, had her rowdy hair subdued again. Even though she was wearing snug, faded jeans and a close-fitting long-sleeved shirt with a scooped neckline, all soft oranges and browns, the kind of casual, slightly sexy clothes she’d never imagined Alec seeing her in. But there’d been no help for it, because she didn’t keep that much up here. And after all, he’d seen her in her bathrobe, and a lot less now too. Well, he’d
felt
her, anyway. In the dark. He’d sure done that.

H
e hadn’t seemed to mind her fashion choices, had looked her up and down and given her a slow, satisfied smile. Although he
had
expressed a little disappointment about her hair.

“Sorry I don’t get to see this anymore,” he’d said when she’d joined him in the kitchen again. He’d touched a hand to the nape of her neck, t
wisted a curl around his finger. “I liked it.”

“All wild like that?” she’d asked in surprise.

“I like you wild.”

Which had made her go li
quid inside again. And that was why they were going to get this straight, right here in this coffee shop, because she needed to keep her expectations from getting away from her, and she couldn’t stand the thought of him explaining to her, a day, or three, or seven from now, that it was over. Kindly, because he was always kind. Letting her down easy.

“Right,” she said
. They’d placed their orders, and had cups of coffee in front of them once again. “I’m going to try to say this better. There’s no undoing what we did. Anyway, I liked it. I want to do it again, the . . . whole thing this time, and then that’ll be it. Back to normal, which is for the best. And anyway,” she hurried on at the look on his face as he sat staring at her, his cup halfway to his lips, “that’s how you do things, and that’s fine. Better for me too.”

He set his cup down without taking a sip. “How do I do things, exactly? Enlighten me.”

“You’re casual.” She looked right back at him. “It’s just for fun, and it’s short. Which suits me fine, because we can’t have an office affair.”

“
You’re right,” he said. “We’re not having an affair. That’s not what I want.”

“What?” She was completely confused now. “
I thought you said . . . You seemed like you wanted . . .”

And that was when the waitress bustled up with their food. Eggs and toast for her, pota
toes and bacon added for him. Alec thanked her abstractedly, but didn’t start eating. Instead, he waited until she’d turned away, then looked at Desiree again, dark brows drawn down in a straight line over those blue eyes.

“When did I say I wanted an affair?
” he challenged. “Let alone a . . . what? A fling? A hookup?”

“
What, you’re telling me you want a relationship?” She sighed. “Come on. I know you don’t. And it’d be risky on so many levels anyway. If people found out, if it ended badly and we were still working together . . . it’s such a bad idea.”

“
It’s not a bad idea. You said that last night, remember? And remember what I told you? It’s a good idea. It’s a
great
idea. But I don’t want a ‘relationship.’ I hate that word. I want a . . .” He seemed to be searching for the word. “A romance. That’s what I want. A romance. I want to hold your hand, and bring you flowers, and walk barefoot on the beach with you, and take you away for the weekend. I want to thrill you. I want to sweep you off your feet.”

You just did.
She had to remind herself to breathe. And that he was a master at this. He did it all the time, and boy, did practice make perfect.

But
it was all right, because she wasn’t naïve, or a fool either. She was a rational, logical, disciplined woman who never let her dreams get away from her. He wanted to make it last a while? Well, she could figure out how to handle that, how to make it work out. And she deserved it. Surely she’d earned a little indulgence for once.

She felt like a dieter who’d
spent years trying not to look at the tempting treats in the bakery window, turning away from the box of donuts on the break room table. And now, here was Alec. Not just a tasty snack, the entire buffet table. The richest, darkest, most decadent chocolate cake, slathered in a thick layer of chocolate buttercream, a little rosette of frosting piped on top, begging you to lick it off your fork.

For once, s
he was going to go ahead and have dessert, and she was going to savor every bite of it. But she wasn’t going to mistake it for dinner.

But she didn’t say any of that, because she
wasn’t
a fool.

“All right,” she told him, and if her smile was a little foolish
all the same, well, she couldn’t help that. “Yes, please.”