Pursued by the Playboy (5 page)

Kate felt a momentary sense of longing at his description, his family life so completely at odds with what she herself had experienced.  She swirled the wine in her glass and quickly stifled the feeling, taking refuge in her usual cynicism.  Family was all well and good, but that certainly wasn’t the full extent of his extra-curricular activities—certainly not these days.  Yet he made no mention of women, which if the glitterati press was to be believed, were legion.  To give him his due, Kate conceded, it probably wasn’t the thing to mention previous liaisons while out on a date. 

Their food arrived, and for a while they concentrated on eating.  As if sensing her distraction, Marc kept their conversation light.  Eventually, he turned the topic to her recent brunch with Jake.

Lulled by the wine and the rich food, Kate responded amicably.  “We multi-tasked.  Ate and talked shop.”

“Work again?”

She smiled.  “I sometimes consult for Jake’s startup.  Oncogene Technologies—maybe you’ve heard of it?”  At his nod, she continued, “
They’re working on clever ways of modifying certain cancer genes to make the cancers more sensitive to treatment. 
It’s early days, but
they’ve already
secured
a couple rounds of venture capital funding, and some collaborative agreements with a few pharmaceuticals.
Every once in a while Jake tries to bribe me into selling out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Leaving academe to work in industry.  Join his
startup
.”

“You’re not tempted?”

She wrinkled her nose.  “I’m not really industry material.  I don’t like having someone tell me what to do.”  At his barely stifled laugh, she shrugged.  “It’s true.  I like my independence.   I like working at my own pace, doing whatever interests me.  If it happens to have practical applications, great—but that’s by
my
choice, not by someone else’s directive.” 

They shared dessert and lingered over miniature glasses of chilled limoncello.  

“Invite me in for coffee?” he said after walking her home.  They stood in the foyer of her apartment building, next to a wall of metal mailboxes. 

She hesitated.  “It’s a school night.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “You have to be in class in the morning?”

“Well, no.  It’s summer session.  But I’m still expected at the lab.  And don’t you have to scrub in early tomorrow morning?”

He ignored the reference to his own work schedule.  “I
nvite me in.” 
His lips brushed lightly against the vulnerable skin of her neck. 

She shivered. 
They’d been dancing around this for days, the question of how this evening would end.  Despite the attraction, despite the fact they’d already slept together once, despite the desire
s
he could sense in
his
quickened breathing,
Kate
still hesitated
.  

He stroked a finger down her cheek, tilted her chin up, and settled his mouth over hers.  Her lips parted and he took possession, tongue delving, exploring, until they were both gasping for air.  Voice gravelly with need, he punctuated each word with a kiss along her jaw, her neck, the hollow of her throat.  “Ask.  Me.  In.”

They stumbled up the stairs together until,
apparently
frustrated at their halting progress, he swung her up into his arms and took the remaining steps two at a time.  “Where?”

She pointed vaguely up, too busy clinging with one arm around his shoulders, mouth nipping along his jaw, tongue tasting the sensitive skin beneath his ear.  “Three-B,” she managed. 

He found the right door, slid her slowly down the front of his body until she was standing, boneless, leaning against him, her breasts flush against his chest, the peaked nipples pressing through the thin material of her dress, her stomach pressed against his swelling erection.  She fumbled with the purse that dangled from her wrist. 

H
e took
the key she finally managed to fish out and opened the door.  Seconds later, they were inside, locked in a heated embrace, her purse forgotten on the floor beside them.  Chest to chest, breaths mingling, tongues dueling with each other, desire spiraled out of control. 

Something was digging into her back between her shoulder blades – the light switch?—but as soon the thought surfaced, it disappeared again and she was left with just the awareness of Marc’s hands burning a path across her skin. 

Her fingers fumbled frantically to rid him of his jacket, undo his belt, unzip his pants.  His hands were equally busy, kneading her breast through the layers of silk and lace, skimming down her ribcage, around her waist, to her buttocks.  And all the while he was kissing her, his wonderful mouth and tongue devouring her, licking and sucking, exchanging breath for breath.  She rose up on her toes, trying to bring him closer to her aching center, grinding against him, but even that was not enough. 

He seemed to sense her distress
and
,
gripping her hips with both hands
,
lifted her up so that his rigid length pressed right where she needed it at the throbbing wet heat between her thighs.  She felt her dress sliding up, cool air against the sensitized skin of her bottom as the delicate scrap of lace ripped beneath his hand, heard the rustle of his slacks as they slid down, his muffled curse as he fumbled to sheath himself, and then blessed relief as he surged into her and she wrapped her legs around his flanks and arched her neck and let out a low keening cry as they rode toward frantic release.

Minutes passed, the silence punctuated by their ragged breathing.  Kate gradually became aware of the sweat cooling on her skin, the muscles cramping in her calf, the twinges where they were still joined.  She closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the wall.  Powerful shoulders still encased in cotton rippled beneath her fingers. 
Oh, God.
They hadn’t even managed to get their clothes off.  She was still wearing her dress, the hem rucked up to her waist. 

She tried to lower her legs to the floor, but his hands tightened on her buttocks, keeping her in place.  His lips whispered across her skin, his voice like sandpaper across sensitized nerve endings.  “Don’t move.”   He flexed inside her, and she gasped at the renewed flare of heat.

Then he turned, and her eyes flew open.  But before she could even form a question, his mouth claimed hers again.  Her breath caught and her thoughts scattered.  She barely registered that they were moving through the darkness, and thankfully despite his lack of familiarity with the layout he managed to maneuver them without incident down the hall and through the open bedroom door.  Then there was nothing between them but bare skin, and the softness of the duvet against her back, and the heat of his mouth and hands over her—everywhere—driving her higher and higher until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, her entire being suspended for an endless shimmering moment before plunging into the precipice below.

###

At some point during the night, after he’d returned from the bathroom and slipped back into bed beside her, after he overrode her token protest and settled her back into his embrace, she sighed and stroked a hand over the lightly furred surface of his chest. She was so lulled by the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear that it took several moments for his words to sink in.

She reared up and stared at him.  “What did you say?”

His face appeared calm in the luminescent glow of her bedside clock radio.   “The condom broke.”

Breathe
,
she told herself.  Panic skittered through her.  Protection hadn’t even crossed her mind.  She’d been too caught up in the moment, too enthralled by an entire new world of sensation to even think about birth control.   Never in her limited experience with men had she so completely lost control.  She should be grateful that at least Marc had remembered and tried to take care of it.  How many times had they had sex tonight?  Surely even if one condom broke, the odds were slim that anything would come of it?

“When was your last period?”

She shook her head, flushing.  He was a doctor, she reminded herself.  A gynecologist, for heaven’s sake.  “I’m not sure,” she said.  “I’ve never been regular.  Three weeks, maybe four.”   Another deep breath.  “You don’t have any....”  She let the question hang, unfinished.

“I’m clean.”  He pulled her back into his arms, ignoring her stiff posture.  His fingers stroked her hair.  “You can take the morning-after pill tomorrow.  It’s over-the-counter.  So no worries, right?”

Right
, she thought.  It took a long time to fall asleep.

Early the following morning Kate eased out of bed, careful not to disturb Marc’s sleep.  She splashed some water on her face, brushed her teeth, and slipped into fresh running gear and baseball cap. 

Within minutes she was heading down
Chestnut Street
, settling into a steady jog that picked up as the sun broke through the morning haze. 

Traffic was light, and it was early enough that the storefronts she passed were still shuttered.   There was little to distract her from the thoughts that kept circling in her head.  The sense of panic, which had hovered along the edges of her consciousness since last night, threatened to overwhelm her. 

What worried her most wasn’t even the contraceptive failure.  It was her own abdication of control that sent her pulse
into overdrive
and
had
cold sweat trickling down her back.  All Marc had to do was look at her, touch her, and she forgot her own name.   He was blurring her carefully constructed boundaries, bulldozing her defenses, undermining years of rigid self-control. 

It was impossible.  She had to shake off this crazy fascination she had for him.  Sex was good—better than good—but emotions were messy, and dangerous, and had to be reigned in, disciplined.  Otherwise everything would unravel, and she’d end up with chaos.  She’d had enough of that through her childhood, thank you very much.  How many years had she spent cringing beneath the onslaught of her parents’ rages, their unbridled emotions shaking the walls and destroying any sense of stability she might have had growing up? 

Better to be alone than bound in a tempestuous relationship that robbed you of all sense of self.  Not that she necessarily wanted to be alone.  Serial monogamy was fine.  Casual, self-limited, boundaries preserved, no sacrifice of privacy or personal space for some ephemeral ideal of love.   She needed to get back to that.  Firmly re-establish the parameters of their affair. 
My space, my body, my rules
.  The silent mantra calmed her as she repeated it to herself. 

And if he didn’t agree?  Was she willing to break it off?  The thought sent a spasm of pain shooting through her chest, and she slowed her pace.   Rivulets of sweat trickled down her face and neck. 

To her right, a group of tourists was gathered on the lawn in front of Independence Hall, cameras clicking.  She skirted past them and circled around to
Walnut Street
, the sun now beating down on her back. 

He’d agree, she told herself firmly.  He was the poster boy for carefree bachelorhood, the embodiment of footloose and fancy-free.  His words came back to her. 
We’re both adults.  Unattached.  There’s nothing stopping us from enjoying each other’s company, is there
?
  So of course he’d agree.  For as long as this thing between them lasted, they’d enjoy each other’s company.

The spasm in her chest intensified, and she slowed to a walk, taking deep gulps of air that was already starting to feel sticky with the typical humidity of late July.  A café on the next block was opening its doors, and Kate turned in, welcoming the blast of air-conditioning. 

She took her time ordering an iced coffee, then grabbed a local newspaper and installed herself at a corner table.  The faux leather seat stuck to her sweaty skin.  She shifted and sipped her drink, idly skimming the “about town” listings for the week. 

If she lingered long enough, maybe she could avoid the whole awkward morning after scene completely.  Didn’t the operating room schedule start at seven?  That meant she had another half hour to kill, and then she could safely return to an empty apartment without having to deal with the resetting of boundaries issue at all.  She’d simply have to take care that any future “sleepovers” occurred at Marc’s house, giving her the freedom to leave at will and keep the lines from blurring.  His space, her space.  No mess, no fuss. 

Decision made, she felt better.  Calmer.  Back in control.

Kate checked her watch, tossed the empty cup into the trash, and headed home. 

###

The sound of running water was her first clue that she’d miscalculated.  As she hovered in the doorway, considering whether to step further into her apartment or back out, the sound abruptly cut off.  The bathroom door swung open, letting out a cloud of steam.

“There you are,” Marc said, tucking a corner of the towel loosely around lean hips.  “I was wondering where you’d gone.”