Seduce Me Tonight (22 page)

I felt cold all of a sudden. ‘What did you do?’

‘I have a friend who’s an attorney. Family law, divorces, stuff like that. He works with private investigators. I didn’t want to be linked to it, so I asked Joe to look into it and let me know.’

‘You had me followed?’

He laughed. ‘I didn’t have to. A simple records search turned up your marriage. The rest – like your real address – was just icing on the cake.’

‘If you knew I was married before I left, why didn’t you check up on me then?’

‘I was in love with you. I wanted to trust you.’

His words slammed into me like a thousand-pound weight. He’d never even said he loved me and now he was saying he
had
been. Of course, I was no better.

‘Oh.’ I swallowed hard, willing myself not to cry. ‘I’m sorry I did that to you.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were married? I’d like to say my morals would have made me end it, but I know it wouldn’t have made a difference with you.’

I swallowed again. ‘I was falling in love with you.’

‘Seems like all the more reason to tell me,’ he said.

‘I couldn’t. I couldn’t even tell you I loved you.’

‘I know. And I couldn’t tell you because I knew you weren’t free.’

Despite my best efforts, the tears started falling. ‘I’m sorry, Denny.’

‘Is that why you wanted to meet me tonight? To apologise?’

I reached across the space that separated us and cupped his cheek. I could feel the hint of stubble rough against my thumb as I stroked his jaw, willing him to relax. I needed this connection, the physical touch, even if it wasn’t reciprocated.

‘I am in love with you,’ I said, staring into his eyes and willing him to see the truth. ‘I never stopped loving you. I just needed to get my life in order before I could say the words and have them mean everything I want them to mean.’

There, I’d said it. Whatever happened now, I had said it. The words that I’d kept bottled up for all the time we were together, even though I could feel myself falling for him, feeling things I’d never felt with Richard or anyone else, knowing it was little more than emotional blackmail to confess my love to someone I’d been lying to. I’d thought a little fling would get me past a rough spot in my increasingly unhappy marriage. Instead, I’d found the love of my life and he didn’t even know who I was.

The tears continued to roll down my cheeks, but I refused to break contact with him. If he pulled away, so be it, but I wouldn’t leave this time. I wouldn’t let go.

He opened his mouth to speak and in that moment before the words came out, I didn’t know if it would be forgiveness or condemnation. I knew what it should be and I knew what I wanted it to be, but I also knew life didn’t always go my way. So I held my breath and waited.

‘So you’re divorced now? You’re free?’

I nodded, afraid to breathe or blink or say anything at all.

‘And you want me? You love me?’

I nodded again. ‘Yes, oh, yes.’

He moved so fast, gathering me up in his arms and dragging me across the console to straddle his lap, that I could do little more than squeak and hold on, my hands tucked against his chest where I could feel his heart hammering.

‘You’re not free,’ he said, burying his face in my hair. ‘You’re
mine
. You’re finally mine.’

Only then did I breathe, truly breathe. ‘Yes, yes,’ I murmured, kissing his temple, down his face to his jaw, kissing his mouth. ‘Yours. I’m yours.’

His hands stroked down my back and up again, catching my hair in his fingers, twirling, tugging, like he couldn’t get enough of touching me. Back down to my hips, spanning their narrow width, taking a measure of me. Judging by the growing bulge I felt pressing against me, he was very pleased.

‘I’ve missed you,’ he said against my mouth, his hands everywhere at once, touching me, memorising me. ‘Missed you so damned much I was going out of my mind. I dreamed about you, damn it. I dreamed about fucking you, being inside of you every way we’ve done it and every way we never got a chance. I want that chance.’

‘I know, I know,’ I groaned, grinding on him now, relief and tenderness turning to desire. Unfettered, honest desire built on what we had, not on what I was missing with someone else. ‘I missed you too. I thought this was best, I thought –’

He kissed me until I was breathless, then came up for air long enough to say, ‘Stop thinking so damned much. Talk to me, tell me everything.’

I shook my head, my brain buzzing like I’d had too much caffeine even though I’d hardly touched my coffee. ‘What – what do you want to know?’

He laughed, and it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. ‘Not now, woman. Not
now
. For ever. Always. Tell me everything, always. We can deal with anything together.’

For ever. Always. So I wasn’t the only hopeless romantic. I laughed along with him, fisting my hands in his shirt and kissing him long and hard.

‘You’re grinding on me,’ he whispered against my mouth.

I was. I couldn’t help it. ‘Is that a problem?’

‘Nope. As long as you don’t mind fucking me right here and now.’

There was a time when I would have said no. When I would have worried about someone I knew seeing me and telling Richard. Now I didn’t have those worries. Someone could still see us, of course, but what they’d see was two people who couldn’t wait until they got home to be together – not a woman who hated herself for living a lie.

The words were barely out of his mouth before I was hiking up my skirt and tugging at my panties. I pushed back on my knees, flashing my panty-clad crotch at him. He groaned, bucking against me, the bulge in his pants all I needed to let me know he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I ached to feel him inside of me, filling me in that way only he could.

I reached for his belt and fumbled with the stiff leather in the tight confines of the car seat. He all but groaned as I awkwardly unfastened his trousers and palmed his full erection through the narrow opening. My heart leapt and I felt a corresponding throb in my pussy. I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything in my life. I had spent so many sleepless nights fantasising about him even though I had no reason to think he would ever want to see me again.

He covered my hand with his and squeezed it over his hard cock. ‘Feel that? I need you now, baby. It’s been too damned long.’

‘Yes,’ I breathed, pulling his cock free, careful not to catch it in the zipper. ‘I want you, too.’

He put his head back against the seat and moaned as I stroked him awkwardly, my arm tucked between us. I needed him inside of me as much as he needed to be inside of me. I gave up trying to get my panties off and just tugged them to the side. He went utterly still as I guided him toward my opening, spreading my knees as far as I could to accommodate him. The broad tip of his cock bumped against my swollen clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. It
had
been too long, too long without this man who did things to my body, and to my heart, that I’d never experienced before. All I wanted was to fill the emptiness with everything he had to offer.

I adjusted the angle of his cock and then, just like that, he was inside of me in one long, wet stroke. He groaned and I echoed him, tightening my hips and curving my body over him. I anchored my hands on the metal supports of the headrest, rolling my hips so I could feel every inch of him inside of me. My pussy tightened convulsively around him, so full it almost hurt. I rose up slowly, as far as the roof of the car would allow, and slid back down just as slowly, the steering wheel rubbing against my ass. I was teasing us both, even though neither of us needed to be teased. Prolonging the pleasure because I could, because I didn’t need to rush home or change my clothes or wash his scent from my body. Enjoying every inch, every second, every gasp and moan, because I had all the time in the world to fuck the man I loved.

He had other ideas, though. He cupped my face in his hands and pulled me down for a kiss. His lips slanted across mine, warm and wet and firm, tasting just the way I remembered. Then he thrust up into me. Hard. I gasped into his open mouth as he did it again. Hard. Harder. Fucking me in this confined space in quick, short, driving thrusts. One, two, three. Kissing me the entire time, taking my cries into his mouth, giving me his own moans of pleasure. One, two, three.

I clung to the headrest, my hair a curtain around both our heads, shielding my view of the outside, my existence contained within this car with this man. The whole world could be right outside staring at us and I didn’t care, as long as he kept fucking me. Let them watch. Let them wish they were us.

‘Yes,’ I cried out, the angle of his cock hitting that swollen, sensitive spot inside of me. ‘Fuck me, Denny.’

‘Say it again,’ he growled. ‘Say my name again.’

I thrust down on him as hard as he was thrusting up against me. ‘Denny, my Denny,’ I cried out. ‘Fuck me, Denny!’

He surged up into me and I bumped my head on the roof, but I didn’t care. He was inside of me, he was mine. And I was his. He moaned, the sound primal and filled with longing, and I felt his cock pulse inside of me just as everything inside of me turned to liquid. I was laughing and crying and coming all at the same time, riding him wildly, milking his cock for every sweet drop as he pulled me down on him and filled me with his need.

Finally, I pulled back and looked at him. I couldn’t help but giggle. ‘This was … wild. I never expected this to happen.’

‘Are you sorry?’

‘Not in the least. You?’

He looked into my eyes and smiled. There was no regret or hesitation when he said, ‘I love you. I’ll fuck you like this every night if you want me to. But I’d really prefer to get you naked in a bed – yours or mine – and make up for lost time.’

I got up the nerve to look around, but I couldn’t see out the windows for the fog we’d generated with our body heat. My skirt was twisted around my waist, my hair was a tangled, damp mess and it felt like a river ran between my legs. I laughed again, shaking my head at the incongruity of it, the pure joy of it.

‘Yeah, I think we should find a bed. Right now.’

‘Good.’ He pulled my face down for another kiss, whispering something against my lips. ‘
Mine
.’

I once read that sex was only a big deal if you weren’t getting it. Kind of like air or food. I guess I always felt that way about my own sex life – no big deal, except when I wasn’t getting even my basic needs met. Sometimes I would wonder if there was something more to be had, something I was missing, if all the articles in the women’s magazines on the grocery-store racks were to be believed. But I was getting enough to sustain me – like a strict diet would sustain me – and it seemed petty to complain when I didn’t even know exactly what it was I was longing for.

Then I met Duncan and realised that I’d been settling for plain noodles when there was a gourmet meal to be had. They say sex isn’t love. They’re right – and wrong. Sex, really mind-shattering, soul-touching sex, can be a form of love. And once you’ve had that, there’s no going back to a bland diet. Your body won’t let you. And your heart? Well, your heart may be OK without sex, but it develops a fondness for the one who gives you everything you never knew you desired. My body longed for Duncan. And my heart was quickly following.

It seemed fitting that I met Duncan on a rainy day since things were always pretty wet once he was in my life. He moved in downstairs one soggy weekend in April. At the time, I was between jobs, colleges and relationships. I was living in a tiny apartment on the third floor of a sprawling apartment building right off the campus of George Washington University, planning to start my Master’s in political science in the fall. I kept to myself most of the time – busy filling out financial aid forms and job applications – and I was used to my neighbours coming and going at all hours. The guy who lived next door had an older girlfriend with a rockin’ bod who could shake the shingles off the roof with her orgasmic moans. I wondered sometimes, with curiosity and probably envy, if it was just an act or if it was all real. If it was real, well – maybe I needed to chat up Matthew Wheaton (the name on his mailbox) and find out his secrets. Did he have a ten-inch cock? A tongue that curled? Double-jointed fingers? A closet full of sex toys? Somehow, I didn’t think his girlfriend would appreciate my inquiries, so I never said anything.

Other than the neighbourly waves and ‘how are you?’s, I kept to myself, paid my bills on time and didn’t play my music too loud. For the most part, my neighbours did the same. I’d never felt a compelling need to introduce myself to any of them until that rainy Sunday in April when I looked out my window and saw a lean, athletic, ginger-headed hottie in cutoffs and a SUNY sweatshirt trying to unload a surfboard in the rain off the top of a Jeep Cherokee with New York licence plates. Suddenly, I wanted to get to know my neighbour in a bad way.

‘Hey, let me help you,’ I said, a little breathless from running down three flights of stairs.

Duncan gave me that wary look of all people who’ve lived in a city, the one that says, ‘Stay out of my personal space.’ He gave me the once-over and I was suddenly painfully conscious of my lime-green ‘Give Peas a Chance’ T-shirt, purple tie-dyed yoga pants and mop of dark-brown bed-head hair. I might have looked a mess, but I guess I seemed harmless enough because he smiled.

‘Thanks, but I’ve got it. I can’t get the knots out because they’ve swollen up from the rain.’

I wasn’t going to be so easily deterred. ‘I grew up around boats and my hands are smaller than yours. Let me give it a try.’

He cocked his head to the side as if trying to determine who this crazy chick was, willing to get wet in the rain for a stranger, and then shrugged. ‘OK, thanks.’

‘Wendy,’ I said, thrusting my smaller hand into his bigger one.

He laughed. ‘Duncan. And a nice girl to help out a stranger. Or maybe you’re a strange girl to be running around in the rain helping a stranger.’

‘I like a challenge,’ I said and left him to figure out whether I was talking about the surfboard or something else.