Take Me I'm Yours (Coffee House Chronicles) (11 page)

“It’s really nothing to be ashamed of,” she said, sensing his hesitation. Perhaps he thought his love o
f art would make him less of a man. She could almost hear Ethan make fun of him. “Ethan never mentioned to me how much you liked it.”

She was probing
, hoping he’d offer her that most hidden inner secret.

“He doesn’t know,”
Graeme said. “I never told him because I didn’t want all the shit he’d give me.”

Her eyebrows rose. This was curious. Ethan and Graeme were inseparable best friends. She thought they knew everything about each other. “Oh?”

“You know how Ethan is,” he said. “Art isn’t his thing.”

“Culture isn’t his thing,” she corrected and giggled. “I remember trying to get him to take me to the opera or the ballet many times. He always said no.
He was afraid he’d have to turn in his man card if he was caught there.”

His fingers were still laced with hers and he squeezed her hand. “I’ll go.”

Then a funny thing happened. Her heart did this really weird tumble in her chest as she glanced at him, saw the look of complete sincerity on his face. He gave her a sweet half-smile and she knew he really meant it. He really would take her to the opera and the symphony and the ballet if she asked him.

“You’d go to the ballet?” she asked.

“Sure.” He shrugged as if to say it was no big deal. “My kid sister used to do that stuff all the time. My parents dragged me to all her recitals.”

She’d
forgotten. His sister grew up in a tutu and ballet shoes.

Even if it
truly wasn’t his thing, she had the distinct feeling he would go simply because she asked. She flushed and cleared her throat. “Maybe we’ll go sometime.”

“Maybe we will.” Realizing their gazes were locked, he looked away first. “You want to get something to eat? I’m starving.”

*
* * * *

Their afternoon turned into an evening with dinner at a local Italian restaurant. They had pleasant dinner conversation and shared a bottle of wine, which went straight to Marion’s head.

As Graeme took her home, disappointment
swept over her. Despite spending the last five hours together, she wasn’t ready for it to end. And she was feeling far too tipsy to let it go to waste. Plus, she was quite fond of him holding her hand, as he was doing now while they walked to her front door.

“I had a good time today,” Marion said
.

“So did I.”

They paused on her porch and Marion turned to him.

“I hope we can do it again
soon,” he said.

Knowing his gallery event was Friday, she tested the waters. “How about dinner Friday?”

Indecision flashed across his face. “I can’t. I have other plans.”

She waited. But he didn’t elaborate. Crestfallen he didn’t want to tell her the truth—or
invite her along—she nodded. “Of course.” Even to her own ears, she sounded put off and turned toward the door.

“
I have this work thing. But I’m free on Saturday,” he suggested.

A work thing translated to an art thing.
She had every intention of waking up with him Saturday morning too, after a rousing evening of art and hot sex.

The sudden though
t made her blink. How was it she had planned to seduce him in two-point-three seconds? Maybe she’d had more wine than she thought.

“Okay
.”

Oh, she would see him on Friday, all right.
All night. And he better be naked.

She could imagine it now. She
’d see him at the gallery, he’d be surprised, though not displeased. They’d talk, have a drink. He’d ask to come to her place. One thing would lead to another…

As she was distracted with those thoughts, he leaned in. One hand swept her hair back from her face and rested on her neck. This time,
intoxicated impatience swelled and she pulled him to her, kissing him with all the fervor she possessed.

She didn’t know what came over her. But all she could think about was having Graeme on top of her. Marion fell back against the door
, pulling him with her and kissing him hard and fast. His arms went around her waist, held her close. And then she wrapped her leg around his waist.

Marion wasn’t that kind of girl. She didn’t believe in sex in public places. She didn’t even believe in
public displays of affection—but that hand-holding thing sure was nice. But she couldn’t stop her hips from rocking against his.

And she was certain she felt his rock hard cock. He ground against her, the friction of denim against denim nearly driving her wild with need and desire. Her hands tangled in his hair while their mouths did a oral tango, each wanting more of the other. He cupped her ass, pushing her harder toward him and grinding against her even more. She moaned with delight
.

He wanted her. She was sure of that. There was nothing about those actions between either of them that shouted friendship. It was all raw sexual need, pure and simple
.

She wanted more. And Graeme did
too, as he tugged at the button on her jeans. It popped open obediently, which was quickly followed by the unzipping. Marion leaned back hard into her front door, her chest heaving like some damsel waiting to be deflowered. His hand slipped between her skin and the fine lace of her panties, his fingers slipping lower until he found her slick and hot.

With her leg still around his waist, she opened her hip
s to give him more access as his fingers swirled around her swollen clit. She bit her lip to keep from crying out with her pleasure as he increased the pressure, rubbing back and forth. His mouth was dangerously close to hers, his breath ragged. She tilted her head back, her mouth open in invitation.

Graeme kissed her, his wet tongue meshing with hers while his hand did wonderful things to her she could have only imagined until now. She sucked on his bottom lip, nipping at it to signal she didn’t want him to stop.
She let herself go, then, allowing pleasure to wash over her and she moaned into his mouth. Her orgasm shuddered through her, shaking her to the core.

Everything around them stilled and somewhere in the distance
, a dog barked and a horn honked and she realized then they were standing on her front porch.

Graeme removed his hand and r
eleased her, his chest rising and falling as he breathed hard. He pressed his forehead into hers but all she could look at was that little open space at the top of his shirt. She could see the fast throb of his pulse and resisted the urge to reach out and run her fingers over it.

“We shouldn’t
have…” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Marion wasn’t sure if he meant they shouldn’t
have because they were on her front porch, or…they shouldn’t have because of their long history together. Or maybe he meant they shouldn’t go any further than they already had.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I don’t know what came over me.” She wiggled out of his arms
and collected herself, buttoning and zipping her jeans. She ran a hand over her clothes to straighten them before she got busy digging around in her purse for her house key.

“
It was…unexpected.”

Marion turned to the door, hoping he didn’t see the
embarrassment on her face. “Really. I’m very sorry.” She twisted the lock and pushed open the door. “Good night, Graeme.”

“Marion—”

But she shut and locked the door before he could finish.

* * * * *

“Aren’t you going to an awful lot of trouble for a faked run-in?” Delilah gave her a once over as she stood behind her.

Delilah was dressed
to kill in her best Chanel black dress and Christian Louboutin satin pink four-inch heels. She completed the outfit by carrying her favorite Prada handbag. She wore a simple string of pearls and no earrings and all that strawberry blonde hair hung in gorgeous silky waves over her shoulders.

She was stunning.

“How come you always look better than me?” Marion complained.

Compared to Delilah,
Marion was a low-end fashion diva. While she loved shoes and clothes as much as her best friend, she could never bring herself to spend five hundred dollars on a pair of shoes or a handbag. She chose her bargains wisely.

“I tried to loan you my Dolce
and Gabbana dress but you wouldn’t have it.”

“I know me,” Marion said. “I would feel horrible if I spilled a drop of anything on your dress.”

“That’s what cleaners are for, darling. Anyway, you didn’t answer me about the dress.”

Marion smoothed her palms over her forty dollar black dress, making sure it was as form fitting as she thought it should be. She couldn’t resist it when she saw it in the store—and th
e best part was it was on sale. Yes, she probably was going to a lot of trouble. Especially after the embarrassing episode on her front porch. She wasn’t at all sure how she could face him after that.

However, she was determined. She would have Graeme in her bed—or his—tonight if it was the last thing she did.
She had to finish what they started on her porch and soon. And she hoped slipping between the sheets with him
was
the last activity of the day.

“I want to look nice, that’s all,” Marion said. She picked out her favorite four inch heels and slipped them on
.

“My ass,” Delilah muttered. “Mar, when are you going to admit you have a thing for this guy?”

“I don’t.” She propped her hands on her hips and looked at her friend in the reflection of the mirror. “We’re friends.”

“Friends, huh? You dress up in slinky black dresses and red four inch heels for a friend?” She shook her head. “I hope this friend comes with benefits.”

Marion rolled her eyes. “Come on, Delilah. I haven’t had fun in so long. Not since Ethan. I haven’t had an excuse to go anywhere or dress up or anything.” She reached for her lipstick. “This is a chance to actually go out and be with someone I like and have some fun. That’s all.”

“I’m just saying you want to get naked with this guy.”

Of course she did. Now, if not sooner. “And is that such a bad thing?”

Delilah looked thoughtful for a moment and then heaved a sigh. “No. I suppose not.”

“Good, then, because I plan to seduce him tonight.” She smiled broadly as she picked up her black handbag.

“That’s why you had me drive tonight. So you could hitch a ride home with him.
You sneaky little bitch, you. I can’t believe I fell for that.” Delilah pursed her lips. She followed Marion through the house and out the front door.

“You got it.” Marion knew pulling off a small coup like that would be difficult, especially with Delilah, her overprotective friend
.

“Do you think that’s such a good idea? I mean, you barely know him.”

Marion hadn’t divulged her dirty little secret—that she and Graeme got hot and heavy on her front porch a few days ago. She wasn’t about to release that information now. As for the barely know part, she had known Graeme for a long time. She thought she knew his temperament better than most men who’d filtered in and out of her life.

“Don’t be silly,” Marion said. “I’ve known Graeme as long as I’ve known Ethan.”

“Yeah, but…” Delilah’s voice trailed off.

“
Delilah, don’t worry. Really. I’m attracted to Graeme and I think he’s attracted to me. What else is there?”

“
A bloody lot, if you ask me. Mar, you’re setting yourself up to get hurt. You know that right?”

She turned to her then, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “
Relax. I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing. It’s just sex and nothing else.”

Delilah looked less than convinced as Marion reached for the passenger door. “It’s never just sex, Mar. You’re a woman. When you take your clothes off with someone, there are always emotions involved whether
you’d like to think so or not.”

“Delilah…”
she groaned.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt. Ethan nearly destroyed you—”

“And that was six months ago. It’s time to move on.”

“But with Graeme?”
She gave her a sour look. “Couldn’t you pick someone else to move on with?”

Marion pursed her lips and heaved an annoyed sigh.

Delilah put her hands up in surrender and nodded. Marion could tell she had more to say, more convincing to do. Instead, she merely walked around the front of the car and got in without another word.

Marion shut the door and buckled her seatbelt.
She knew Delilah had a difficult time understanding her need for Graeme but she needed her friend to support her, no matter what her decision. She knew, deep down, Delilah did, even though she gave her hell about it.

As they started toward Dallas, butterflies erupted in her stomach. Tonight, she vowed, she would be with Graeme. The thought of defeat never crossed her mind
.