Time to Pretend (7 page)

Hair curtained most of her face, shielding her from his expression.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to see what he thought of her wantonness.

She had never been passive in the bedroom, and she wasn’t about to start now. Opening her mouth, she licked him first, lapping up the salty liquid leaking from the tip and before swirling her tongue around the head.

Daniel moaned, and his body jerked. He writhed underneath her.

When she closed her mouth completely around his cock, his hips shot from the bed. He swore.

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His hands locked on either side of her head. He pulled her away from him and flipped her onto her back, plundering her mouth with his tongue to silence her protests as he covered her body with his.

One hand wandered down and pushed between them. A tug did nothing to move her underwear because he wouldn’t free her enough to help. With a low growl, he ripped them from her body.

“I want you, Lainie. I love the way your mouth feels on me, but I don’t want to come in your mouth, not our first time together. I want to be inside you. I want to feel your body suck me inside as it pulses around my dick.”

He spoke in breathless whispers as he kissed her. His knees separated her legs. The hand between their bodies found her wetness.

He pulled at the folds in her pussy, plucking and rubbing until she stiffened and arched, the sweet waves of a small orgasm washing over her. She closed her eyes to focus the feeling.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he commanded. “Open them, Lainie. Don’t hide this from me.”

She did as he ordered, and his fingers entered her vagina slowly, massaging the responsive flesh there. Alaina thrust against his hand, keeping her eyes open and focused on his. Tension coiled. Her limbs tingled, and her hands lacked the strength to grip his shoulders. Her breaths came faster and faster.

“That’s it, honey. Let me see you come.” She wanted to come, but she needed something more from him.

Reaching between her legs, she closed her hand around his and pushed it up, angling his fingers to press up against her G-spot and down against the back edge of her opening. “Like this,” she said between ragged breaths.

His grin was something to see. Alaina wasn’t worried about bruising his ego. She knew her body, and she knew he was the kind of man who kept the goal in mind.

He plunged his fingers into her, adding a third and keeping the angle she wanted. “Like this, honey?”
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“Yes,” she said as her hips shot off the bed. “Oh, god, yes!” The orgasm took her hard. Her entire body quaked, and his heat disappeared.

He fished off the side of the bed for something in his pants. A condom. Alaina didn’t want to think about the fact that he’d come prepared. She had condoms in the bathroom, but she didn’t keep them in her pocket.

He unrolled the lime green sheath over his erection. Positioning himself between her thighs, he leaned over her and brushed his lips against hers.

The kiss was tender, but his warning wasn’t. “I’m not a gentle lover, Lainie, and I’ve wanted you for too long.”

“I can take it,” she said, still breathing hard from what he had already done to her. She guided his lips back to hers and kissed him with undiminished passion. “I can dish it out, too.” Desire honeyed his eyes. His lips found hers again, and his hands roamed her body, claiming and tantalizing, until she moaned and reached between them.

He lifted his torso, watching her face as she guided him to her entrance. “You’re mine, Lainie. Mine.” The last word was lost as he plunged into her.

Alaina’s eyes rolled back, and her mouth dropped open. He filled her. He took her prisoner. In that moment, she was his, completely his. She arched her back and met his thrusts, crashing into him faster and faster. Heat coiled, bringing the beginnings of sweet tension with her. This wasn’t going to be a short, quick orgasm. This was going to be major, soul-sucking and earth-shattering. She expected no less from this Casanova.

His fingers threaded through hers, and he pressed her hands to the bed as he held his weight away from her chest. Alaina took in the sight of his long, lean body hovering over hers. Her feet planted on the mattress, using the position to give her thrusts more power. Her pale legs pressed against his darker thighs. She liked the contrast.

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“Lainie,” he moaned. “You feel so good, Lainie.” She clenched around him. “Don’t come yet,” she warned. She was close, but not that close.

He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her hard. His thrusts slowed. She moaned in protest. Dropping down suddenly, he hiked her knees over his shoulders. The change let him go deeper into her.

He thrust faster and harder, and she was unable to move, to control anything.

Her climax broke, and she screamed, her pussy contracting around him violently and wringing the climax he had held off.

He collapsed, rolling them both to the side and held her tightly in his arms. She listened to his heartbeat filling the massive, comfortable silence. She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to make the silence uncomfortable. She knew it was coming. It couldn’t help but come.

When two people who fought as much as they did suddenly leapt into a postcoital situation, discomfort was the inevitable outcome.

She braced herself for it, and she prepared to make the transition easy. There was nothing emotional between them. Incredible sex had a way of making it seem like an intimacy existed that wasn’t truly there. As much as she craved that intimacy, she knew it would never happen, not with Daniel. Not with a man who carried around condoms because he never knew when he’d find a willing partner.

Or maybe he did know. Maybe he had plans that evening. Maybe somewhere a date waited impatiently for him to pick her up and take her to dinner. Her stomach growled before she could imagine the specifics of him hopping from her bed to a bed that probably belonged to one of the blonde bimbos he preferred.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Sounds like you need dinner.”

“I was going to make spaghetti,” she said, rolling away from him to snag a T-shirt and a pair of light sweats from the pile of laundry in the chair next to her bed. She didn’t want to suggest take-out or something that implied she expected him to stay.

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“I like spaghetti,” he said, responding as if her statement had been an invitation. When she turned around, he greeted her wearing his jeans and a lazy smile. Pulling her close, he pressed an equally lazy kiss to her lips. “This is the first time I’ve seen you not dressed up as the good doctor. I like it.”

Ahhh, there it was. Her label. She was The Good Doctor, the unattainable woman. It was a safe title, one that provided the necessary distance so that he could abandon her without regret. She wasn’t of his social group, so a dalliance of this sort was destined to be short-term, a one-night stand.

Alaina could wear her armor well. She had plenty of practice.

Drawing back, she ran a hand through hair that had to resemble something from a horror movie or a comedy. “Are you staying for dinner?”

Daniel drew a finger along her jaw, refusing to accept the openings she gave him to leave. “You can’t dangle spaghetti in front of a man who needs to refuel for the next round and expect him to refuse.”

She blinked at him. “The next round?” Twisting one finger in the waistband of her sweats, he tugged her closer. “Sweetheart, we’ve only just begun. The night is young.” The spicy scent of his skin and the cocky grin on his face finished his promise. She was curiously relieved that he didn’t plan to run away until later. Now she could pretend he was hers for just a little longer. That thought nearly made her feel as cocky as he looked.

His smile widened. “I’ve got more overused lines, but I can see by the laugh you’re trying to stifle that you get my point.” He bent to kiss her, but his phone rang, and he hesitated.

“You can get that,” she offered.

“I don’t know if I want to,” he said. “That’s my dad’s ringtone, and he’s pissed at Sophia.”

Alaina didn’t ask why. Daniel stayed with his lips millimeters from hers. At last, the ringing stopped, and he kissed her.

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When they were both breathless, he released her. “I’d rather check voice mail and call back. I could give a shit whether or not Sophia and Drew make everyone in their wedding dress up like fairies.” That took Alaina by surprise. Sophia didn’t strike her as the fairies and unicorns type of person. “Fairies? Is she making your father wear wings and a gossamer shirt?” That would be in direct opposition to the elder DiMarco’s rigid definition of masculinity, a definition he had passed to his only son.

Daniel laughed. “I have no freaking idea. They’ve hired a wedding planner and a fancy costume designer. They’ve got this Shakespeare thing going on between them. Whatever they do, I’ll be wearing a tux.”

Alaina raised a brow at that. “Are you not in the wedding?” She wasn’t under the impression anyone in a wedding got to choose their clothes unless they were the bride. Goodwill now had some really ugly dresses that fit Alaina and had been used for just the one occasion.

“I am,” he said. “Sophie’s usually reasonable. I can’t see the value in making a big deal out of this. My dad, on the other hand, is fit to be tied. He liked Drew until he found out the
Midsummer Night’s Dream
theme was his idea. Now he thinks Drew needs to grow a pair.” She didn’t comment on that. Alaina’s father had used such macho terms her entire life to explain why men got to do things that women did not or to emasculate men who didn’t fit his preferred stereotype. It was a dichotomy Alaina hated, and one she encountered too often in her line of work.

“I’m going to start dinner,” she said, extricating herself from Daniel’s arms.

He frowned, but he did nothing to stop her. “Okay. I’ll be down in a few.”

Alaina set a pot of water to boiling and broke the long noodles in half. Grabbing another pot from her cupboard, she placed it on another burner and poured sauce from a jar into it. If Daniel wanted
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gourmet cooking, then he was going to have to do it himself or hope to catch her on a good day. Though Alaina was a decent cook, she hated doing it. She didn’t mind making sandwiches, salads, grilled cheese, spaghetti, or mac and cheese.

Given the way Daniel had been raised, she should count herself lucky if he could make toast. That wouldn’t stop him from being critical of her cooking, however. Well, she could tell him exactly where to shove his criticism.

She was stirring the sauce when he came into the kitchen and stuck his face in her neck. Warmth from his body penetrated the thin cotton separating her back from his chest. “Smells good,” he said.

Whether he meant her neck or the sauce was unclear.

Pressing a kiss to the same spot, he said, “Looks good, too.” His arms came around her waist. “I need to get into your attic.” Alaina continued stirring the sauce, but that one brought a frown to her face. “If that’s a sexual term, it’s one I’ve never heard.” He laughed. “No, that was literal. It’s the reason I came over in the first place, to check out your roof. I need to see the attic.” She sighed and pushed him away. “The insurance adjuster was up there this morning, Daniel.” Her short temper brought out her sharp tone. “The problem is being addressed. I am perfectly capable of taking care of this on my own. Now, why don’t you get the plates?

Dinner will be done in five minutes.” He stared at her back for five full seconds. She felt the heat of his eyes. She didn’t know if he was angry at being pushed away, upset that she didn’t need a man to save her, or watching her ass as she bent to rummage for the strainer.

“Is this your way of changing the subject? I should warn you I was raised in a conversationally disorganized household. I know how to drop a topic and pick it up later.” She carried the pot of boiling noodles to the sink and poured it into the strainer. Daniel opened random cupboards until she pointed
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out the right one. He loaded two plates with noodles and handed them to Alaina so she could ladle on the sauce.

“And I know how to keep your mind away from topics that are none of your concern,” she said. “There’s parm in the refrigerator.” Daniel paused, his hand on refrigerator handle as he studied some artwork hanging via magnet in a place of honor. “Are these from kids of your patients?”

Alaina filled two glasses of water from the tap and took them to the kitchen table. She did have art from the children of some of her patients. Kids were grateful to anyone who helped their parents stay sober. “My little brother drew them. He’s eight.” The pictures were the kind a son drew for his mother. There were reproductions of them holding hands and eating ice cream. Zach had taken to labeling her
Alaina/Mom
with big, bold crayon letters. Did she imagine Daniel freezing for a few seconds before he grabbed the grated parmesan from inside and settled at her table?

She wasn’t sure she’d ever mentioned Zach to Daniel. Almost none of their conversations had been personal. On their date, Dan had begun with complimenting her appearance before migrating to weather and sports-related topics. He’d mentioned some of his friends, but Alaina hadn’t contributed much. She spent most of the time wondering what she was doing on a date with someone so handsome and so much younger. After he ordered her dinner without even asking what she wanted, she gave him an earful, but her tirade had been predicated on moral grounds.

“My dad always wanted a son,” she added. “He was stuck with just me for a long time, but my mom finally came through. Of course, now he’s too old to deal with a little kid. Zach spends much of his time with me.”

Daniel lifted his head in acknowledgement as he twirled noodles around his fork.

Her dining room was empty, and she didn’t feel the need to fill it with a formal table just yet. The blocky Shaker table that was painted
Time to Pretend