Total Abandon (2 page)

“I beg your pardon?” she asked after several seconds.

“You do talk,” he said. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“I didn’t know talking was required,” she replied. “Did you know Einstein didn’t speak until he was four? Or maybe it was three.”

One corner of his lips curled upward. “Is that so?”

Man, he had a crooked smile, too. “Einstein didn’t have anything to say. Or that’s how the story goes.”

“Must have been scary for his parents.”

She clasped her hands together in front of her slacks and then let them fall back by her sides. “For the longest time it didn’t appear he was going to amount to much of anything.”

“Einstein?” he said.

“One of the greatest minds of the century.”

“Say, would you like something to drink?” He went to the wet bar and hefted a decanter of something alcoholic.

“Me?” She waved a hand. “No, I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh.” He poured a few fingers of whatever that was into a tumbler and approached her. Instead of drinking it, he handed her the glass. “You were saying.”

As he walked around behind her, she stared into the glass. “I guess there really isn’t any more to the story. We all know how Einstein turned out.”

He scooped up her hair and pushed it to one side of her neck so he could press his lips to the curve of her throat. “He invented relativity.”

“Discovered it, rather. The theory’s not that hard to understand, really.” Her pulse sped up, and her nipples hardened to points, although he’d made no move toward her breasts. She took a sip of the whiskey. Good quality. Smooth, not harsh. She took a bit more and let it warm her throat as it went down. “Mostly, it’s conceptual, just a little . . . oh!”

He’d grazed her earlobe with his teeth, hot breath slipping into her ear. Suddenly, her eyelids grew heavy.

“Math,” she said. “Some fairly simple algebra.”

“I was bad at that,” he said.

He was clearly good at other things. Very, very good. Like using his teeth to make pinpricks of pure pleasure along the sensitive skin beneath her jaw and then downward to her collarbone. She took another sip of the liquor and let the vapors fill her mouth for long seconds before swallowing.

“That’s my girl.” He took the near-empty glass from her and deposited it somewhere behind her. He’d found a table or something without leaving her because the sound of the tumbler settling onto something came through loud and clear.

Then he came back around to face her. She wasn’t used to feeling dwarfed by people, even men, but he seemed to tower over her. With a solid build, he could have played football. But his facial features fit better with someone more sensitive. A poet or actor, perhaps. Those deep, soft eyes and that full mouth. He even had long eyelashes. She could stare into his face forever, and, actually, she’d been doing that for a whole minute.

“Find anything interesting?” he said.

“No, well, yes.”

“Look, Angela, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want. We can talk about famous scientists all night,” he said. “Although that’d be an odd way to spend your money.”

“Oh, I want to do . . .” She stopped herself before she came out with a silly euphemism. “I want to have sex. Lots of it. In different positions.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“But I’ll be honest with you.” She raised her chin and looked him in the eyes. “I have problems performing.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Women don’t perform. They enjoy.”

“A matter of semantics. A woman my age should have multiple orgasms during a full-coital encounter.”

“Really?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “How many?”

“Five is probably too many to expect, but certainly more than one.”

“That leaves two, three, or four,” he said. “Which is it?”

“Three, I suppose.”

“And you haven’t been having three, during a . . . what was it you called it?”

“Full-coital encounter,” she answered.

“You’ll excuse me for thinking that sounds like something you bill your health insurance to cover.” He caught her arms and rubbed his palms from her elbows to her shoulders and back. “You can relax, Angela. I’m used to nonorgasmic women.”

She pulled away. “I didn’t say I was nonorgasmic. I have orgasms.”

“Then what were we talking about?”

“I don’t have enough of them, and I don’t have them the right way.”

He tipped his head and looked at her as if she were crazy. “There’s a right way to have an orgasm?”

“Come on. You know what I mean.” Her feet wanted to pace, but she made them stay where they were. And she stood straight, not backing away from him. “I’m near my sexual prime. If I’m going to fulfill my full potential, I should be making more progress.”

All right, she would pace, but just so she could think. Movement always helped, even if she did come off looking a little frantic. She went to the stereo and turned around. “I finished college at nineteen. Graduate school at twenty-three. I have my professional life mapped out. I eat a healthy diet and exercise.”

“And sex isn’t keeping up with your plan.”

“Exactly. I’m so glad you understand.”

“I’m afraid I do,” he said. “You see, sex isn’t going to keep up with your plan or anyone else’s. Sex is what it is.”

She put her hands on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s the one thing you can’t force. You can study to pass a test. You can diet yourself thin. You can save to buy the car of your dreams. But you can’t make sex behave the way you want it to. You have to let it show the way.”

“Is that supposed to be Zen or something?”

“I don’t know Zen. I do know sex.” He went to her and put his big hands on her shoulders. “You can’t steer it. You have to let it steer you.”

“That’s silly.”

“Oh, really? Ask any guy who ever had an embarrassing erection if sex didn’t take control. Women have automatic responses, too. You can just hide them better.”

Like her nipples getting hard? They hadn’t softened yet, and they weren’t likely to with him standing so close. And her cheeks had warmed. He’d have to notice the flush of her skin.

“You might be having some of those responses now,” he said. “Or am I wrong?”

As tempting as it might be to deny her reaction to him, she didn’t deal in dishonesty. Besides, if he was going to help her with her problem, he’d need to read her physiological signs correctly. “I am responding.”

“Want to tell me exactly how?”

“I can’t quite seem to catch my breath.” Odd she hadn’t noticed before, but the air in the room seemed thick and hard to pull into her lungs. And weirder than that, she’d had the same sensation she’d had looking at his picture: that she could taste him even though they’d never kissed. Again, she ended up licking her lips.

In response, his gaze fell to her mouth and stayed there as if he found it fascinating. His eyes took on an almost hungry expression. He wanted her, and she could have him any which way that popped into her head.

This time, he wasn’t a photograph. He stood before her in the glorious flesh, and she’d only have to lean into him to see if he’d really taste like honey. So, she did. She rested her hand against his chest and tipped her face upward. He made her wait. Not more than a few seconds, but enough time to let the anticipation build. This would be the kind of kiss you saw in movies or read about in books. Something she’d never experienced but always dreamed about.

When he finally crossed the last few inches and placed his lips on hers, reality burst like a flash of lightning in her brain. He did taste sweet, although not like anything she’d ever savored before. She sampled him slowly, but when he cupped the back of her head, tilting it so their mouths fit, she took more and more of him. She hadn’t misjudged the softness of the lower lip, so she nibbled on it gently before brushing it with her tongue. That must have issued an invitation, because he responded with his own tongue seeking entrance to her mouth.

God, he was intoxicating. No matter how much she took, she needed more. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she pulled herself as close against him as she could manage. She’d shared kisses with a lover before but not like this one. So all-encompassing, from the sweetness of his lips to the ragged sound of his breathing to the firm muscles beneath her palms. He even smelled good, a combination of warm sunshine and human male.

His arms went around her, tugging her closer against his hard body. She was tall, but he was taller, and he made her feel small and delicate. Cherished. After a few more moments of pure hedonism, he ended the kiss, resting the side of his face against hers. His breath came hard and fast, as if he’d been running. Her own was just as frantic, and her pulse pounded in her ears. As kisses went, that one was in a class by itself. Good Lord in heaven.

She pulled back and gazed into his face in search of answers. What had just happened here? Sure, she’d expected him to be good in bed. That’s what he did professionally, after all. But she hadn’t expected him to dismantle her with no more than a kiss.

“See what I mean?” he said.

“Mean?” He expected her to remember a conversation that had taken place a few minutes before he’d rearranged her neurons?

“About sex. You need to let it take over.”

“I’m afraid that’s more easily said than done.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “You just did a pretty good imitation.”

“Due to your skill.”

“I’d like to take credit.” He gave her a grin. “But it was all chemistry.”

“I’m a physicist.”

“Do tell.” He reached to her blouse and started in on the buttons. Of course, she’d get naked, but she hadn’t considered that he might undress her. She hadn’t considered much of anything at all, when you got right down to it. Maybe she’d thought of this as a visit to the doctor’s office where someone would leave her alone to get into a paper drape.

Instead, she had a drop-dead gorgeous man taking great care with some buttons, as if he might tear one off if he lost control. And that in itself made for some hot fantasy. Imagine this big guy so consumed with lust for her he’d rip her clothing to get at her
now
. Having a man devoted to your pleasure and so insanely aroused that he took you, hard and fast, was a major turn-on. Maybe she should ask Brent to play caveman. Or maybe she’d wait to see if he did it on his own.

He didn’t turn into a raging beast, though, but he kept undressing her methodically. First the blouse, which he removed and turned to drape over a chair, but she took it from him and dropped it onto the floor.

His eyebrow went up. “In a rush?”

“It’s just clothing.”

“You’ll look rumpled when you leave.”

“So much the better,” she said. “It’ll prove I got my money’s worth.”

“You’re nuts, professor.”

“I know.”

He reached behind her to unfasten her bra. When he had it off, he held it between his thumb and forefinger before dropping it onto her blouse. A cute game except for the fact her breasts were now uncovered, and the peaks stood as stiff proof that this was more than a pleasant encounter, like a little necking on a first date. He covered her breasts with his hands, squeezing gently. Already primed by their kiss, her libido roared back to life. The nipples became ultra sensitive pressed against his palms, and the sensation traveled through her, past her belly to her sex.

“Sweet,” he said, as he lifted her breasts and rubbed his thumbs over the tips.

“You must compliment all your clients.”

“Only honestly,” he said. “Don’t you think your breasts are beautiful?”

“I guess.”

“Are you really that out of touch with your own body?” He bent and took a nipple into his mouth. He continued toying with the other one as he sucked on the first, his cheeks working. The look on his face was almost angelic; his eyes closed, and his lashes fanned his cheeks. And, oh, the sensations he created. Zingers of pleasure speeding along her nerves to every erogenous zone on her body. She wobbled a bit and clutched his head for balance.

Chuckling, he straightened and pulled her against him. Somehow, he’d melted her bones from the inside out, and she might have fallen if he hadn’t held her.

“Bed, I think,” he said.

She merely nodded against his chest. Before she could guess his intent, he’d bent and scooped her up into his arms.

“Careful with your back,” she said, clutching his neck. “I’m heavy.”

“Light as a feather.”

“I’m five ten, you dummy.” And not overly slender, although she wouldn’t mention that aloud. If he wanted to play he-man, he’d have only himself to blame if he threw his back out. Only please not before they’d had crazy monkey sex.

He didn’t seem to notice her weight but walked to the bed and laid her on the comforter. After removing her shoes and knee-highs, he unbuttoned her slacks and slid the zipper down. Her panties came off along with the slacks, and in a moment she lay completely naked.

Studying her as if she were some exotic creature, he laid his hand on her belly, his fingers spread so one almost reached into the curls over her sex. An odd gesture, almost a claiming, staking out his territory. Only what did he see when he looked at her?

“You’re beautiful,” he said after a long moment.

“Honesty.”

“Total honesty,” he said. “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

She let out a laugh. She knew that word, of course, and used it occasionally, especially if someone really pissed her off. It had never sounded sexy before, but the way he used it—as if he couldn’t help himself—brought up the whole issue of control again. They’d gone beyond niceties, and now, they’d, well, fuck.

After ditching his own shoes and socks, he rose and jerked his sweater over his head, exposing his naked chest. What a specimen. His jeans rode low on his hips, giving her a view of him from shoulders to pelvis. A sculptor might have fashioned him as the ideal male, from the cords of muscle in his neck to the wide collarbone and below. Firm pectorals, flat belly, and, yes, the outline of a very large erection straining against his fly.

Staring at him, her mouth went dry. Her pussy had a completely different reaction, and it was a good thing, too. If she was going to take all of
that
inside her, she’d better be lubricated. And there was no way she’d miss out on a single inch of him.