Unfinished Business (8 page)

When my face pales, he actually seems to notice. “Um, guys get used to it, I mean. Not you.” He looks me over and leaves a trail of heat in the wake of his gaze. “You look great.”

Chapter Nine

Good Girls Go for It Too

After dinner, we climb back into his car, he starts the engine up and off we go.

As his car hums along the street, I realize I don’t know where we’re going. Since we’re heading north, away from my apartment, he isn’t taking me home.

He’s taking me to his place?

Sure, I could ask. But I don’t.

By this time, I’ve figured out that the way to enjoy this big red dog is to sit back and admire the view. He made it plain that he likes what he sees when he looks at me, so hey, I’m just letting him know I feel the same.

He pulls into the huge parking lot of the Eight Mile Roller Rink. The neon sign blinks at me, mocking me and my dress.

“You like to skate?” he asks, parking his car.

Is he serious?

If he were a witty type, I’d assume he was joking and I’d laugh.

“It’s what I had planned. Wednesday’s the best night.”

Has he not seen what I’m wearing?

“I guess. If that’s what you want to do.”

“It’s what I had planned.”

Stunned, I nod.

He stuffs his keys into his pocket and lunges out of the car. He opens the passenger door and offers his hand. I lift my own and position it neutrally. First, he clasps my fingertips while I swing my booted legs out of the car then he lifts our hands as I climb out of the seat. After he reaches around me to shut the door, he pulls my fingers into his palm. The light friction of his palm gliding across mine feels damn good.

Because our conversation so far has consisted of a series of my questions and his four word answers, I don’t know what we have in common, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering how he’d look without his shirt on. The heat from his hand is seeping through me so I move closer and smile up at him. “Do you go skating often?”

“Used to, when I was little. My dad brought us here all the time.”

“You have brothers or sisters?”

A silly grin slants across his mouth. “Four brothers. I’m the baby.”

“Five boys? No girls? Your poor mother.”

He laughs and pulls open the door. “Yeah. She kept threatening to throw away the furniture and make us all sit on wooden crates. I guess we were pretty hard on things like chairs. And doors. And walls.”

This is the most I’ve got out of him all night. So I ask him a couple more questions. By the time we have our skates, I’ve learned all the basic stuff.

Childhood dog named Axel. Two brothers married, one with kids. Two brothers single. After Clifford left for college, his parents moved to a house on Lake Michigan where they’re spending their retired days fixing up an old sailboat.

“Need help with you skates?”

Clifford already has his skates on. Me? I’m on the carpet-covered bench, bent over and twisted sideways as I struggle to get the skates on without exposing my black lace VS panties. It’s okay if Clifford gets a look but that forty-something dude wrestling with the wild toddler, he has to go home to his wife.

Without waiting for an answer to his inquiry, The Dog drops to his knees and takes my left foot in his hand. The sight of my instep curving into the palm of his huge mitt makes my mouth go dry. Even though there is no hint of seduction in his action, quivering lust warms me from toe to head.

By the time he grabs the right foot, my heart is pumping soundly and a giddy nervous laugh is threatening to tumble out. That will never do so I hold my lips together and stare at the short strands of his strawberry blond hair. Unfortunately, he chooses that exact second to look up. He finds me staring at him with my face pulled together like I’ve just downed a shot of tequila.

His gaze stays on my face long enough for me to smile. He hops to his feet. “Okay?” he asks, over the loud music and squeals of preteen girls.

I still can’t believe I’m about to skate in a dress but I’ll try anything once. Off we go.

It isn’t as bad as I thought. We’re moving along pretty well. In the corner, near the yellow lockers, a DJ is waving his arms and gyrating. Gorillaz
Feel Good Inc.
comes on, and all of a sudden I’m glad to be rolling around, dodging scruffy seven-year-olds. Clifford’s hold on my hand is just right and I figure, hey, why not skate in a dress?

Clifford? He’s a great skater. I can see why he wanted to come. The heads of single girls, and even a few with guys, tip his way and I glimpse their amazement that a big guy can be so graceful. It’s working on them and it’s working on me. I’m not thinking about Nick. Not one little bit.

We circle around about a dozen or so times and I’m enjoying the music and the hum of my wheels gliding over the polished wooden floors. Every few strides, Clifford’s leg bumps into my hip and I’m liking that too.

About ten feet in front of us, a couple glides along with their hands stuffed in each other’s back pockets. Seven feet to our left, there’s a couple crisscrossing past each other as they whiz along.

Clifford and I must look pretty dull.

About the time a tiny, black-haired girl flies past, I’m starting to feel the need to fancy up my style. I watch her for a few minutes, then as we bend into the next corner, I place my right leg in front of my left, the way she does. Only when she does it, she zips around the corner.

Me?

Smack.

That’s right, I fall flat on my face. Actually on my hands and knees with Clifford standing behind me.

His eyes spark with sexual interest. “I guess it’s hard to skate in that dress,” he says without breaking his gaze from my ass.

This is what I had to do?

My guy is rooted to the floor so tightly, it’s almost funny. Except I don’t laugh because the way his green eyes are getting darker by the second is making my throat tighten and my mind start thinking about his bare chest again. For a split second it looks like Clifford’s going to drop down beside me but instead he rolls close enough to offer me his hand.

“Guess it’s time to go.”

I nod as I take his hand and curl my fingers around the solid muscles of his palm. After I stagger to my feet, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him. We mesh together like two pieces of the same fence.

Within minutes we’re in his car and heading back downtown. He pulls to a stop at the curb in front of my apartment, turns off the engine then looks over at me. I lean forward to let him know a kiss isn’t out of the question. He takes me up on the offer.

The kiss starts out slowly but by this time I’ve realized this big hunk of a guy makes me hot. There isn’t a whole lot of emotional connection but he has an amazing body and let’s face it, it’s been a while for me. And, I know this might be lame, but I want to be sure I still have what it takes.

Clifford responds by putting his giant hand on my thigh.
Oh. That again.
Only this time there is no awkward question of friendship. The solid weight on my leg moves me from wanting this kiss to wanting a hell of a lot more.

He lifts his mouth and sits back. “Want me to come in?”

I nod.

He looks at me, considering. “I thought you and Josie were friends.”

“We are,” I say, trying to figure out what that has to do with this.

“She said I was supposed to take it easy with you because you’re a nice girl.”

I suppose that was kind of her to say but nice isn’t what I’m after right now. I point to the alley behind my apartment building. “If you park back there you won’t get a ticket as long as you move it by six.”

Clifford smiles as he starts up the car then parks it right where I pointed.

And we get out.

Once we’re in my apartment I ask him if he wants some wine.

“No thanks.”

Because I can’t think of anything else to do, I make a big deal out of setting my purse across the magazines scattered over the table. There is a half-full coffee cup and Nick’s empty pork rind bag so I pick them up and take them out to the kitchen.

I switch off the overheard kitchen light and the room turns nearly black, except for the slice of yellow haze gliding in from the street lamps at the corner. As I cross to the couch, my eyes adjust and I can see well enough to know I won’t miss anything. Careful not to position myself too far to the center or too close to the arm of the couch, I sit and cross my legs. After wiggling a bit, I get the hem of my skirt halfway up my thighs.

Clifford drops his big self down next to me.

After he stretches his arm behind my back and grabs my shoulder, he kisses me thoroughly. It’s as though somewhere along the line he read that a guy shouldn’t have sex with a girl without kissing her first because he does an incredibly complete job of arousing and relaxing me with just his mouth. There isn’t a lot of romance in the kiss, he isn’t holding my face or pausing to look into my eyes, but there is a lot of physical attraction.

About the time I’m nearly panting, he lifts his mouth from mine and runs his wet lips down my neck. The trail of his breath makes me aware of the slick wetness of my pussy. He scraps his teeth lightly over my skin and I shiver so hard my clit stiffens and, trying to get some needed friction, I rub my thighs together.

The rock-solid muscles beneath his shirt contract as he moves his free arm to slide his hand under my dress into my thong then cups me between my legs. I pull in a sharp breath when he flips his hand over and his knuckle brushes against my clit. Gradually he starts moving his mouth back up my neck. By the time his mouth finally connects with mine again, I’ve got my hands on his shoulders. The rough texture of his wide palm rasps across my thigh, and the sheer size of his fingers makes me feel petite and fragile. And so ready to fuck him. My sigh sounds more like a moan.

No wonder I have a thing for hands.

Really.

Now he’s seriously kissing me and I’m returning his enthusiasm with plenty of my own. Each caress of his lips and sweep of his tongue makes me hotter and I can feel the pulse of my own blood as it zips through my veins. The kissing, the touching, it’s awesome. But I’m not getting enough from his hand. I want more skin-on-skin contact. But when he starts to push me back against the couch and tug at my panties with his amazing hands, I stiffen and press my palms across his chest.

We are not going any further with his shirt on.

After I jerk the shirttails from his pants, I work down the buttons. As I reach the last one, he gets the picture and pulls at his sleeves then whips the shirt to the floor.

My hands connect with the smooth warm cotton of his undershirt. The swell of his chest. The solid, tight curves of his stomach.

Mmmmmmmmmm.
If heaven is only about physical satisfaction, I’m there.

Again he tries to push me back but I’m determined to get what I want so I tug at the hem of his undershirt.

Apparently he’s used to girls giving him signals to undress, because in the blink of an eye he reaches back, grabs the back of his shirt and slips it over his head.

Shit.

My wide-eyed stare catches his eye and he grins as he straightens and takes a deep breath that makes his chest swell. “Coach works us pretty hard.”

For the first time that night, I’m the one with nothing to say.

All that rock-hard, heated muscle sitting right there on my couch. Waiting for me.

He kisses me again, this time without asking, and slides his hand back under my dress. Farther up this time, until his hand is curved around my ass. Not one to waste an opportunity, I gradually glide my hands across his thick back. Each time he moves his arms, the giant muscles shift under my fingers making me even dizzier with lust.

He tangles his fingers in the thin waistband of my black thong and I lift my hips. He mumbles something that is probably a comment of approval, because he works the scrap of lace down far enough to touch my clit. His pressure is light at first, but when I begin moving against his fingers he gradually applies more pressure.

This guy has experience making girls feel good.

Damn good.

While he works his magic, I fumble with the buckle of his belt. After two unsuccessful attempts, I get it undone then start on his fly. The task is hard to accomplish with waves of heated pleasure buzzing through me but I’m more determined than ever to see all of him so I keep at it.

The weak light from the street is enough for me to make out the striped pattern of his boxer briefs. Because of his erection, the fabric is pointed up like a tent. If I weren’t so hot to get him naked, I would’ve taken a minute to laugh.

But I don’t have a minute to waste so I tug at his pants and briefs. I’m all over him and the couch, bent around in a bunch of different positions as he shifts forward to push his clothes down and out of the way. Then his cock is standing there and it’s huge and hard, just like the rest of him.

He’s still caressing me with his thumb and I don’t want him to stop. I figure the best way to keep him doing what he’s doing is to make him feel good too so I bob down and put the tip of his shaft between my lips. The salty skin is tight and smooth, and I take my time licking every inch to get him good and wet before covering him completely with my mouth. I do my best to get one of my hands on his bare ass, squeezing and stroking all the solid muscles I can find.

After I’ve been at it long enough to taste the first drops of cum, he groans and thrusts forward, clenching his ass cheeks and shoving his big cock deeper into my mouth. A surge of sexual power rolls over me and I seize it, sucking on the long, firm shaft of his dick with new appreciation for my own skills.

He grunts and before I know what’s happening, he grabs me and flips me upside down so my mouth has easier access to his dick and his mouth is between my legs. He spreads my legs and starts licking my clit with long, smooth motions while caressing the cheeks of my ass with those giant mitts. It’s glorious and wild, so weirdly sexual I don’t know what to do. I stiffen for a few seconds then catch a glimpse of his hard cock, glistening from my careful attention and cover it with my mouth. For a crazy second I think about how amazing I must look, with that incredible hunk of a man holding my ass and going after my pussy like that.