Uninhibited (Unlikely Lovers) (9 page)

Desperat
e: “Alan. I’ve been searching for you—and your phone number—everywhere! I found it last night, but I can’t find you. Where
are
you? Why don’t you answer your phone? I can’t live without you.  All my love, Emily.”

Romantic:
“My dearest Alan. I have been pining away for two weeks now. Alas, I find that I can no longer continue living without you by my side. You must call, or I shall surely die. Your loving Emily.”

Casual:
“Hey, Alan, if you’re still interested, write back. If not, I guess I’ll just crash and burn somewhere. Later, Emily.”

Brief, but to the point:
“Alan, Please write back. Emily.”

Honest and truthful:
“Dear Alan, I lost your number and only found it again last night. I miss you, I need you, and I want you. I’m so sorry I left you. Please forgive me and write back. Love, Emily.”

Obscure:
“Got ice cream?”

In the end,
she went with the obscure, but truthfully romantic: “Dear Alan, I’ve tried, but ice cream just isn’t doing it for me. I need
you
. Love, Emily.”

Setting
her jaw, she pushed “send.”

Message sent
. Whoo hoo!

Emily
ate breakfast then checked her email.

No reply.

She
took a shower and checked again, but he hadn’t written back yet.

She tried wrapping presents—thus far, she’d only wrapped the one for Mitch, and she’d stuffed it in a gift bag—but checking her email every forty seconds wasn’t exactly conducive to getting much done
.

No response
.

After wrapping three gifts and having to open them again because she couldn’t remember who they were for, she gave up on that task and ate a late lunch before checking one more time…

Not even spam.

She
cleaned the kitchen sink and looked at it again. This time there was a message from Glicka about a “Hot.... teene suxcking beeg ones...” She deleted it and then scrubbed the toilet.

After
another quick check, she went to the grocery and bought some caramel nut fudge chocolate ice cream.

When
Emily got home, she sat down in front of her laptop, eating right out of the box, clicking on the “Check Mail” icon after every third bite until she felt like she was going to puke. Then she tried calling him again. Still no answer.

Maybe Alan had
gone to Russia for Christmas and was riding around on one of those peculiar Russian sleighs, pulled by an underfed horse like something out of
Dr
.
Zhivago
or
Fiddler
on
the
Roof
.

Or he might have gone to Paris and was sipping a
cafe au lait
in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower while a choir sang “Silent Night” in French.

Germany would be
a nice place to spend Christmas. After all, a German man had written “Silent Night.” If she remembered correctly, Germany was also responsible for the whole Christmas tree idea.

He could have gone anywhere and been doing anything—except watching a football game, which could be safely ruled out since he didn’t like football
or any other sport. Although he might have been lying about that.

He
could have lied about everything. She might’ve sent an email to some unknown person and been trying to call his uncle in Duluth or the Walmart in Dallas. No, it couldn’t have been Walmart, because they
never
close.
They
would have answered the phone. Unlike Alan.
The twit
. He knew he could safely give her those numbers, because he never answered his phone
or
his email.

Checking the napkin for the fiftieth time,
she verified the digits once more and dialed the number again, letting it ring twenty-five times before hanging up. Then she did it again. She checked her email once more, promising herself a truly genuine suicide attempt if she failed to receive anything this time, and found a message from Amazon.com promising her free shipping if she ordered before Christmas. They probably had no idea they’d saved her life when they sent it. Then again, if she had to spend another day like this one, she might wish they’d deleted her from their mailing list.

Emily
buffed her nails with the kit she’d purchased from the Israeli man in the mall. She could go see him—he’d written his name on the receipt—but he’d probably gone back to Israel. Alan was probably there, too. A trip to Bethlehem for Christmas made perfect sense.

Unless there was unrest in the Middle East. There usually was. S
ince she hadn’t exactly been keeping up with current events, she didn’t know.

In desperation,
she called Todd, who at least had an answering machine, and told him she was looking for a man named Alan, and if he knew of anyone by that name, to bring him over to her house, pronto.

About an hour later, Todd showed up on
her doorstep with Alan.

Her
Alan.

Chapter 7

This
was definitely the same Alan—three-day beard, tousled hair, slate blue eyes, luscious lips, and all—right down to the leather jacket.

“You two
know each other?” she asked.

“
Yep,” Todd replied. “He lives across the hall from me. You said if I knew anyone named Alan to bring him over, so I did. Why is that so surprising?”

“
Because he’s the right Alan.” She gazed at Alan, still not quite believing her eyes. Finding that napkin was akin to discovering a treasure map.
He
was the treasure. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“If I’d known you wanted him
, I could have brought him over a long time ago.”

Todd s
aid it so casually, Emily wanted to slap him—or hug him. One thing for sure, he would get more than a pizza oven for Christmas.
The moon might be enough…

Alan
hadn’t said a word. He simply stood there wearing an expression so blank he might never have seen her before.

Her
heart sank to her toes. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Oh, he remembers you
, all right,” Todd said. “He’s been moping around for weeks because he met this terrific woman who never called him. Too bad you didn’t tell him your name.”

“I
–I lost the napkin,” she said, still staring at Alan’s impassive face. “It was in my fleece jacket. I’ve been wearing my other coat since then because it’s been so cold. I sent you an email this morning. I’ve been calling you all day.”

Scowling at Todd, Alan finally spoke
. “And
you
said it would do me good to get out.”

Emily’s
throat tightened. He really
didn’t
want to see her, and he was pissed at Todd for bringing him to her house. At that point, screaming seemed a viable option.

“
I was right, too,” Todd insisted. “We went to lunch and a basketball game and had a great time.”

Des
pite her despair, Emily couldn’t help seeing the humor. “You took
Alan
to a basketball game?”

“Well, yeah,”
Todd replied. “I had tickets—student discount, you know—and at the last minute, Staci had to work and couldn’t go with me, so I asked Alan.”

“But he doesn’t
even
like
sports.”

Todd grinned. “
Trust me, I heard all about it.”

“
Didn’t I tell you I should stay home in case she tried to call me?” Alan demanded. “I knew my answering machine wasn’t working, and I told you that. But nooo. I just
had
to go with you.”

“I believe I’ve made up for that
,” Todd said, stifling a chuckle. “You can thank me later. Right now, I’d like to introduce you to my sister, Emily Carmichael. I think you two might have been made for each other.” With a mischievous smile, he added, “She doesn’t like sports, either.”

“Emily
Carmichael,” Alan repeated, as though committing her name to memory. “Have you really been calling me all day?”

She
nodded. “Really, really.”

“You’ll see he gets home, won’t you
, Em?” Given that he was already stepping off the porch, Todd’s question was more of a statement.

“Sure
thing,” she replied, gazing up into a pair of twinkling blue eyes she never thought she’d see again.

“
Not right away, though.” Alan waved goodbye to Todd who was now skipping over to his car, looking extremely pleased with himself. “Okay if I come in?”

“Yes, but hurry
up. It’s freezing out here.” She pushed the door open further, motioning him inside.

He hesitated.
“I’ll be all over you, Emily. The coat thing won’t even
begin
to compare with what I’ll do next. Are you
sure
?”

“Absolutely
. Get in here.”

Alan stepped across the threshold
. Strolling into the living room, he began with his jacket and didn’t stop until there was nothing left on him but a wristwatch.

“I never wear clothes
at home,” he said. “Boxers, sometimes, but not much else.”

Emily’s
mouth went dry. “You aren’t at home.”

“Want me to leave?”

“Not a chance.” Now that she had him there, Emily had no intention of
ever
letting him leave. “I thought you needed contact and liked to kiss a lot.”

“Your point?”

“You aren’t close enough to do either one.”

“That’s
your
job. Come over here, and I’ll give you all the hugs and kisses you want.”

Her feet remained rooted
to the spot as she drank in the sight of him. Sleek muscles, a generous dusting of body hair in all the right places, and a treasure trail leading down to the most beautiful cock imaginable. Stephen’s was big. This one was a work of art.

“I don’t see anything wrong with you. T
ell me again why women can’t stand you.”

“I need them too much.”

“Be more specific.”

“I
need to be able to touch you, hold you, and dive into you. All the time.”

“
You can’t do that
all
the time,” she scoffed. “I have to go to work.”

“
So do I,” he said. “I’m talking about when we’re alone together.” He shook his head sadly. “This is how it usually goes, Emily. Once I get started, you won’t be able to stand it.”

“Try me.”

“Oh, I will—but you might wish I hadn’t.”

“Has anyone
ever
let you have as much as you want?”

“Nope.
They’ve always worn out long before I did.”

“
Let’s see what happens, shall we? No promises, no regrets.”

Moving closer, she
wound her arms around his neck, her lips seeking his. Never having kissed him before, she was unprepared for how good he would taste or how soft his lips were compared to the rough brush of his beard. His body heat enveloped her, erasing her shivers with soothing warmth. The head of his cock poked her in the stomach, and his body tightened like a coiled spring.

What
on earth will happen when he finally snaps?

Wrapping
her fingers around his cock, she gave it a firm squeeze. Pre-cum gushed from his slit as she ran her thumb over the head, coating him with his own slick syrup. His cock was thick and hard within her grasp, and he groaned as she slid her fingers to the root.

“Good?”

“Oh, yeah,” he whispered. “Harder.
Please
.”

Not wanting to hurt him, she coaxed
out more fluid, getting her hand as wet as possible before doing as he’d asked. If he’d been telling the truth, she could jack him off three or four times before actually making love with him herself—and he would still have plenty of ammunition left.

Oh, wow…

Cupping her hand at the back of his neck, she pulled him down and kissed him, parting her lips as his tongue slipped into her mouth. Sucking his tongue the way she longed to suck his dick, she held his penis in a firm grasp, gliding up and down his shaft.

“I want you to come in my hand, Alan
,” she said against his lips. “Do you hear me? Come hard and come fast.”

“Keep talking
,” he urged, his voice taut with lust. “Say anything you want. Don’t sugarcoat it.”