Second Chance for Romance

Chapter 23

We made dinner in companionable silence, punctuated by plenty of smiles.

Christy broiled salmon steaks and cooked rice pilaf. Wren had left everything with instructions. I poured the wine and fixed a bowl of salad, no instructions required.

When everything was ready we took our plates into the dining room. On impulse, I searched drawers in the sideboard until I found what I was looking for. Then I made a production of fitting two long taper candles into holders.

“I thought we’d like some ambiance,” I said as I struck a match. “After all, it’s our first dinner alone together.”

“I’d’ve dressed nicer if I’d known,” Christy said. She was wearing a sky blue cashmere sweater that matched her eyes, along with light gray stirrup pants and dark blue leg warmers.

“Nah. You’re fine. At least you’re dressed nicer’n I am.” I gestured at my Park City sweatshirt and cutoff sweatpants.

“I dunno. I think you look ruggedly handsome.”

“Well then,” I said, and raised my glass, “to classically beautiful and ruggedly handsome.”

She laughed and clinked her glass against mine. Her eyes smiled at me over the rim as she drank.

“Oh ho!” I said. “Do I see flirty girl coming out?”

“Maybe,” she said coyly.

I refilled our glasses.

“We’d better eat before it gets cold,” she said.

We chatted about classes and projects as we did. Then we lingered over

the empty plates and finished the bottle of wine.

“Open another?” I suggested.

“Sure. Why not.”

“Let’s clean up first and then relax.”

“Okay.”

After we finished in the kitchen, we moved into the living room with our glasses and a fresh bottle of wine.

“You have homework?”

“Yeah,” she said, “but I don’t really wanna do it.”

“Me either. I feel like reading instead.”

She nodded.

“My book’s upstairs. Want me to get yours while I’m up there?”

“Sure. It’s on my nightstand.”

I returned a minute later. She was sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her. She held her wineglass loose in one hand and stared pensively at something only she could see. Her other hand was at her mouth, where she unconsciously sucked the tip of her thumb.

I watched her for a moment and felt a rush of pure longing. She seemed so small and fragile that I wanted to hold her and never let her go.

She looked up and saw me. Her expression went from cloudy to bright to cloudy again. “What?”

“Nothing. Just… you look really pretty.”

She blushed and studied her wineglass. “Thank you.”

I sat on the end of the couch and gestured for her to join me. She scooted closer, and I held out her book, The Little Drummer Girl.

“What’s it about?” I asked. “Any good?”

“It’s a spy novel. Israeli agents, Palestinian terrorists, an English actress.

It’s fun.”

“You’ll get along just fine with my mom,” I said with a chuckle. “She loves John le Carré. And Ian Fleming, Ken Follett, Robert Ludlum, all those guys.”

Christy smiled and then nodded at my book. “What’re you reading?”

“Prometheus Unbound.” I showed her. “It’s poetry, but not really. It’s a lyrical drama, basically a play.”

“Prometheus. Cool. He gave fire to mankind, right? I like that story. Will you read some to me?”

“Um… sure.”

Her smile lit up. She set her book on the floor and stretched out beside me. Then she rested her head on my leg and looked up at me with innocent blue eyes (that weren’t so innocent, I reminded myself).

“Comfy?” I teased.

“Yes, thank you.”

I opened the book and began reading. Then, ever so casually, I moved my left hand to her stomach.

She sighed instead of pushing me away, so I began rubbing gently. She closed her eyes.

I finished the page and turned to the next with one hand. I reached the end of a scene about ten minutes later.

“I love listening to you,” she said softly. “You take your time and don’t rush.”

And I’ll do the same to you, I thought.

She must’ve been thinking the same. Her breathing grew a bit quicker, and her nipples showed through her bra and sweater. I edged my hand toward them. Her eyes snapped open.

I smiled calmly and slid my fingers between her flattened breasts. I found her bra catch through her sweater. She still didn’t move or speak. I pinched the clasp and popped it apart. Her eyes widened at how easily I’d done it, but that was all.

“Take it off,” I said quietly. It wasn’t a request.

She sat up immediately but then stopped. “You too.”

“Me too what?”

“Your underwear.”

My eyebrows rose. “Okay,” I said at last. “But your panties too. All of it.

Off.”

She nodded jerkily. Then her eyes darted around the room.

“Trip’s office.”

She nodded and left the room.

I stood as soon as I heard the door close. Then I untied my shorts and shucked them and my boxers in one motion. My erection bobbed gently as I pulled the shorts back on. I sat down again and did my best to make my trapped hard-on look presentable.

Christy returned after a minute. She set her bra and panties on the chair. I smiled when I saw them. They were cobalt blue, a matching set, satin with lace trim.

I patted the couch next to me. Her eyes immediately went from my hand to the outline of my cock. She picked up her wineglass and drained it. Then she lay down and rested her head on my leg again.

I smiled and caressed her face, and she closed her eyes to savor the touch.

After a moment I returned my hand to her stomach and began moving my fingers. I picked up my book and started reading again.

Christy crossed her ankles and squeezed her thighs together. She was trying to be discreet, but I saw out of the corner of my eye.

I kept on reading, and my fingers moved in slow, ever-widening circles that eventually reached her breast. I squeezed the firm flesh through her sweater. She let out a sigh that turned into a moan when I circled her sensitive areola. The cashmere was so thin and her nipple so hard that I could feel the contours of it.

She re-crossed her legs and began rubbing her thighs together unobtrusively. I watched in my peripheral vision and wondered if she could get off that way. I decided to help, so I teased her nipple. She did her best but sighed in exasperation after fifteen minutes of fruitless pleasure.

“Sit up,” I said. “Kneel here, next to me.”

She moved into place, and her leg felt warm and soft next to mine.

“Give me your left hand.” I placed it on my erection, and her fingers closed automatically. “Good?”

She nodded silently. Her nipples rose and fell with her aroused breathing.

I kissed her, long and lingering, and tweaked her nipple as we separated.

Then I gently tugged her toward me. She moaned and kissed me again. Her fingers tightened around my cock. My shorts were loose enough that she could grasp it almost completely.

“Go slow,” I said. “Patience, remember?”

She swallowed hard and nodded.

I took a sip of wine. Then I held the glass to her lips and let her drink as well.

“Thank you,” she said, the first words she’d spoken since before she’d taken off her underwear. “I was thirsty.”

I kissed her again and we began making out. She was tentative at first, so I didn’t push things. She became adventurous as her comfort level grew. She kissed my cheeks and down my chin. Then she nuzzled the hollow of my neck. Her kisses were soft but insistent.

I pulled her closer. She gasped when I grabbed a handful of her ass and

squeezed. The thin fabric of her stirrup pants felt like a second skin. After a moment I grasped her left hand and used it to stroke my cock through my shorts. I let her continue on her own and cupped her breast again.

Her lips found mine, and she sucked my tongue. She laughed when my dick jumped in her hand.

“I think he likes me.”

“Hmm, lemme think.” I pretended to ponder for a moment. “He does,” I said at last. “I mean, I don’t get an erection unless I like someone.”

She grinned.

“Maybe you can see it for real sometime. Not just modeling or through my shorts.”

“I’d… like that.”

“And maybe you can draw it.”

Her eyes lit up.

“But…”

“But…?”

“We should probably slow down. I know that’s probably the last thing you thought you’d hear from me, but…” I shrugged. “I can’t explain it.” Oh, I could, I thought, but not with your hand on my cock.

“I… understand.” She frowned and turned thoughtful. “Is it me? Because I’m not…?”

“Not what?”

She blushed and looked down. “A virgin.”

I actually laughed.

She leapt up and tried to run away, but I caught her wrist.

“Sit down,” I said. She tried to pull away, so I put some authority in my voice. “Sit!”

She obeyed immediately.

“Look at me.”

She did.

“It has nothing to do with you. I couldn’t care less if you’re a virgin. No, I take that back. I’m glad you’re not.” I took a moment to gather my thoughts.

“Look,” I said at last, “I want to slow down for me. I have… a complicated history. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“I don’t care about any of that!”

“You should. ’Cause it affects you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. And I can’t explain. Not now. Not yet. And definitely not after such a nice night.” I lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “I like you. And I want to get to know you better. But we have to go slow. If you were any other girl, someone I didn’t really care about, I’d take you upstairs and fuck you silly.”

She blushed at my choice of words but didn’t object to the idea itself.

“But I do like you,” I continued, “so I don’t want to screw this up. I…

need to figure out how to tell you some things. Okay?”

She nodded.

“And I can’t do that when we’re making out with our hands all over each other.”

“I know. I can’t…”

“I can’t help it either. You make me want to do naughty things to you.

Seriously naughty.”

She lowered her eyes and smiled.

I had a thought. “You know why we work out?” I said. “Trip and I lift weights; you and Wren do aerobics. We play sports; you go to the pool.”

She nodded.

“No pain, no gain, right?”

“Of course. But what’s that—?”

“Be patient. I’ll get there.”

“Sorry.”

“Tonight’s pain is that we both go to bed horny and alone.”

She thought about it and nodded.

“I really wanna sleep with you, but we’d both feel guilty in the morning.”

She started to deny it, but I stopped her. It was the wine talking. “You would, and you know it. And I’d feel guilty for taking advantage of you when you were drinking.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“The long-term gain from tonight is that we might actually have a chance at a real relationship. I don’t want another notch on my bedpost.”

“I don’t want that either.”

“So I’d rather slow down and do things right. No pain, no gain. Does that make sense?”

“Yes.”

I chuckled softly. “Sometimes doing the right thing is hard.”

“You can say that again.”

“Sometimes doing the right thing is hard.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “I knew you were gonna do that!”

I grinned and kissed her gently, but pulled back before we could heat things up again. “Other times doing the hard thing is right.”

Her eyes widened.

I chuckled but then turned serious again. “I had a good night.”

“Me too.”

“But give me some time. Let me figure out how to tell you things. And then we’ll do it again. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“In the meantime, I really need some time alone, if you know what I mean.”

She laughed. “Me too.”

My eyebrows shot up.

“It’s a sin,” she said. “I know, but… I can’t help myself.”

I surprised her with a kiss and let it heat up this time. After a moment I pulled her hand to my erection. She began stroking and moaned into my mouth when I teased her nipple. I felt my resolve weakening, so I gently pushed her away before it failed completely.

“I thought I’d give you some inspiration,” I said guiltily. “But if we do that again, I’m gonna forget everything I just said and have my way with you, right here, right now.”

Her eyes asked what was wrong with that.

I chuckled. “We will. Trust me. And not on our wedding night.” God! I’d done it again! “Just be patient. No pain, no gain.”

She nodded.

“Now,” I said matter-of-factly, “if I don’t go upstairs, my pain is gonna be blue balls.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” she teased.

“Hey, I dunno if there’s a female equivalent—”

“There is. Sort of.”

“—but I know you’ll be suffering too if you don’t… you know.”

“Go upstairs and commit a sin?”

“It isn’t a sin.” I touched her face and lifted it to mine. “It’s natural.

Everyone does it. Just because a bunch of celibate old men say it’s wrong doesn’t make it so.”

“I know. It’s just…”

“I get it. You have a lifetime of Sunday school that tells you one thing, but your body tells you another.”

“Exactly.”

“Listen to your body.”

“I don’t have much choice. She’s screaming at the top of her lungs.”

“‘She’?” I asked with a grin. “Do you have a nickname for her? Miss Kitty?”

Her cheeks turned rosy and she shook her head.

“That’s okay. I’ll think of one. But for now… we’d better stop.” I stood and pulled her with me. My erection had softened a bit, but it still made a healthy bulge in my shorts.

Christy grinned at it.

“Whoa, don’t make me regret what I’m about to do. Seriously. Stop looking at it. You’ll just encourage it.”

“Him.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Your penis. It’s a him.”

“Okay, it’s a him.” The bulge was turning into a tent again. “But I need to go take care of him, or he’s gonna do it himself. Now, upstairs. March!”

“Yes, sir, captain, sir!” She saluted. Then she dashed toward the stairs.

I raced after her, but she was too quick.

We came to a halt at her bedroom door, breathing hard and grinning.

I quickly grew serious. She looked up, and her eyes found mine. I bent to kiss her but kept it short and sweet.

“Thank you for tonight,” she said softly. “It was nice.”

“It was. And I take back what I said after the party.”

“What’s that?”

“This is the best no-sex not-date I’ve ever had.”

She grinned and stretched upward for another kiss.

“Goodnight,” I said at last. “I’ll see you in the morning. We’ll talk.”

“Okay.” She smiled and closed her door.

I took a deep breath and slowly walked to my room. I replayed the evening in my head as I kicked off my shorts and pulled the sweatshirt over my head.

“Yep,” I said to Wren, wherever she was, “three to zip. Gonna be a shutout, I think.”