Читать книгу Sets Appeal - Virginia Taylor - Страница 7

Vix tried to ease her shoulders. Not knowing which was JD’s preferred side of the bed, she had taken the middle, lying on her back, hands at her side, looking available—or looking like a tomb effigy. Sighing, she sat up, chin on her knees, fingers thrumming on her shins. Perhaps posing on her side, one hand under her head and facing the door would look more appealing, more casual. She quickly rolled, wishing she had something to do while she waited, but a woman couldn’t do a lot in a strange bedroom other than wait and try not to feel apprehensive.

Finally, the bathroom door opened and he appeared in the bedroom doorway, still dressed. He tilted his eyebrows at her, stalked toward her, and dropped a single packaged condom onto the bedside table nearest the door. Taking the hint, she scooted to the other side, staring at him. He stared back, his eyes refocusing on her lacy, flesh-colored underwear. With a sexy hitch of his mouth, he pulled his shirt over his head, baring a lightly fuzzed upper body packed with muscles. Her breath shortened.

She didn’t want to stare, but he had a physique nothing short of magnificent. Turning his back on her, he sat on the bed and removed his shoes. He stood to unbutton his waistband, but before unzipping, he picked up his socks, shoes, and shirt. In a bundle, he tossed everything into his wardrobe and, as she watched, his jeans followed.

He looked stunning from the back view. Surely, a rough-around-the-edges man like him would get her through this. Unfortunately, she could barely breathe after he turned. The well-marked length of his enormous erection showed clearly beneath his cotton jocks. She moistened her dry mouth, holding the bed cover so tightly that her fingers locked. As he swung onto the bed beside her, she swooped the covering to her chin in an automatic reaction.

“Shouldn’t you be naked?” He sounded relaxed.

She cleared her throat, willing herself not to blush. “Shouldn’t you?”

“Not yet.” Facing her, the expression on his face looked wary. He ran a thumb slowly across her collarbone.

She shivered, a reaction she couldn’t control. “Could you turn out the light?”

“I could. Do I have to?”

“Yes.” She swallowed.

He swiveled around and switched off the bedside lamp. The heat of his body hovered, and she could smell toothpaste, which she now wished she had used. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she could see his looming shape as he gathered her up against him. His overlong silky hair touched her cheek, tickling, and his bristles scraped her chin. Then, his palm slipped beneath the strap of her bra. She put up a hand to stop him, but he snapped the elastic onto her upper arm.

Reacting like a petulant schoolgirl, she pushed against his hard shoulders. “No, don’t.”

“Don’t what?” His mouth slid from her chin to the top of her breast.

“Don’t touch me. Just do what you have to.”

“Okay,” he said, his tone careful. Within a second, he was sitting on her thighs.

She wouldn’t have minded lying that way forever, or at least until she could regulate her breathing, but she assumed she would eventually have to move her legs. Fortunately, he couldn’t see her or the expression on her face, which would be somewhere between nervous and puzzled. She tried to sound interested in proceeding. “Are you going to keep sitting on me?” she said in what she hoped sounded like a sophisticated voice. Her heart thudded like a drum.

“If I did, that would make doing what I have to do fairly difficult.” He pushed her hair back with a single, casual finger, a gentle touch like a caress, but he didn’t need to placate her. He simply needed to get the whole thing over and done with. “What’s your next order?”

“I don’t have one.” She wet her lips.

“Well, do you mind if I follow my own plan?”

“As long as... No, please go ahead,” she said, at a loss and wishing she didn’t want to tear the sheet off his bed and run. She hadn’t thought the whole encounter through. A man like him, well, he would be ultra-experienced. Women would flock around him. He would need to bat them off. She had chosen wisely, but she didn’t have the nous to follow through. Breathing through her nose, she tried to relax.

He took each of her hands in his and, calloused palm against stiff palm, he raised them to the pillow beside her head. His mouth touched on hers, and stayed, lightly teasing. Her breathing sped up, her skin heated, and she tingled where she should. Now would be a good time to get the act over and done with. She arched her back, prepared to change to a more promising position while he buried his face into her neck, his breath shorter than she might have expected. Then, his knees edged hers apart. She tensed as his shape pressed between her legs. He exhaled and his grip froze.

Momentarily, she coped with the heightening sensation but he made a noise like a growl and slid down farther down her body, taking both her bra straps to her elbows. She flipped her chest sideways. “No. Please.”

He rolled off her, sat up, and turned on the light, blinking at her. With a wary expression on his face, he said, “How about a glass of milk?”

“A glass of milk? You don’t want to…you can’t…I didn’t mean…I just don’t like being naked.”

“So you implied.” He eased off the bed and disappeared.

She sat hugging herself, hearing him clatter in the kitchen. She should leave. At the very least, she should be fully dressed when he returned, not foolishly expecting him to try again. Her eyes heated, and she blinked hard. Although he’d implied he would be cooperative, apparently if he couldn’t do as he wished, he wouldn’t do anything, and what he wanted to do was paw her all over.

Her chin at an upward tilt, she moved to the side of the bed. If he preferred being in the kitchen to having sex with a willing woman, he could swill to his heart’s content. Then again, her pride wouldn’t let her escape until she had made a concerted effort. Chewing at her forefinger, she slid her cold feet back under the spread. While she made no decision whatsoever, he reappeared holding two frosted glasses. He placed one on the console beside her.

“Do you not like being touched by me, or by anyone?”

She reached for the milk. “I think touching is unnecessary, that’s all. It puts me off when I’m prepared to…when I’m willing to…when I’m thinking about…oh, great heavens, I don’t find these things easy to talk about.” She cleared her throat and took a sip of her drink. “And you’re my first anyone, aside from my husband—my ex.”

He bent his head and gazed into his glass. “Your first, huh? That’s a flattering disadvantage. I don’t know what I’m competing with here, but I imagine every man has his own way of doing things. I like to take my time and play around for a while before sex.”

“I like to get the act over with.”

He gave her a sidelong glance while he slowly rubbed his bristled jaw. Then he shrugged. “I like women. I like to touch. I know what pleasures me. I like to see my woman pleasured, too. If I have to forgo that, I might as well jerk myself off.”

She straightened, grimacing. “Crudely put, but basically if I don’t let you touch me, I don’t get anything?”

“Right,” he said in a confident drawl. “You get the full trip or nothing at all.”

“This isn’t fair.”

His eyebrows lifted as if he was waiting for her to change her mind.

For a moment, she wavered. “Then, you’ll get what you want, but I won’t.” Hoping she sounded logical rather than petulant, she leaned back.

“I’m willing to go without if I can’t have what I want. Are you?” He pulled at his earlobe.

“There’s a difference,” she said, her voice husky with embarrassment. She cleared her throat. “I don’t know what I want.” Resting her cheek on her up-drawn knees, she angled her head away from him.

The black of night showed through the white roller blind. No window in his house had been curtained. His floors were bare wood and not a single wall held a picture. He owned nothing but the bare essentials and none looked new or trendy. She had assumed he owned this house when she’d entered, but likely he didn’t. This was a rental, and he’d recently moved in.

“You want me,” he said in a secure voice. “But…I’m more than my dick.”

She reached over him and carefully placed her empty glass on his bedside table. “And what else do you think made me come here with you?”

“You drove me here.”

“For one reason. And you haven’t even opened the condom.” Her bottom lip quivered, and she felt as unattractive as a woman could be.

“I’m not ready.”

“You look ready.”

“Peeking, are you? Well, then, perhaps I ought to open the condom.” With a frown of concentration, he reached for the plastic pack that he didn’t seem able to open. He tried tearing across one corner and then the other. He tried with his teeth. He sighed. “Damn.”

“Haven’t you done this before?”

He didn’t answer.

“Pass it to me.” She reached over him.

He evaded her. The pack ripped in two in his hands. Unfortunately, the condom ripped, too. He sat with a ring in one hand and a bubble in the other. He slowly turned his head, and he stared her straight in the eyes. “Now what?”

“Don’t you have another?”

“What do you think?”

“Surely you buy these things in multiples.” She frowned.

“Sure, if I am expecting to use them in multiples. I didn’t know you’d insist on me dropping my pants on the first date.”

“This isn’t a date.”

He lifted his palms. “So, you’ve answered your own question. I suppose I could go out and buy some, but I don’t have a car. You would have to drive me.”

“I might as well go home if I have to dress and leave.” She glanced at his semi-naked, beautiful body, and her insides curled with frustration. “Perhaps this was meant to be.”

He put the remains of the condom on the table. “The hand of man moves in mysterious ways.” He gave a soft laugh. “At least this takes the pressure off. We don’t have to do anything we don’t want to do.”

“Don’t have to?” she echoed hollowly. Her feet found his cold floorboards again, this time more decisively. “I’ll go.” She reached for her skirt, determined not to look at him again.

“This is great,” he said in a morose voice. “JD. Just Dick.”

“Look, I came here for sex. I don’t want another glass of milk. We don’t know each other well enough to have a deep and meaningful convers—”

He tipped her onto the bed. “We can rectify that.”

She stared into his strong-boned face, and he dropped a wonky kiss on the side of her mouth. One muscled arm lifted her and gathered her against his warm chest.

“We can do quite a bit of getting to know each other, or if you won’t let me touch you, you can do quite a bit of getting to know me. By touch.”

“And why would I want to do that?” Her insides began to jitter. From the very first, he had put a smile on her face and a hot tickle in her belly. He made her hope, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had hoped for anything. Mainly, she had endured, and she had expected to endure forever, because she was, after all, a Tremain, a member of a family known for sheer hard work since the days of colonial settlement.

His warm breath heated her ear. “Because I feel good.”

And because he did, she slid both palms over his back, noting that he flexed each muscle she touched. His confidence and his encouragement helped. To have half a sensuous experience doubled that she’d had previously.

“What do you do when you’re not building sets?” she said against his hard, warm chest, palms resting lightly on his smooth skin.

“Any sort of construction.” He switched off the bedside lamp.

She lifted herself onto one forearm. “I’m supposed to be touching you.”

“Yeah, well, too much touching, and we won’t get any sleep.”

He pulled up the cover, circling an arm around the small of her back. She relaxed into him, resting her head on his shoulder, her hand comfortable on his bicep. He was warm and calm, and he breathed slowly and deeply. When he fell asleep, she could have left. But she felt safe.

And she, too, slept.

* * * *

“Hey, JD!”

Jay moved his face out of the pillow and opened his eyes.

“How was last night?” called the same female voice that wasn’t coming from the startled blonde nestled against his chest.

“You have a visitor,” Vix said in a whisper, looking panicked.

Curling his hand over her hip, he kissed the tip of her nose. She looked as lovely in the morning as she had the night before, and he wanted her as much as he had the night before. Maybe he could…

The fridge door slammed. “Champagne. Can I open it?” he heard from the kitchen.

He lifted himself on one elbow, focused, frowned, and rolled over to face the door. “No,” he shouted as he sat up and leaped out of the bed in two quick motions. “Shit.”

“Don’t be pathetic,” Ilona yelled. “You bought it for me. I’ll bring in two glasses.”

“No!” He pulled on his jeans. “I’ll come out there.” He sped out of the bedroom, in full grump mode, arriving in the kitchen in time to see Ilona slide a bottle of champagne onto the table. “Put that back.”

She gave him a sideways, flirtatious smile and found two clean champagne glasses. “You dressed just for me?”

“Give me a break.”

“Normally you sleep naked.” With an uncaring expression on her face, she finger-combed her long blond hair, arranging the bulk over one shoulder and giving her seductive pout.

“What do you want?”

She wore panda eye makeup and her short tight skirt looked like a bandana, missing only the knot. “Something to eat. Were you saving that pizza for anyone?”

“Couldn’t you simply raid the fridge and leave me to sleep?” He put the champagne back in the fridge but took out last night’s leftover pizza and placed it on the table for her.

“Don’t be a grouch. Give me a cuddle.” She walked into his arms where she stayed, rubbing her face against his bare chest. “Mm-mm. I love you, Jay. You’ve got the tightest behind in the world.” She groped the aforesaid, which annoyed the hell out of him, but remaining patient, he put her hand behind her. She laughed softly.

“Take the pizza and go.” He kissed her forehead, messed her hair, and moved out of her reach.

“Where did you get the car? Did you rob a bank?” She picked up the slice of pizza and took a bite. Her expression looked too casual.

He blinked, remembering Vix’s Mercedes outside. His shoulders stiffened. “It belongs to a friend.”

“Who?” She glanced towards the bedroom.

He suppressed the urge to guard the door. If these two women ever met, the last place should be in his bedroom. Knowing women, he would be the one attacked for a situation not of his making. “No one you know. What’s the time?”

“About eight. I’m on my way home. Late night. I thought I’d stop by and tell you I won’t be going today. You don’t mind, do you?” She took another big bite of the pizza.

“No. That’s okay.”

Her focus again on the bedroom, she nodded. “See you later, then. Thanks for the breakfast.” She snatched up the remains of the pizza slice and, with her high heels clattering across the floorboards, she left by the back door for which she had a key.

One day he would ask for his key back, but he couldn’t abandon her yet. She needed him, if only for champagne and pizza breakfasts, and while she was free to drop by whenever she chose, he knew she was okay.

Now he had to make his explanations in the bedroom, which he approached cautiously, wondering why. He’d slept with Vix, yes, but that was all. The crisp underwear she’d arrived in had barely been disturbed, unfortunately. He found, despite his body having other ideas, that he couldn’t casually screw a woman who was afraid of sex. This said nothing for her ex-husband. Nor did her lack of confidence, which he’d spent his waking time last night trying not to erode further, and he also wondered why.

“Keep looking,” he said, cheered by the way her big blue eyes skimmed over him as he walked through the doorway of the bedroom. “I don’t mind being admired.”

“So who admires you?”

“Too bad about that condom.”

“Too bad about your mother.”

“Who?”

“No doubt that was your mother in the kitchen?” She gave him a faked smile.

“Nope.” He moved towards her, knowing she’d been married to an unfaithful prick who clearly hadn’t treated her well in the bedroom. Jay was a sucker for a woman in distress. Vix also had body issues, which she hadn’t changed by making her figure into one of the shapeliest he had ever seen. Although her most noticeable attributes were physical, in all the subjects they had covered at the party while tentatively assessing each other as bedmates, not once had she talked about herself.

He knew her opinion on the weather, musicals versus plays, comedies versus tragedies, the last musical to hit town, the university drama course, and the benefits of volunteering to get a job. And nothing about herself, other than hearsay from Ilona, in that she hadn’t deserved her rich, brilliant husband, Tim Nolan.

As she had last night, she pulled the covers to her chin. Her hair looked messy but glossed with health, and her eyes shone with suspicion. “Are you going to tell me who she is?”

He stared at her, contemplating a morning of exploratory sex now that they knew more about each other. A one-night stand with her would have been doomed to fail. She thought she wanted a hard dick and nothing more. Apparently, that was all she’d ever had. He could give her much more. He could give her pleasure. If he had taken her last night, she would have been shocked by his speed, and so would he. A quick screw wasn’t for him, nor for a woman who needed much more, though at this stage, he didn’t quite know what she needed. He only knew he didn’t perform to order, though of course he could have. The moment he had seen her, he had wanted her but he wanted her to relax and enjoy sex the way he did. He wanted her to enjoy him.

“I’ll have the first shower,” he said, breathing through his teeth. He was the master of self-punishment. “She’s just a friend, no one you need worry about.”

“Nothing worries me,” said the woman who was afraid of him looking at her naked body in the light. “I just wanted to be sure that I’m not the wrong part of a threesome.”

He gave her a light kiss on the lips and went to his wardrobe, snatching out a few articles of clothing. She had been the wrong part of a threesome while she was married. Lonny, the other participant, had just walked out his door.

During the next couple of months, if his attraction to this surprisingly appealing woman didn’t fade, his balancing act would be a tad shaky.

* * * *

With a smile on her face, Vix stepped into JD’s slippery bath to take a shower. JD was clearly attracted to her, which was pretty darned fantastic, but he and she weren’t meant to be. The condom had proved that. He’d made her feel sexy, but nothing had happened. She could leave this morning without any regrets and without feeling cheap. And never, ever, would she drink too much again.

She wondered how his face had looked before the scar. Probably not quite as tough. He had regular features with a good strong nose and jaw. His skin was clear and tanned and his stubble held a glint of gold. The old white line of his scar was only a slight disfiguration. Before he’d asked, she hadn’t concentrated on his eye color, just the appealing gleam of interest, but after he had questioned her, she had noted the unusual khaki green.

She washed her hair with his man-shampoo, knowing that with squeaky-clean hair she wouldn’t feel so bad about not putting on fresh underwear. Maybe she could send him a big box of chocolates to thank him for his consideration last night. She would mention the doubtful state of her sobriety, which would excuse her slutty behavior. Though, his tousled, bristled look this morning was still a turn on. She blew out a breath, awed by the over-activity of her hormones.

After rinsing off, she stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself in a thin blue towel. Looking for a hair dryer, she searched his bathroom cabinet, but she didn’t find one. However, she did find a box of condoms big enough to give the impression he could service the whole of the state’s sexually active females without having to buy extra supplies.

She sucked in her bottom lip, even more ashamed of herself. The woman in the kitchen this morning must have been his girlfriend. For some reason, she hadn’t attended the production party with him last night and today she had cancelled a date. He hadn’t taken this amiss. Clearly, he and she trusted each other, and with good reason. Last night, he had faked the condom mishap with Vix because he didn’t know how else to get himself off the hook with a prospective workmate who had practically ordered him to service her, as if she had the right.

Her face flared red and hot. Champagne was clearly far more insidious than she thought. She tried to remember if he had been drinking, but although he had filled her glass, he hadn’t been holding one of his own.

However, despite not being even slightly intoxicated, he had wanted her. Even someone inexperienced with men could see that. At the party, his gaze had lingered on her face and his eyes had gleamed with interest. Without a hint from her, he suggested the ride home, and when he said coffee, his voice had purred with innuendo. In bed, his physical reaction was blatant and quite exciting. Although she didn’t know too much about men, she knew an aroused male when she saw one. Given the opportunity to be unfaithful…he couldn’t, unlike her ex-husband.

She toweled her hair as dry as she could and dressed quickly. Preparing to be as casual about the awkward morning-after as he was, she re-entered the bedroom, gathered up her handbag, retraced her steps to the bathroom, and applied her makeup. Without a hair dryer, her hair behaved unfashionably. Sighing, she swirled a knot on the top of her head and, holding the bun in place, she padded into the kitchen, knowing her blond hair looked fake and her skirt was too short and tight.

He stood over an ancient electric stove, which over the years had been chipped of white enamel on the corners, watching a pan full of sizzling calories. He smiled at her.

Her hormones overreacted with a perceptible thud. “Do you have a pencil I can borrow?” she asked in a voice that came out husky. She evaded his gaze.

He reached into an overhead cupboard and pulled one out. “Will this do?”

She wriggled the HB through her hair. “I hope you’re not cooking break—”

“You look nice.”

She angled her head on the side. “You don’t need to fake interest.”

“Okay. I’ll file that. How many eggs do you want?”

“One.”

“Should I flip over your egg?”

“No. Oh, glory. I haven’t had a fried egg in a year.” She sat at the gray-painted table that matched the gray-painted chairs that screamed to be stripped along with the lovely, uncovered Baltic pine floor.

“I hope you’re not allergic.”

“Only to calories.” She cleared her throat. If she tried for a normal conversation, she could get through this awkwardness. “They’re gorgeous old chairs, those clunky ones. I suspect you would find satinwood beneath that gray paint. They’re art deco, I think.”

“Like this table and the chairs. They all starred in Noel and Gertie and they’ve been heavily repaired by me, which is how I got them as a job lot for forty dollars after the production.”

“Noel and Gertie? I saw that.”

“What did you think?”

“The set was shades of gray, although only four, and Noel and Gertie wore black and white throughout the show. The old film look was effective, and I would have been impressed if I hadn’t known it was a copy of the Broadway set.”

“Did you see the Broadway show?”

She nodded. “Before I was married, when I wanted to see every set I could.”

“I didn’t know it was a copy.” He rubbed his chin. “I built that set from…er, the designer’s drawings.”

“You don’t have to name names. He always copies his sets. It’s a shame there’s no copyright. I don’t understand people who don’t want to experiment with ideas of their own.”

“Nor do I. Speaking of which, you heard me stood up this morning. I don’t need a date, but you might be interested in coming, anyway.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Because?”

“We’ll be in the warehouse we use for set-building. It’s where you’ll be painting, too. You might want to look the place over while we’re playing indoor volleyball.”

“Who is we?”

“The construction team. We like to keep fit.”

“So do I. How did you plan to get there?”

“My date would have driven me.” With wide-eyed mock innocence, he pressed his lips together and leaned back, watching her face, having finished at least half his full plate of bacon and eggs.

Trying not to smile, she gave him a cool, so-that’s-why-you-want-me glance, which she wished she had given to Tim. “Do you only ask women who own cars to be your dates?”

“It’s cheaper than getting taxis.” He lowered his chin and gazed at her. And he gave her that creased, almost dimpled, smile again.

She laughed. If she checked the paints and brushes today, she would know what she needed tomorrow when she planned to buy her supplies.

Since nothing had happened last night, she could put aside the episode. Today she and JD could be the workmates they should be. Probably.