“Not in this lifetime.”
“I could get used to having you around.”
His words pleased her absurdly. But not, as they were supposed to, simply because they meant she was succeeding at reeling him in. They pleased her because it was really pleasant to be liked. Really pleasant to be with him out here on a beautiful night.
They walked until the sand ended and the rocky shore began, swinging hands, letting their bare feet swish through the water’s edge. Then they turned and retraced the journey, passing the house, meandering along the beach until rock reclaimed the shoreline again on the other side of the property.
Back at the house, they returned to their seats on the swing with big glasses of ice water, chatting some, but already comfortable with silences.
Sandra hadn’t felt so at peace, so content with a man...ever. Maybe with some of her gay friends in the theater. But even they were always wanting to talk, to share themselves. She’d always wondered why people seemed to open up to her so easily. Maybe Erik was right, maybe they came to her because she didn’t tell them anything in return, didn’t burden them back with a need for opinion or advice.
They talked on, until the moon was high and Sandra was tired of talking. She put down her water and pulled her top up. And off.
Erik stopped talking.
She folded the shirt, took off her bra, folded it neatly, too, and carefully tossed the clothes onto the chair next to the swing.
Then she sat, letting the swing rock, one arm along the back of the cushion behind them, the other on the side.
“Sandra.” His voice was husky in the near darkness.
“Yes, Erik?”
“You are beautiful.”
His touch when it came was not carnal, not greedy, but reverent, gentle. She hid her climbing arousal, kept her body relaxed, and he controlled his, keeping his movements slow, unhurried. Gradually she got used to the steady simmer of desire and let herself sink into the sensations. His hands were smooth and capable, testing the weight of each breast, moving over them in leisurely caresses. His mouth found her nipples one at a time, sucking and exploring with firm lips, swirling warm patterns with his tongue.
Only once did she betray her reaction, when her breath caught as his teeth gently grazed her areola. Then gradually the sweetness became confused with too much lust, and she turned the corner from wanting power over him to wanting him. But just as she opened her mouth to surrender, to tell him he could give it to her any way he wanted, he stopped, lifted his head, and kissed her gently.
“Thank you, Sandra. You are an amazing woman.”
“You’re welcome.” She sounded as dazed as she felt, already missing his touch. Not since grade school had a guy stopped after petting, and back then it was because she made him. Erik could have done whatever he wanted.
“Ready for sleep?” He stood, solidly masculine, holding out his hand to her as he had earlier that evening, the consummate gentleman, except for the erection pushing out his shorts.
Ready for sleep. Not ready for bed. He was honoring her rules.
Sandra didn’t want honorable. She wanted sex.
Giving him her hand, she let him pull her up and lead her inside and to the second floor. She was supposed to be guiding this. She was supposed to be doling out the sexual favors one by one, and here he was leaving her in a state of such violent arousal, she was going to have to bring herself off in bed.
“Good night.” He pulled her to him and kissed her. Once. A nice, sweet good-night. Twice. Longer, his mouth lingering. The third time she responded, pressing her body against his. A second later, she found herself backed against the wall, his erection pressing into her, his eyes glazing with lust.
“Good night, Erik.” She managed a smile and slid out from under him, headed down the hall to her room, knowing he was watching. But instead of feeling triumphantly back in control, she felt dirty, ashamed of the cheap bait-and-switch she’d pulled on an honorable guy.
In her room, she collapsed onto the bed, badly shaken. In one day Erik had changed from the guy she had to teach a lesson to, into someone she had to defend herself against or...
Or what?
She didn’t know. All she knew was that for the first time in many years, she was in a position she swore up and down she never would be again.
Way over her head in a situation she herself had instigated.
11
“SO YOU’RE GETTING a second interview―that’s great.”
“Yes.” Allie nodded several times to make up for the lack of energy in her voice. “They seemed really excited about me.”
Julie flicked her a glance. She was standing in front of the full-length mirror on her bedroom door, wearing skintight black pants and a belted tunic, clothes strewn over every available surface except the bed space Allie occupied. Tonight Julie was going out Wednesday-night clubbing with her boyfriend, David, and friends from work at Condé Nast. Apparently none of the gazillion outfits she’d tried on already made the correct fashion statement. “I’m sure they’re excited about you. But you don’t seem that excited about them.”
“No, no, I am. I need a job. They have one I can do. It’s perfect.”
“Oh whee, that sounds thrilling.” Julie yanked off the belt and tunic. “I give up on these pants. Nothing looks right with them.”
Uh...tight black pants on a tall, model-perfect body like hers? Everything looked right with them. Allie had given up on suggestions half an hour before. Julie certainly had strong ideas about how she didn’t want to look. Eventually she’d stumble over how she did. “It is thrilling. My long weeks of unemployment could be just about over, and I might not starve. That’s cause for celebration.”
“When are you going back to Lake George?” Julie turned to her dresser and started rummaging in her bottom drawer.
At the mention of the lake, Allie felt an immediate stab of misery. “I thought I’d rent a van and go tomorrow, early. Just pick up the clothes and come back the same day.”
“What? You’re not staying up there?” Julie straightened, holding a black camisole with a glittering floral design. “But Jonas will be there for the weekend.”
“I know, I know.” Allie flopped over onto her back and glared at the ceiling. She’d been having this battle with herself for the past two days. “I just don’t see the point of going back there, falling for him harder and then saying goodbye. I don’t want to date someone I see once a month.”