Her Rebound Guy. Jennifer LohmannЧитать онлайн книгу.
is the famous Seamus,” he said, looking up at her. Seamus had a dopey grin on his face, his tongue lolling out to the side. The dog slobber added a shine to his nose, making Caleb even more perfect.
She nodded. “No green collar, though. Maybe for St. Patrick’s Day.”
He rocked back on his heels and then stood, still balancing the pizza box. “It’d look good on him. But the blue collar he has now looks good, too.”
“Thanks.”
They stood in her entryway, Seamus between them, looking back and forth, waiting for one of them to do something exciting. Give him a slice, probably. Lucky to be a dog and know both what he wanted and to not feel self-conscious about how to get it.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“That depends on what you want out of the night.” He held his arms out. It felt like an invitation, though she didn’t step inside them. Not yet. “I’m here. If you changed your mind about what I’m here for, I’ll take an Uber back to my car. No hard feelings. If you didn’t...”
“I didn’t,” she interrupted. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was changing her mind. “I’m just nervous. It’s been...” She paused. “A long time since I’ve done this.”
“Had sex?”
“Over a year for that. Divorce, you know.”
“I know,” he said with a slow nod and she felt that same instant connection she had in the bar, this sense that he understood her nerves and didn’t judge her for them. That she was safe.
“And sex during marriage is different,” she said.
“Well, sure. In the best case, you manage to be both experimental and steady about what gets the other person off. In the worst case...” He shrugged. She didn’t need him to finish that statement. In the worst case, you didn’t have sex and either your libido died a slow, lonely death or you relieved your frustrations elsewhere. Horrible cases, both.
“How about this? I need to wash the slobber off my face and Seamus probably wants a trip outside. Let’s take care of the practicalities and come back to reassess. We can talk. Drink a little wine. There’s pizza to eat. Calm the nerves a little.”
“Am I the only one that’s nervous?”
She must have caught him off guard, because his eyes went wide for a moment before returning to their regular, dreamy state. “I remember being nervous, but it’s been a long time. Maybe it went away. Maybe I just learned to ignore it.”
The other questions floating about her head settled into one decision. “The powder room is to the right. The kitchen is through there,” she said with a gesture of her hand. “The wine should be pretty easy to spot, if you want to open a bottle. The glasses should be easy to spot, too.”
“Okay,” he said with a long stride in the direction she’d pointed. She thought about it for a moment, but then she decided to be amused by how easily he moved through someone else’s house. If he was practiced, well, that would make the rest of the night, especially with her nerves, easier.
As soon as she heard the pizza box hit the counter, she set her purse down and snagged the leash.
Seamus did his business and then wandered back inside and straight into the kitchen to check out the new person in the house and the pizza. Beck dashed upstairs for the condoms she’d bought after signing up for online dating. They might make it back to her bedroom for round two, but she had spent the car ride imagining the snap of his buttons as she undressed him, and she didn’t plan to wait until after dinner. Nerves be damned.
Both Caleb and a glass of red waited for her when she walked into the kitchen. The wine glinted in the light above the center island. Caleb smiled at her and she had to take a deep breath before she was able to smile back. Tossing the strand of foil packets on the counter, she took the wine in her hand, tasted a sip just large enough to make her skin feel sensitive and then set the glass on the counter, next to the condoms.
He raised a brow at the string of condoms and then a corner of his lips rose as she took his glass from him and set that on the counter. But he didn’t say anything. His eyes followed her every movement as she walked around to stand directly in front of him and then lowered as she stepped close to him. It was her turn to be in his space. He smelled a lot like pizza and a little like wine and Dove soap.
The tip of her nose touched the underside of his chin, nudging his face up to expose his neck. “So, do we kiss first?”
She could feel his smile as the muscles of his face changed against her nose. “Is this Pretty Woman? Kisses aren’t part of the deal?”
He moved his chin a little and her nose bumped against his skin. “Which one of us are you implying is the prostitute?”
That question made her look up. His pupils had gotten big, making his eyes nearly a forest green with only the slight line of sea green around the edges. Angry? Aroused? Probably a little bit of both, given what she hadn’t meant to imply. “I’m not sure what to do,” she said.
“What do you want to do?” he asked, his voice deep and gravelly.
Beck pressed her two palms on either side of his face and pulled his head down to hers for a kiss. He had large, romantic lips and he knew how to use them. She sank into the kiss, sank into him and sank into the touch of another person.
She could disappear.
Their lips stayed connected as he sidestepped a couple feet to one of her barstools and hopped up on it. He opened up his knees and pulled her in between his legs, nibbling the edge of her lips and cradling her body in his. He was hard; she could feel that through his jeans and her thin skirt. Strong thigh muscles, too, probably from the biking he said he was into—her last conscious thought before he shifted forward in the stool, slipping his hands down her back to her butt and pushing her forward. The movement pressed the wetness of her panties against her and the evidence of her own desire aroused her more.
“This will be my first time in a long time,” she said after she pulled her mouth away and was dropping kisses on his jawbone. He had a sharp jawline and the scruff of his beard was rough against her skin. A good kind of rough. A rough that she would remember tomorrow, long after he had left.
“I know.” He leaned back in the chair, pressing harder against her. “You mentioned that.”
Emboldened by his casual acceptance, she shifted so that she could kiss her way down his neck. As she worked her way down from his neck, the buttons on his shirt popped open with the same satisfying noise that she had hoped they would. He sucked in his breath when she took his nipple into her mouth, the mess of dark hair she’d expected tickling her nose.
She had never wanted to enjoy the male body so much in her life. Never before wanted to explore its hard edges and soft lines, to match a kiss and a touch to a noise of pleasure. Like water, she’d thought of him before, only now he was water in a desert and she was thirsting. His fingers slipping beneath her underwear to her pussy hinted at the relief of a deep drink, though pressing her forehead against his chest wasn’t enough to quench her ache. His fingers stroked and twirled and played. If she didn’t think, she wouldn’t remember to breathe. Then there were no thoughts left to be had, no breath left to be had and she came in a glorious, light-filled rush.
“My turn,” he said.
She was too empty to pay much attention as he shifted her around a bit to undo his jeans and slip a condom on. His hands were back on her butt, lifting her and moving her, and suddenly she was straddling him on her tiptoes and he was inside her.
“Oh, God,” she said in a hot breath. “I have missed this.”
“Yeah,” he said, moving her on him in long strokes. His palms gripped her tightly, his fingers prodding into her flesh and guiding her where he wanted her to be. “Like it?”
“Yes,” she said,