Light Her Fire (Private Pleasures 2)

She grinned, which he probably couldn’t see, and shivered, which he felt and misinterpreted, because he promptly shifted his weight to his arms.

“Shit, I’m crushing you.”

“No, you’re not. It’s okay,” she tacked on, because she wasn’t ready for him to move yet, but he was already pushing himself upright. When he pulled out a little, she quickly arched her back, trying to keep him still…more from a wish to delay the impending loss than any rawness, but he brought his hand down between their bodies again and began stroking her overstimulated sex. She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, but even so, little pleading noises leaked out.

“Easy. I know we went hard, but now I’m going to be very, very gentle. I’m going to make every bit of this feel good.”

Good? The man was a master of understatement. Everything under his hand tingled. She bit her lip and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Okay. I’m going to pull out nice and slow. All you have to do to earn a topping off is keep your sweet ass still. Got it?”

She nodded again and brought her hand down between her thighs to cover his. Teamwork. He kept his word and let his fingers strum over her intimately while he pulled out, inch by precious inch. Even so, when he left her completely, she heard herself groan.

And she also heard his, “Oh, shit.”

…

He stared at the torn condom. The useless latex hung from his dick like ravaged battle flag. Melody shot upright and sent him an anxious look. Then she saw the ruined condom and her eyes widened. “Oh, no.”

Fuck. He had a bad feeling she’d just answered his next question, but he asked anyway. “I don’t suppose you’re on the pill, or—?”

“No.” She jumped down and ran out of the kitchen muttering, “No. No. Oh God. Don’t panic.”

Hard to refrain, given her reaction. The weight of obligations, and expenses, and a vision of him stuck in this pissant town forever landed on his chest like a trio of sandbags. Intending to follow her, he quickly rolled the condom off and disposed of it in the kitchen trash, and then buttoned up. She rushed into the kitchen again, phone clutched in her hand. “It’s okay. We’re okay.” As if just realizing he still stood there, she looked at him and repeated, “We should be okay.” Then she tapped the small screen with a shaking hand and flashed some fancy calendar at him. “According to my app, it’s the wrong time of the month.” She flipped the screen back to herself, scrolled a few times, and nodded. “Luckily, I’m extremely reliable.”

A wave of relief washed the sandbags off his chest. He drew in his own overdue breath and nodded. “Good to know. I also know surprises happen. Keep me posted.” Realizing he sounded high-handed, he added, “I’m healthy. I’m careful. I’ve never had a snafu like this before, and I passed a comprehensive physical before accepting this job.”

“I’ve got a clean bill of

health, too.” She said it so fast, she practically spoke over him, as if she thought her status was his real worry. “Roger never cheated on me—he says so and I believe him—but when he finally told me the truth about his feelings, and…who he was…he insisted I get tested for my own peace of mind.” She shrugged, absently pulled at the sliding neckline of her shirt, and gave a self-conscious laugh. “He’d lose sleep worrying I was losing sleep, worrying. Anyway” —she shrugged again—“nobody needs to lose any sleep. I’m fine.”

“That you are.”

The observation coaxed a smile from her. She looked fine, standing there in her slouchy T-shirt, with her hair tousled and her long legs bare. He had the strangest urge to suggest they pour a couple drinks, relax together on her sofa, and watch the news, or a movie, or something. Which didn’t make sense at all. They’d both gotten what they were after. His work here was done, for tonight. He ought to get going.

“So…” Smooth. Their eyes locked for one long, quiet moment, and then a loud churning noise rumbled up from between them.

Her eyes widened. “Was that your stomach?”

“Ignore it.” He lowered his head to distract her with a kiss.

She evaded his mouth and gave him a stern look.

He sighed. “I had a barn burner of a day, and I missed dinner. It happens. I’m fine.” But his stomach growled again, as if to contradict the statement. Damn it.

“When did you last eat?”

“Bluelick, I have a mom…”

She raised her chin and stared him down. “Simple question, Chief.”

He expelled a long-suffering breath and lowered his forehead to hers. “I don’t know. Noon? Things actually got a little hectic this evening. Dinner kind of slid off the agenda.”

“Well, I’m sliding it back on. I can’t have you passing out on me.”

“I have never passed out in my life.”

“And you’re not going to start tonight.” She dug her fingers into the front of his T-shirt and dragged him back to the island. “Take a seat.” Without waiting to see if he obeyed, she went to her refrigerator, opened the door, and assessed the possibilities. “Turkey and swiss on wheat or spinach feta omelet?”