Bittersweet (8 page)

Greg pulls the envelope out of his pocket and puts it on the dresser, then takes a few steps closer to me. “You OK?”

I nod. Some of my bravado has definitely drained away now. I glance at the bed, its covers pulled taut with hotel corners, obviously. He takes another step toward me, real close, and tilts my chin up to him. His eyes scan mine like I might have some answer he’s looking for. When he speaks, his voice is a whisper. “I don’t know if I…” He stops, clearing his throat. “I mean, my offer still stands. I can walk you home if—”

I stop him with my lips. Guess a little proximity to him is all it takes to get my bravado back. I push my own worries about his doubts to the back of my mind. Especially because now he’s returning my kiss slowly, his hands staying on my shoulders, in my hair, his tongue moving gently. I open my eyes for a moment, and his are squeezed shut, his eyebrows raised, like he’s savoring me. My heart swells and contracts inexplicably, and I close my own eyes so I can feel it—or so I can block it out. I move my tongue more urgently, trying to take the kiss to a less emotional place, and soon a fire ignites again, and his hands begin to wander. Down my neck, running along the low neckline of my shirt and then inside it, one finger slipping into the cup of my bra, catching against my nipple as it hardens. He groans quietly and pulls back.

“Cathy, I’m not sure we should do this…” he breathes.

I blink at him. “Seriously?” I whisper. He doesn’t say anything, just brushes his thumb gently down the center of my bottom lip, staring at my mouth with a frown between his brows, his chest rising and falling hard. “OK. Well, yeah … you are hideous,” I say, my voice hoarse with desire. “And a terrible kisser, so there’s that. I’m definitely not turned on. So actually, yeah you’re right. What are we doing?”

I hate that I always turn to sarcasm, but I love that he doesn’t seem to mind. A slow grin spreads across his face and he laughs, that deep, velvety laugh that makes me lose my cool. I reach down and pull off the slip of material that passes for my shirt, then wrap my arms back around his waist. He shakes his head at me with a wry smile still on his lips, but then he leans down, and those lips are on my collarbone. He edges me back and we fall onto the bed. I scoot up and fling off some of the twenty-five throw pillows, chuckling. I kick off my boots and he does the same, and pulls off his socks. I point to his T-shirt.

“That too.”

He sits up on his heels and the bed bounces. I stare as he peels off his top, especially when his face is obscured for a moment while he pulls it over his head. I have to resist the urge to mouth
Oh My God
to myself. His body. Is. Insane. I had no idea so many tight muscles could be contained in such a slender frame. I reach over and run a hand over his abdomen experimentally, like I don’t quite believe he’s real. His muscles are hot and tense to the touch. Definitely real. He pulls my hand away and lowers me down onto my back.

Then he sinks his head down into the crook of my neck, and I slip my hands around his back and pull him toward me as he presses kisses onto my skin. He takes a deep breath, and then sighs a little and his muscles relax, letting his weight onto me more, his lips fluttering softly against my neck. I squirm a little, loving the feel of him on top of me, but also feeling a strange new warmth, different from the heat of a few moments ago. For some reason my movements slow down … and then stop.

Greg tenses when I stop moving, then rolls to one side so that he’s not pressing down on me so much. He doesn’t move his head from my neck, and I get that feeling again; the swell in my heart, the feeling of his vulnerability. And my own, I guess. I tighten my arms around him, not sure what to say, or if I should say anything.

We lay like that for a while, and I don’t understand what happened, but I know that whatever it is, this feels just as good. Maybe even better.

“Greg,” I begin tentatively. He doesn’t say anything, but he presses closer in to me, like he doesn’t want to let me go. “I’ve never had a one-night stand before. Is that weird?”

I hear him give a sort of breathy half-chuckle into my shoulder. “No.” He pulls his head out of the crook of my neck. “Not at all.” He looks sleepy and sexy and gorgeous. “I’ve never had one either.”

I frown. “Bullshit.”

“I haven’t!”

I narrow my eyes at him. How can anyone this beautiful not have? Is he trying to tell me he’s
not that kind of guy
?

“You’re not a virgin, are you?” I ask with a wry grin.

He laughs
that
laugh again, and then pushes up on one elbow, running his eyes up and down my body. He reaches over and traces his fingertips over the mounds of my breasts, then presses his lips against my chest, running his tongue teasingly along the edge of the cup of my bra. “What do you think?” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin.

“Oh, definitely,” I whisper hoarsely.

He pulls back and smiles down at me, but then his face turns serious. “I just don’t want us to rush into anything,” he says, his brow creasing like he’s in pain just saying that.

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” I retort, looking at our semi-clad bodies and intertwined limbs.

“I think you might be right,” he whispers back, his eyes holding mine in a way that makes me wonder if there’s a double meaning to his words.

“I’m a big girl, Greg. I know what I want.” I try to sound strong, decisive, but he’s gotten to me—with what he said in the car too. I have to wonder if it’s
him
who’s unsure about this. But what if he’s right to be worried? Am I really willing to take a risk of having my heart broken again?

Shit.

He’s still staring at me, and I have to look away. I feel Greg shift his weight, and he reaches a hand over to draw my face back toward his.

“Hey,” he whispers. “You know what you want, huh. Do you want this?”

He brushes his lips against mine, and I nod decisively.

“Yes.”

He kisses harder. His tongue slides along the seam of my lips, and I part them. After a moment he pulls back, then begins to kiss my neck once more.

“This?”

“Mmmhmm…”

He keeps moving down, shifting again so that he’s back on top of me, and I writhe under him as his tongue slides over the dip at the base of my throat then down, in between my breasts. He slips his fingers under my bra straps and pulls them down, tugging so my chest is exposed. I feel my nipples tighten against the cool air and his warm breath. He flicks his tongue over one then the other, ever so lightly.

“How about this?”

“Yes.” I flush at the neediness in my voice, but then my back is arching because his whole mouth is over my left nipple, sucking, then he’s flicking his tongue, then sucking again. “Mmmm…” I moan.

His chest presses in and out of my stomach with his quickened breathing, his skin hot against mine. He reaches under me and I lift up a little, letting him undo my bra, remove it altogether. He looks down at me and sighs. “God,” he says, shaking his head, then takes the other breast in his mouth. After a while, he continues downward, dropping feathery kisses over my stomach. His tongue brushes down into my belly button, but the feel of it is like he—

“This?”

“Greg…” I moan.

He stops his tongue, and I quickly say, “Yes… Yes…”

His fingertips push at the hem of my skirt, easing it up so my panties start to show. He scoots further down my body.

“Do you want this?” He pauses and looks up at me. I swallow.

“Yes.”

He reaches down toward my knees, pushes them apart, and then slips my skirt right up to my waist. I lift my hips off the bed to help him, and he presses his mouth onto my inner thigh, tracing up and down with his lips and tongue. He moves up between my legs, blows a warm breath against my panties, then moves back down the other inner thigh. Holy crap. He does it again, then stops in the middle, pressing a hard kiss
there
.

“Uhh…” I utter. I’m betting he can feel me wet even through the cotton.

“Sure you want this?” His voice is low, a growl.

I nod, though I know he can’t see me do it from there. My fingers twist into his hair.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that?” I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Y-yes.”

He kisses me again through my panties, then sucks, then pushes his tongue into the damp dip and runs his mouth upwards again.

“Oh god…”

His fingers tense under my ass as I speak, and then his fingers rush up eagerly, pulling my panties down. I press my thighs together for a moment so he can pull them down my legs and off, and then he settles back between my legs. I feel his breath in rapid, tickling bursts against me. He runs his tongue up from bottom to top, swirling around my hardening clit.

“Mmm… Greg…” I pant. He pulls back.
No no no
…

“Are you sure you w—”

“Yes!” I gasp loudly, and his mouth is back on me. My fists clench in his hair and I wriggle, raising my hips up against his tongue as it works up, down, around, driving me crazy. “Oh my god…”

Then he starts sucking. Gently at first, then harder, the tip of his tongue swirling around my clit in between times. I feel my insides tighten in a way I’ve never felt before in my
life
.

“Yes…” I groan.

He keeps going, his fingers digging into my ass, lifting me up toward his mouth.

“Yes…”

I feel the tightening build… It almost
hurts
it feels so good. I can hardly form the word—

“
Yeeesss
…”

My voice is strained. His tongue swirls faster and I arch my back, lifting my head right off the bed. I feel the intensity build and build and it really does feel like reaching the top of the mountain, like the highest peak, like that very word,
climax
—

“YES!”

I collapse back, panting, exhausted. Holy shit.

Holy.

Shit.

My ears are ringing. I claw at his shoulders, my hands urging him back on top of me. His lips trace their path slowly back up to my mouth and I taste myself on his tongue. His skin is damp with sweat and I feel him through his jeans, straining hard against me. I grind up against him and he moans. I need more. I can’t believe I’m even thinking it after that, but I do. And he definitely does.

I reach down and undo his belt buckle, the button on his fly. He does the rest, pushing his jeans off his legs impatiently, and then settling gently back on top of me. There’s only his boxers now… He curses and reaches back down to his jeans where they’ve fallen beside the bed, rummaging for something. I ogle his ass for a moment as he does, and realize he’s going for the condom in his wallet. I’m glad he’s prepared at least. I try and bite back any worries about why.

He returns his attentions to me, placing the condom onto the nightstand, but I push him over onto his back and climb on top of him. He looks up at me, running his hands up my thighs.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, and sits up to kiss me. I run my hands around to the back of his neck and start to move against him through his boxers. It feels incredible … but I still need more. I lean down over him, start to kiss his chest, ease his boxers down, but then—

His phone rings.

We keep kissing. I keep moving.

It’s still ringing. Loudly.

Greg tenses up, and I stop moving.

“Guess someone else really wants you too…” I say, rolling off him and sighing hard.

I collapse on the bed while Greg gets up to switch off his phone—or I hope that’s what he’s doing. He better not answer it. At least I get to watch him trot awkwardly across the room in his boxers, with a substantial protrusion preceding him… I bite my lip, half from desire, and half from being embarrassed about the cheesy line I said just before he got up. Who
is
so desperate to get a hold of him anyway?

He frowns at the screen like I saw him do before when “B” called, and he makes sure his cell is off before he throws it on top of his duffle. I’m suddenly very aware that all I have on is Maxine’s skirt, bunched up around my waist as I lie on the bed. As Greg makes his way back over, I pull at the bedclothes, trying to free the tightly tucked corners so I can pull them around me a little.

“Sorry about that,” he says, then tips his head to one side, looking at me quizzically as I attempt to clamber under the covers with minimum grace. “Need a little help?”

He smiles and I get up, then together we turn down the bed from either side of it, taking in one another’s state of near-nudity. It feels totally sexy and oddly domestic at the same time. Starting to feel self-conscious, I reach over for his T-shirt as it lies scrunched on the floor, slip it over my head, and then push my skirt down my legs and off. His shirt smells so deliciously of him I feel lightheaded—until I realize the real thing is standing opposite me, his eyes dark, staring at me as I ease myself under the bedclothes and look up at him expectantly.

“Something wrong?” I ask, worried. The mood has definitely changed.

Greg shakes his head, but he’s still frowning, with a distracted air about him. He pulls back the sheet on his side and climbs in next to me. There’s an awkward column of empty bed between us, but I’m not sure if I should close the gap or not.

“Who was it?” I ask, because I feel like I should say something.

“Hmm?”

“Calling so late. Another booty call?” Damn it. Why the hell did I say that? God, what if it
was
? I feel myself going pale.

“No. I told you…”

“Oh yeah, you’re a virgin,” I say, trying a smile. He returns it, but I can tell he’s still preoccupied. I risk scooting a little closer to him, and touch him lightly on his jaw, where it’s starting to turn a deep shade of purple that almost matches my new hair. He winces, but then nestles into my hand and closes his eyes. I sigh, looking at his beautiful face, but suddenly I’m overwhelmed by tiredness too. I shove the last cushions off the bed and move to lay my head down onto the soft, downy pillow. Greg does the same, and we lay close, staring at each other in the low lamplight.

“Still scared of me?” I whisper.