He couldn’t hold it back anymore. The signs had been there, the teasing had been there, the endless hints had been there! So he acted. It was a risk, he knew it. Melissa Daniels was no Eliza Doolittle. Upbringing and accent has nothing to do with class. Keith could tell that Mel was a classy woman; the kind of class you get only through life and experience. But she hadn’t pulled away from him outside the restaurant—had, in fact, moved into him herself after he’d put his arm around her. So, this could not be such a risk.
When he kissed her now, she moved into him as much as he moved into her.
Her tongue entered him. He felt her heart slam at her chest, beating against his. Her scent made him delirious. He moved her, gently, backwards, to the nearest wall. She hit it. Her left leg started rising. It got stuck, and he noticed he was standing on the edge of her long dress! They shared a brief laugh as they both looked at his oxford shoe on her clothing, but the laugh was over quickly; over because he couldn’t keep his mouth away from hers. He moved the offending foot away, and let the exhilaration take over him as he felt her bare leg slide up over his thigh, and curl itself around his ass.
It was a beautiful ass, she thought. She squeezed her left leg tightly, making sure to press his growing manhood hard against her pelvis—and boy was it growing. Oh my. She couldn’t decide if it was because it had been so long for her or if Keith was just simply better endowed down there than most. She admitted it was probably a bit of both.
He felt like steel down there. All her thoughts were engrossed on it, engrossed on its size. She felt him pulse, felt him push against her and—“Oh my.” The words were like wails, moans of need and yearning.
He pushed against her again, and her mouth just hung open for a second while his tongue felt its way around inside her.
She wanted it, needed it. It had been too long. Too long! All reasoning began to take a backseat, all thoughts of “pride” and “control” and... Oh my god I can’t think with his tongue in me like this.
The sensations stung at her, sent pulses firing up her skin. Instinctively—because this was all instinct now!—she ground her crotch against his and rubbed!
Which is when it started. The orgasm.
She had no control over it. It...just appeared. There was the unmistakable tightening of all her muscles down below—her ass, her center, even her damn thighs!—and then...that moment of utter and complete silence just before—
“Oh my god. Oh my god!”
Keith realized what was happening. He felt her start to tremble under his arms, saw that timeless expression on her face—the face of a woman just before she explodes...
So he held her.
It was a cannon explosion. There’d been silence, no motion, an eternity of stillness in her mind, in her body, even in the room. Clamps had formed around her stomach, her waist, her legs and thighs and ankles. They’d squeezed down on her, tighter, tighter, unbearably tight! And then—
It had teased. First it had been a pulse, down below, a sizzling thrum of a climax, but nothing yet. She knew it was coming, knew she was too far gone; knew that, no matter what she did, the orgasm would slam her and rip her, right here against this wall, clothed and everything. So she made sure to get the most out of it, made sure to press Keith’s glorious cock against her erect nub—
That’s what did it. Finally!
The screams of pleasure were endless. The pleasure washed over her like buffalo on a stampede—chugga-chugga-chugga-chug. They rode over her, trampled her. Her head thrashed against Keith’s shoulder (oh god what a fucking unbelievably hard and sexy shoulder.) The back of her head hit the wall and even though it hurt she just kept slamming and slamming and being shredded to bits by the world’s best fucking orgasm to ever hit a girl anywhere, ever!
It lasted, what, a minute? An entire minute of just spasming bliss. She rubbed herself against him. Oh yes she did. If she wasn’t going to get him inside her, she was damn well gonna get the best she could out of this—embarrassing? unusual? unique?—moment that she could!
She felt the scrape of her panties, his slacks, and his cock behind hit, just grind against her. Sweat poured from her, dripped on her forehead, trailed slowly down the inside of her leg. Her nails dug into his back. She pulled him to her, closer, closer damnit!
And she rode the wave. She...just...rode the thing!
Slowly, exquisitely slowly, the release left her. It didn’t end abruptly. Like backwards contractions, the stings of ecstasy fired through her at ever-growing intervals. She kept rubbing herself against his hardness, loving the moisture she felt on herself now, loving the surge of endorphins, the scream of serotonin as it rushed and sloshed all inside and through her muscles and, gently, eased away all her tension; and filled her lungs with hot, soothing air. “Fucking hell,” she said into his chest.
And then she laughed.
She held him—held his warm, manly body against hers—and, just, laughed.
This was quite a dilemma she was in. She’d satisfied herself (not her fault; it just happened!) but Keith, if he felt anything like she’d felt during dinner, was probably now a pressure pot set to max and overdue for lid removal!
If she could read minds, she’d know this to be true.
Keith Devonshire was taut as a hawser in a raging storm. That Melissa had shattered in his arms like this had only made him want her more. He’d shared something with her, shared the most beautiful moment a man can with a woman—the moment of her detonating completely underneath him—and he hadn’t reaped even the slightest reward from it!
He was...“in a pickle”...as his compatriots liked to to say.
She looked up at him, eyes languid, grinning. It made him smile internally as well. He could only imagine how relieved she felt.
She was indeed relieved. She felt like she’d taken a two-hour long hundred-degree bath, masturbated seven times in it, and drunk three liters of wine. She could see the need in his eyes, knew very well what her “duty” was now. Hell, it was no duty, it was freaking common human decency! But, alas, she was so perfectly exhausted!
Dropping her leg from behind his ass and to the ground, she stood up straighter, felt her own ass touch the cold wall. Keith’s palms were on either side of her head; he was leaning into her. His gaze was intense, the heat from his body...intimidating.
“I uhm... I...” she started. “It’s...” She couldn’t tell him that! She couldn’t tell him it’s “been a while!”
But, it didn’t matter, because he didn’t let her. He moved into her, kissed her deeply.
And, just like that, she was ready to be had by him. Again.
They climbed the stately stairs of his home, up into a pristine white bedroom with space enough to fill a whole other house in. He led her to his white bed, laid her darkly-clad body over it, watched her golden hair tumble around her as she fell onto it.
He was...overwhelmed...by her beauty, he admitted. She looked like a queen, an enchantress of the dark arts lying on his bed. She smiled at him, red lips contrasted by a seductive black dress and the yellow curls of her hair. She lifted her feet onto the bed while he undid his belt. He was standing; she lay. Her knees went up, and her dress feel down to expose the lace of her underwear, the lips of her center pushing out against it. He almost ravaged her right then and there when he saw it.
Control, he told himself. Control.
Just watching her, feeling the pressure mount in him and holding it back, made him feel alive again! She slid two thumbs on either side of her straps, pushed them down. Keith licked his lips, couldn’t help himself smiling widely. She’d beaten him, he knew. She lifted her butt, and he almost looked away because it was too alluring, too enticing to keep his eyes on the bloom of her mound as it appeared, ready and swollen, before his eyes. He stepped out of his pants, pulled off his shorts. For a moment, he saw her eyes grow briefly as she saw him now. It happened sometimes when women saw him.
She leaned her head back, pushed her thighs down and outwards with her hands. And waited for him.
He was gloriously huge she’d noticed. Intimidating was not the word to describe the, perhaps, childish dread she suddenly felt at feeling that largeness inside her. Will he be gentle?, she wondered, staring up at the ceiling. But as she thought this, she felt his flat tongue lave her entrance bottom to top! He was kissing her! There! He did it again. And again. He licked the inside of her, the left lip, the right. She looked down and saw he was on his knees, licking her on the bed. Each touch, each gentle caress of his tongue on her vag sent razor sensations over her skin. She felt her breathing quicken. Her heart thumped in her chest. She heard her breaths like the breaths of a marathon runner desperate for the end.
And, just like that, she was ready for him again. No, she was screaming for him!
He tasted the sweet lemon of her flavor and couldn’t get enough of it. It was a drug. He’d licked once, and immediately done it again. Now he couldn’t stop. Her thighs—her beautiful, shapely thighs—tightened around his ears. His hands wrapped around her legs, pushing them against his head. He stuck his tongue in her, licked her tang. She moaned. Her hands rubbed his head and pushed him into her. He moved higher, pressed his lips to her clit and pushed.
“OH GOD!” She raised her butt off the bed and clutched at his head! It was heaven. Absolute— “Keith... Keith... If you carry on... Oh, god, Keith, I’m—”
He licked her; licked her nub and sucked and pressed and—
She started riding him, pushing against his lips and pressing and—
She fired back away from him! Breathing raggedly! Legs quivering! She smiled. “Oh god! I almost— You almost made me—”
He stood from his knees, cock gleaming and pulsing, screaming to the heavens.
Melissa lifted her dress off in a hurry. She couldn’t wait any longer.
Seeing her, nude and voluptuous, made him impatient. He needed her now, needed all of her. He wanted to feel her softness below him as he entered her, wanted to hold her as she collapsed, once again, under him, but this time with him inside her.
She undid her bra, let her curvesome breasts show themselves. The size of her nipples taunted him. Everything about this woman called him to her.
She eased slightly back on the bed, teased him to come to her with one curling finger. Keith opened his drawer, pulled out a rubber and—gently!—slid the boy on.
Keith had a problem at the moment: Melissa was...so alluring....so exquisite...and had turned him on so much with her first (and almost her second) orgasm that he, well, was nearly there! Every touch down below threatened to undo him. Even slipping the rubber on had been an act of agonizing restraint.
He kneeled on the bed, cock shining, ready to push her onto her back and slide himself into her (and, hopefully, have enough stamina to satisfy her again!) But she had other plans. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft—oh god no, Melissa, I won’t manage it!—and, moved her lips forward to taste—
“No,” he said desperately. “I...just... I just...” Fuckit! There was no time for words!
He pushed her shoulders back with both hands. Her head fell onto his giant pillow. He pushed her left leg out by the thigh, looked down, grabbed his pulsing and desperate cock, moved its head to just under her nether lips so they enwrapped his tip. She moaned, and the moan itself was like a scraping caress of his manhood. He played with her a little there, pushed left, right, up, down, just watching her swollen lips water up and beg for him to enter her. It was as much an exercise in turning her on, as it was in gathering control of himself again!
Her pelvis began to rock, trying to push herself into him. Keith’s mind whirled. This was too good, too sensuous for him to hold back any more. He looked at her face, the head of his shaft just pressing into her tight entrance, ready to be thrust in. Her eyes were closed, she was biting her lower lip. He pushed just slightly into her and she bit down harder, moaned. The moan seemed to come all the way from the bottom of her stomach.
“Melissa.” She opened her eyes. And that’s all he’d wanted, for her to look directly at him.
He thrust! Her eyes went wide, her lips parted, her head raised slightly off the pillow, her arms fired up to his waist, her neck muscles went tight.
Incredulously, she said, “Oh. Wow!” And then she paused, not moving, every muscle in her now suddenly taut as a sailing rope. And, finally: “Fuck.” Pause. Her eyes closed slightly. And she finally managed the final word in her lengthy dissertation of actually just trying to tell him that she was orgasming again! “Damn.”
Relief landed on Keith like a speeding semi-truck. And just as she exploded, so did he.
It was violent, so violent. That’s the only way to explain it. He couldn’t get it out of himself fast enough. It had been waiting, sitting at the base of his cock for how long—since he’d met her? So when he felt that trickle, that tickle and slight movement right at the bottom of his shaft...He. Let. Rip.
He fucked her. That isn’t an elegant way to state it, true, but that’s what he did. And it isn’t meant disrespectfully, because Keith had the utmost respect for this...sumptuous, enticing, captivating and intriguing woman. To say he fucked her means he held her harder than he’d ever held any woman before her, and he pushed into her deeper and further than he’d ever pushed into anyone else. Because he just couldn’t get close enough to her.
And he also did something else: He kissed her. Whilst his cock pounded and caromed and slammed inside her and against her entrance, they kissed. Passionately, endearingly, needfully. It crossed his mind—vaguely, because he would never admit of such a thing!—that, maybe, just maybe, they were both two lost souls who’d...found “something” in each other?
Pft! There was no such thing...
But this thing, this union they were currently experiencing—her wails and gasps; her moans; his roars; her caresses of his back as he continued to, endlessly, ride her!—this was, indeed...different. Yes, it was “different,” he realized.
He wanted more of it.
He pushed far into her, saw her eyes roll back as he lost control of himself. The final drops seeped out of him. And, finally, he was satisfied. For now.
Her body was drenched. The gleam of sweat on her milky skin only increased his want. He kept himself inside her, kept pushing and thrusting into her. He noticed he wasn’t softening very much. He’d waited too long.
He kept it slow, kept it gentle for now. She kept rocking with him, enjoying the pleasure of it even though it was over. The more he moved in and out, the more he felt that it wasn’t over. They rocked like that for twenty minutes. And after twenty minutes, he needed more.
Melissa Daniels was done, finished, smiling like a cat and loving every massage of Keith Devonshire’s hardness inside her. She’d missed having a man in her; not just any man. But a man that she could somehow respect. She knew Keith was that kind of man. That she knew this meant nothing special particularly. She didn’t love him! Of course not. She’d just met him! But she did respect him. She liked his company. And loved his body!
She let him ride into her. She was finished herself. She’d widened below already, but his movements soothed her. And every now and then, one of his harder thrusts excited her.
When he started pumping again, furiously, she let him. She closed her eyes, listened to the slap of skin of skin, getting faster. She heard his roar, felt his need for release again. That release came. She heard it in him first as a desperate wail, a low rumble in his chest.
And then she felt him, down below, as he exploded into her.
She held him, felt his skin break out in sweat, tightened her voluptuous legs around his butt and just let him roll into her!
In a rough, ragged voice, he cried, right by her ear, “Oh, GOD!”
She held him tighter, felt him thrust right up into her. And then he eased down.
And, finally, out.
“Spend the night,” he asked her.
She thought of Jacob suddenly.
She got up, called her son, found out that everything was ok. When Jacob asked his mother where she was, she said she was “at a friend.”
“A man-friend?”
She lied.
Jacob quickly lost interest. He told her he was playing Scrabble with the girls and that he was winning. Of course he was.
She missed him, she realized. Really missed him. Her son, the greatest man in her life. “OK, well, call mommy if you need anything, OK?”
Jacob’s response was bored. Like: Why would he ever need her?
He did, however, mention all the activities “Auntie Nadja” had planned for them on Easter Sunday, the most exciting of which was the trip to the nearest Cadbury’s Eggsplorer Trail. Fortunately, Nadja’s husband Philip was very good at trailing the kids along on this hunt every year while Mel and her best friend downed beers and talked about men. As usual.
Mel finally said goodbye and put the phone down, almost feeling a tear in her eye. She missed her son already.
She turned to face Keith Devonshire on his bed. He looked like a stripper. It was a dream, all of this. A young girl’s dream. She could never give up her life to gallivant with a man like him. He might be a great man, sure. But life had taken its turns, and things were as they were. There was no changing it. And she had responsibilities.
But tonight? Of course she could spend the night. She might even spend another night with him, if it went that way. And if not with him again, if it turned out they weren’t meant to be, maybe another man. Maybe she’d put herself out on the market again, she decided. Maybe she’d let herself feel like a woman more regularly now.
She deserved that, didn’t she?
“What does the boss say?” Keith asked.
“Jacob says his mother can stay out with her friends.”
“Good man. I heard him talking of an Easter Egg Hunt?”
“You have ears like a bat.”
He waited. “Well?”
She explained the tradition, leaving out the part about the beer. And the men.
“My parents run an egg hunt at their place as well,” he said. “They stay just outside Brighton. They call in a few children’s homes and orphanages and then place gifts—not only eggs—for them to collect. But it’s not only children’s homes, a lot of the neighborhood kids come through as well.”
“That’s sweet of them.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s a tax benefit. My parents have never been much of the giving type.” He thought of inviting Melissa. Wouldn’t that be fun? Her and the boy? Jacob had seemed like a bright one. He’d had a spark of some sort in him when Keith had seen him, Keith remembered. Keith would certainly prefer being at a stuffy-nosed gathering with Melissa than with...what was her bloody name again?...Delilah Ramsey! Heck, he and Mel could even go under the stairs and...
Mel realized suddenly, standing there, that she was naked, staring at Keith on the bed. He was everything she wasn’t: firm, athletic, sturdy, strong. But she felt no shame in facing him nude. She felt, actually, strangely attractive around him. It was the way he looked at her, all lustful and desirous, like she was the most attractive woman in the world.
She caught him looking at her now, smiling while doing it. “What are you looking at?”
“Right now? Your breasts.”
Her hand rose instinctively to her left breast, covering the disk of it. OK, perhaps she was a little embarrassed.
“And now...” She saw his eyes move lower. “...at your... What is the right word for it? A word that is not crass?”
“‘It’ is the right word,” she replied.
“So, right now, I’m staring at your ‘it.’”
She felt as if he’d just touched her there. On her “it.” She felt her nether lips grow, get tighter, moister. Her legs began to quiver, just the slightest bit...
Keith sat up, hardening again. It had been an hour since their last go. She’d like several more goes before the end of the night, she decided.
“Come over here.” He stretched out his arms to her, his eyes constantly on her it. He was smiling gently. As she reached the bed, those arms went behind her ass, he pushed her toward him, and his tongue went to between her legs.
He licked it passionately, for god knows how long.
It was an endless night of passion. Melissa lost count of how many times they did it. She slept little. And, in the morning, noticed that her eyes were dark from lack of sleep. And felt that her vag was just slightly aching from all the attention.
She was in the bathroom, drying herself after an unbelievably good shower. Not only did the rich live well, they also had great showerheads. Keith’s was a glorious bathroom about the size of another small house, with gilded faucets and a marble sink. Keith walked in, almost nude, carrying a red dress, a tee shirt, jeans, sweatpants, and underwear. Women’s underwear. “I didn’t know what you wanted to wear today. I assume you don’t want to wear the same dress as last night. And, underwear”—he held up the panties—“well, I assumed you’d need some fresh ones at least. I had Aaron pick these up this morning. They should be the right size, because I checked the size of your dress but, we’re men, so if it doesn’t fit, I can have him pick up some more. Melissa?”
She realized she wasn’t speaking. And also realized that he’d taken it upon himself to provide her with a fresh set of clothes—freshly bought! “Uhm, wow, er, thank you.”
“Well, I assumed you didn’t want to wear the same clothes as last night.”
“Yes, but, uhm...wow, ok, sure.” She smiled.
Keith was in boxers, the rest of his bodybuilder self bared to her, just to tease her, she thought.
She would have him again now, she knew. Tender down there notwithstanding, she’d take him, right here, in this bathroom. No questions, no delay.
“I didn’t know there were clothing stores open at this time on a Sunday,” she commented.
“I own a few.”
Of course he does.
She turned to the mirror, apprehending quickly that the fairytale was ending. Keith, perhaps unsure of how to “let this woman down easy” (she assumed) was standing hesitantly at the bathroom door (the state of his hesitance being another assumption on her part.)
Mel jumped in. “Keith, uhm, last night was”—unbelievably good and I’d like to do that every night for the rest of my life—“really good. You don’t have to feel like you owe me anything, or—”
Insulted, he looked at the clothes, said, “Is that what you think this is?” He put them down on the clothes hamper.
“No, no! I didn’t mean the clothes! I just mean I’ll be out of your hair in no time—”
“See me again.”
“—and there’s— Excuse me. What?”
“See me again.”
Melissa didn’t know what to say. Saying yes wouldn’t hurt. But surely Keith had to know that this could go nowhere. She had a life, a routine. Getting hooked up with a rich and dreamy man was not part of that routine, and couldn’t be either.
Besides, he was...beyond attractive, beyond rich. He was a heartbreak waiting to happen.
She smiled as warmly as she could. Keith, however, was serious. “Keith.” She sighed. “You and I both know this can’t last—”
“See. Me. Again.” It was no question. It was a pure demand.
Melissa had two reactions to it: One. Instant desire. And two. The hairs on her neck bristled at the audacity of him thinking he could order her around! She wouldn’t take orders from a man! “You’re going to have to try a lot harder to see me than throwing your authority around. I’m not a puppy. And I’m certainly not your damn slave!”
Her accent came out when she got angry. Yawha damn slayve!
He smirked. He knew damn well she wasn’t a puppy, or a slave! What she was, was a highly seductive naked woman in his bathroom. Not just any woman—Melissa Daniels, naked in his bathroom! If she’d been at school with him, with the attitude she carried about her, she would’ve undoubtedly been queen of the bad-girls, or at least the hottest girl for the boys to try and “catch.” He strode toward her. When he reached her, he pushed her mound against him, and delighted in her whimpering gasp as his hand clasped her round ass.
She couldn’t stop herself smiling. So much for her bravado. “Want another go?” he said.
He’d won. And she knew it. She was Jell-O now. “Only if you do that thing with your tongue again, you know, on”—she pointed delicately downwards—“it.”
Keith Devonshire got on his knees on the hard bathroom tiles, and he did that thing with his tongue again, on it.
Melissa Daniels shrieked with savage pleasure.
They had breakfast—fruits, chocolate croissants, various rolls and cheeses, hams, coffee, tea. When she was done, Mel was certain she’d just gained four pounds. If she did enter into a “thing” with Keith (she couldn’t imagine ever being in an actual “relationship” with Keith) he’d probably dump her fast because she’d be bigger than a balloon in a few weeks with this kind of temptation around her!
Then again, with all the added exercise...
Keith didn’t seem to have a problem with her weight, she’d noticed. No problem at all, in fact. She’d even go so far as to say that he, maybe, even liked that she was a little plump. (Mel was the only one who called herself plump; Nadja—who we must mention again was the owner of London Fashionista magazine and so knew what she was talking about when describing the figures of women—called Mel shapely.)
Keith took a bite of a grape. Looked at Mel. “What are you smiling it?” she asked.
“Nothing.” The enormous room echoed with her voice.
He finished his grape. She finished her coffee, then polished off a chocolate sundae (yes, for breakfast!) She likened the entire evening with Keith to a sundae, a decadent sundae with dripping caramel and chocolate sauce all over it.
“Let’s take a walk,” he suggested.
He took her through his back gardens—technically called a “park” amongst the landed gentry, as if someone could actually own a “park” in their own backyard! They walked hand in hand. He told her how he was born into money but took none of it. He’d had friends who’d simply inherited their family’s wealth and he’d seen how that had degraded them, how they’d grown decadent and irresponsible. They could never own that money, he said. It would never be theirs. His house, his cars, everything, was made by him and therefore truly owned by him.
Mel told him about her fateful love affair with Matthew Richardson, how foolish she had been to chase him around the world. She told him she was a web designer and site administrator; that she worked from home. Her clients paid her to keep their sites running. Many of them paid her a flat fee so, if she did her job right, she could make money by doing little work. She didn’t tell him that she actually made a lot of money that way. Because compared to what he made, she was technically a pauper, on welfare, living on the streets.
“So you’re a businesswoman.”
She’d never heard herself being called that. “No, I’m a single mother who needs time to dedicate to her son.”
“So you’re a smart businesswoman.”
She shrugged, never having cared much for money or business alike. Jacob was her life, and whatever she needed to do to ensure he got the upbringing he deserved, she would. If that meant being a “businesswoman,” she’d accept the label gladly. Because the first and foremost label in her mind was that she was a mother first, and everything else second.
Keith wanted to meet the son. There’d been a curious glimmer in the little boy’s eyes when Keith had seen him on Friday. A kind of brilliance that Keith imagined the likes of Mozart and Einstein had probably had in their own eyes as kids. Keith chose not to mention this desire to her. He’d never had children, knew little about them, but he was no fool and knew that spending time with her boy might confuse him.
“So how many girls have you walked in this forest with after a night of revelry?”
“Firstly, it’s not a forest. It’s a garden. Those who believe we’re still in the eighteen hundreds might hazard as to call it a park.”
Melissa looked around. It was a forest.
“Secondly...” And here Keith was the slightest bit embarrassed. “...You are actually the...first...that I’ve brought out here.” Suddenly his hand in hers felt awkward, he sensed. When had he grabbed it? he wondered. He let it go.
Melissa felt its release as if she’d been a boat suddenly unmoored out to a raging sea. Silly, she thought.
Silence passed. Wind blew more forcefully against them. She rubbed her arms. Keith had already asked her to see him again; it was her turn to let him know she would. She shouldn’t feel trapped here. She could leave when she wanted. He said, “Your car is outside. Aaron brought it by.”
She could take a hint. It had been fun. And now it was time to step back out into the real world. She was happy to have been with him, to have eaten his sundae and walked in his garden. It had been a step out of reality for a little while, and she felt “refreshed” by it. She stopped, turned to him, held out her hand. And, in an affected and Kate Winslet manner, said, “Well, Mr. Keith Devonshire, it’s been an absolute pleasure to have, uhm...”
“Melissa, I’m not sure what I have to do to convince you that I’d like to see you again.”
She put her hand down, wondered where to put her feet. Her shoulders raised as she inhaled deeply, then dropped.
The sex had been good. Great, actually! She’d gotten her release. She needed to get back to her life. “Keith.” She shook her head. “Look, let’s not make this harder than it is. You’re...an attractive man. I’m just not—”
“And you’re an attractive woman. See me again. This is not a proposal at marriage, it’s a—”
Even Keith suddenly dreaded the word, and couldn’t say it: Date.
He was in a dangerous place, he abruptly realized. He felt it now. He’d grown close to her. And it wasn’t just the sex (although—bloody hell!—the sex had been good!) It was her presence, the way she carried herself. He wanted to get to know her, find out about her, that’s all. So...call it “dating.” Fine! She wasn’t Belinda Buchanan. This wasn’t the same thing!
She noted his hesitation. “You see? You can’t even say it! Men like you are, well, afraid of... I don’t know how to phrase it.”
“Phrase it how you like. I’m a big boy.”
“Tell me, Keith, how many women have you slept with in, say, the last year?”
“I’d like to take the fifth amendment—”
“You’re British! You can’t take the fifth amendment!” She poked him. He laughed. Without thinking, his arms were suddenly around her again. He held her. And then he kissed her.
She held him in return.
Before she knew it, she was up against some precisely trimmed hedges, and Keith’s hands were on her waist. And their body temperatures were quickly rising.
Oh, hell, what am I getting myself into? she wondered.