Bachelor Number Four (6 page)

But if he knew she were free, would he have offered an affair? Which was worse? Having him offer when he believed she would not take him up on it, or being rejected because she could?

“What the hell else does
The Come Inn has great midday rates
mean? Son of a bitch. Trying to play me.”

She’d brought it on herself, she had to admit it. She didn’t have to like it, but she did have to admit it.

“No more games,” she told herself. “That’s the reality check!”

He’d packed up his toys and gone home, but did that mean she’d won? It didn’t feel like it. As Arden went upstairs to bed, it felt like she’d lost, big-time.

This time, he took her from behind. Hard and fast. His cock slid inside her as his hands came around to cup her breasts. Fingers tweaked her nipples upright, and a moan leaked out of her.

Arden arched, his heat like flames along her back as he bent over her to bite the nape of her neck. She was kneeling? No, bending, hands flat on the table…the kitchen table, but not hers. Cold, bare floor under her feet. The table’s smooth surface under her palms. A dream table, in a dream kitchen, with a dream man fucking her.

And oh, it felt so good. She came, orgasm shuddering through her, and understood she was dreaming because her arousal didn’t diminish. Sensations that would have left her unfulfilled in reality drove her closer and closer to climax in the dream.

The sound of his breathing, the roughness of his thrusts, the hard, unyielding surface beneath her hands worked together, part of the dream, and gave her the freedom to let herself go into it. This was not reality. This was a dream, and since it was her dream, she knew who her lover had to be.

She wanted to see his face, but couldn’t manage to turn. His cock fucked in and out, faster. His hands gripped her waist, hard enough to leave bruises if this had been real, and she leaned forward, elbows now resting on the table, forehead on the cold, smooth wood.

She came again, a slow rippling of pleasure. The dream shifted. She lay on her back, legs wrapped around her lover’s waist while he thrust inside her. His weight materialized against her chest. His mouth took hers, tongues meeting and sliding free to stroke and tangle.

“Shane.”

His intense gaze pinned her. The smug arrogance of his smile made her angry, and with her anger her passion soared.

“I love fucking you,” he told her, no soft and gentle words in this dream, no tenderness.

She made to slap him, but his hand caught hers and forced it upward, above her head, where his hands pinned both her wrists. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t even struggle. His weight held her down, but he didn’t stop filling her. His hips rolled, his pelvis pushed against her clit with every thrust.

It was wrong, this angry fucking. She should hate it. Hate him for doing it to her this way. And she would…in real life she would hate it, would get no pleasure from his force and dominance.

But this was not real life, this was a dream, and even here it was not some twisted rape fantasy. She wanted this. She wanted him. She wanted to fuck him, to be fucked by him, wanted to ride him until she came again and again.

She wanted to hear him say her name when he climaxed.

“Say my name.” The words floated from her dream lips.

“No,” answered the uncooperative lover. “I won’t.”

“You will.”

And because this was her dream, he did. Moaned it, long and low, his voice a harsh and husky whisper that sent another orgasm spiraling outward from her clit to the rest of her body.

She woke after that last one, a stifled cry on her lips. The blankets had tangled around her legs and she extricated herself while she peered at the clock. Fifteen more minutes until she had to get out of bed.

Fifteen more minutes of sleep she wasn’t even going to try and get. Her entire body still hummed with sexual tension, surprisingly unrelieved by the cascade of climaxes she’d experienced.

There was really only one way to get rid of that feeling, which she’d grown accustomed to over the past eighteen months. She slipped from the bed and closed and locked her door, knowing both her girls wouldn’t be up for another half an hour. She wouldn’t need that much time.

She pulled the small cloth pouch from her bedside table drawer and took out the plastic butterfly. It was meant to be worn with straps hugging the thighs and hips, and it had a remote control that meant it could be used with a partner, but she’d found it worked just as well alone. Like she had a choice.

She thumbed the switch and started the quiet humming.

Chapter Five

“Dreams are just a manifestation of your subconscious desires becoming conscious.” Lida stirred some sweetener into her coffee and snagged a bagel from the basket.

“I dream about falling,” replied Heather. “Does that mean I want to fall?”

Arden refilled her friends’ mugs and her own before sitting down. “I think what Lida’s trying to say is that I keep dreaming about shagging Shane Donner because I really do want to.”

“Duh,” said Lida.

Heather laughed. “And he just messaged you out of the blue?”

“You have to tell Heather your history with the guy. Racy stuff.”

Arden laughed. “It’s not that racy.”

“Spill it. The kids are in school. It’s morning mommies’ coffee and dirty secrets time.” Heather sipped her coffee. “C’mon, I could use a few good stories.”

Arden quickly outlined her past with Shane—the whole brief but torrid affair.

Heather nodded. “I had one of those. I call them the Open Doors. You know, sometimes they just don’t close?”

“Open Doors. Perfect description,” Arden said. “But just because a door is open doesn’t mean you have to go through it.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t take a helluva peek at what’s inside!” Lida laughed. “Arden, I keep telling you. You need to get laid. And yes, get a boyfriend if that’s what you want, but satisfy the body’s needs and maybe the heart will follow.”

Arden rolled her eyes. “You’re backwards. Besides, Lida, after disaster dates one and two, I’m not so sure I have the energy to try again.”

“Girlfriend, you can’t give up after only two tries,” Heather said. “Do you know how many dates I went on before I met Leo?”

“Luscious Leo.” Arden grinned. “No, but I remember when you went on your first date with him.”

Lida rapped the table. “Don’t tell me you waited to have sex until you met him, Heather.”

“Hell, no!” Heather laughed. “No way. I had some sex before I met him.”

“See, even Heather thinks you just need to get laid. Get it out of your system. Once you realize you don’t have to be in love to have sex, the pressure will be off and you’ll be readier to find the right guy.”

Something about that logic didn’t sound right, but Arden was used to Lida’s outrageous advice. “Why am I afraid when you say that? You’re the same person who convinced me to wear a hot pink-and-lime-green polka-dotted prom dress complete with matching shoes, right?”

“Bad fashion advice is totally different than bad sex advice, Arden.”

“Lida, my love, forgive me, but when’s the last time you had to wonder if you were going to have sex with Bill or how it would make you feel in the morning? Married sex is way different than single sex.”

Lida gave a dramatic sigh. “Don’t I know it!”

The three of them laughed around Arden’s kitchen table, three friends enjoying what Jason had always called “female bondage time.”

Lida’s expression got serious. “If you still want to take a chance, though, I have someone in mind.”

“No. No, Lida.”

Heather and Lida exchanged looks. Heather raised a brow at Arden. “I wouldn’t pass this up, if I were you.”

“Why not?” Arden got up to take her empty mug to the sink. Watching her two friends working together to wear down her resolve was…well, wearing down her resolve.

“Because Philip Davis is drop-dead gorgeous, drives a kick-ass car, and has already said he’s interested.”

Arden’s mug clattered against the sink. “What!”

Turning, she glared, arms crossed over her chest. Heather and Lida exchanged looks. Lida picked up another doughnut, but before she could bite into it, Arden yanked it from her hands.

“No more sugar until you confess! What did you say to this guy! How can he be interested, and why? What have you done?”

“Arden,” Lida said in her soothing-a-frantic-friend voice. “Chill, baby. Philip works in my sister’s office. I’ve known him for a few years. He’s a nice guy, plays the field, but not in a sleazy way, and he’s interested because I showed him your picture and he thought you were hot.”

“Hot!” Arden gasped. “Hot? Lida Crowley, you pimped me!”

“No. I just happened to mention you were just getting back into dating and might be interested in having a good time.”

Heather and Lida laughed. Heather said, “Philip is a good time, or so I’ve heard.”

“What?” She couldn’t believe this, she really couldn’t. And yet, she mustn’t have been totally soured on the idea of dating and/or sex because she heard herself saying, “He really wants to take me out?”

“Saturday.” Heather giggled and Lida slapped at her. “We’ve already arranged for your parents to take the girls.”

This made Arden sag against the counter. “Is this some sort of conspiracy?”

“A conspiracy of love,” Lida said. “We just want to get you back on your feet. Or back on your back, as the case may be.”

“You guys!” Tears clogged her throat and burned in her eyes. “You’re crazy!”

“That’s what friends are for,” Lida said in a mock-sage tone of voice. “Carry your burdens, share your joys, get you laid.”

The kitchen rang with laughter, and though she couldn’t believe she was actually saying yes to another date, Arden laughed too. “I guess he can’t be any worse than Shark Boy or Grumpy Greg.”

“Not Philip Davis,” said Lida. “He’s a dreamboat.”

Arden sighed, loving her friends too much to be annoyed. “Let’s just hope it’s not the
Titanic
.”

“So what if it is?” Lida pointed out. “At least you know he’ll go down.”

The week passed much too fast, but Arden filled it with work and her girls. Before she knew it, Saturday had come, and with it, a few extra appointments. Arden didn’t usually work on the weekend, but her parents had arranged to pick up the girls early, and she’d needed something to keep her mind off the night ahead.

She was immersed in a froth of lace and satin when the bell on the shop door twinkled and jangled. Mouth full of pins, Arden pointed to an empty chair when she saw it was Lida, then turned her attention back to the bride who stood, hands clenched, on the stool. A few more pins and the hem no longer dragged behind the petite woman.

“That should do it,” Arden said. “You can change now. I should have the last of these alterations done for you by the end of next week. Then we can schedule your last fitting in plenty of time for the big day.”

The bride let out a low moan, then nodded, eyes wide as she stared at her reflection. “I look like a huge, fat cow.”

“You look beautiful,” Arden reassured her, though in truth she was more than a little tired of this particular Nervous Nellie’s insecurities. She’d already changed her mind half a dozen times about the headpiece and veil, and there were additional problems with the mother’s and bridesmaid’s gowns.

“You really think so?”

“He’ll never look at another woman again,” Lida announced from her perch on the spindly chair.

Bride-zilla gave Arden’s friend a narrow-eyed look. “Why would he?”

Lida bit her lip and wisely kept quiet. The girl huffed and puffed and stepped down from the stool, holding out her hand for Arden to take as though she were a princess descending her throne.

A princess with a bank account to match the attitude, Arden reminded herself. The girl had been a real pain in the ass, but a paying pain.

“Don’t you think it would look better—”

“Oh, no,” cut in Arden smoothly, hustling Fairy Princess toward the dressing room. “A longer hem will only get in the way. Tea-length is perfect for your dimensions.”

Mollified, the bride headed back to change out of the gown and into her street clothes. Arden waited until the girl disappeared through the hanging curtain and then made a face at Lida, who gave one of her distinctive laughs.

“Is it time for lunch yet?” Lida jerked her thumb toward the door.

“Yes, thankfully.” Arden glanced over her shoulder. “As soon as she leaves, I’ll be ready to go.”

In fifteen minutes she’d hung up the “Back in an hour” sign and was headed down the street with Lida toward a local coffee shop that sold delicious wraps and salads. They both ordered specialty coffee drinks and took their spot by the window to stare out at the pattern of traffic.

“Tonight’s the night,” Lida said as she bit into a homemade frosted sugar cookie. “Are you ready?”

“No.” Arden rested her chin on her hand. “Why do I feel like I’m interviewing this guy for a position instead of going on a date?”

“The missionary position?” Lida laughed at her joke. “Relax. You’ll like Philip.”

“I’m sure he’s very nice.” Arden looked up as the girl brought their sandwiches.

When she’d gone, Lida chuckled. “And he’s hot.”

“You didn’t tell him he was to lay me, did you?” Arden asked without much hope, pretty sure that was exactly what Lida had said.

“I told him you weren’t interested in a relationship, that you’d lost your husband, and you were easing back into things.”

“And that I needed to get laid.”

“I might’ve mentioned that.”

Arden groaned, heat burning her cheeks. She’d made the decision to go ahead and explore the idea of going to bed with someone, but she’d foolishly assumed she’d somehow find him herself. Reality hit her after the disaster dates. Hiring a babysitter to watch the girls while she cruised bars in search of a one-night stand didn’t appeal to her, and besides that, if she was actually going to get naked with someone, it was important the effort be worth her time. Like Lida had said at Ladies’ Night three months ago, she needed recommendations.

“I feel like I’m being auctioned off to the highest bidder,” she grumbled, stuffing her mouth with sandwich.