Complicated (3 page)

Victoria had been so relaxed she was on the
verge of drifting into sleep, but at this she opened her eyes to check his
expression.

When she saw he was grinning at her, she
grinned back. “Men of your advanced years tend to be good at
everything
.”

She saw his expression change. Realized with
a thrill that he genuinely appreciated the compliment.

It was nice—that she had pleased him. That
she
could
please him. Even though a year ago she would have insisted he
was far beyond her grasp.

And it was nice to cuddle up beside him like
this and play with the coarse hair on his chest.

It was nice to hear his breathing slow down
after he reached over to turn off the light.

And it was nice to feel the heat of his body
as the darkness of the room surrounded them.

It was nice to fall asleep beside him.

And it was ironic that she hadn’t known this
was something she’d been missing for the last three months.

***

She woke up slowly—first recognizing that she
was unusually warm and cozy, then feeling a big, solid body beside her, then
realizing that the skin of her cheek was clinging hotly to someone else’s skin,
and finally hearing the slow breathing of the man beside her.

Greg. It was Greg beside her. She’d slept
with him all night and was still snuggled up against his side.

He was still asleep. Victoria had never seen
him asleep before so she opened her eyes and lifted her head.

His face looked younger with his features
relaxed from sleep and the shadow of the dark growth of the beginnings of a
beard was more obvious than usual. He needed to shave. And his dark eyelashes
looked oddly fragile against the skin under his eyes.

She was just about to peek under the sheet
to see if he had a morning hard-on when he opened his eyes and caught her.

“Good morning,” she said, covering quickly
by pretending she was tucking the sheet more securely around his chest.

“Hi.” He gave her a perplexed smile. “What
were you doing?”

“Nothing,” she lied. Looking desperately for
a distraction, she asked, “What time is it anyway?”

When she saw the time, her focus shifted
dramatically.

“Shit!” She jumped out of bed, conscious
that she was naked except for her little satin panties. Her body wasn’t
bad—curvier than she would have preferred but certainly nothing to sneer at.
But she wasn’t used to parading around without any clothes on. Ignoring the
flicker of self-consciousness, she said, “I’m late. I have to teach a class at
eight o’clock.”

Greg looked lazily over at the clock. “Wow.
Is it already seven-forty? I must have slept like the dead.”

“Me too.” Frantically trying to rehearse the
time remaining, Victoria realized she’d have no time for a shower. It would
take almost fifteen minutes to get over to the university, which left her five
minutes to get dressed. “Damn it. We should have set the alarm.”

“Sorry about that. What class do you have to
teach at eight?”

Victoria flung back the sheet, grabbing at
her bra when she found it. “A library class,” she explained impatiently,
clumsily trying to fasten the hooks on her bra. “On how to use the library.”

Greg looked genuinely curious. “You mean
they don’t know?”

She’d found her blouse on the floor and was
buttoning it as quickly as she could. “Most freshmen are clueless. They don’t
even know how to find books—much less periodicals and academic journals and—”
She broke off as she stepped into her straight skirt and zipped it up.

She still had her stockings on, so she
wouldn’t have to mess with those. She ran over to the mirror and gave a shocked
squeak at what she saw. “Help! Why didn’t you tell me I looked so horrible?”
Her mascara had smudged a little, one of her cheeks was bright red from being
pressed up against Greg all night, and her hair was a disaster.

“I thought you looked pretty good.”

She snorted, almost choking as she splashed
water onto her face. “That’s either an outrageous lie or else a sign of some
perverse impulse men have to see their women looking well-fucked and exhausted.”

She bit her lip as she dried her face, glad
she was out of sight of the bed. She hadn’t meant to say “their women” as if she
were implying she was
his
woman.

She checked her face again, not having the
time to spare to beat herself up for such a minor slip. One side of her face
was still redder than the other, but that would hopefully fade in a few
minutes. Her face was scrubbed clean, but it was better than before.

She scrambled over to her purse, which she’d
dropped on the floor in their frantic stumble toward the bed last night. As she
grabbed a comb, Greg said, “Nothing perverse about it.”

“What?” She glanced over at him distractedly
as she tugged the comb through her tangled hair.

“Enjoying the sight of my woman
well-fucked,” he explained.

Her mouth dropped open ,and she stared at
him, almost diverted from her urgent rush to get dressed.

He looked rather well-fucked himself—lazy
and content, stretched out on the bed, with rumpled dark hair and that
delicious five-o’clock-shadow. Victoria had to fight the urge to crawl back in
bed with him.

“What?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling in
confusion. Clearly he didn’t place any of the significance that she had on the
“his woman” thing.

“Nothing,” she bit out, taking her long blonde
hair and knotting it up in a sloppy chignon. She took her wire-framed glasses
out of the case in her purse and put them on. Then studied herself in the
mirror as she pulled on the jacket to her suit. “How do I look?”

“Like a librarian,” Greg said with a smile.
“Like a librarian who has just been tumbled in the back room.”

She scowled at him.

“And you should probably put on your shoes,”
he added.

“Shit!” She’d almost forgotten and had to
dig under the bed to find one that had been kicked under it.

It was seven-forty-seven when she picked up
her purse again. “All right. I have to go. I’m already going to be late.”

“You should be all right. Don’t rush too
much and have an accident.”

There was something oddly sweet in the
remark that Victoria didn’t have time to process fully. But she went over and
gave him a quick kiss on the mouth—an impulse she never would have acted on had
she been thinking more clearly. “Okay. Bye. I had a good time last night.”

“Me too.” Greg’s voice had grown warmer and
more textured. “I’ll give you a call later.”

Victoria flew out the door, ignoring the
strange confusion she felt in the much more understandable flurry of the rush
to get to work on time.

She never should have spent the night with
him.

***

 “So who is he?”

Victoria turned around at the sound of the teasing,
ironic voice. She’d been pouring herself a cup of coffee in the break room,
needing it after her mad race to the university earlier this morning and her distracted
attempt to teach the library class.

Her effort to instruct the freshmen with her
typical calm reserve had been woefully unsuccessful.

“Of whom are you speaking?” she asked with a
skeptical arch of her eyebrows.

Jeanie snickered. She was an attractive
woman with an ever-changing hair color and a bohemian taste in clothes. Today
her hair was relatively discreet—brown with a few streaks of purple—and she was
wearing a broomstick-skirt with an ethic print. “Don’t try to intimidate me
with your snotty use of grammar. Who is he?”

Victoria had always liked Jeanie, despite
the way the woman always teased her about being uptight and wearing prissy
clothes. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“You’re holding out on me. I’ve suspected
something for a while, but now I know for sure. You’re wearing the same outfit
you wore yesterday, and you ran into work a few minutes late looking like you’d
barely managed to get dressed. And every time you move a certain way, you
wince.”

Victoria frowned, doing her best to keep her
dignified façade. But when she turned on her heel, she stretched her sore thigh
muscle and couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath.

“See,” Jeanie exclaimed victoriously. “You
got fucked good last night, and I want to know who he is.”

Realizing it was useless to deny it,
Victoria took a long sip of coffee and relented. “Maybe I did. But I’m not
about to tell you who it was.”

“You have to! I don’t have any excitement
myself—there’s only so much excitement to be found in four cats. Who is it? Is
it someone at work? Jason?”

Victoria snorted inelegantly at the thought
of fucking the skinny twenty-five-year-old who worked in the rare-books room of
the university library. “Give me a little credit. I really can’t tell you,
Jeanie. I’m not just being mean. We’re trying to keep it quiet.”

Jeanie looked disappointed, but she didn’t
complain. Just said, “Well, at least tell me about it. Are you in love? Is this
why I’ve caught you smiling goofily for the last two months.”

“What?” Victoria gasped, offended by the very
idea. “I have
not
smiled goofily. And I’m definitely not in love. It’s
just sex. Totally casual. We have a good time, fuck a couple times a week, and
then go on with our lives. It’s the perfect relationship.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as that cynical.
Don’t you want to fall in love?”

“Maybe.” Victoria shrugged. “But not now.
Every relationship I’ve been in has been ridiculously complicated and—no matter
what happens—I’m always the one who ends up getting hurt. Remember last year
when I dated Mark? I was stressed out for months, not knowing if it was
serious, hoping it was serious, then all upset because it wasn’t serious after
all. I’m sick of messing with it. I might want to settle down and get married sometime
in the future. But not now. This is much easier and less complicated, and
neither of us is going to get hurt.”

“You think?”

“Yes. We agreed from the beginning it was
just about sex. We don’t share our deepest secrets, we don’t talk about our
childhoods, and we don’t spill our guts or anything. We have a few laughs and
then we fuck. There are far too many complications for anything more.”

Jeanie was leaning forward, obviously
intrigued. “Like what?”

“Like family things,” Victoria said vaguely,
thinking of Greg’s brother who’d just been elected governor. “And we’re at
different stages in life.”

“He’s eighteen, isn’t he? Is he a student?”
Jeanie demanded with a malicious smile.

Victoria rolled her eyes. “No! He’s older.
And our lifestyles are really different.” That was definitely true. Greg’s
family had a long history of influence and power in the state, and generations
of Stones had contributed to the family wealth. His brother had always been in
the limelight—on the news, in magazines, at every important event in the city—although
Greg was more private. He avoided the press like the plague. She really knew
very little about him, except he was an executive for a successful, gourmet
grocery store chain and he’d had a wife who had died seven or eight years ago.

She only knew that because she remembered
hearing about it shortly after she’d moved to the city, having just got a job at
the university.

“Is he a swinger?”

“Stop it,” Victoria objected. “You’re not
going to get it out of me by being stupid. I like my life the way it is. I
don’t want complications. I just want some good sex occasionally, and that’s
what I’m getting from him.”

“Is it really that good?”

To her disgust, Victoria felt herself
blushing. “It’s the best sex I’ve ever had. I’ve always dated guys my own age,
and they’re either clueless, selfish, or too eager.”

“This guy isn’t eager?”

Victoria vividly remembered Greg’s hot urgency
last night and felt her whole body flush.

“Damn. I’m jealous. You’re getting hot just
thinking about this guy.”

“I am not,” Victoria insisted, pulling
herself together. “Anyway, he has plenty of experience. And he’s patient, takes
his time, knows what he’s doing. It’s the best sex of my life. Plus, I don’t
have to worry about annoying complications or getting hurt.”

Jeanie looked skeptical again. “I guess so.
But if I were having a fling with this skillful, patient hunk of a man, I might
want to do a little more than fuck him.”

Victoria shook her head. “I’m not saying I
don’t like him. But I’m not about to fall in love. There’s no reason things
have to be as messy as people make them.” She finished off her coffee and
poured herself another cup.

“Who would have thought little-miss-prim-and-proper
would be having a sordid affair.” Jeanie looked delighted at the thought.

Victoria frowned. “It’s not sordid. And I’m
not as traditional as everything thinks.”

She was traditional in a lot of ways—at
least, she always had been. She had a quiet upbringing, her life had revolved
around school, and her family and her social circle had always been small. She
hadn’t lost her virginity until she’d been twenty-two years old.

She’d thought she’d been in love with that
guy, but he’d moved on a few months later.

About a year ago, after her failed
relationship with Mark, Victoria had taken a long look at her life and decided
it was all right, but kind of boring. Since then, she’d been trying to take a
few more risks, to try some different things. She’d taken a vacation to the
Caribbean six months ago by herself. And she’d volunteered to work on a
political campaign she never would have bothered with before.

Then she’d met Greg, and she’d done the most
irresponsible, spontaneous thing in all thirty-one years of her life.

And she was loving it.

“I’m having a good time,” she said at last.
“And for once I’m not making it complicated.”