Nerd Gone Wild (17 page)

“None whatsoever. I’m totally in the mood. Lay one on me.”

M
any times in his life, Mitch had realized he was about to make a mistake and had barreled ahead, anyway. This was one of those times. He wanted to kiss Ally more than he wanted to follow the path of right living.

Her lips were so plump, so pink, so incredibly inviting. Her mouth was open just the tiniest bit. Mitch longed to find out if the tip of his tongue would fit right in that opening.

He was sexually educated enough to know that the urge to put his tongue in her mouth was related to the urge to put something else in a different opening belonging to Ally. He knew that once he kissed her, he was headed down a slippery slope. But he couldn’t help himself.

So he made contact, putting his cold mouth against her cold mouth. She sighed, wrapped her arms around his neck, and opened her mouth a little more. His heart slammed into high gear. She was thinking along the same lines that he was. Bring it on.

Not about to let that kind of invitation float away unnoticed, he made a gentle foray with his tongue to see what kind of reception he might get. Ah, man, she threw open the door and pulled him right inside. Did he feel special!

His lips were no longer cold. Neither were hers. Warm lips, warm mouth, warm tongue—what a trio. He could hang around here all day. Kissing Ally was way more fun than he’d thought it would be, and that was saying something.

His only problem, and it seemed relatively minor, was that he was running short of breath. But then again, if he couldn’t breathe, he might pass out, which would not be a good thing. This kiss was building into something pretty damned wonderful, and he needed a second wind so that he could dive in again.

Lifting his head, he gulped for air while clouds of vapor swirled around them.

“Don’t stop,” she moaned, and pulled him back down.

“Not going to.” He picked up right where he left off. The kiss got wetter and sloppier and he started wanting something to do with his hands. At this stage in a kiss, a guy usually developed the urge to fondle, but Ally seemed to be covered in the equivalent of bubble wrap.

At the moment he reached for the zipper of her parka, an alarm sounded in his brain. It was as if hi conscience had picked up a bullhorn.
Hands off the zipper. Back away from the zipper.

Wrenching his mouth free, he sat up, and became aware upon doing so that he was sporting a real dandy of an erection. Fortunately his parka covered the evidence.

What had he been thinking? He’d been ready to unzip her coat! And he probably wouldn’t have stopped there, either. One zipper down, one sweater and a bra catch to go, and before long he’d have been in, touching the merchandise. And it was freezing outside. But down in this little cave of snow, it wasn’t quite so cold, and the waves of body heat made unzipping her coat seem logical.

He still wanted to.

And obviously she was of the same mind. “You quit!” Her tone was accusing.

“One of us needed to exercise some restraint.” That sounded sufficiently anal. He should get back in geek mode, and fast.

She gazed up at him, her chest heaving. “I suppose I could have guessed it would be you exercising restraint.”

Although she’d hurled it like an insult, he took it as a compliment. “Thank you.”

“Oh, well.” She sat up. “I wasn’t having all that much fun, anyway.”

He didn’t contradict her, didn’t dare look at her for fear he’d grab her and start all over. “Yeah, me, neither.”

“Ha. I could feel your woody all the way through the layers.”

“Oh, yeah?” He gave her a quick glance. “I could feel your nipples getting hard. So there.” It was a lie. He couldn’t really feel her nipples through three inches of padding, but he would bet that if he
had
been able to feel them, they would have been as hard as acorns. And not just because it was cold outside.

“Mitchell.”

Instead of meeting her gaze, which would lead to more kissing, he picked at a thread on the stitching of his gloves. “What?”

“This is embarrassing to admit, but… you did turn me on.”

He nodded. “I thought so.”

“I mean, talk about an unlikely source, but there you have it. You’re excellent at this kissing business.”

His penis strained against his pants, wanting out, wanting action. “You’re not so bad, yourself.”

“Let’s do it some more.”

Oh, God.
“Ally.” He still couldn’t chance looking at her. The temptation was way too strong right now.

“What?”

“I thought you didn’t want to have anything to do with me? I thought you wanted me to go back to L.A. and leave you alone?”

“Well, that’s true.”

Finally he turned to face her. “Then what in the hell are you doing, kissing me like… like you wanted to have sex with me?”

She blinked, as if surprised that he’d even ask the question. “Because it seems I do want to have sex with you! That doesn’t mean I don’t want you to go back to L.A. and leave me alone. People can want plain old sex, can’t they?”

He didn’t think there would be anything plain about it. “So you want to have sex?”

“Yes, but we’re not going to. I mean, that would be like I was using you. I couldn’t do that.”

Oh, go ahead.
“I guess not.” He gazed at her as the concept of her using him for sex settled into his brain and started fooling with his body parts, getting them even more excited.

She had scruples about using him, but what if he was willing to be used? She wasn’t talking about a relationship, the kind that would make him look like an opportunistic, gold-digging four-flusher of a cad. She was talking about straightforward sex, a healthy exchange of goodies between two consenting adults.

Having sex with Ally would have several advantages besides the obvious one that it was more exciting than skydiving. She wasn’t the sort of wild girl to have sex with more than one guy in a given period of time. So if Mitch was having sex with her, nobody else in Porcupine would get to.

In addition to that, having sex would mean they’d necessarily have to spend lots of time together. She’d have fewer opportunities to sneak out on him and get herself into trouble with wild animals or Kurt Jarrett. Mitch might not even need that bug under her bed.

He’d have to take it out of there if they actually had sex. She could get really ticked off if she ever found out he’d recorded whatever they did on that bed. However, he’d have more chances to drop the little transmitter into her backpack, which might prove very useful if she should happen to give him the slip.

“And I wouldn’t use you in that way, Mitchell, but let’s face it, you’re the kind of guy who might be able to handle such an arrangement.”

“Why’s that?” He had some ideas. For one thing, he’d know going in that he couldn’t expect more than this. False expectations were killers, but he wouldn’t have any. Still, he was curious as to why she thought he’d be perfect for uncommitted sex.

“It would work because you have such a methodical mind,” she said. “You could view sex as a practical application of resources, an activity to be enjoyed while you’re here and dropped when you leave.”

She was painting a picture that he didn’t quite agree with, but her image of him suited his purposes. She might say no now, but he didn’t want to screw up a future opportunity by telling her that he wasn’t quite that businesslike about sex.

“And there’s another point in its favor,” she said. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“So it’s not like the servants will talk.”

“Nope, and we’d make Betsy really happy. But I still don’t think I should take advantage of you like that.”

“Wait a minute. Let’s suppose you change your mind and decide to take advantage of me, after all. You wouldn’t tell Betsy about it, would you?”

She smiled. “You’ve heard the acoustics at the Loose Moose. It would be impossible to keep it a secret.”

“Um…” As much as he would love to have sex with Ally, the prospect of an audience listening from the first floor didn’t appeal to him at all.

“Then again, maybe you don’t make any noise.” She looked him up and down. “I suppose that’s possible, knowing you. But it’s not only the moans and groans that would give us away. There’s the rocking back and forth part. My bed squeaks.”

“I know.” Then he hurried to cover up his flub. “I mean, it squeaked when we sat on it eating sandwiches. A mattress on top of squeaky springs.” When she nodded in agreement, he relaxed. But then, she’d never suspect him of installing listening devices under her bed.

“Well, it doesn’t matter whether the beds squeak or not, because my conscience wouldn’t let me use you for my own selfish purposes.”

Letting her use him for her own selfish purposes was the best idea he’d heard in years. “You know what, Ally? I think maybe you should—” He stopped talking when he heard footsteps crunching in the snow.

“Is somebody down there?” called a deep male voice.

Because Mitch knew that the voice didn’t belong to either Clyde or Rudy, and because Betsy had alerted them that Dave might be shoveling nearby, Mitch was sure it had to be the wondrous manly chain-saw sculptor. How lovely. Caught looking stupid by Dave, who managed to stay in touch with his softer side while still hanging on to his rugged, studly side. Mitch figured he’d hate the guy on sight.

“We fell through!” Ally called out. “And we lost our shovels in the process!”

“Blabbermouth,” Mitch muttered. He would rather carve out an exit with his bare hands than have Dave the Magnificent know they were semi-stack down here.

“I saw the shovels.” From the flutter in his voice, the guy obviously was right on the verge of laughing. “I’m Dave, by the way, from over at the Top Hat.”

“Thought so.” Mitch ground a little bit of enamel off his back molars. “Just toss me a shovel,” he said. “I’ll dig us out.” But the sound of a shovel blade biting into the snow told him there was no saving this situation. Dave was going to play hero.

That was confirmed with another cheery message. “Sit and relax. I’ll have you out in no time.”

That’s good, because Ally and I were discussing whether or not we should have sex. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
How Mitch longed to set Dave straight. But if Ally was unwilling to use Mitch for selfish purposes, she wouldn’t use Dave, either. If anybody was going to be used, Mitch intended for it to be him.

And he’d be damned if he’d sit there and let Dave dig them out all by his lonesome. “I’ll dig from this side,” he said. Then he got to his hands and knees and started scooping snow out of the way.

* * *

Ally thought it was cute the way Mitchell got all grumpy and competitive after Dave showed up. His Dudley Do-Right chin with the adorable cleft got all rigid and his mouth settled into a straight line. Digging away like that, he looked like a dog trying to bury a bone.

She’d be happy to help him, but there wasn’t enough room, and besides, she thought he was being silly. Dave would make much faster progress with a shovel, and Mitchell was wearing himself out for nothing.

She understood how a guy like Mitchell would be threatened by a guy like Dave. Mitchell might be a terrific kisser, and Ally wasn’t kidding about wanting to go to bed with him. There was amazing chemistry between them. Too bad she didn’t believe in using someone for her own gratification.

And that’s what it would have to be, because Mitchell was not a guy she’d ever get serious about. He was one-dimensional. He seemed to have no outside interests whatsoever. Work, work, work—specifically his job tending Grammy’s estate—was his life.

“Betsy’s going to wonder where in the world we’ve been,” she said. “And why the front door’s still blocked. She was eager to go shopping.”

“At least she has Clyde to amuse her. And she doesn’t need to go shopping in order to have tons of fun with Clyde.”

Ally laughed. “Right.”

“That reminds me.” Mitchell kept digging, building a little ramp as he went. “About that item she planned to pick up, I—”

“You mean eggs?” She couldn’t resist. She knew he didn’t mean eggs.

“No, the other thing.” He scooped snow in a steady rhythm.