No Regrets (6 page)

I was sore and breathless when my contractions died away, but my body was washed with pleased satisfaction.

I kind of collapsed, and he took care of the condom and then returned to bed with me.

“So how was it?” he asked, looking just as hot and exhausted as I felt. He also looked fully sated, which gave me a strange feeling of pride, that being with me had put him in that state.

I gave a breathy laugh. “Really good.”

“Was that what you wanted?” I saw a lingering question in his eyes.

“Yeah,” I said, stretching out to stroke his face very briefly until I was afraid the gesture was too intimate. “It was exactly what I wanted. Thank you.”

“You can stay the night, if you want.” He was looking at me with an expression I didn’t quite understand.

I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to or not. “Either way is fine. I understand what no-strings-attached means, so I’m not hoping for cuddles and kisses, you know.”

That made him chuckle. “Good to know. But I’m serious. Stay if you want. No need to leave after sex like that.”

“Good. Because I’m exhausted. I’m not sure I could move right away.”

“Me either.” He stretched out beside me and pulled the covers over both of us. “Besides, we might get a second-wind later on.”

“Maybe so.”

We lay, looking at each other, for a minute, until he asked, “So how have you been doing? Since Polly, I mean.”

I felt a clench of emotion at her name. “Okay. I’ve been okay. I think it’s…it’s starting to get better.”

“Yeah.”

I hesitated for a moment. Then added, “It’s hard, you know. I’m so used to having her around. She followed me everywhere, so it’s strange to be at home without her right there. It’s…it’s lonely.”

“Yeah. I guess it would be.”

I swallowed over the grief and focused on him instead. “Why don’t you have a dog?”

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know. You’re a vet. I assume you like animals. You like dogs, don’t you?”

“I love dogs. But it’s hard to have a pet, since it’s just me and I’m at work so much.”

“I work too, and I’m all by myself. You could make it work if you wanted to.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He glanced away, the way I was learning he did when he was saying something that went deeper than the surface. “It’s just…having a pet is a commitment, and I’m not in the place to do it right now.”

I gazed at him, thinking about what he’d said, about what it revealed. He wasn’t just cutting himself off from romantic relationships. He was cutting himself off from any sort of responsibility, commitments.

Yet again, I was dying to find out why.

But that wasn’t what we were about. We weren’t here to get to know each other better. We were just here for great sex.

“Do you think you’ll get another dog?” he asked, in a different tone.

“I don’t know. Probably. I can’t even think about it yet.”

“Yeah. I know the feeling.”

There it was again. That hint that there was more here to know, more that he just wouldn’t tell me.

I wasn’t going to push, though. This was supposed to be casual, so I needed to keep it that way.

***

We fell asleep and didn’t wake up until the next morning.

I’d had no intention of really falling asleep, so I was surprised and disoriented when I woke up and discovered it was five-thirty.

My shifting woke Josh too, and he opened his eyes and squinted up at me. He appeared rather dazed until he finally focused on my face. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I said, sitting up. “I can’t believe I slept all night.”

He turned his head to look at the clock. “Wow. Yeah. No big deal, though.”

I relaxed a little as I saw his response. He was laidback, casual, like it wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t, really. Just because I hadn’t intended it, didn’t mean it was a problem. “I guess I should get going.”

“No hurry, as far as I’m concerned. I don’t go into work until eight. You can take a shower, if you want. I think there are clean towels on that closet in the hall.”

“Thanks,” I said, getting out of bed and then suddenly conscious that I was naked. It didn’t feel thrilling the way it had last night. I was just embarrassed. I grabbed my clothes and left the room, conscious that Josh was watching me.

I grabbed a towel, took a quick shower, and put on my clothes. Josh was still in bed when I returned, but he was awake.

He smiled at me. “So did you have a good time?”

“Oh yeah. Thanks.” I grinned down at him, thinking it was very strange—and kind of a relief—to be so casual about it. No worries. No hurt feelings. No expectations.

Just sex.

He sat up and reached down to grab his underwear, which he slid on as he stood up. I supposed it was a gesture of chivalry—to put on his shorts before he walked me to the door.

He stopped to grab a business card from his hallway table on the way and handed it to me. “Give me a call if you want to get together again.”

I stopped, peering down at the card. “Okay.”

“Any time,” he added, giving me a brief hot look.

“Got it,” I said with a smile. “Thanks.”

I left, feeling okay about things. I’d taken a risk. I’d had a really good time. And there was no harm done.

And he wanted to get together again.

At least, I assumed he did. I would have preferred for him to call me and let me know when he wanted to get together. But he’d left it entirely up to me. Maybe he was trying to be sensitive, but I wasn’t used to calling up men, except for work or within a relationship.

I definitely wasn’t used to calling up men to ask for sex.

As I got in my car, I started to feel a little uncertain. I tried to picture myself calling him up in a few days, imagining what I would say, how I would make it seem casual.

I started to wonder whether I would ever actually do it. The lure of hot sex might be strong, but my quiet, reserved habits were very deeply entrenched.

Shrugging, I decided I’d play it by ear and not worry about it right now.

A week later, I was having dinner at my favorite Italian restaurant with eight of my friends for my birthday.

It was a really nice evening. My friends were all fun and entertaining, and I got a number of very thoughtful presents—as well as a few funny ones. There was good food and good wine and good company. I had nothing to complain about for my thirty-ninth birthday.

But I was leaving the restaurant at nine-thirty and thinking about Josh.

I hadn’t called him yet.

I’d thought about it, of course. I thought about it every night. But every time I reached for the phone and started to dial, I’d feel weird and nervous and just didn’t do it.

It was honestly a little annoying that he’d left it totally in my court. I didn’t like it to be in my court. If a man wanted to get together with me—for sex or anything else—then he should get the balls up to call me himself.

That wasn’t the situation with Josh, though. He definitely wasn’t sitting around brooding about me, hoping for me to call. I was just casual, and so he could take me or leave me easily.

Maybe I just wasn’t cut out for casual affairs. I took things too seriously.

Still, though, I leaned back against the seat of my car and thought about calling him.

He was the one who’d told me to call him, so it wasn’t like it was out of the blue. And the two nights we’d spent together had been really amazing.

And, if I didn’t call him, I’d have to go home to an empty apartment.

Without even Polly waiting for me, wagging her tail with irrepressible joy at greeting me.

I wasn’t depressed about my birthday. I’d had a good night. But if I went home without even trying to call Josh, I knew I would regret it.

And I was determined not to regret what I could do something about.

So I took out my phone and his business card, which had been in my purse all week, and I dialed the number quickly, before I could second-guess myself.

A cold wash of fear spread out through my arms and legs as I heard the rings. It was a Thursday evening. He might not even be home. He might be out with someone else. He might be tired. He might not want some random woman calling him up and asking for him to pleasure her.

I was so nervous on the fourth ring I hung up. There was no way in hell I was going to try to leave a message. I sat and stared at my phone, feeling like an idiot.

What the hell was wrong with me? Why was even something so simple so hard? I should be grown up enough to call up a guy without having a panic attack.

I started my car, feeling let down for the first time all evening.

Then my phone rang, startling me so much I almost jumped.

I glanced down and saw that it was Josh, calling me back.

My nerves surged back up into my throat, but I made myself connect the call and say, “Hello.”

“Hey. It’s Josh. Did you just call me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t find my phone.”

“You’d lost it?”

“No. Not really. It was in my pocket when I took off my pants, so it took me a minute to find it when I heard it ring.”

“You already took your pants off?” The question really did make sense to me. After all, it wasn’t even ten in the evening, and I couldn’t imagine he’d already gotten ready for bed. But, when I heard myself say it, I wanted to cringe.

“Well, you see, I was hoping you’d call, so I wanted to get my pants off early so I’d be ready.”

The words were so matter-of-factly spoken that they took me a minute to register. Then I burst into helpless laughter. “Very farsighted of you,” I said at last, when I’d caught my breath. I was smiling like an idiot on the phone, but at least that was better than feeling like an idiot.

“So why are you calling? Is it what I’m thinking?”

He didn’t sound surprised, uncomfortable, or reluctant. In fact, he sounded rather pleased. It gave me courage enough to say, “Maybe. It depends on what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that I hope you don’t want to wait until the weekend, since I’m doing absolutely nothing right now.”

“Really? It’s not like I expect you to drop everything just to—“

He made an amused, throaty sound. “Are you serious? I’d drop pretty much anything for the chance to get you back in bed.”

“Oh. Good.” I was getting excited now—in more than one way.

“So do you want to come on over? Or I can go—“

“I can come over there. I’m downtown anyway, so I’ll just drive over.”

“Why are you downtown?” he asked, as I pulled the car out of the parking lot. “You weren’t on a date, were you?”

“Some date that would be, if I had to make a stop at your place afterwards for a little satisfaction.”

He chuckled. “I’m happy to provide satisfaction in the event of any bad dates you happen to have.”

“That’s good to know. It wasn’t a date. I was out with friends. It’s actually my birthday.”

“Is it really? Happy birthday. Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah. It’s been good. They had a cake for me at work, and then my friends got together for dinner.” I stopped at a light, trying to remember which road was the quickest route to Josh’s building.

“So the real question is, has anyone given you your birthday spankings?”

His tone was light, teasing, but the words made my body clench with interest anyway.

What had gotten into me? I’d never been like this, turning every random comment into sex.

He must have sensed something in the silence. “You liked that idea, didn’t you?”

“I certainly didn’t call you up, hoping for birthday spankings.”

“Well, that was your mistake. But sometimes good things happen to us, whether we ask for them or not.”

I laughed, torn between humor and rising anticipation. “And you’re so sure birthday spankings would be one of those good things?”

“Hell, yeah. They’d be good for you. I can promise you that.”

So that got me even more excited. And I was still about two miles away from his building. His voice had gotten slightly breathless, and he seemed to be moving around, so I asked, “What are you doing?”

There was a slight pause. “I’m trying to pick up a little before you get here.”

I giggled again. “Oh, I see. Is it a mess there?”

“I wouldn’t say a mess, but it’s not exactly neat.”

“I don’t care what your place looks like. I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be waiting.”

I disconnected the call and tried to talk myself down. There was no sense in building up my anticipation too high, since reality might not measure up.

Josh was good in bed. No question about that. But every sexual experience wasn’t going to be mind-blowing. That just wasn’t life.

I was feeling basically in control as I headed up to his apartment and knocked on the door. He swung it open with a smile, looking laidback and startlingly handsome in a white t-shirt and khakis.

I blinked at him. “You put your pants back on.”

He grinned and let me in the door. “Didn’t want to overwhelm you too quickly with the sight of me in all my naked glory.”

“That would be overwhelming.”

We stood smiling at each other in the hallway for a minute.

“I thought you weren’t going to call,” he said at last, glancing down and then back up.

I dropped my purse to the floor of the hallway, near where he had a couple of pairs of shoes. “I didn’t know if I was or not.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Me too.”

“Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.” I felt a little silly, and I shifted from foot to foot. “Are you really expecting to give me birthday spankings?”

“Well, not right away.” His mouth quirked up slightly. “In the right context, it can be hot, but if you just jump right into it, it feels kind of…”

“Weird.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Do you want a glass of wine?” he asked, walking toward the kitchen.

“That would be great.” I started to relax, since drinking a glass of wine felt normal, comfortable. Certainly more comfortable than the thought of birthday spankings.

He poured out glasses of Merlot, and we went to the couch to sit down.

“So how old are you?”

I made a face, but I was determined not to make a big deal about something that just wasn’t. “Thirty-nine.”

“Are you all depressed about it?” He didn’t look surprised or appalled by my age. Just curious.

I shook my head. “No. It’s just a number. I don’t feel any different.” I peered at him closely. “Am I older than you thought?”

“I hadn’t even thought about how old you were. What does it matter to me? Your age doesn’t affect how hot you are.”

Well, that was refreshingly honest. And kind of nice to hear. “It’s good to know you have your priorities in order. What about you?”

His eyebrows drew tighter. “What about me?”

“How old are you?”

“I promise you that my age doesn’t affect how hot I am either.”

I relaxed back against the couch, enjoying the repartee. “I believe you. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“What does it matter?”

I was so surprised by his reluctance to tell me that I straightened up. “It doesn’t really matter, since I’m pretty sure you’re of legal age for sex. But I want to know.”

“I’m definitely of legal age.” His put his glass down and leaned forward. “And speaking of sex…” he began in a thicker voice.

The tone gave me shivers, but I persisted, “Why are you being so stubborn about it? I know I’ve got to be older than you, but I told you how old I am.”

“How old do you think I am?”

“So we’re playing that game, are we? Fine. Twenty-three.”

He made a choked sound and stared at me, “No. I’m older than that.”

I couldn’t hold back my laughter at his horrified face.

“Damn it, you weren’t serious,” he growled.

My whole body was shaking with amusement and a kind of pride at having bested him at verbal play—which I’d discovered was no small feat. “Of course, I wasn’t serious. Did you think I’d hook up with a guy just out of college?” My amusement faded into a smile. “It takes a certain level of maturity for a guy to even be sexy to me.”

“And I meet that level of maturity?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Good.” He took the glass of wine out of my hand too. “Other than that, age doesn’t matter.” He leaned forward to kiss me.

I leaned back. “Tell me how old you are first.”

“I make it a point to never answer questions that are asked purely out of nosiness.” He leaned forward again, his breath blowing against my skin.

I put a hand on his chest. “And I make a point of not kissing guys who won’t answer my nosy questions.”

“Then we’re at an impasse.”

“I guess so.”

“We’ll see who caves first.” He reached out to stroke my neck down to my shoulders, and I shivered at the touch on my skin.

“I told you that I don’t kiss guys who won’t—“

“I’m not kissing you.” He reached for me again, and before I could think to object, he had me laid back on the couch so he could caress me. Even over my clothes, the touch aroused me before I knew to expect it.

Realizing I was quickly losing this little game, I tried to swat his hands away. So we ended up having a playful wrestling match until he had me trapped on my back on the couch, his body over mine.

His hands had moved up my sides, just at my ribs—but now they seemed to linger just on the edge of my breasts. The playfulness of before faded beneath an entirely different kind of pull.

I arched my back up, pushing my breasts against the heels of his hands. And I inhaled with a shuddering wave of desire.

Josh seemed to recognize the shift in mood too, and his hands grew still. His blue eyes ignited as he gazed down at my body beneath his and then back up to meet my eyes.

We stared at each other for a long, tense moment—the attraction so thick and heavy, it held me trapped in place.

Then Josh muttered, “Fuck, Leslie.” And he leaned down into a kiss.

I moaned against his lips and wrapped my arms around him, rubbing against him with every part of myself I could. His slightly rough skin grazed against mine as his mouth moved with a hard and hungry ardor.

When I was dazed and breathless, I tore my mouth away, tilting my head back and squeezing my thighs around his lean hips. Feeling a thread of irresistible irony, despite my physical response, I asked, “So how old
are
you?”

He gave me a wolfish smile and kissed me again. Then he rubbed his jaw against my cheek until I squirmed.

When he didn’t answer, I persisted, “You must be much too young for me, if you’re so unwilling to tell me.”

With a husky laugh, Josh reached down and moved my knees so that my thighs fell open even more. Then he pushed against my groin with his—letting me feel his hard arousal. “Maybe so. But, honey, you drive this much-too-young guy wild.” The texture in his voice was both teasing and hot.