Read To Me (4 page)

“Only if you’ll take some of my French fries.” They made the exchange, and Guy waited patiently for her to continue her story.

“I’ve bounced around a lot of jobs in my life. Anything I could find to make ends meet. I was a single mother, so I did whatever I could to scratch out a living for my daughter and me.” Sometimes juggling two and even three jobs at a time. But she wasn’t looking to host a pity party.

“Your daughter’s father didn’t help out?”

A chill passed through her. She didn’t want to think about Reese, Ashlynn’s father. One of the biggest mistakes of her life. Still, if she hadn’t made that mistake, there’d be no Ashlynn. “No. He’s never been in her life. We weren’t married.”

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“Oh, it’s all right. I just—”

“How old is your little girl?”

Blaise grinned. “My
little girl
’s a grown woman.”

It would have been natural to mention Ashlynn’s upcoming nuptials, but Blaise was suddenly reluctant to spill the beans. She was pretty sure she was older than Guy, and was fine with it. That made her a
cougar
. Silly, but she hated for him to picture her as a matron—the mother of the bride in a frumpy outfit and a gaudy hat. Not when she sat here with him, rumpled and glowing from sex and hoping for a second helping—
not
of onion rings.

Speaking of which. “Could you spare some of your ketchups?” She’d already used all her own little packets.

“Take them all. I don’t use it.” He deposited them on her plate.

“Thanks. So.” She smiled. “I’ve run my mouth long enough. What do you do?”

“You mean you couldn’t tell from all my questions? I’m a lawyer.”

“Oh.” Now
that
was impressive.

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Not one of the wealthy ones, though. I’m an attorney with Legal Services.”

He definitely wasn’t in the legal profession for the money. “I see.”

“I work with the elderly, children, survivors of domestic abuse. It’s a pretty mixed bag.”

Blaise admired him even more. “You like helping people, too.”

He nodded. “I think I’ve helped some, yeah.”

“Was that something you always wanted to do? The law, I mean.”

“Not right away. For a while, I thought I might be a teacher like my father.” He wiped his mouth and placed his crumpled napkin on his plate. “My mom’s an accountant, but numbers aren’t my thing. My roommate in college was pre-law, and he got me thinking about it. As it happened, he ended up dropping out, but I decided to go for it.”

“Your family must be very proud of you.”

“They’re proud of both their children. I have a sister. I think my
abuelo
was proudest of all.”

“Your grandfather.”

His eyes lit up. “You know Spanish.”

“A few words.” She’d picked them up from Desi and her mother, Gloria.

“Abuelo was in his eighties when I passed the bar exam. He actually cried when he heard the news. He worked as a custodian and lived to see his grandson become a lawyer.”

Blaise blinked hard and had to clear her throat before she spoke again. “That’s an amazing story. Your family really embodies the American Dream.” She wondered what he’d make of her story, nowhere near as inspiring. An unintended pregnancy at nineteen, being forced to drop out of college, years of scrounging at minimum wage jobs to support even a crummy standard of living.

“Hello?” He tilted his head, peered at her intently. “You seemed to go somewhere else for a minute.”

“No, it’s nothing.” Her smile felt more like a grimace.

He nodded at her plate. “Have you finished?”

“Oh. Yes.”

He stood, gathered their plates and glassware, and placed the tray outside the door. Blaise slipped back into bed, admiring his firm backside as he walked away from her and his taut abs as he headed back toward the bed. On his way, he stopped and picked up
Cupid’s Delight
from the armchair. He smiled, one corner of his mouth hitched a bit higher than the other.

“Remember this?”

“Oh, yeah. You bet.” She smiled, patted the empty pillow beside her.

He climbed into bed and leaned against the headboard with the book. She snuggled against his solid form, her head nestled in the groove between his neck and shoulder. It fit there perfectly, as though designed especially for her.

Guy held the book in his left hand, his right arm keeping Blaise snug against him. He read aloud while she turned the pages.

Chapter Four

Blaise shifted in the darkness, gradually becoming aware of the heavy bedclothes and the warm solid body beside her. For a moment, she froze in panic. This wasn’t her room, her bed. A blink later, she remembered where she was and who shared the bed with her.

Thanks to
Cupid’s Delight
the evening had been most memorable. Twice she and Guy had set the book aside to re-enact an episode from the hero’s delightfully naughty adventures.

Smiling in satisfaction, she rolled his way. It felt so luxurious and decadent to press her naked breasts against his back, nuzzle his neck. His scent mingled with the aroma of sex saturating the room.

There was no shyness in her as she reached across his hip to stroke his sleeping cock. It responded to her touch, growing, hardening, awakening perhaps before the man himself did. It wasn’t long though before Guy murmured and rolled to his back.

“What—”

“Shh…” She covered his lips with her fingers to shush him. Blaise was sleepy and sex-drunk. She might be dreaming and, if so, never wanted to wake up.

She rose and straddled his hips, leaned down to kiss him, and flicked her tongue along the seam of his lips. His mouth opened, and he sucked on her tongue as though it were a delicious stick of candy. He was trying to claim her, but Blaise didn’t want that. She wanted to be in control. Wanted to claim
him
.

She pulled back with a laugh, swinging her hair off her shoulders, then grasped his cock. She pumped it, pausing from time to time to caress the velvety cockhead with her thumb, massaging slippery pre-cum into his skin.

“Is that good?” She spoke in a whisper, so not to disturb the dream.

“Mmm. Yes.” The answer came in a hiss. He bucked up into her touch. She cupped his balls, teased that tender little spot behind them with a finger.

He almost bucked her off him that time. She laughed. “That good, huh? Hold on. I’ll make it even better.”

She grabbed a rubber from the nightstand and tore open the packet. She pinched the air from the condom’s tip and after feeling for its lip, placed it in her mouth. Dipping her head, she unrolled the condom over his cockhead with her lips and tongue, using her hands to roll it down completely. Though latex wasn’t her favorite flavor, using this little trick to please Guy made her hot. Tingles raced through her.

“Hold on.” She lifted herself over him and guided his cock inside her. “It’s going to be a wild ride.”

She moaned, sliding down his thick shaft.
Yes
. She was a bad, bad cowgirl, and he was her stud. She’d show him what she could do.

That’s when Guy turned the tables. He grabbed her arms and jerked her down for a wet, deep, open-mouthed kiss. A
fuck me
kiss. And she would. She was. Blaise scraped her breasts against his rough, crinkly chest hair, then tore away to suck in air before he pulled her back. They fought each other with crushing kisses and dueling tongues, struggling for mastery.

“Let me. Let me,” she gasped, and finally he let her pull away to sit up again on his raging hard cock. Her nipples, clit, and pussy were all on fire. Hell, every inch of her skin was ablaze.

She moved slowly at first, loving the way he filled her. But soon, she needed more, faster. Her thighs quivered as she rode him hard, her blood thundered in her ears, and her lungs burned as she gasped for breath. Just when she thought she might collapse from exhaustion still unsatisfied, he snaked his hand between her thighs. The brush of his finger on her clit sent her over, and her core clutched him as it pulsed with her orgasm.

That brought him with her. His thighs tensed beneath her and his fingers dug into her hips as he came.

****

When she awoke later, it was to the bright morning sun and the aroma of coffee. She opened her eyes to find Guy at the edge of the bed holding a cup. He smiled down at her. “I don’t know how you take your coffee.”

She sat up, stretching. “Black is fine.” She accepted the cup, took a sip of the strong brew. He’d already dressed and shaved, and his still-damp wavy hair indicated he’d showered as well.

As good as he looked, she preferred him tousled, the way he’d been last night.

“How old are you?” she heard herself ask and blushed at how abrupt she sounded.

His eyebrows rose a bit at the unexpected question, but his smile didn’t waver. “I’m thirty-eight.”

Doubt pinged her. Okay, she’d assumed he was younger, but six years?

Guy’s mother must have taught him that a gentleman never asks a lady her weight or her age, because he didn’t turn the question around on her. Blaise bit the bullet all the same. “I’m forty-four.”

Again, there was no diminishing of his smile. “Then I guess we’re both plenty old enough to know what we’re doing.”

And what are we doing? What am I doing?

With a shaky smile, she set her unfinished cup on the nightstand, stood, and gathered up her clothes. “Think I’ll grab a shower myself.”

She made it a quick one, then scrambled into her clothes. She had no toothbrush, so used her finger and the tiny guest tube of toothpaste to clean her teeth. Better than nothing. Running a comb through her tangled locks, she sighed, already missing Guy, although they hadn’t yet said goodbye. Now she remembered why she’d never liked hookups. She wasn’t very good at them. She always got a little too emotional, then too sad when they were over.

It would be particularly hard saying goodbye to this man. Their connection had not only been sexual, but personal. Their conversations between romps had been eye opening and thoughtful. She’d been sure he’d felt the pull, too.

Based on what, Blaise? Your wishful thinking? Just because you feel something doesn’t mean he does.

When she emerged from the bathroom, her coffee cup had been refilled. Not only was he an intelligent and downright sexy man, he was a considerate one. She picked up the coffee, grateful for something to do with her hands in their last few awkward moments together.

Time to say goodbye as gracefully as possible. “It’s almost check out time, isn’t it? I should be going.” She set the cup down, then took her purse from the top of the dresser. “Maybe we’ll see each other again sometime on the bus.”

Oh, hell. Why did she say that? Now he’d think she was angling for a repeat performance. Desperate older woman looking to get laid again.

She wanted to let go lightly. She had to get back to her real life, to being the sober and responsible Mother of the Bride. She’d had the best night of her life, and that was fine. She had no further expectations.

And yet—

“Blaise, I’d like to take you out for breakfast.” He took a quick glance at the digital clock-radio. It read ten forty-seven and check out was eleven a.m. “Or brunch might be a better option. What do you say?”

Excitement fizzed inside her. If he’d wanted to be rid of her, he could just let her go with a “Thanks, it was great.” But offering to prolong their time together? Maybe he felt the same pull that she did.

He caught her momentary hesitation. “We don’t have to say goodbye just yet.”

She surprised herself for the second time that morning. “But maybe we should.”

His startled look gave her the determination to go on. Last night she told herself she wanted more. Well, that hadn’t changed. She didn’t want to wait like a schoolgirl and “let the boy decide” what course to take. “If this is all we’re going to have, then I don’t think I want to prolong the goodbyes.”

“I see.” His eyebrows lowered, and his mouth firmed, an expression she took as anger. Blaise’s stomach tightened into a knot. She’d been too pushy, and he wasn’t having it. Well, at least she’d made her feelings known.

He picked up his jacket and shrugged into it. “In that case, let’s not say goodbye at all.”

She’d misread him. Her flattened hopes filled with air, became buoyant with possibilities. They’d only spent one night together, true. But now at least they’d have a chance to get to know each other, to find out if they really clicked.

A smile lit his face. “Brunch, then?”

Her own lips curved. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Terrific.” He patted his back pocket. “I’ll need my wallet.” He gestured to the items he’d placed on the dresser last night. “Would you mind?”

“No problem.” She picked up his watch and wallet in one hand, but somehow fumbled while handing them over. The wallet fell to the carpet and spilled open.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m such a klutz, always dropping things.” She stooped to gather the wallet along with the bills and paper stubs that had fallen out, but froze when the glint of gold caught her eye. A plain gold wedding band touched the tip of her shoe. As Blaise picked it up, all her hopes imploded and her silly little dreams turned to dust. Her skin turned clammy. Her gut churned with disappointment and disgust.

She stood, the ring between her thumb and forefinger, leaving the rest of his garbage on the floor. She didn’t so much as glance at Guy. If she took one look at his lying, cheating face, she’d either punch him or puke all over the expensive carpet. Maybe both. Wordlessly she flicked the ring away. It landed with a clatter on the dresser. If he didn’t respect it, why should she?

“It’s not what you think.” His voice barely penetrated the roar of blood in her ears.

Of course not. It never was. But she wasn’t about to stand here and listen to his excuses.

She whirled on him, her jaw so tight it ached, her eyes hot with rage. “Don’t. Say. A word.” She grabbed her bag from the Tattered Page. She already felt as though her gift to Ashlynn had been defiled by his lies and her own stupidity. But there’d be plenty of time to hate herself later.