Sinful (4 page)

When she sat there, clearly flabbergasted, unable to even begin to process what he was promising, he murmured, almost regretfully, “Four.”

“All right!” She glared at him, angrier than she had been in a very long time, and she was still just beginning to learn how to experience anger rather than suppressing it, as she had been expected to do all her life. “They were all quite surprised when I refused to go to bed with them. There wasn’t a one of them that I would have slept with voluntarily, and one of them in particular seemed to feel that involuntary was just fine with him, too, since he’d paid for my meal. Luckily, when I began to date, Marielle suggested that I keep pepper spray in my purse, and I had to use it on that occasion.”

During her sad little speech, she had stared at her plate, her enjoyment of the dessert forgotten, certain that he was gloating at having gotten her to capitulate to him. But she was dead wrong, and when he reached across the table to lift her chin so that she had to look at him, she saw the truth of how he felt about what she said written all over his face.

He was livid – not at her, but at whoever it was that had felt that taking her out for dinner, or whatever, entitled him to the use of her body, whether she wanted him to or not. “It would make me very happy if you would give me the name of that man, and I’ll make sure he never threatens you or any other woman in the future over the price of a dinner.”

There was a muscle ticking in his jaw, and she had seen that happen to her father, too, when he was very, very angry. But then, it was always a situation where she was being punished for something that was her fault – whether it actually was or not. If she had been the one in charge when something went wrong, then she would be the one her father chastised for any sort of failing in his eyes.

But Brandt was angry for an entirely different reason, and he even wanted to go so far as to go beat up some man he’d never met on her behalf because he’d made her feel threatened.

She found it was darned near impossible to stay mad at someone like that.

“Eat the rest of your dessert,” he encouraged, digging into his own.

She made a good dent in it, but he ended up finishing it.

When he brought her home, already having opened the door for her and turned on an inside light, he prepared to leave her on her doorstep with an affectionate hug that he let her set the limit for. She couldn’t help but stop him with a question that had been niggling at the back of her mind as he trotted down the steps on the way to his truck. “Brandt?”

He turned back to her immediately, leaning on the stair railing with an almost smile on his face. “Yes, Miss Lita?”

She smiled, knowing he was teasing, not mocking, her. “You really wouldn’t have... well... you know... done that... would you?”

It was his turn to cross his arms across his chest, no smile in evidence. “What do
you
think?”

She thought for a long moment, then said, “I think I’m going to quit while I’m ahead.” She never heard him come up behind her, but when she turned to go into her apartment, she felt a sharp swat to her behind that had her dropping her purse in favor of grabbing the offended body part.

From behind her, she heard him say, soft and low, “I mean what I say, Lita. You’ll do well to remember that,” just before she heard the truck door slam and its engine roar to life.

She had entered her apartment that night and collapsed on the couch in a heady combination of absolute fear, complete elation and a warmth she wasn’t at all sure wasn’t from shame. But it seemed a much more likely explanation for it might well have been that, for the first time in her life, she was feeling pure, sexual attraction to one Brandt Striker.

And she wasn’t at all sure whether that was the best thing that ever happened to her, or potentially the worst.

***

And, as their relationship progressed over the months, she was still in a quandary about which side of the fence she was going to come down on with him. She enjoyed their time together enormously, though. He was smart and funny and didn’t seem to care one whit that she was woefully ignorant of most of the conventional social memes. Lita – to her shame – was still having a hard time not thinking of sleeping with him before marriage as not being the worst result. Brandt had already told her, flat out, several months in, that he would never even consider marrying a woman he hadn’t had sex with. As he put it, “A lot of sex.”

Lita, of course, wasn’t at all sure how to quantify sex, since she’d had so little of it even as a married woman.

He’d continued to be marvelously patient with her, although he had insisted on some things that she had – to his pleasure – gone along with without much of a fight. He’d wanted to hold hands with her, and she was fine with that. He wanted to kiss her, and although she had misgivings about that, she let him, and then, since he was so annoyingly good at it, he had her asking him to kiss her, and, wickedly, teaching her how to initiate, which she found both tantalizing and horrifying.

Apparently, though, most men liked it, and he certainly did. She knew because she’d asked him outright. He’d told her not to worry about asking him anything, that he was an open book, and that he’d be unhappy with her if he thought that she had a question she wasn’t asking him just because she was too embarrassed to do so.

“Well, I don’t want you coming in and taking my genitals out to use on your own, but yeah, it’s a compliment to know that the woman I’m with wants me, too. Desire should be mutual.” She was still working on the “taking his genitals out to use on her own” part of the comment, he could see, and he was trying not to laugh at her horrified look.

She was such a babe in the woods; she was, essentially, a virgin, and, in most ways, he found that to be powerfully attractive. Eventually, though, her hang-ups were either going to make them, or break them, because, although she didn’t know it yet, his patience – which had never been as infinite as he would prefer – was wearing a little thin. He wanted her, and they were seeing a lot of each other, but, on his sister’s advice, he was trying to let her set the pace of things, which meant that he was going home wanting every night, and that, frankly, was getting old.

Things came to a head on her birthday. He had been teasing her with the idea of a surprise night, where she just had to put herself in his hands and let him take care of her. He picked her up early that morning and told her he’d take her anywhere, do anything with her all day. So they ended up haunting flea markets and Goodwills looking for bargains. He took her out to a movie in the early afternoon – that she considered quite racy but he knew to be relatively tame – and then to a light lunch at one of her favorite hole in the wall restaurants in the area.

Laden with bags and boxes of assorted leftovers and the occasional trinket he’d bought her that she’d admired, he deposited her in his truck and drove to what he considered to be the highlight of the entire day. He’d rented them a suite at a hotel in Santa Fe, which was about two hours or so away, at a hotel that had palatially large rooms with indoor or outdoor hot tubs and/or private pools; twenty-four hour room service; giant flat screen TVs; big, comfortable king sized beds; and in this suite, even a small, fully equipped kitchen area.

As far as he was concerned, this was going to be the first night he made love to her. How she was going to react to that idea, he wasn’t at all sure.

Not that he necessarily thought she was going to cause a scene, but just in case, he pulled the truck into its assigned space and reached over to draw her against him. “What is this?” she asked, looking around.

Brandt squeezed her gently, saying, “This is the last part of your birthday surprise. We have a room here for the weekend.”

Lita swallowed hard, but didn’t say anything, preferring instead to fiddle with her jeans – the first she’d really worn since she’d left her former life. She’d bought several pair, but never actually put them on.

“I haven’t really talked to you about this because you’re so uncomfortable with it, but I want you, Lita. I want to make love to you. I know you probably think that’s wrong, since we’re not married, but, dammit, it’s how I feel.” He let his frustration get the better of him and kept talking when he probably shouldn’t have. “I’ve been taking it easy, trying to let you decide what you’re comfortable with, intimacy-wise, but I’m near the end of my rope here. I know I’ve done this badly. I should have made you talk to me about this beforehand, but I guess I just hoped it would be okay, somehow. Intellectually, I don’t want you to feel pressured. But physically... ” he trailed off, afraid he’d already said much too much and that he’d screwed it up so badly that she was going to bolt from the truck and rent a car to drive herself home, then never see him again.

She surprised him to no end by throwing herself at him, wrapping her arms around his chest, and out and out bawling. “No, you’re right. I’m a ninny. It’s not like I’m a virgin. I’ve been married. I just... well, you know all about it. I really don’t mean to hold you at bay...” She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to say, but she wanted to soothe him somehow. He looked very disgruntled with and upset at himself and not even remotely happy to be there with her.

It was hardly what she’d pictured when she’d thought of the first time they’d make love, and to her surprise and shame, that was something she had thought quite a bit about. So she took herself – and him – in hand, lacing her fingers with his, and saying, “Why don’t you show me our room?”

In response, he lifted her onto his lap in the roomy cab. “I do want you, Lita, every bit of me wants to love you in every way, but the last thing I want is for you to feel obligated or forced. Truly. It would break my heart.”

With the softest smile he’d ever seen on her face, she turned it up to his, saying, “I don’t. You’ve been wonderfully patient with me and I appreciate your willingness to put up with all my weirdness.”

Brandt leaned down to kiss her – really
kiss
her – for the first time, knowing he wasn’t going to have to break off in the near future, his lips softly melting onto hers in a manner so undemanding that she actually kissed him back without thinking. As if she didn’t already know, there was going to be absolutely no comparison between being intimate with Brandt and being intimate with her ex. They were two diametrically opposed experiences.

After very reluctantly leaving her in order to register, he came back out to her and carried her into their room, hefting his lone suitcase in behind them.

“I don’t have any clothes!” Lita’s hands went to her face – she couldn’t imagine wearing the same outfit for three days.

“Of course you do,” he said, opening the case. “I know your size, and I bought you all new things.”

He wasn’t kidding – there was everything from two frilly, matching sets of bras and panties to two new pairs of shorts – which she had never worn in her life – as well as a somewhat modest one piece swimsuit, shirts, and even comfortable sneakers and socks as well as a pair of strappy sandals.

“Marielle must’ve helped you with this,” she guessed, hanging up her beautiful new clothes.

“I will never divulge my sources, no matter how much you torture me,” he challenged valiantly, his hand on his heart as if making a serious vow, pulling a face that made her laugh.

Despite her laughter, he could tell she was on edge, alone in a room where the bed seemed to be no more than fifteen feet away at any given time, but she seemed to be willing to push through it, and he was selfish enough to want her to. So he kept things light and very carefully didn’t come close to pouncing on her when they first entered the room. They unpacked the things that he’d brought, and then he opened the French doors that lead to the two-person hot tub, which was adjacent to a small in-ground pool that was completely private. There was no one else in sight – indeed, the hotel was surprisingly deserted, considering the price he’d gotten for the room, but then, perhaps that was the reason why it had been so cheap.

Although he wanted nothing more than to throw her onto the bed and ravish her in every sense of the word, Brandt recognized that that was the fastest method to get her to ask him to take her home immediately. So, instead, he turned on the lights in the pool and spa, and announced, “I’m ready for a soak. How about you?”

In seconds, he’d peeled down to his underwear – he had absolutely no modesty hang-ups at all, unlike Lita. As soon as she saw that he was undressing, she’d turned her back to him, but he hadn’t let that deter him in the least.

Desperate for something – anything – to do, Lita grabbed the swimsuit he’d thrown at her and escaped to the bathroom, where she had to give herself a pep talk just to strip enough to get it on – what there was of it.

She was certain that it was practically matronly as far as he was concerned, but it accented the fullness of her breasts, dipping far too low there, and rising much too high at her hip, which showed off her bare legs.

She had never even considered being this exposed in front of a man who wasn’t her husband – and her husband had never expected it of her. He had only touched her at night, when they were both in bed, and the lights were out, under her nightgown, like decent people did it.

That thought exploded into her head and she frowned at it and herself in the mirror. She knew she had to jettison her old taboos if she was going to make it outside the confines of a place where she’d felt terribly stifled. But now, in the outside world, she felt exposed and vulnerable, even with Brandt, who was just about as attentive and caring as she’d let him be.

So she straightened her back and opened the door, expecting to see him waiting for her, but instead all she saw was his jockey shorts lying on the floor near the end of the bed, and his head just above the rim of the hot tub.

Lita took her courage in her hand and marched out onto the private, nicely landscaped patio to join him, trying to do so while not looking at him, although it was proving to be harder than she’d thought. Eventually, she did, finally, manage to splash down into the tub next to him. His naked arm came around her shoulders, holding her tight to his side. “Thank you for joining me. I know it couldn’t have been an easy thing to do.”

At least he always tried to acknowledge her efforts in doing things that any woman of her age had probably done a thousand times, and she did her best to relax and enjoy it – and with the hot, bubbling water swirling all around her, she found it almost entirely too easy to do.

Brandt handed her a fluted goblet, saying, “Sparkling cider for my lady,” then raised one of his own that she had a feeling was not filled with cider. “To you, Miss Lita Johnson, on what I hope will be a very happy birthday.”

She smiled genuinely. “It already is. Thank you for arranging all of this! It’s too much!”

“Put yourself in my hands, honey. You don’t have to think or worry about anything this weekend, regardless of what happens between us.” He kissed the top of her head, and then said, “Nothing is too good for you, Lita.”

At least this time she could blame her flushed cheeks on the hot water.

“I want to say something, and I want you to know it as the absolute truth.”

His tone was ominous, and she braced herself to hear something like goodbye from him, or worse, despite where they were and all of the nice things he’d said.

He held her chin with his finger and looked solemnly into her eyes as he said, “When we were talking in the parking lot, I was frustrated and it all kind of came out all over you, and I’m very, very sorry for that. If all we do this weekend is kiss and cuddle, I’ll be fine. I’ll walk hunched over, but I’ll live, and I can’t think of anything worse than the idea that you gave yourself to me, not because you wanted to and you wanted me, but because you felt you owed me something. You don’t—”

Lita leaned forward, just a bit, and kissed him. She liked being the one that started the kiss, partly it gave her a bit of control that she didn’t always feel around him, but also because of the sheer novelty of it. She’d certainly never initiated anything like that with her ex, but she wanted to kiss Brandt, and didn’t want him worrying that she was feeling guilty or obliged in any way. His initiative was just what she needed to jolt her out of a vicious cycle of self-imposed and self-generated guilt about the conflicts she felt about him.

She’d left her parents’ oppressive religion because she’d felt stifled and repressed by it, as if, as a woman, she had no control over her life. To say nothing of the fact that she’d chosen a path – divorce – in life that got her out of a bad situation, but that her parents would never be able to reconcile with their faith.

She’d wanted to see what the world was about, wanted to experience more than she would ever have been able to had she remained, and Brandt was definitely one of the things she wanted to experience. She’d never felt ‘turned on’ in her life until she met him. Lust was severely discouraged, even between a man and wife. Sex was purely for procreation and not recreation. The feelings he inspired in her had her wracked with guilt one minute, then wishing he was there with her to help ease them the next. Both extremes played hell with her happiness and what little inner peace she had left from her screwed up childhood and her current, eye-opening step into the real world.

When she finally ended the kiss, he sat there for a long moment with his eyes closed.

“Are you okay?” she asked, wondering if she’d done something wrong.

“Oh, hell yes,” he breathed, making her smile broadly.

They soaked for a little while longer, but Brandt was mindful that it not be too long or they’d end up sleepy. He’d resolved to try to take it as slowly as he could, so he figured dinner was in order, since they hadn’t eaten in a while.

The restaurant at the hotel was rumored to be one of the best steak places in the state, and he had a hankering to try it out. But when he told her to get dressed, that they were going out to dinner, she seemed to hesitate uncharacteristically.

If there was one thing he liked about how she had been raised – and there were precious few positive things – it was that she had been taught to look to a man for direction, and he was just the kind of man who liked to give a woman exactly that, if she was comfortable with it. He
liked
being the one in charge, who was responsible for making the decisions in the relationship. Not that he wanted her to be some mindless robot – he didn’t. He was just most comfortable when he was the one who would make the final decision about something that they had discussed together thoroughly. He expected his woman to voice any kind of concerns, problems, opinions she had – he couldn’t do it all by himself; he needed to know what she thought. But when push came to shove, he preferred to be the one with the final say.

And that seemed to come very naturally to Lita. Some of the women that he’d dated had chafed at that particular personality trait, saying he was too autocratic and that he ordered them around too much. Now, some of them were saying that because they were brats, and they were hoping that he would spank them out of it. Spanking for spanking’s sake was fun, but not really what he wanted. Play spankings were fine to indulge in with someone who wasn’t interested in the deeper aspects that came into play when real discipline was introduced into a relationship.

He wasn’t entirely sure how Lita would respond to that idea, but given her tendencies, he thought that it might also be almost second nature to her. And he intended, this weekend, to get some answers about that, too. “What’s wrong?” he asked, stopping her as she reluctantly walked towards the closet.

She had a habit of not meeting his eyes that he was trying to change as well, but he often had to remind her with a finger beneath her chin.

She remained silent – not quite defiantly, but close – until he decided that now might be just the time to let her know that he was going to start putting his foot down in the relationship. He was really curious about what her response would be. “Lita, when I ask you a question, I expect a prompt answer, as you already know.”

Her eyes flew to his, large and round, her mouth open in a surprised ‘o’ at the chiding authority in his voice.

“And if I don’t get one…” he continued, sitting down on the edge of the bed and tipping her still damp, swimsuit clad body over his lap as if it was the most normal thing to do.

“Brandt!”

“Oh, you’re talking to me now? Is this what I need to do every time I ask you a question in order to get a response, Lita?” She couldn’t hear any sarcasm, just again that tone of censure. He might as well have been saying her father’s favorite line when she’d done something that had disappointed him and had resulted in a punishment, “You know better than that.”

He was still naked as the day he was born, and she was lying over his lap – quite comfortably, she had to admit, with the bed supporting her at either end, until he shifted her a little, forcing her hands to cling to those thick, muscular calves of his, and requiring her to bend down so that her tippy toes touched the thick pile carpet. She was so preoccupied with her own embarrassment at the situation that she completely forgot to answer him, and that didn’t go over well.