The Hang Up (First Impressions) (9 page)

Hiccup!

“That you do,” Jason said with a grin. “Wanna try one of the cures I suggested?”

“What were they again?”

“There’s plugging your ears while you swallow water, or bending over to drink it,” he said.

“Oh. Well, maybe I could try—”

Hiccup!

Jason grinned wider. “Of course, we had a guy on a backpacking tour once that had seriously chronic hiccups. He’d tried some really crazy cures. Pulling on his tongue, having someone cover his mouth and blow air up his nose, rectal massage, or—”

“What?”

He held up his hands in mock defense. “I’m just telling you what my client tried. But hey, I’m game for anything.”

“Water,” she said and picked up her glass. “I’ll try the stuff with the water.” She started to take a drink, then frowned. “Wait, how am I supposed to plug my ears and hold a glass at the same time?”

“You could get a straw,” he suggested. “Or we could make it a two-person job.”

She hesitated, thinking about it. She’d already embarrassed herself enough during this meal. Did she really want to humiliate herself by having this guy stick his fingers in her ears? Maybe if she tried—

Hiccup!

“Okay,” she said with a sigh of resignation. “Will you please plug my ears?”

“My pleasure.” Jason stood up, flexing his fingers with dramatic flair.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Miriam said, trying to stifle another hiccup as he pushed in his chair and stepped closer, making goose bumps prickle her arms.

“Hey, you got to bail me out when I was covered in mud and locked out of my house,” he said. “It’s only fair that I come to your aid when you need a couple of fingers stuck in your—”

Hiccup!

“Nice timing on that one,” he said with a smirk.

“Just shut up and stick ’em in.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He moved behind her, and Miriam was conscious of the big, solid heat of him. She felt his fingers slide into her hair, and he pushed it back off her face. His palms were warm where they grazed the edges of her cheekbones, and Miriam thought of the way Phuzeei purred when she stroked the sides of his face.

She was on the brink of purring herself.

“Ready?” he asked, and his voice was almost a growl.

“Uh-huh,” she murmured, ready for just about anything he cared to offer.

Miriam picked up her water glass and braced herself for another hiccup. Nothing, at least not yet. She drew the glass to her lips. “Okay,” she said.

His fingers grazed the edges of her earlobes, and Miriam shivered. He slid his fingertips upward, dipping softly into the shells of her ears. It should have been weird. It should have been a turnoff.

But it was neither of those things. There was something ridiculously intimate about it, about feeling those thick, warm fingers pressing into her, those large thumbs skimming the edges of her lobes. She could feel his belt buckle against the nape of her neck, or at least she thought it was his belt buckle. Was he as turned on as she was?

Miriam tipped her head back and parted her lips, sipping at the icy water. She swallowed, marveling at the sensation of doing it with someone’s fingers in her ears. Her senses were dulled, and she could hear her own heartbeat, along with the strange
glug-glug
of water moving down her throat. She kept breathing, her lungs filling with the scent of rosemary and maybe Jason’s soap. His hands felt huge and warm on the edges of her face, and she kept swallowing, since it seemed like a good alternative to turning around and grabbing his ass.

“Keep going,” he said, or at least that’s what it sounded like. She couldn’t hear very well with his fingers in her ears.

“Swallow,” he commanded, and she did it, getting more turned on by the minute. This was ridiculous. There was nothing erotic about a guy sticking his fingers in her ears while she gulped ice water and tried not to make a fool of herself with another obnoxious diaphragm spasm.

At last, she set her glass down, her breath coming fast even though she hadn’t done anything strenuous. She felt Jason’s fingertips slide from her ears, and felt stupid for missing the warmth.

He sat down next to her, grinning, his knee bumping hers beneath the table. “How’s that?”

She waited, breathing in and out, checking in with herself. “Good, I think.” She took a few more breaths, waiting for another hiccup. Nothing. She looked at him and grinned. “I think I’m cured.”

“Excellent.”

“Yay!”

“High five,” he said, and held up his massive palm. She had no choice but to smack her hand against his. It didn’t budge, the palm solid and enormous against hers.

“Okay, give me some more etiquette tips,” he said as he eased back in his chair. “Seems like talking might be your trigger, so let’s put that to the test.”

“All right.” She tried to think of something she hadn’t already covered. “Okay. No elbows on the table at any point during the meal.”

“I already knew that one. What else?”

“Um, use your napkin often, both for your hands and for wiping your mouth.”

“Roger that,” he said. “So far so good.”

“Um, don’t put your phone or your keys on the table.” She was struggling to come up with something instead of obsessing over whether she might hiccup or if Jason would touch her again if she did. “And don’t take photos of your food for Instagram or Facebook or whatever.”

“Please,” he said with a dramatic shudder. “Do I look like the kind of guy who’d want to post pictures of a pork chop?”

“Probably not,” she agreed, still trying to keep focused on her body. “Okay, uh—don’t reach across the table to sample someone else’s food, not even if they offer. And if your food isn’t cooked properly—like if your steak is too rare or they forget to put the dressing on the side instead of—”

Hiccup!

“Dammit!” She dropped her head into her hands.

“Want to try another cure?”

“I think we should call it a night, Jason.” She peered up at him through her fingers. “I’m so sorry. This is terribly embarrassing.”

“No way.” He shook his head and leaned toward her again. He was close enough she could feel the heat of his shoulder, close enough to feel his breath ruffling her hair. “You haven’t even given me a chance to show off my first aid skills.”

“Your first aid skills extend to hiccups?”

“Not exactly. But I’m willing to give it a shot.”

“Fine,” she said, then covered her mouth as she felt another hiccup coming on. “What else do you have up your sleeve?” she said through her fingers.

Jason reached up and touched her hand. One by one, he peeled her fingers away from her mouth. Instead of letting go, he held fast to her hand, tightening his grip just a little.

“I have one more surefire cure.”

Miriam shivered, even though she wasn’t cold. “What’s that?”

“It’s guaranteed to work.”

“Then why didn’t you do it before?”

“Because,” he said as he brushed her hair back from her face, sending her heart pounding into her skull. “You told me not to kiss you again.”

“Oh.”

And then he did it anyway.

Chapter Seven

As Jason lowered his lips to Miriam’s, he remembered her words from earlier that day.

No fooling around.

He braced himself to be pushed away, to have her tell him this was a terrible idea for all the reasons they’d discussed before.

But instead of pushing him away, she grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him closer. “Yes,” she murmured against his mouth, kissing him back a lot harder than he’d kissed her.

Maybe she was taking this hiccup cure thing seriously, figuring this was worth a shot. Maybe that’s what this was about.

But her hand on his ass put a stop to those thoughts. “God, I want you,” she breathed, sending a shot of adrenaline straight to his cock.

Okay. He didn’t need any more encouragement than that. He tunneled his fingers into her hair, threading them through those thick, luscious curls he hadn’t stopped thinking about since Saturday. They felt like silk, like smooth coils of energy, electrified by the intensity of her kiss. She hadn’t come up for air or hiccuped again, which seemed like a great sign on several levels.

Still, he should probably put this cure to the test.

“Gentle throat massage,” he murmured as he planted a careful trail of kisses down her throat. She gasped when his lips brushed the hollow of her neck, and he could feel her pulse leaping against the delicate skin there. He kept kissing her, moving his way down.

“Throat massage,” she repeated, sounding a little dazed. “I can see how that might work.”

“It pays to follow the esophageal system all the way down.” He kissed his way between her breasts and wondered if this was the weirdest form of dirty talk he’d ever come up with.

But it seemed to be working.

He felt her squirm beneath his lips, her breath coming fast and heated now. His mouth grazed the lacy edge of her bra cup, teasing the warm globes of flesh.

Miriam gasped again. Her hand was still on his ass, but Jason felt the other one drop from his lapel and slide down the middle of his chest. Her fingertips grazed his abs and kept moving down, catching his belt buckle with surprising enthusiasm.

She dug her nails into his ass, hard, which forced him up off the chair. His lips broke contact with her breast, and he drew back, breathless as Miriam yanked him to his feet.

“Stand up,” she ordered, though he was already halfway there.

“What for?”

“Because I just thought of another hiccup cure I want to try.”

“What’s that?” He scrubbed a hand over his jawline as Miriam yanked at his belt buckle. His cock strained against the zipper of his pants, anticipating what Miriam had in mind.

But Jason wanted her to say it. He wanted to be absolutely sure this is what she wanted.

“I want to suck you,” she said.

“Okey-dokey,” he said, too dizzy to spend any time considering what a dork he sounded like.

She had his belt buckle undone and was dragging his zipper down, working with an efficiency that took his breath away. Or maybe it wasn’t the efficiency doing it. Maybe it was the feel of her hand on his dick through his boxer briefs, the warmth of her breath against his abdomen, the smell of rosemary and red wine making him dizzy.

She tilted her head back and grinned up at him, those green eyes twinkling like she’d just stolen a peek at her Christmas present two weeks early. Jason gripped the back of the chair, not sure how long his legs would be willing to hold him up.

Her words echoed in the back of his brain,
no fooling around,
and though his libido screamed at him to shut the fuck up, he had to ask again. “Miriam, are you sure?”

Hiccup!

She giggled, then nodded with mock solemnity. “Absolutely. It’s a legitimate medical treatment, after all.”

She dragged his boxer briefs down his hips and let his pants drop with them. He felt like an idiot standing here in her dining room with his trousers around his knees and his dinner half eaten on the table beside him.

And then he felt something else entirely.

Her fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft and she lowered her mouth to him, making a delicate
O
with her lips. She drew him in slowly, letting him glide to the back of her tongue, and he let go of the chair with one hand and reached for her hair.

Delirious with need, he tangled his fingers in those curls and closed his eyes as Miriam drew back, then slid her mouth over him again. There was so much heat, so much wet, soft suction, that Jason thought he might pass out.

She was doing something with her hand, some sort of twisty maneuver that worked in time with her mouth and left him wondering if she’d taken a class in this or was naturally gifted. He’d never felt anything like this in his whole life, not with anyone.

“God, Miriam,” he groaned as she sucked him in again, her mouth working miracles. He could feel her tongue flicking over the underside of his shaft, her fingers still tight around the base of him as she swirled her tongue around the head of his cock. He tightened his fingers in her hair. He was going to lose it if he wasn’t careful.

“Miriam—”

“Mmm,” she said, and the vibration traveled all the way up his spine to the nape of his neck. She drew back and grinned up at him. “I think the cure is working. I feel better already.”

“You’re not the only one.”

She laughed and started to lower her mouth again, but Jason caught her under the arms. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer if she kept at it, and he wasn’t ready for this to be done.

They’d already crossed the line. They might as well sprint full speed ahead on the other side of it.

Her eyes widened as he lifted her to her feet. He shoved his chair back and spun her around, pinning her against the table. He kissed her hard, claiming that magical mouth with his as he kicked his shoes off and freed himself from his pants and underwear. Miriam had gone to work on his jacket and tie and shirt, though he barely realized it until he noticed she was shoving them off his shoulders and onto the ground behind him.

He pulled back, breaking the kiss. “Well, that’s not very fair, is it?”

“What’s that?”

“You’re still fully clothed. We owe it to medical science to remedy that.”

She gave a dramatic sigh, though he saw her eyes flicker with desire. “If we must,” she said.

He grabbed hold of the ties at the side of her dress and said a silent prayer his years of camping tours would pay off and he’d remember how to untie a knot under duress. He was under serious duress. If he didn’t get her dress off in five seconds, he’d be even more duressed. Or undressed? Holy hell, he was losing it, making up words and fumbling with knots like an eight-year-old Boy Scout.

“Thank God,” he breathed as the ties came loose and the dress slipped open to reveal the sexiest bra and panty set ever created. It was some sort of flimsy black lace, and the sight of it made him even more eager to devour her from head to toe.

“You’re fucking beautiful.” He grinned. “Sorry for cursing at the dinner table again.”

“I’ll let it slide this time.”

“Will you?” He trailed a hand down her abdomen and under the seam of her panties.

She gasped as he slid a finger inside her, finding her warm and wet and very, very ready.

“I want to taste you.” He didn’t wait for her reply as he caught her waist with his free hand, angling her body the opposite direction of the dinner plates. Then he lifted her onto the table, satisfied by the little gasp of surprise she gave as she let herself fall back.

His chair was still behind him, so he sat down hard and let his fingers slip beneath the lace of her panties. He shoved the fabric aside and shouldered her thighs apart, more eager to taste her than he had been with anything on his dinner plate.

The second he touched her with the tip of his tongue, her whole body arched clear off the table.

“Oh God!” she cried, and gripped the back of his head like she feared he might stop.

Jason had no intention of doing that.

He slid his tongue along her opening, getting more turned on by the way she writhed and gasped on the table. His tongue found the sensitive little bud he’d been seeking, and the instant he touched it she bucked again. He held tight, gripping her hips with both hands as he circled her with his tongue, feeling her grow tense beneath him.

“Jason. I’m going to—”

“Do it,” he growled, taking one hand off her hip and sliding a finger inside her. He felt her clench around him, so tight, so wet, so close.

She screamed, a primal howl that left him grateful they were here at her little house instead of his duplex with the shared wall. He kept his hold on her hip, working her with his finger as she rocked against him and gripped the tablecloth in a fist, knocking over his empty water glass.

He didn’t let go until he felt her go lax. She lay breathing hard for a moment, then propped herself up on her elbows and grinned at him.

“Now there’s a hiccup cure someone should write up in a medical text.”

“Happy to be part of the scientific study.”

She pushed her hair off her face, flushed and lovely in the candlelight from the centerpiece. “I’m not hiccuping anymore.”

“You’re cured.”

“Seems that way,” she said, then glanced at the sideboard. “I really think we should continue the treatment.”

“You have something else in mind?”

“Maybe.” Again with the glance at the sideboard and a grin he was starting to really love.

“Are you planning something kinky with napkin rings?”

“No. But it’s possible I stashed a condom in there right before you showed up.”

He laughed and stood up, already halfway to the sideboard. “What happened to ‘no fooling around’?”

“I meant it,” she said. “Mostly. But a lady must be prepared for anything.”

“Thank God for that.”

He grabbed the condom from the drawer and headed back to her, tearing the wrapper as he went. She set a hand on his and stopped him. “Let me,” she said, then took it from him and reached for his cock once more. “I want to feel you again.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll be feeling a lot of me in just a few seconds.”

She laughed and slid the condom on with expert hands. Jason reached for her again, a little dumbstruck by how this whole lesson was turning out. “Do you have any more dinner etiquette suggestions for me? Anything about choosing the right tie or sniffing the wine cork or something?”

“How about a lesson on tipping,” she said as she drew him closer and slid the head of his cock along her wet opening. She drew him inside, just the tip, and Jason gave a low moan of pleasure.

“Just the tip?”

“No way,” she said, drawing her legs up behind him and pressing her heels into his back. “I want the whole thing.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, and slid deep inside her.

She cried out, her ankles locking behind him as he started to move inside her. He went slowly at first, giving her time to adjust, but it was clear Miriam didn’t need that.

“Fuck me!” she gasped as her thighs clenched around him. “God, yes! Like that.”

Jason didn’t need to be told twice. He was a lot better at taking direction with sex than he was with table manners, which seemed to bode well for both of them.

He drove into her again, loving the way she moved beneath him. This wasn’t a woman content to lie passively beneath him, batting her lashes like a princess. Miriam knew how to fuck back, how to take what she wanted, how to move her hips to bring him right to the edge.

He held his breath, not ready for this to be over yet. Maybe he could slow his pace, recite the user manual for his snowmobile or envision his favorite hiking trail to keep his brain locked on something besides the fact that he was dangerously close to coming inside her.

“I’m close,” she gasped.

“Thank God.”

He drove into her hard, and Miriam arched up again, pressing herself against him. He glanced down at where their bodies joined, mesmerized by the sight of her wrapped tightly around him as he slid himself deep inside her again and again until he felt something burst behind his eyelids.

“Christ!” he ground out as he exploded inside her, driving harder and harder until they were both spent.

When they stopped moving at last, Miriam gave a sigh of contentment and angled up on her elbows again. “Well,” she said. “That etiquette lesson went a little differently than I expected.”

Jason grinned. “Do I get a gold star?”

“You get something, all right.” She smiled back and pulled him down for another kiss.

…

As Miriam mulled her usual array of normal postcoital activities, it occurred to her that doing the dishes had never made the list.

Then again, she’d never slept with Jason Sanders before.

“Careful,” he said as he glanced up from the salad bowl he was drying. “I dropped a knife in there somewhere under all those suds.”

“Was it my puntilla knife or my boning knife?”

“Again with the dirty talk?”

She snorted and slipped her hand carefully into the sudsy water so she could feel around along the bottom of the sink. “Got it.” She fished out the knife and gave it a good scrub before handing it to him and plunging her hands back into the dishwater.

There was something utterly perfect about standing shoulder to shoulder with him at her kitchen sink, scrubbing and drying in tandem like an old married couple. She’d tried to insist he leave them all to her, but he’d insisted with equal fervor that he wanted to help.

She got the sense he was used to getting his way.

Besides, this seemed less awkward than pillow talk and a sleepover. While she might have planned for the possibility of a hookup, she definitely wasn’t ready for anything that smacked of relationships or commitment. Or fine, maybe commitment wasn’t the issue. Maybe it was the idea of committing to someone whose notion of a good time involved an ice ax and crampons.

That’s not his only notion of a good time…

Her cheeks flushed with heat as she finished scrubbing the cast-iron skillet she’d been washing and handed it to him. “So do you feel more ready for Saturday night’s dinner?”