She stared at him. He stared back.
After a moment, those brown eyes of his looked resigned. “I want to see you naked again.”
Pleasure jolted through her. “Good. So let’s do naked things for another week.”
Becker laughed, but his expression didn’t stay amused for long. “I wasn’t kidding the other day,” he told her. “I’m getting over a divorce.”
“How long were you married?” Jane asked.
His eyes went guarded. “Why do you ask?”
“Because this divorce is obviously our only obstacle, so we might as well tackle it. That way we can get back to bed.”
Becker’s mouth twitched.
“So, how long?”
“Fourteen years,” he admitted.
Jane couldn’t hide her surprise. Wow. Fourteen years? She couldn’t imagine spending that much time with a person. Her longest relationship had barely lasted three months. “You must have married young,” she remarked.
“We were eighteen.”
“High-school sweethearts?”
He nodded.
“Let me guess,” she said dryly. “Football quarterback, head cheerleader, passionate romance for four years, got married because you couldn’t live without each other and wanted to face the exciting new world together?”
“Almost.” He sighed. “Football quarterback, head cheerleader, passionate romance for four years, got married because I knocked her up.”
Jane raised her eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Sadness crossed his face. “She got pregnant, decided to keep the baby, so we got married. She miscarried three months later.”
“And you decided to stay married?”
“We wanted to make it work.” He shrugged. “And we did, for a long time. Alice and I were always pretty independent people. She did her modeling thing, I did the military thing, and the marriage kept us grounded.”
“So what happened?”
“Her modeling thing became more important than the marriage,” he said simply.
Jane took another sip of wine, thoughtful as the cool liquid slid down her throat. “She’s a model, huh?” Somehow that surprised her, that this quiet, intense man had been married to a model.
“Alice Dawes,” he supplied.
“The Mystique perfume chick?” When Becker nodded, Jane couldn’t fight the tug of insecurity in her gut. Jeez. Only yesterday Jane had been flipped through a magazine and admired the perfume spokesmodel. Alice Dawes was drop-dead gorgeous. Long, silky blonde hair, pale silver eyes, a tall, willowy body. Just looking at the woman’s picture had made Jane feel frumpy and dwarfish in comparison.
“Wow,” Jane finally said, reaching for her wine again. She drained the glass, wondering why she suddenly felt so damn inferior. One, she and Thomas Becker weren’t seriously involved. And two, he’d divorced his wife, so obviously Alice Dawes wasn’t that awesome.
Becker pushed away his plate, smiling ruefully. “What, you find out my ex-wife is a model and now you’ve changed your mind about all those naked things you wanted to do?”
“I haven’t changed my mind.” She hesitated. “You still haven’t told me if you’re even interested.”
He met her eyes. “I am interested. But I’m also realistic. I don’t want a relationship.”
“I’m only here for another week. That’s not a relationship.”
“Then what is it?”
“A fling.”
Becker looked uncertain. “I…uh, I’m not a fling kind of guy.”
Rolling her eyes, Jane pushed back her chair and stood up. She rounded the table and before he could object, lowered herself into Becker’s lap. He wore only a pair of boxers, and the second she straddled his powerful thighs, his cock went stiff, poking against her thigh.
Jane raised her eyebrows. “I think every man is capable of being a fling man, Beck. And I think your cock agrees with me.”
Becker’s dark eyes went even darker, burning with arousal. Although she’d put her dress back on before dinner, she wasn’t wearing any panties, and it would be so very easy to move aside the material of her dress and slide down onto his big, erect dick. But she fought the temptation. They didn’t have a condom handy, and besides, the second that distracting erection of his filled her pussy, she knew she would lose the capacity for speech.
“My cock isn’t very reliable,” Becker said, resting one hand on her thigh. “He likes you way too much.” Sweeping his tongue over his lower lip, he stroked her bare knee.
“And what about you?” she asked softly.
Becker leaned forward to nuzzle her neck. He pressed his lips to her skin, kissing his way down her throat. His voice was muffled as he said, “I like you too.”
A shiver of pleasure danced up her spine. “Then fling with me. I promise, I won’t make any demands. I already told you what I want.”
He lifted his head, meeting her gaze. “A week of sex. Is that what you want, Jane?”