“What are you, a man or a mouse?” I asked, my voice challenging.
“Your boss.”
Good answer. Still, in Coeur d’Alene, when he’d wanted comfort, he’d just grabbed hold of me. There’d been no debating, no negotiating. He’d sure as hell never asked what I wanted, he’d just taken what he needed. And what I needed right now was him, every last little molecule inside me knew it.
Fuck it. I launched myself at him.
Jimmy caught me with an “oomph,” his hands grappling with my waist. My arms wrapped tight around his neck. I might have accidentally broken my nose on his collarbone but no matter. He was now obliged to console me, physically. The ache in the bridge of my nose could be ignored. The man stood petrified, I could almost smell his fear. But this, being so close to him, was nirvana.
Sheer, unadulterated bliss.
His breath hitched, but then his chest moved fast against me, ribs rising and falling. I waited for him to shrug me off, or, more likely, pry me off with a crowbar. Gradually, rock hard muscles eased against me. A tentative hand patted me on the back, out of rhythm. Apparently, years of musicianship and his innate natural talent had been lost due to my hug. Ah, the power, I would never let him go.
The combined sounds of our breathing echoed in the stairwell.
“Lena?”
“Shh, I’m concentrating.” I clung on tighter, just in case he now decided to try and escape.
He smelled crazy good, some nice expensive cologne underlined with the sweat and scent of him. Thank god he’d forgotten about the shirt I’d stolen. The same smell was far fainter on it. Nothing like breathing deep straight from the source. And care of the questing tip of my sore nose, I had struck skin, the base of his neck, even. Wonderful.
“Your nose is cold,” he bitched.
“Quiet. You’re ruining the mood.”
“There is no mood. You’re acting crazy is all.”
Downstairs people were talking, the muted beating of drums, but nothing mattered more than here and now.
“We done yet?” he asked.
“No.”
“One more minute, then that’s it, Lena.”
“Two.”
He exhaled hard. “I better not have to do this every month from now on.”
Another timid pat or two. Then, ever so slowly, his other arm wrapped lightly around me, hand slipping beneath my hair. Fingers stroked back and forth over the back of my neck. We stood there, my breasts mooshed up against his hard chest. He rested his chin on the top of my head and I could feel his breaths faintly against my scalp, stirring my hair. Despite the differences in height, we fit together just right. His other hand started firmly smoothing up and down my spine, pressing me into him. Each time it went a bit further, fingers glancing over the small of my back and the beginning of the curve of my ass. My breathing faltered each time his hand went down, dying to know how far he’d go, wishing he’d do more.
My medicinal hug was fast turning X-rated.
“Sorry the dates sucked,” he said.
I really didn’t want to talk about the dates.
“Tonight’s will be better.”
Other men could get lost.
“Lena?”
God damn it. “What?”
His mouth was a tight line. “Did Ev really upset you?”
“No. We’ll work it out between ourselves.”
“You sure? I’ll talk to her if you need me to.”
“Would you really?”
“Course.”
“You’re so dreamy, Jimmy Ferris,” I happy sighed.
“Christ, now you’re really weirding me out.” His hands settled on my hips. “Okay?”
“Yes.”
He gave me the makings of a hesitant smile while he straightened his shirt, setting himself to rights. Oddly, he seemed almost shy, looking down, avoiding my eyes.
“Right. I’m getting back to work.” But he didn’t move. Instead, he looked up at me like he was no longer entirely sure of who I was or what I was doing in his house. A shaking hand smoothed down the front of his shirt.
I smiled gently. “Thanks, Jimmy. I needed that.”
He paused, as if he might say something, but then didn’t. A distracted nod and he disappeared.
# # #
“Say one word about what I’m wearing and I will kick you.” I told the man sitting on the bottom stair and I meant every word of it.
“I wouldn’t dare. When’s he arriving?” Jimmy looked up, checking out my jeans and tight black sweater. Lord knows I had the assets, might as well use them. Despite my ample bosoms, his careful blank expression never altered. He’d been down in the gym, working out since everyone left an hour or so ago, sweat dampened his hair and the back of his grey T-shirt.
“He’s not,” I said. “I’m meeting him in town.”
“You don’t trust me not to give him shit.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Why don’t I drive you in?”
“Because I don’t trust you not to give him shit, we just established that. Besides, I can drive myself,” I said. “Us women are liberated these days. Why, next I bet we’ll even get the vote!”
He raised his brows and gave me a dour look. “Right. You can’t take your piece-of-shit car, it hasn’t even been run in the last few months. I drive us everywhere.”
“My piece-of-shit car will be fine. Thank you.”
He let out a long-suffering sigh, as if admitting defeat. “Take the Mercedes. At least then I’ll know you got there okay.”
“You’re sweet to worry about me.”
A grunt.