The dumplings had turned to lead in my stomach, but I smiled at his backhanded compliment. 'Thank you, Sean. I'm touched.' His head swung around to see if I was being sarcastic. A crease appeared between his straight, fair brows. 'I'm serious,' I said. 'I am touched.'
He set his carton on the coffee table and scooted around to face me. 'I won't leave you in the lurch. My big sister Louise owns a security firm. I'll make sure she wires you up before I go. Her employees will keep an eye on you.'
'But will they drop by for coffee when I'm lonely?' I teased, not to make him feel bad, but to let him know he was more than a guard dog to me.
The implication seemed to confuse him. 'Do you want me to stay?'
I trailed my finger down the slope of his nose. 'No. I know it's awkward for you to be here without Joe. It's awkward for both of us.'
'But if you need me -'
I covered his lips. 'I'll miss you, but I'll be all right.'
'I like you, you know,' he said, as though I might not have heard him the first time.
‘I know.'
'Really, I mean it.' He shifted to his knees and caged my legs between his arms, his whole body intent on asserting what must have seemed outrageous to him. 'I really like you. You and Joe are the best friends I've ever had.' His voice broke. 'I just can't believe it's over.'
I put my hands on his shoulders and spoke as gently as I could. 'I'm sure Joe still wants to be friends with you. As for us, our friendship is only over if we want it to be.'
He buried his face in my lap. 'I don't want it to be over, but people always promise to keep in touch.'
I bent closer, letting my warmth blend with his. I stroked his cotton-covered back down to his waistband and kissed the wavy hair at the nape of his neck. I wondered how many broken promises it had taken to make Sean the man he was today. 'I try very hard to keep my word,' I said, pulling my hands up again.
His shoulders hitched under my caress. I thought he might be crying, but he didn't make a sound. When he swallowed, his Adam's apple knocked my thigh. 'I called him an idiot,’ he said. His hands clenched on either side of me. 'I said he shouldn't cut you dead just because you wouldn't marry him.'
'Shh.' I kissed the rigid line of his vertebrae. 'Joe did what he felt he had to do, and I'm sure he'll forgive you for expressing your honest opinion.'
Sean snorted at that, but his tension did ease. 'You sound like a shrink, and I sound like a big, blubbering baby.' He pushed back from me and wiped the moisture from his cheeks. One side of his mouth twitched. 'I don't know why, but pouring my troubles into your lap is making me horny.' He drew his thumb down the onset of an erection, a small hummock now, but growing. 'Are you up for something rough?'
The hungry glow in his eyes sent blood sluicing straight to my groin.
'Um,’ I said, temporarily dumbfounded. I knew he needed to reestablish his tough guy stance, but how rough was rough - and after two celibate weeks, did I really care?
I pressed my thighs together and measured the trapped tango beat of lust, the soft, wet pulse of tissues longing to be stretched. Six simple words and I was raring to go. Are you up for something rough? Those words implied he would take care of me - his show, my pleasure. I needed that tonight. My nipples tightened beneath the stretch lace of my bra. Sean licked his index finger and touched its tip to one aching point. Even through my clothes the contact felt like a shock from a live wire. I couldn't restrain a gasp.
He laughed. 'I'll take that as a "yes", Ms Winthrop.' He pulled me off the couch and up to the second floor, to his room.
From the door I watched him rummage through his walk-in wardrobe, muttering to himself until he found a dark grey suit bag. He held its hanger out to me.
I hesitated - to be difficult, perhaps, but also because I didn't yet know what I was getting into. My gaze drifted to his crotch. Beneath the black tracksuit, he was fully hard, standing out a clean ninety degrees from his belly. He wasn't shy about it, either. Even as I stared, he shifted his free hand to his erection, cupping it back against his body and giving it a hard, shaft-stretching pull. Whatever that suit bag held, it really blew his horn.
He thrust the bag closer. Take these clothes to the bathroom and put them on. Then come back and knock on the door.'
I couldn't resist his voice of authority, or the prospect of letting his horn blow me. I collected the hanger with two bent fingers and swung the bag over my shoulder. 'No problem,' I said. 'But do me a favour. Don't start without me.'
With a taunting leer, he treated his shaft to another tug. He stopped beneath the head and waved it at me through the cloth. 'Don't worry, Miss Kitty. I'm as hot to trot as you are.'