Beginning Again: Book 1 in the Second Chances series (Crimson Romance) Page 4

  “Yes.”

  “Want to tell me about it?”

  “Why would I?” She squirmed in her seat.

  “So we get to know each other better.”

  “I thought we were finished with that experiment.”

  He leaned across the table and held out a forkful of his chocolate cake for her to taste. “You said we were finished with it. I’m not ready to give up on it yet.”

  Licking the icing off her mouth, she said, “I’m still eating. Why don’t you go first? Have you been married?”

  “Not even close. I decided a long time ago that marriage wasn’t likely to be in my future. The reasons people get married seem to be to have live-in company, kids, or both. I’m a workaholic who likes being alone when I’m not working, and the responsibility of raising a child to be a decent human being scares the bejesus out of me.”

  She was amazed at how easily he talked about something so personal. He didn’t even need prodding to continue.

  “I’ve had a couple long-term relationships, one in my twenties and one in my early thirties. Both ended when the women wanted what I couldn’t give them — the house with the white picket fence, the 2.3 kids, the golden retriever named Honey. So we parted friends. Sort of. When I want company, I can usually find someone to go to dinner with me. Or whatever. And I know lots of people with ideas about who to fix me up with if I can’t find someone on my own.” He sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee. “That’s my story. What’s yours?”

  “It takes a bit longer.”

  “We have the rest of the night.”

  She hesitated, not sure exactly what to tell him. Then the thought occurred that the truth might be what she needed to take control over what the hell was happening between them. So, he’d get the truth. The whole truth.

  “When you were eleven and I was nineteen … ” She ignored the interruption of a raised eyebrow and a theatrical cough and plowed ahead. “When I was nineteen, I married one of my college professors. He was forty-three. I was this hick kid from the Central Valley in California and he was the most sophisticated man I’d ever met. I thought he loved me.” She sighed. “Turned out, he was looking for a research project not a wife.”

  “He was Henry Higgins and you were Eliza Doolittle?”

  “Except, unlike in My Fair Lady, he never got emotionally attached. We married just before his sabbatical year and I dropped out of school to travel with him. He tutored me in art at some of the most famous museums in the world. Those places I talked about visiting at dinner last night? Roger took me to most of them.”

  “What happened to him?

  “Fast forward about five years of my struggling — not always successfully — to be a good faculty wife. I hear a strange noise in the bathroom one morning when he was shaving. He’d collapsed. Didn’t survive the ride to the ER. Massive heart attack.”

  “No kids?”

  “He had two sons from his first marriage, both older than me. He didn’t want more. Each of his children — and he clearly counted me in that group — got a third of his estate. He’d done well from the books he’d written and invested wisely, so I had a modest financial cushion at a young age.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “I got a job with the development department at the county art museum and hid there for five years or so while I took a few classes every semester until I finished my degree. Never really dated anyone until I met Mason Fairchild at a museum fundraiser a few months after I’d graduated. Six months later, we were married.”

  “Please don’t tell me he was twenty-five years older than you.”

  “No, only ten.”

  “And you loved each other?”

  “Yes, in some ways we still do. We had a good marriage, I thought. Well, I wanted kids and he didn’t, but then I had surgery and couldn’t anyway so … ” She held up her hand to ward off the question she knew was coming. “Before you ask, what happened was, early this year he came out of the closet and went off with a younger guy.”

  Collins didn’t say anything, just took her hand and stroked it with his thumb. The display of silent tenderness brought a few sudden tears that she blinked back hard before continuing. “I was married to two good men and it didn’t work with either of them, in any way. Obviously, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing when it comes to men. So I’m done. Besides, at my age … ”

  “You’re a beautiful, smart, sexy woman. Of any age.”

  “Sexy? When the men I’ve been with didn’t care to have sex with me? Really?”

  “And this conclusion is based on what … ? Your extensive survey of men, which consists of a husband twice your age who viewed you as a child and a closeted gay man? Or are you hiding a laundry list of other lovers?”

  She looked across the table at him, expecting to see amusement or ridicule. Instead she saw what she’d seen before. Affection. Attraction. Something that frightened her but she didn’t know why. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I have no intention of getting close enough to rely on any man for anything other than a social conversation. It’s too complicated.”

  “Complicated but fun.”

  She motioned to the waiter for the check. “Fun is getting my art gallery in shape for the opening. And I have to get back to that tomorrow. So I think I’ll call it a night.”

  Collins snagged the check from the waiter before she could. “Can I help you do whatever you need to do?”

  “Thanks, but I have someone working with me. He’ll be in tomorrow.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to rely on a man again.” His sly smile was back.

  “He’s an exception. Besides, even if I was his type, he’s unavailable.”

  Chapter 5

  The ride home was quiet, Collins intent on driving, Liz trying to anticipate what his next move would be. She was sure there would be one.

  She was right. When they got to her apartment, before she could get out of the car, he patted down various pockets as if looking for something. “I think I left my phone upstairs. Mind if I go up with you and look for it? And maybe we can finish the bottle of not-champagne.”

  “Tell me where you think you left it and I’ll go look. And I’ve had enough wine tonight, thanks.”

  “Then, how about a cup of coffee or something? That won’t ruin your schedule for tomorrow, will it?”

  She didn’t answer immediately, torn, she had to admit, between wanting him to stay, willing him to go, and not understanding why she had both reactions within five seconds of each other. “A cup of coffee or something. For a half-hour. Then you’ll leave.”

  “I’m a big fan of ‘or something.’ And if you still want me to go after a half-hour, I will.”

  He followed her up the steps and into the kitchen. Before she could ask if he wanted decaf or regular, he pulled her into his arms, buried his face in her neck, and began kissing his way up to her mouth.

  “Collins, please … ” She half-heartedly pushed at his chest but he persisted, taking tiny nips at her mouth.

  “Please, what, sweetheart? This, maybe?” Without waiting for a response, he took possession of her mouth with such authority she was breathless. The kiss took all the air from her lungs and turned her insides to liquid. She couldn’t move.

  Somehow her arms snaked their way around him as he pulled her tight against his body. Her hands buried themselves in the curls at the back of his head. Her mouth returned his kiss, her tongue tasting him, exploring his mouth as thoroughly as his explored hers.

  He slid his hands down her back and snugged her hips against his, fitting his erection into the V between her thighs. She moved to accommodate him and he pressed closer. Even through the layers of their clothes she could feel him get harder. She couldn’t suppress a moan, couldn’t stop her treacherous body from melting against him, fro
m getting wet and feeling needy. She had to stop him … but oh, God, she didn’t want to.

  He broke the kiss and she tried to pull away. “Collins, please. You have to listen. This can’t happen. You’ll be disappointed.”

  “When you kiss me like that? Sweetheart, how could I be disappointed? And believe me, I’m paying attention — to your mouth.” He touched her lips with his. “Your body.” The palm of his hand grazed the tight, hard tips of her nipples. “Your arms.” He wouldn’t let her withdraw them from his shoulders. “Your body’s saying what we both want to hear. The only part of you that’s afraid is between your ears.”

  “I’m not afraid,” she gritted out through clenched teeth.

  “Show me. Come sit on the couch with me.”

  She could barely hear him as he nuzzled her neck. “The coffee … ”

  “Can wait. You said a half-hour and coffee or something. I’m picking ‘or something.’ And by my watch,” he looked at his bare left wrist, “I still have about twenty-five minutes.” He took her hand. “Come on, babe.”

  “And what,” she asked as he led her to the living room, “do you think this will accomplish?”

  “After a little bit, I think you’ll suggest we see why I don’t think sex is ‘nice.’ Are you brave enough to try?” He grinned at her. “Better yet, to bet?”

  “Bet? On what?”

  “I bet when we make love, you’ll admit that it wasn’t nice.”

  “Why do you think we’ll … ?” She shook her head, trying to make sense of what was happening. “Why will I … if we did that … which we won’t … why will I think it isn’t nice?”

  “Because it’ll be amazing. Twenty bucks?”

  She looked at the expression on his face and felt the jolt of electricity he sent through her every time those gray eyes held onto hers. She licked her lips at the thought of how his mouth tasted, the way her body responded when he kissed her. She had no idea why it happened, how it happened. All she knew was he affected her as no man ever had before. “I’ve never bet on sex … ”

  “Let me be your first, then.” He feathered a kiss across her lips and she shivered. “Although, fair warning, I expect to win an easy twenty bucks,” he said softly.

  Taking her face again in his hands, he held her gaze for a long moment, stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “God, you’re beautiful. Beautiful and sexy and smart and funny and all the things any man could ever want in a woman.”

  He outlined her cheekbones, her eyebrows, the sides of her nose with his fingertips. “All the things I want in a woman.” As his hands neared her mouth, she felt her breathing kick up a notch, felt a swirl of desire skitter through her body. When he finally kissed her, it was familiar, somehow, the taste of him. She’d kissed him for the first time yesterday and yet he tasted like the place where she’d always belonged.

  She sighed as he raised the heat in the kiss. The slight suction of his mouth took the rest of her breath away. At least, she thought that’s what happened. Why else would it feel like there was so little oxygen in her brain? Was that why she felt dizzy, like she was floating someplace outside herself?

  While she was trying to figure it out, his hands, his beautiful hands, were making their way around her body, feeling just as incredible as she’d thought they would. He slid them up under her shirt and found her breasts, cupping and caressing them, gently at first but more urgently as her nipples hardened into diamond points.

  The swirl of desire she’d felt had now moved south and found residence in her lower belly. The longer he kissed her, the more heavy and languid her limbs felt. A liquid heat spread through her body.

  He tugged at the hem of her shirt, pulling it up over her head, then put her hands on the hem of his T-shirt, helping her strip it off him. When they were both naked from the waist up, he lowered her back onto the couch and positioned himself between her legs with their bare torsos against each other. “Now this I agree is nice, sweetheart,” he whispered as he held her for a moment. “Just like this, skin on skin.” He moved his hands up her body until he reached her face. “I love touching you. You’re so soft and smooth.”

  Lowering his head, he began to tease and torment her breasts with his mouth, raking his teeth gently over her nipples, then suckling at them. No one had ever concentrated on them so lovingly, so lavishly. She’d always been embarrassed by her small breasts. She’d never known they could be so sensitive to a man’s attention, could ache for the feel of his mouth. When she arched towards him and her breathing stuttered, he said, “You like this, do you?”

  “Mmmm,” was all she could manage.

  “You’ll tell me if I do anything you don’t like?” His gray eyes had become black with desire, but the expression on his face was serious. He meant it.

  “Mmmm.”

  A smile now. “That’s ‘yes,’ I take it?”

  “Mmmm.”

  “Let’s see if you like this,” he said as he moved down her body with hot, wet, open-mouth kisses. When he got to the waistband of her pants, he paused, raised his head and watched her as he moved one hand slowly, slowly, down, down to the place between her thighs that was hot and achy and very, very damp. He cupped her sex through her clothes and began to gently rub the side of his hand against her.

  “Mmmm … that feels so… … ”

  “So what, sweetheart?” His replaced his hand with his erection and rocked his hips into her.

  “So good. It’s so good.”

  Her hands had begun to explore his chest, his shoulders, his back and arms, feeling the movement and strain of his muscles as his hands roamed over her body, teasing her breasts, massaging her belly. He was all solid muscle covered in hot skin, unlike any man she’d ever caressed like this. When he moved his hips against her, she gripped his buttocks and pulled him closer, wanting more of the long, hard length of him she could feel pressed against her.

  Her brain was flooded with sensations from her skin, her breasts, from every place he touched — wonderful sensations. She kissed him back with an intensity she didn’t know she was capable of, feeling as intoxicated as she would from downing martinis on an empty stomach.

  And she wanted more.

  “Collins, wait … ” She stopped his hand as he insinuated it under the waistband of her slacks.

  “Not tonight, babe. No more waiting.”

  She sighed. “I know. But not on this couch. Can we go someplace more comfortable? Like my bedroom?”

  He pulled back and grinned. It was the most lascivious expression she’d ever seen. “When we get there, can I take off the rest of your clothes?”

  “What would be the point of being in bed half-dressed?”

  He laughed out loud. “God, you’re wonderful, Liz. You may take a while to get there but when you do … ”

  She pushed at his chest and he rolled off the couch. “You better stop laughing at me or I’ll change my mind.”

  He stood and held out his hand to help her up. “No, not at you, sweetheart, with you.”

  As soon as they got into her bedroom, she stripped down to her white lacy bikini panties and he to his black silk boxers. He clicked on the light by the side of the bed.

  “Don’t. Leave it off, please,” she said as she reached for the light switch.

  “I want to look at you. I want to see your face when you come.” He brushed her hand away and sat her down on the bed.

  She crossed her arms over her breasts. “I don’t know that I want you to look at me like that. I’m not some twenty-year-old.”

  “You’re beautiful and age is only a number.”

  “Maybe we should … ”

  “Maybe we should finish what we’ve started. And don’t tell me any more sad stories about how I’ll hate it in bed with you. This tells me otherwise.” He took one of her hand
s and pressed it around the erection that was tenting up the front of his boxers.

  She jerked her hand back as if it had been scorched. My God, he was big everyplace, wasn’t he? As she scuttled into the middle of the bed, she wondered what she had gotten herself into. And what was about to get into her.

  He pulled the comforter and sheets down and wordlessly urged her under them. His eyes were smoky with desire, which somehow both comforted and exhilarated her. How he could calm and arouse her at the same time was a mystery she would have to solve later. But not now. Right now she had to concentrate on storing up oxygen for when he kissed her again.

  And figure out why he wasn’t joining her in bed. As she watched, he felt around in the pocket of the trousers he’d shed and she realized what he was doing. “You don’t need a condom. I can’t get pregnant and I just had tests for everything imaginable. They were all negative and I haven’t been with anyone since.”

  “And you’re not worried about me? What I might have?”

  She looked at him with unblinking eyes. “If you say you’re okay, I believe you. I trust you. If I didn’t, you’d never have gotten into my apartment, let alone my bed.”

  He hesitated so long, avoiding her gaze, she began to wonder if he was having second thoughts. Or didn’t believe her.

  Finally he swallowed hard and said, “I’m not sure I’m that deserving, but thank you. I am okay.”

  What did he mean, he wasn’t deserving? It was out of character for the Collins she’d seen so far. Her desire-clouded mind struggled to make sense of it. Before she could, however, he shed his boxers and knelt over her saying, “So, where were we?” and she forgot what she was supposed to be figuring out.

  His legs astride her and with a wicked smile on his face, he slid his fingers under the waistband of her bikinis and began to slip them down over her hips, seeming to enjoy the way she squirmed as he touched her. When he’d gotten the panties off, he moved slowly, kissing as he went, back up her body until he was where he had been when they were on the couch, his legs between hers, his erection tight against the cleft of her sex, his arms braced on either side of her chest. His mouth hovered over hers and he whispered, “We were about here, I think.”