to be kidding me. I can’t believe—”
“Five. Four.”
Counting. He was actually counting.
“Three.”
She would not be rushed, would not allow herself to be forced into kissing him without some serious mental girding. “Stop.”
“Two.”
Then again, what harm could a teeny tiny kiss do? She stepped between his thighs.
“One.”
She set her lips to his, a gentle touch. He kept his lips relaxed, so full and warm with a hint of mint. And something else, something decadent and desirable, something she wanted more of. She shifted to get a better taste. He opened for her and Scarlet accepted his invitation, sliding her tongue into his mouth—only because it’d been one of his stipulations and not at all because she wanted to.
She moved in closer and, oops, had to steady herself by placing her hands on his warm, smooth, firm chest. Yum!
More. Her body erupted in a blaze of yearning.
She deepened the kiss, pressed her body to his, and noticed her fingers had found their way into his hair, which was probably a better place for them than option B—unbuttoning her blouse so she could feel his skin against hers.
Her nipples ached for attention. Her long-neglected sex throbbed with need.
Lewis sat completely still, keeping his hands to himself, being a close-to-perfect gentleman. While Scarlet’s rational self lobbed idle threats at her aroused self for even considering sliding out of her jeans, straddling his crotch, and rubbing until she found release. So close.
“Do it,” he whispered against her mouth, as if he could read her mind. “Or tell me what you want. Anything.”
Damn him.
So in control, the entire time.
Scarlet gathered every bit of mental and physical strength still at her command. It wasn’t much, but it turned out to be enough to push away. Breathing heavy she glanced in his direction. Instead of the cocky expression she expected, he looked as dazed as she felt. Instead of loose limbed confidence he had his hands clamped on the counter behind him with a white-knuckled grip. So he wasn’t as in control as he appeared. Good. “There,” she said, wiping her mouth, turning away, hoping to hide how much his kiss had affected her. “Now that that’s done, let’s go buy some paint.”
* * *
Let’s go buy some paint? The only place Lewis wanted to go was to bed to finish what Scarlet had started, to feel the wet heat between her legs, to taste her, there. To arouse her to the point she’d agree to anything. Everything. To indulge in her passion, to indulge his passion.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “We had a deal.”
“A deal that included no other physical contact.” Maybe he hadn’t minded at the time, it feeling so amazingly good to have her hands on him and all, but he sure minded now, all worked up with no relief in his immediate future. He stood and adjusted his pants to make some much needed room in the groin area.
Scarlet actually blushed. “Sorry about that. I may have gotten a little carried away,” she admitted.
Unfortunately, not carried away enough.
Next time. There would most certainly be a next time. And soon, or he’d burst.
In an attempt to distract himself from his body’s demands, he picked up the pile of pictures she’d brought with her and sifted through the ones he hadn’t yet looked at, amazed at the amount of time she’d obviously put into the task of creating the perfect teenage escape for his daughter. More than bedding and matching accessories, she’d researched page after page of jewelry display thingies, shelves, fancy hooks, and even some contraption called a Bubble Chair that hung from the ceiling.
A lighted makeup mirror. He let that one fall to the counter. Jessie was too young to wear makeup.
A purple lap desk. A funky silver floor lamp. A back-of-the-door mirror.
All in addition to the time she’d spent shopping for posters of Jessie’s favorite bands and picking out paint swatches.
He didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d changed his mind about her helping him after she’d already put in so much effort. And since the main reason for his change of mind was so they wouldn’t be alone together, and here they were, alone together, he may as well accept all she was willing to offer.
Whoa.
He came to a picture of a crib and changing table set. He moved on to the next page, a baby bath, and the next, an infant car seat, followed by an ad for huge pink butterfly wall decals. He held them up to her. “I’m thinking these were intended for someone else?”
Scarlet hurried over and grabbed them from his hand. “They’re mine.”
So defensive. “Why are you carrying around pictures of baby items?” Please say because you’re helping a friend. Please don’t be one of those baby-obsessed women who yammer on about their nonsensical biological clock.
“We’re wasting time.” She carefully folded the papers in half and shoved them into her backpack. “Go get dressed. The paint store closes at seven.”
Lewis looked at the clock on the microwave. Five thirty-seven. How long could it possibly take her to answer one simple question?
“I can go myself,” she threatened, picking up her pocketbook and reaching for the door knob.
“Hold on,” he said. “Give me a minute.” He turned and headed toward his bedroom. But this conversation was not over.
* * *
At ten o’clock that night Lewis and Scarlet finally returned to his condo. Lewis dropped the cumbersome bags of bedding and miscellaneous girlie junk he’d carried for what seemed like miles as they’d trudged through at least a dozen stores.
“Having the paint and painting supplies delivered was a good call,” he told Scarlet, looking at where the doorman had neatly arranged the items to the side of his entryway.
She carefully unloaded their more delicate purchases, which she’d insisted on carrying. “I can’t believe we got all the shopping done in one night.” She pushed some flyaway hairs away from her flushed face.
They’d done more shopping in four hours than Lewis typically did in a month. Heck, in three months. He should be cranky and exhausted and looking forward to pouring a beer then pouring himself into his recliner. And yet he felt energized. Scarlet’s enthusiasm for her task, her determination to find the exact item she sought, and her excitement when she did, made every minute of their expedition fun.
So what if she was trying to re-create the bedroom of her teenage dreams. Jessie was one lucky girl to be on the receiving end of all Scarlet’s creative ideas and planning.
She covered her mouth and yawned. “Sorry,” she said. “I was up at six.”
Lewis
