New Life (8 page)

This was not the time to give in to sad
introspection. I cleared my throat. “If you ever want a dog sitter,
I could do that. I like dogs, but I can’t afford one right
now.”

Anna paused a beat, probably considering the
fact that I was so poor I couldn’t keep a pet. “They are expensive.
The doggie day care is outrageous, not to mention the vet bills. At
least human babies are covered by insurance.”

She talked a bit more about her dog, but my
mind drifted ahead to when we would arrive at my apartment. It
wasn’t too messy, but it was tiny, crappy, and always a little
musty smelling. I didn’t want to invite her up. On the other hand,
I didn’t want this evening to be over so soon. My headache had
lessened, and my interest in Anna was way stronger than any
pain.

As it turned out, she didn’t give me the
option of saying good-night on the street. “I’ll walk you up to
your apartment,” she told me as she parked the car.

Inside the dimly lit building, a
sweat-socks-and-chicken-soup odor welcomed us.

“Sorry, the elevator’s broken,” I said.
“We’ll have to take the stairs.’

“What floor are you on? Are you going to be
able to make it?”

“I’m fine.” But fire burned my hip as we
climbed the steps.

I unlocked the door of my apartment, and as
Anna followed me inside, I saw it as she would—a real shithole. One
room with a kitchenette and a tiny bathroom was the extent of my
domain. I’d covered the ancient linoleum floor with a big area rug,
but I didn’t own a vacuum, so it was littered with bits of crud.
The living area contained a couple of ratty armchairs, an end table
on which sat my laptop, and my bed in one corner.

Anna smiled at my circa ’70’s
cat-hanging-on-a-wire poster. I hoped she understood it was meant
to be ironic and not something I considered art.

“This reminds me of a place I lived in when I
was going to college,” she said. “I shared it with a friend to save
money? Can you imagine two girls in one tiny space? We were friends
at the beginning but hated each other by the time we broke the
lease.”

I was surprised. I’d assumed her parents had
paid for her entire college experience and that money hadn’t been
an issue.

I gathered the clothes draped over one of the
chairs. “Have a seat.”

“You’re the one who should sit down. Let me
make tea for you like I promised.”

“I don’t have any tea.”

“Coffee, then? Juice? Water?” She eyed my
tiny fridge.

“There’s, uh, juice.” I limped over and took
a couple of glasses from the cupboard while Anna got a bottle of
pineapple juice from the fridge. “Sorry. I don’t have any beer or
wine.”

“This is fine.”

She poured two glasses; then she sat in one
chair, and I gladly dropped into the other. I wished I had a couch
so we’d be side by side. Two chairs weren’t exactly conducive to
getting closer.

“Do you still feel sick? Can I get you
something for it?” she asked.

I shook my head, wishing she’d forget about
what had happened at the club. “No, I’m good. My dad had a big
birthday party today. Lots of relatives and friends. Being around a
lot of people can be stressful for me. I guess I overdid it.”

“I wish I’d known you don’t like crowds. We
could’ve gone some place quieter tonight.” She gazed at her glass
for a moment. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry, but can you tell me
a little more about the injuries from your accident? They’re part
of you. If we’re going to spend time together, I think I need to
know.”

Going to spend time together?
Well,
that was promising. I would’ve been happy to ignore the subject
forever, but Anna had a right to know what she was getting into.
Hopefully, the facts wouldn’t drive her away.

I avoided telling the details of the accident
itself. Not something I felt like dredging up just then. “Most of
the damage was on my right side, a shattered hip and broken arm and
collarbone. My head smashed into something. I was in a coma for a
couple of months. The brain injury messes with my memory and
ability to process things. That’s why I generally follow a simple
routine. Too much input and my mind sort of scatters in all
directions.”

Anna frowned. “So a loud, crowded club was
the worst date I could’ve suggested. On top of which you’d been to
a family party and took your sister to a movie. I wish you’d have
said something. We could’ve rescheduled.”

I gripped the cold glass and watched the
beads of condensation rolling down. “I really wanted to go on a
date with you. I was looking forward to it.”

“Me too.” She leaned over and rested a hand
on my knee. “But please don’t feel like you have to hide parts of
yourself. Hell, you’ve seen me at my worst, crying like a baby. I
think we’re way past having to put on a show for each other. If you
feel like crap, tell me. We didn’t have to go out. A quiet evening
is fine by me.”

She smiled, reminding me just how gorgeous
she was. “And if talking feels like too much effort, we can sit
here quietly and listen to music. It
is
possible for me not
to babble, you know.” She squeezed my knee. “How are you feeling
now? Do you want me to go and leave you in peace?”

I smiled at the ridiculousness of that
possibility with her hand on my leg. “No.”

“Want to”—her fingers lightly dug in, and a
jolt of lust rocketed through me—“put on some music?”

“Sure,” I croaked.

My stereo system consisted of my laptop and a
couple of cheap speakers. I put on a mix with a lot of quiet songs.
Anna sat back, resting her head against the chair and closing her
eyes. “Nice.”

This gave me an opportunity to study her
face. Thick lashes fanned over her cheekbones. Pale constellations
of freckles tattooed her face in mysterious designs. Her wine-red
lipstick made her full lips even lusher. My desire to feel her
mouth beneath mine was almost unbearable. If we hadn’t been kept
apart by the yawning chasm of two chairs, it would’ve been easy to
slide closer, rest my arm behind her so her hair brushed my
skin.

She sipped her juice, then set it aside.
“This is nice.”

“Mm-hm,” I grunted, still busy plotting how I
could make some sort of move. Maybe it was too soon and I should be
patient. Anna would let me know if she wanted this to be more than
a platonic evening. But the singer whispering lyrics about bodies
entwined was reinforcing my haze of desire.

“Would you…want to dance?” I asked.

Anna opened her eyes and smiled at me.
“Absolutely.”

I rose stiffly, feeling awkward and nervous,
until she moved into my arms as naturally as a cat curling up on a
cushion. Then my body seemed to know exactly what to do. I curved a
hand around her waist and clasped her hand, closed my eyes and felt
her warm softness, inhaled the sweet scent of her hair, practically
tasted her essence in the air. It had been a very long time since
I’d touched a woman, and I was rediscovering how amazing it felt
simply to be close. Naturally, I wanted more. I’m a guy. But at
that moment, I was pretty content to be pressed against Anna and
swaying back and forth.

She rested her head against my shoulder.
“See. I knew you could dance.”

“Guess I can.”

I rubbed a circle at the small of her back.
Her ass curved just below the edge of my palm, and I was tempted
but didn’t go any lower.

“Mm, that feels nice.” She let go of my hand
to put both arms around me. She held me so close I feared she could
feel my erection pressing against her. After a few moments of
dancing like that, barely moving, Anna tilted her head to look up
into my face.

Should I kiss her? I didn’t want to get it
wrong and have her flee my apartment, never to be seen again. But
then I stopped worrying as nature took over. I lowered my face
toward hers, and our mouths brushed together lightly.

I cupped her neck, and her soft hair brushing
the back of my hand felt every bit as good as I’d imagined it
would. Anna’s mouth opened and her tongue slid over mine, warm and
sinuous. I tasted the sweet tang of pineapple juice. I lost track
of time for a bit as our mouths fused and our hands moved all over,
touching, stroking, dragging each other even closer.

Anna’s fingers tangled in my hair when she
finally let go with a little gasp. “Whoa.” Her wide eyes gazed into
mine. “I didn’t really mean for that to happen.”

I was breathless, and my mind was too blown
to put together a coherent thought. And so I reached for her again,
pulled her close, and went for round two. She tasted so good, and
her body melted against mine as if she didn’t really regret the
kissing at all.

It seemed like a dream, an impossible
fantasy. But the sensations were too intensely real to be a dream.
Anna’s arms were so tight around me I could hardly breathe, and her
tongue invaded my mouth, stealing away the last fragments of
logical thought. My cock was rigid between us, demanding the
natural next step. I followed its direction, walking Anna backward
across the room toward my bed.

Chapter Eight

Kissing is a tricky thing. What techniques
work or don’t are different for everybody and can change depending
on who you’re with and how much you’re attracted to them. To have
the person, the mood, the technique, and desire all come together
in a perfect storm is a rare thing. I’ve kissed enough men to know
the difference between so-so and superb. That night with Jason was
indescribable.

I’d planned to end our date with a handshake,
maybe to meet again or maybe not. But suddenly we were slow dancing
in his shabby apartment, and then I was all over him. A spark, a
hunger, a madness overtook me. We tumbled onto his narrow bed, his
weight bearing me to the mattress, my legs wrapping around his.

“Hey, we’re not going to…” I said between
kisses. “I don’t plan to have…” More kisses. “Sex tonight.”

“Mm-hm.” His mouth moved from my lips to
nuzzle under my jaw. I lifted my chin and groaned as he kissed my
neck as if he would devour me, vampire-style. His hunger echoed
mine—rushed, desperate, needy, but in a good way. I craved the cock
I felt nudging against me. But I wasn’t going to give in to desire.
Not tonight at least.

“Look. This is great, but we’ve got to slow
down.”

“Okay.” His tongue dipped into the hollow in
my throat. I suppressed another moan as he cupped one of my breasts
and teased the nipple to a point.

“I’m serious.” I made myself a liar by
clutching his ass through his jeans, pulling him even closer.

Jason’s mouth drifted to my cleavage.
“Nothing below the waist,” he promised, his breath heating my
breast.

“’Cause this is going way too fast,” I
reiterated weakly, then whimpered when his mouth engulfed my
nipple, dampness soaking my thin cotton top with the built-in cups.
The tug sent a bolt of fire lancing through me. Surely just a
little more making out would be okay.

I relaxed against the pillow as Jason pulled
down my neckline until my breasts popped free. He kissed and
fondled them, commanding my nipples to attention with his sucking
mouth and molding fingers. I slid my hands into his hair, holding
his head to me as I gave in to the blissful sensations darting
through my body.

I glanced down at Jason’s profile, dark
eyelashes shielding those amazing eyes, his lips stretched around
my nipple. I hadn’t expected this, but didn’t regret it. I stroked
his hair and murmured how good it felt as I arched my breasts into
his touch.

After a bit, Jason moved back to kissing my
mouth. His chest pressed against mine, and I wanted to feel skin
against skin. I grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and started to haul
it up.

Immediately, he pulled away. “Wait.
Don’t.”

I blinked, my lustful stupor dispersing.
“Why?”

His dark eyes stared into mine. “I have
scars. Worse than the one on my face.”

“I don’t care.” I tugged on his shirt
again.

“I do.” He sat up, and I nearly whimpered at
the loss of his body covering mine. I gripped the front of his
T-shirt, not letting him move too far away.

“Please, don’t be self-conscious. I want to
feel your skin against mine. Your scars don’t matter to me. Hey,
you’ve seen my tits. It’s only fair.” I kept my tone light, willing
him to trust me and reveal more of himself—and I wasn’t thinking of
the physical scars.

I held his gaze. “It’s okay, Jason. Now, take
off your shirt.” I tried for a playful dominatrix command, except I
really meant it.
Trust me. Do as I say.

He paused. When he finally reached down to
grab his shirt and pull it over his head, I held my breath, a
little afraid of what I might see. After I’d pushed him into
exposing himself, I didn’t dare show any negative reaction.

As it turned out, the scars were no more than
a handful of thin ridges wandering like a roadmap across the right
side of his chest and side. They were no worse than the severe red
line on his face or the one visible below his T-shirt sleeve.

I quickly brought my attention back to his
face. “You look hot to me.” I reassured him. It was the truth,
because his body was tautly muscled in all the right places.

I slid one hand up his belly to his chest, my
other around his waist, and drew him back to me. More kissing
ensued. Great kissing. Extravagant, luxurious kissing. The kind
that was likely to make me forget my promise to keep my panties on.
Our bodies thrust together as if we were fighting our way out of
the armor of clothing. Before I could completely lose control, I
pulled away again, panting.

“Is your headache gone?” I asked.

“What headache?” Jason reached for me again,
but I pushed him gently away.

I hopped up from the bed, tucked my boobs
back into my top where they belonged, and went to get the glasses
of juice we’d abandoned. A cool drink helped calm my fiery libido a
little.