Out of Her League (36 page)

“
You like spumoni?
”
he asked.

“
Love it.
”

“
Let
’
s get some.
”

She laughed.
“
In this town? After ten p.m.? You
’
re dreaming.
”

“
I know the exact place.
”
He stood and held out a hand.
“
You game?
”

She put her palm against his.
“
You bet.
”

The place turned out to be his house, his kitchen and his freezer. Evie sat at the table and ate ice cream across from Joe, for all the world as though they were a married couple and this was their house, with the kids all tucked snug in their beds upstairs.

But the kids weren
’
t theirs, and the kids weren
’
t here. She and Joe were alone, and the thoughts that kept wandering through her mind were not those of a woman long married to this man. They were the thoughts of a woman fascinated and aroused by the mystery of him.

“
Gotta go.
”
Evie stood.

Her chair banged over backward, the sound ec
ho
ing in the room. Joe looked as frozen as the ice cream in front of him. His eyes were cool and blue, but the heat beneath the ice made Evie
’
s skin moist, sensitive, on fire.

Deliberately, he put his spoon into the bowl, pushed back his chair and stood. He didn
’
t come any closer, but she felt crowded just the same. Trapped in his house, pinned by those eyes, captured by what was between her and him, now and from the very beginning.

She had no excuses left. No children who would bust in. No game to coach. No class to teach. No one who needed her attention—except him.

She could tell
herself they had nothing in com
mon. Their goals were so far apart as to be in a different stratosphere. Their futures were divergent; their hopes and dreams at odds. But her body didn
’
t care about any of those things. Her body only cared that his was near, and that the time for fulfillment was now.

Still she hesitated, uncertain, afraid.

Then his hoarse whisper washed over her.
“
Don
’
t go. Stay with me. Be with me.
”

She shivered and took a single step forward. That was all he needed to gather her in his arms and kiss her as only he could. He tasted like cherries on snow. She drowned in him, his scent, his heat—his need as overwhelming as her own.

They had done no more than kiss and dance, yet his body was familiar, his touch an old friend. In his arms she would always be safe. She
’
d been alone so long—a lifetime, it seemed—but she hadn
’
t known how lonely she was. Touching Joe showed her life would never be the same without him.

He flicked the ligh
ts, plunging the room into dark
ness. She sighed with relief from the glare of the light, the heat of the bulb, in a kitchen now cool with silvered moonlight.

She
’
d wanted to touch his chest since the night she
’
d seen him in this kitchen, wearing nothing but black pants. She tugged his shirt free of his shorts
and spread her palms across hard planes of flesh and soft twirls of hair.

His moan filled her mouth, igniting her. His lips traced her jaw; his teeth scraped her neck. Hands shadowed the path of
hers, touching her belly, flut
tering across her ribs, thumb tracing the line of her bra.

The world dipped and swirled as he picked her up. Her fingers clasped his shoulders. He stared into her face. Even in the darkness his eyes shone blue, his face appeared intense; yet his mouth looked full and vulnerable, still wet from hers.

“
Do you want this?
”
he asked, and though his voice was rough with arousal, his words were soft with uncertainty.

The voice of reason, to which she
’d always lis
tened, chattered away in a distant corner of her mind, telling her to run, hide, go home and save herself from disaster. She was asking for trouble such as she had never imagined if she allowed this man to touch her. He was the enemy of her dream—a man just like Ray.

But he wasn
’
t like Ray--or, at least, not anymore. Why did she have to think so much, anyway? Joe Scalotta made her feel like a woman, and she couldn
’
t remember the last time she
’
d
felt like any
thing other than a mom, a teacher or a coach.

The long, contemplative silence hung over them saying more than words ever could. He shifted as if to put her down, and the panic that filled her at the thought of leaving
without finishing what had sim
mered between them for weeks revealed a decision made long ago.

She put her palms on his rough cheeks and yanked his mouth back to hers, kissing him with an abandon she hadn
’
t felt in a very long time. Then she traced her lips to his ear, licked the lobe, blew on the moist heat and whispered,
“
I want this. I want you.
”

He didn
’
t waste any more time with talk—she liked that in a man—but strode from the room and up the staircase. She might be short, but she wasn
’
t that light, yet he carried her up the stairs like an oversize Rhett Butler.

Evie stifled a giggle at that image. She doubted Joe would find it funny. He
’
d no doubt think Rhett a wimp for not dumping Scarlett on her pretty, Southern behind. Evie thought that herself, but she
’
d always liked the staircase scene. Especially the part where Scarlet woke up the next morning with a great big smile on her face.

A sigh escaped her lips, and she let her head sag to his shoulder, where it fit perfectly into the crook of his neck. She hel
d on to his broad shoulders, en
joying the play of the well-defined muscles beneath her hands.

He stepped into his bedroom and kicked shut the door. The slam reverberated down her spine. He let her legs go, and she slid down his body, cloth against cloth, flesh aga
inst flesh, until they stood to
gether, hips aligned to thighs. Then she put her lips upon his.

The darkness ma
de her bold, reminded her of se
cret sinful fantasies she
’
d enjoyed many a long, lonely night. His clothes disappeared with a few tugs, and she learned the contours of his body with a scandalous exploration of fingertips, lips and tongue.

From the first, his body had fascinated her—big and hard, smooth and rough. She could not find a spare ounce of flesh anywhere—and she looked ev
erywhere.

He quivered beneath her touch. She closed her palm along his length, and he went rigid, grabbed her wrist and growled,
“
Enough.
”

With a quickness that belied his size, he flipped her onto the bed and covered her fully clothed body with his own naked form.
“
My turn,
”
he whispered. Then his body shifted and stretched, a tap sounded and a soft glow filled the room.

Evie blinked and moaned.
“
No lights.
”

“
Yes, lights. I want to see that body I
’
ve been dreaming about every night.
”

The hum of arousal in her that had become a screech of need as his nude body pressed into hers suddenly went silent.

He kissed her temple.
“
What
’
s the matter, babe?
”

She snorted.
“
Babe? Please, do I look like a babe?
”

He kissed her until she forgot what she
’
d been annoyed about, then he put his mouth to her ear and murmured,
“
You look like a babe to me.
”

His hips flexed, and he
r body responded with un
diluted lust to the call of his—hardness to softness, hill to valley, man to woman.

She gave up trying to resist the inevitable.
“
Babe, honey, whatever. Could you turn off the light?
”

“
Nope.
”
He rolled to the side and busied his hands with the star-spangled buttons of her shirt. She grabbed his fingers, and he lifted his gaze to hers, eyebrows raised in question.

“
Uh, you see, well...
”
She didn
’
t know how to explain that she wasn
’
t a babe, not really, and that his fantasies about her body were going to turn to nightmares when he got a good gander.

“
What?
”
He twined their fingers together.
“
Tell
me.”

“
All right.
”
She gave up with a sigh that sounded sad even to her own ears.
“
You
’
re so perfect. Your body is incredible. I love touching it.
”

“
I love when you touch me.
”

“
And I love looking at you.
”

He wiggled his eyebrows.
“
I
’
d love to have a look at you.
”

How could he joke at a time like this? She was out-and-out terrified, so she turned her head aside, away from his amused gaze.
“
I look better in my clothes, Joe.
”

“
I don
’
t think so.
”

“
How would you know?
”

Fear always made her angry. She pulled her hand from his and would have sat up, but he threw a big, heavy arm across her chest.

“
Uh-uh-uh. No running away this time. I
’
m in no condition to chase you down.
”

She stared at the ceiling fan above his bed so she wouldn
’
t have to gaze at him.
“
Have you ever seen a woman
’
s body after she
’
s had a few kids—one pregnancy a set of twins?
”

“
Can
’
t say that I have—
”
another button popped open on her shirt
“
—but I
’
d like to.
”

“
It
’
s not pretty. I
’
ve got stretch marks.
”
She forced her eyes from the lazily turning fan and back to him.
“
My butt resembles a road map.
”

His lips twitched.
“
This I have to see.
”

“
It
’
s not funny, Joe,
”
she whispered, mortified.

“
Shh,
”
he said, and the sound soothed her, as did the desire in his eyes.

He still wanted her, and she
’
d told him the entire ugly truth. But telling wasn
’
t the same as seeing, so she braced herself. No man had viewed her body since she
’
d hit the other side of thirty.

He held her eyes as he finished unbuttoning her shirt, then flipped the front catch on her bra with an expert twist. The garment flew open, and her breasts swelled free. His gaze lowered from her face to her chest. The slow revolutions of the fan cast a languid breeze across the bed
, cooling her heated flesh, mak
ing her nipples tighten, then throb.

He stared at her for so long that she wanted to squirm. Then his ice-blue eyes raised to hers.
“
You mean these silver strands, here?
”

His calloused fingertip traced the slope of one breast to illustrate th
e question. In answer, she shiv
ered. His head lowered, and his tongue traced the path of his finger, along the fullness, then over the peak. His lips closed on a sensitive nipple, and she gasped.