Stirred Up (23 page)

His house was a cute blue one-story with a
postage stamp yard and a basketball hoop in the driveway. The
detached garage was closed, but inside would be his bike, and
probably a bunch of other manly things as well.

She’d been wet for the last hour, thinking
about what they’d do to each other tonight, and now that she was on
his doorstep, she had to remind herself to breathe. There was
something exciting about stepping onto his territory and seeing
where and how he lived.

The doorbell was still reverberating when he
opened the door, looking as gorgeous as ever. He had a day’s scruff
on his jaw, the sight of which caused another rush of heat. She
knew exactly how that would feel against her skin, and she’d waited
too long already for it.

The way he was grinning at her, she got the
feeling his thoughts were on the same path as hers.

“Come on in,” he said, grabbing the beer and
wine as she crossed the threshold. “These look great,” he said,
giving her a quick kiss.

They were in a living room lit by several
cozy standing lamps, with the kitchen to the back on the left and
what looked like a hallway beyond that. Like most homes in the area
everything was tiled, though he had a few rugs here and there as
well. As he’d warned, climbing and camping gear was scattered in
piles around the floor.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said, waving
dismissively. “I didn’t have time to put it all away.”

“What do you mean? Aren’t you taking most of
it?”

“I’m not taking any of it. Evan had to bail.”
He sighed and flopped into a chair. “The doctor who was supposed to
be on shift while we were away broke his foot, so that’s that.”

“That sucks. You must be so bummed.”

“I’m still thinking about going somewhere
else on my own and doing a less ambitious route. But I was really
psyched for this trip.”

He looked so forlorn. Most of the time he was
the one trying to make her feel better, but now it was her turn,
and she was more than up for the job. Something bluesy and raw was
playing in the background. The perfect accompaniment for what she
had in mind.

“I think I know something that’ll make you
feel better,” she whispered, leaning down and kissing him.

He leaned forward and slid his hands to her
hips, urging her deeper into the kiss.

“Not yet, baby,” she whispered, grazing his
lips with hers before pulling out of his reach.

His eyes were dark and hooded as they watched
her, and she felt outrageously sexy as she stood before him and
swung her hips, her hair falling over one eye as slowly she
released the three little buttons on her shirt and pulled it over
her head. She was wearing the same bra he’d seen all those weeks
ago when she poured water on herself, and a red thong to match the
little hearts. But she wasn’t quite ready for him to see her thong.
She was going to make him crazy first.

***

It was as if he’d never seen her naked, never
seen any woman naked. He understood now he was expected to remain
still, but tell that to his cock.

She smiled her wicked smile and undulated
toward him, her hands on the armrests, letting him breathe in her
scent without letting him touch her.

Then finally, just when he thought he might
break down and beg, she climbed onto his lap, and it was like every
erotic fantasy he’d ever had coming to life. All the dark longings
and nearly unbearable desire of sitting in an audience watching an
untouchable woman, combined with his constant craving for the woman
in his arms.

He did touch her then, pulling her hips down
so they lined up with his, running his hands up her smooth back
until they were buried beneath her hair. She seemed as eager as he,
her mouth opening over his with a groan, her tongue slipping into
his mouth.

He was ready for her, had been since she
walked in the door, but she wasn’t done with him yet. Pulling back
she reached around and unhooked her bra, riding him with the
leisurely pace of a woman who knows she’ll have her way. First one
strap fell from a creamy shoulder, then the other, but still she
held the cups to her breasts, coyly covering herself even as she
moaned in excitement.

But he could handle it, because unlike those
untouchable women, this one was his, and whether it was minutes or
hours, he was going to have her. And unlike in a strip club, he
could touch. He slipped his hands beneath the hem of her floaty
little skirt, his thumbs skimming along the sensitive skin of her
inner thighs.

Her breath caught as he repeated his stroke
and her eyes closed as her head fell back. He moved higher and her
rhythm quickened, those muscular thighs of hers working to get her
closer to him. At last, as if surrendering, she dropped her hands
and tossed her bra to the floor.

Drawing one tight pink tip into his mouth, he
sucked and rolled it with his tongue, just barely using his teeth
the way he’d learned made her crazy. She cried out and gripped his
shoulders tighter, and he moved to the other breast. His breathing
was ragged and untethered now, and his need for her more
frantic.

“Cheryl,” he groaned, pressing his lips into
her neck and closing his eyes, striving for control.

“I know,” she gasped.

Leaning back she went to work on his jeans,
unsnapping and unzipping, then her cool hand was on him, stroking
his length as she pulled him free of his boxers.

Her hand stilled. “You do have condoms,
right?” she asked, looking so panicked he almost laughed.

He’d laid in a serious supply of condoms the
day after they’d first had sex, and had even kept one in his wallet
ever since their camping trip. It made him feel like a horny
teenager, but it was better than getting caught unprepared
again.

Pulling his wallet out he found the condom
and tossed the wallet on the floor.

“Allow me,” Cheryl purred, taking the foil
packet from him.

He watched, barely breathing, as she ripped
open the packet and then unrolled the condom over him. She looked
far too in control for his tastes, but when he slid a finger
beneath the narrow strap of her thong he found her soaked with her
own desire.

“Christ, you are so fucking hot,” he said,
stroking over her, just barely managing to keep a rein on himself
as she shook and made the sweet noises he was starting to know so
well.

Finally, when it seemed they were both going
to lose their minds, she rose over him and he drove into her,
taking her to the hilt. Only suddenly the chair was too tame, too
confining. Standing up, he dropped them both to the carpet and came
down on top of her, driving into her with all the pent up need of
the past week.

She was slick with sweat and he licked it off
her, sucking on a breast as he took her, too far gone to make sure
she was keeping pace with him. But then she tightened around him,
her legs going up in the air as she cried out and came, and he was
lost himself.

Eventually they ate the pasta and salad he’d
made. Afterwards he brought out a stack of lesson planners and
together they looked through them, talking out what she ought to do
for the first month of her teaching.

“So this is from every year you taught?”
Cheryl asked, lifting a planner off the top of the stack.

“Just the last five years. The first few
years I wasn’t super creative, so I think these will be more useful
for you.”

“Hm. Do you suppose I can skip over the
awkward years and find my rhythm right out of the gate?”

“I think it’s safe to say you’re all right in
the rhythm department,” he said, wagging his eyebrows at her.

She laughed and swatted him on the arm. “I’m
serious.”

“You think I’m not?” he asked. “Anyway, the
bigger question is, are you staying the night?”

“I believe I will.”

“Good,” he said, standing up. “Because I
think it’s time you were introduced to my bed.”

***

“I don’t feel quite so bad about my plans
falling apart now,” Jason said, grinning down at her.

It was after ten the next morning, and they
were still lolling in bed. The only concession to the new day had
been when Jason got up and opened the curtains. But then he’d
promptly gotten back under the covers.

“Are you still thinking about going somewhere
for a few days?” she asked.

“I think I will camp a couple of nights
somewhere, but closer to home. If I don’t get out every so often I
get a little stir crazy.” He propped himself on an elbow and gazed
down at her. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into coming with
me?”

“I’d love to, but I’m working Friday and
Saturday night. This’ll be my last weekend, though.”

“Perfect. We’ll go another time.” He heaved a
sigh. “I guess I’d better get up and figure out what the heck I’m
doing,” he said, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of
the bed.

“Will you be back in time for Monday?”

“Monday?” he asked, looking confused.

“Monday’s New Year’s Eve,” she reminded
him.

“Oh yeah. I’ll definitely be back by Sunday.
Why, you want to hang on New Year’s Eve?”

Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him. It was
starting to sound significant, asking him days in advance to spend
the biggest night of the year with her.

“Only if you don’t have anything else
planned,” she said. “I was just wondering.”

He rolled back over and planted a kiss on her
lips.

“None of my plans would be better than
you.”

“Then it’s a date,” she said, throwing the
covers off. Then she stopped, wondering if that was going too far
again. “I mean plan. It’s a plan.”

She could feel her face flushing and wished
desperately she knew what he was thinking. But when she dared look
at him he was just watching her thoughtfully, his expression
unreadable.

She spent the next three days pouring over
Jason’s planners and her own notes. As terrified as she was, the
knowledge that she’d have her own classroom and would be able to
shape her classes the way she wanted was thrilling.

Friday night she told Steve, the club’s
manager, that it would be her last weekend. There was no need to
give more notice than that, since there were always girls looking
to work the coveted weekend nights. She let a few of the other
dancers know, too, but she didn’t feel like making a big thing of
it.

Quitting was huge, a line drawn between her
old life and her new one, and it was scary crossing over it. But it
was time. She gave it her all those last two nights, an odd
affection for the patrons, even the obnoxious ones, coming over
her. When her last set was over she counted her money, showered,
and then cleaned out her locker and walked away, the future spread
out before her.

When Jason called Sunday evening she paused
her movie to answer.

“Hey, cowboy. How was your trip?”

“Fantastic, except for you not being there.
What are you up to?”

“Oh, just watching a movie,” she said, not
sure if she wanted to reveal too much.

“What movie?”

She cleared her throat. “‘Stand and
Deliver.’”

He laughed. “Getting yourself pumped for the
new job?”

“Yes, if you must know. I’ve been watching
every heroic teaching movie I can find. And there are a lot.”

“Have you watched ‘To Sir with Love’?” he
asked. “That’s a classic.”

“No. Want to watch it with me?”

“Sure. I, ah, I think I might actually own a
copy of it.”

“Is that right?” she teased.

“Hey, we were all new teachers once. So are
we still on for tomorrow?” he asked.

“Of course. Cutter and Emily are having some
people over, if you feel like doing that. It should be nice and
pretty low key, and I’m told there will be very high-end hors
d’oeuvres.”

He arrived at her door the next night dressed
in a crisp blue dress shirt and dark gray pants. He looked her up
and down, taking in her four-inch heels and the asymmetrical black
dress that left one shoulder bare.

“Do we have to go to this thing?” he
asked.

“Yes,” she replied, grabbing her little
clutch and pushing him out the door. “I want fancy hors
d’oeuvres.”

She’d been a little worried about whether
he’d have fun, seeing as how he wouldn’t know many people there,
but he was his usual charming self. Emily and Lisa both wanted
updates and looked unconvinced when she told them things were as
casual as ever, but she didn’t let that bother her. She and Jason
knew where they stood, and that was all that mattered.

Just before midnight Jason shepherded her
outside for some fresh air, and they rang in the New Year swaying
in the shadows of Cutter’s garden.

“Happy New Year, Cheryl,” Jason whispered,
pulling her close for a long, lingering kiss.

Maybe it was the moonlight, the champagne, or
the fragrance of the softly blowing plant life around them, but for
a few moments she felt like she was in a dream. The world slowed
down and everything went hazy. Everything but Jason. She gripped
his arms, afraid she’d tip over, and stared at him, wondering what
had come over her.

Then the back door opened and people stumbled
out onto the back deck and the world snapped back into focus. They
didn’t leave one another’s side the rest of the night, and they
were back at her place by two o’clock, no longer interested in
anyone but each other.

They slept late, then woke up and ate cereal
while watching Jason’s DVD of “To Sir with Love.”

She didn’t cry easily, but she couldn’t help
the tears that came during the dancing scene at the end. Jason
didn’t even tease her.

“You remind me of him,” she said, turning to
Jason as the credits scrolled down the screen.

“I remind you of Sydney Poitier?”

“Totally. You see the potential in everyone,
and all the students trust and respect you. Plus you’re hot.”