The Driven Snowe (9 page)

She leaned over, her breath tickling his ear. “I want you to make love to me.” She sounded a combination of embarrassed and breathless.

“Now?” he said, surprised by the quickness of her hands.

“Right now,” she said, turning his head with both hands. He saw her smile, a beautiful, slightly mischievous smile, just before she lowered her mouth to his.

She started to ease his suit jacket off his shoulders, and he immediately complied as best he could as they continued to tease and torment with their mouths, him nipping at her neck, her pressing kisses along his jawline and in the sensitive spot just behind his ear. Next thing he knew, she was straddling him on his own sofa, much as he'd encouraged her to do on the couch in the darkened club.

His erection went rigid in a moment. So much for taking things slow.

How in the world did I think
she
was the nervous one?

Trying to catch up, he rubbed his hands over the silk dress, cupping her breasts. She leaned back, growling low in her throat as she pushed herself up to meet his searching fingers. His hands smoothed down to her hips, matching the rhythm she was developing, stroking her along his penis, feeling the heat of her through his trousers. She gasped, and the little sound made him ache. He pushed her down, and she gasped again, clutching at his shoulders.

She tugged his shirt out of his waistband, and he almost tore the thing off, tossing it to the floor. She smiled, even more devilishly, then reached for the hem of her dress. The smile disappeared for a second as she slowly pulled the dress up and over her head, revealing the black merry widow she was wearing, complete with matching black garter belt and stockings. Desire hit him
like a club. “If I'd known what you were wearing under that dress…”

“I wasn't sure if you were ever going to find out,” she said softly, stroking her fingers down his chest. She darted forward and nipped at his earlobe. “I've been waiting all night for this,” she whispered huskily.

Reverently, he tugged down the cups of the merry widow, exposing her firm, high breasts. He leaned forward and teased her nipples, first with his breath, then lips and tongue. She cried out, and he felt her thighs clench around his. He went from teasing to suckling, and she clenched her fingers in his hair, holding him to her. She was panting now. He wasn't far behind.

He pulled himself away. “Don't you think we ought to move back to the bedroom?” he asked, trying for some semblance of control. After all, he was the one trying to prove a point tonight…trying to convince her.

She grinned. “No, I really don't,” she said, before grinding herself gently against his erection and eliciting another moan. “I think we're doing fine right here, don't you? Except for one thing.” She sent him a frown of mock ferocity. “Those pants have got to go.”

She stood up, and he felt bereft without her warmth. He stood and unbuckled his pants, then watched as she tugged her lingerie off, leaving only the garters. It was a brutally sexy assault. Her body was just as perfect as he remembered, all smooth curves and satin skin. His pants dropped to the floor with his boxers, and he reached for her.

“Condom,” she breathed, and he stopped. Almost bolting, he headed for his bedroom, ignoring his carefully crafted seduction scene as he grabbed a handful of foil packets. He made it back in record time to find
her still standing, with a welcoming smile on her face and an even more welcoming pose.

“I want to watch this,” she said, and despite her sexy tone, it was the obvious and real curiosity that made him laugh. “I wasn't really paying attention last time.”

He felt somewhat self-conscious as he slipped one on, then rolled it up the length of him…he'd never been the object of scrutiny during the process. She smiled, then reached out and circled him with her hand, clenching him tightly, adding a gentle stroke.

“Angela,” he muttered, pushing forward at her hand instinctively. Her responding smile was sly, as if she'd suddenly realized her own power. She moved with a gentle rhythm, first hard, then soft, then hard.

He needed to be inside of her, right now, but he wanted to make sure she was ready. She was driving him mad, but she was still inexperienced, and he wasn't. He nudged her down onto the couch, and she parted her legs easily. “Josh,” she murmured, sliding her arms out to him.

He nuzzled her throat, loving the breathy gasps, then gently moved down to her breasts, devoting more attention there. Still working on them, he positioned his penis at her entrance, gently stroking up and down. She gasped some more, and he kissed her, hard, their tongues dueling amidst matching groans. He could feel her wetness increasing, easing his entrance. He put the tip in, and the tight warmth was almost enough to push him over the edge. He wanted to slam into her, to bury himself up to his hips in her warmth.

Control,
he thought desperately.
Gotta keep it together.

She was chanting his name, and her legs inched up
higher on his hips, trying to take more of him in. He resisted. She'd gotten enough teasing in tonight. Now, it was his turn.

He backed out, then reentered, barely going deeper, stroking at her entrance, circling and returning. She was breathing hard, making incoherent noises of frustration and need. Finally, she opened her eyes.

“Josh, I want you inside me,” she pleaded.

He smiled. “You have me inside you.” He pressed in a little more. “Just a bit.”

“I want all of you inside me,” she countered. “I want to feel you pushing against me, deep. Please!”

He pushed in a little further, then retreated. The effort was almost killing him…her moist warmth was tight as a glove around him, and he could feel every ripple of her body. At this point, if he pushed in full he was afraid he would lose his mind and just give in to mindless passion. She was still too new, too tender…

With a growl of frustration, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him all the way inside of her. She let out a harsh rasp of triumph, and he felt his control dissipate like smoke. Her breasts rubbed against his chest and her fingers roughly raked down his back before clenching at his hips. He withdrew, then plunged into her, making sure each thrust angled him against her pleasure spot, circling slightly to make sure her clitoris got just as much attention.
She's so tight, she's so…she's perfect.

She was meeting his every thrust with a cry of pleasure, and a slight twist of her own that made her body pulse and clench around him. “Josh…I'm…I'm coming….” she breathed, and he increased his speed. Suddenly, she let out a low, rippling cry.
“Josh!”

He felt the change in her body, and suddenly the pressure on his erection increased. He felt the waves caress him, and it sent his own system over. He groaned, and jerked against her, feeling his own orgasm rip through him like a gunshot.

She let out another cry, to his shock, and the wave redoubled…and to his amazement, he jerked again, a reverberation of his first orgasm.

They lay there for what seemed like a long time, her legs still tight around his waist, his face buried in the crook of her neck. After pulling himself together, he leaned up on one arm. She was covered in a sheen of sweat, and her eyes were closed. Her bangs were plastered against her forehead. He pushed them out of the way, then ran a gentle finger down her cheek and along her neck. Then he kissed her, just as tenderly. When he stopped, he saw her eyes open, rich as chocolate.

“Was that as fantastic as I thought it was?” she asked, in a breathy whisper.

It was more fantastic, he thought, than he would have expected…and in some ways, more than he'd like to admit. “Not bad…for a second time,” he said, then laughed as she glared at him. “Angela, it was incredible for me, too.”

She smiled, not the devilish smiles she'd tempted him with, but an angelic smile of gratitude. “Thank you.”

He remembered the first time she'd said that…how it had thrown him a little. “No, Angela,” he said, kissing her again. “Thank
you.
”

He carefully withdrew from her. “I'm going to get you a towel,” he said.

He went to the bathroom, cleaning himself off. She was right…that had been incredible. And it was just the
beginning. He'd rushed, and he hadn't meant to. Next time, he'd be slower, more thorough. At this rate, she'd think that every time was a speed race. And he'd get her into the bedroom, too. She probably shouldn't have sex again tonight—despite her enthusiasm and her obvious desire, she was bound to be sore—but there were other ways of enjoying each other, and he had hours yet to get her to agree to his six-month proposal.

He brought back a hand towel for her, then paused when he saw her.

“Angela?”

She had already put her dress back on, and slipped on her shoes. It looked like she had her merry widow and stockings piled haphazardly over her clutch purse. She smiled. “I know this seems really abrupt,” she said, apologetically, grabbing her coat and putting it on. “But I have to go.”

He didn't know what hit him harder…knowing she was wearing nothing beneath that silky little dress, or knowing she was about to leave the house in that manner. “After what just happened…you're going to just
leave?
”

She quickly ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing it down. “Unfortunately, I've signed up for an early morning yoga class at the community center, so I've got to get home, get some sleep, then get over there by
six.
” She shuddered, then smiled. “I'll call you tomorrow, though.”

He frowned. “You mean that?”

She walked up to him, and brushed a quick kiss over his lips. “After this, I've made my decision. I can handle the six months.”

He was even more surprised. He supposed he ought
to feel happy—he'd gotten what he wanted, after all. She had agreed to see him again, the night had not been a complete disaster. But he was still feeling somewhat bereft. “Six months, definitely?”

“Definitely.” She kissed him again, then took a deep breath, and as he watched, she turned and walked out his front door. “I'll see you,” she said, smiling, then shut the door behind her.

After a few shocked moments, he heard her car start, then pull out of the driveway. The hum of the engine disappeared into the night.

He was standing, stark naked in his living room, holding a hand towel and wondering when the hell he had lost control of the situation.

S
HE WAS IN COMPLETE
control of the situation.

“Okay. The next pose is Proud Warrior,” Angela heard the tranquil voice of the yoga instructor say over the tiny sounds of a murmuring brook and some sort of bells.

Groaning, Angela pulled herself up from her inverted triangle position, where she was basically trying to bend at the waist while making her top half and bottom half point in completely opposite directions. She had always heard of the relaxing benefits of yoga. Maybe the people who had said that weren't getting up at six in the morning. They certainly weren't doing it after having a really rousing bout of sex the night before, either.

She stretched and turned, feeling the soreness between her legs as yet another reminder of what had happened the previous evening.

Angela twisted and reached for her feet. She also figured she shouldn't have any problems keeping the situation firmly in hand. It would just depend on her setting a few guidelines for herself, that's all.

She remembered the look of shock on Josh's face as
she left last night. Later, as she drove home, she realized that it had probably not happened to a man like Josh all that often. Not that that was why she was doing it, but she had to admit there was a certain power in walking away. And as much as she didn't want to hurt his feelings, or make him feel cheap, she had a bigger responsibility to make sure she stayed safe. She felt sure he hadn't worried about hurting people's feelings when his brief affairs had run their course, even though she thought he was otherwise very considerate.

Why should she sacrifice her peace of mind, just so he wouldn't be upset with her?

She needed to make it clear to herself: this was a sexual arrangement,
not
a relationship. She wasn't going to be leaving a toothbrush at his house, or clearing out a drawer for her underwear and socks.

Rule number one: no staying over at each other's houses.

She thought about it some more…the brook and bell combo the instructor was playing seemed to help clarify her thoughts, even if the contortions didn't. The thing is, she really
had
left Josh so she'd be ready for her yoga class. For a brief moment, she'd considered staying with him, of forgetting the class entirely. She'd seen far too many women lose all their interests as a new love affair consumed them. That wasn't happening here. She was going to continue pursuing her growth in other areas. She still had her own life, and more recently, her own friends.

Rule number two, then: never cancel plans in order to accommodate Josh.

She would hardly impinge on his plans, after all. She felt sure that despite his attention to her, he'd manage to
have his own busy social life. He was far too outgoing and charming a man not to have his own social circle, she had to assume.

She paused, midcontortion. Josh. Now he, himself, was the biggest trouble spot. If this arrangement had been with someone she had felt less attracted to, she could have stuck with just rules one and two. But after she and Josh had had sex, when they'd been lying in each other's arms for those few fleeting moments, hadn't she felt that sneaking warmth, the kind that made women want to blurt out some profession of love? Hadn't she been ready to chuck rules one
and
two right out the window, if he hadn't chosen to leave the room just then?

She frowned, not just at the pretzel-mimicking position the teacher assured her she could configure herself into.

For that matter, hadn't she felt that same warmth of emotion as she'd listened to him talk about his past, when they
hadn't
been having sex…despite her best efforts to stay aloof?

Rule number three
—and the most important as far as she was concerned—
she could never,
ever
say “I love you.”

Not ever.

She was still sore when she got home, not just from Josh, but from her morning. Even her head was sore, from thinking so much about the whole thing. But she felt clearer about her stance and her direction, more relaxed and at ease with herself. She had ground rules. She had definite goals. She knew what she wanted, and felt remarkably at peace about the entire thing.

I guess there's something to yoga, after all.
She'd go again next Saturday.

Her phone rang, and she picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hey, you. How's life in Manzanita?”

“Bethany!” Angela smiled, settling herself at her kitchen table. “Where the heck are you calling me from?”

“If it's Tuesday, it must be Tuscany,” Bethany said with a laugh. “At least the photos are going great. I haven't even turned on my computer, but I got your messages. So when are you going to come out and visit me already?”

It had been a running joke between the two of them since college. Bethany had been dying to go to Europe since high school, and had studied languages and photojournalism with equal ferocity. She'd always cajoled Angela to join her, but Angela had never had the time or the finances, or the motivation, it seemed. “I'll go one of these days,” Angela said, her usual response.

“Yeah, yeah. Angela, you're too comfortable, I've often said it. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but you and I both know you want to do more with your life,” Bethany said seriously. Angela smiled more…this, too, was a familiar litany. “I really mean it this time! I know you've probably got tons of vacation stocked up. Come out to Europe and visit me,” she wheedled. “I'll find you a handsome, virile Italian who'll make love to you like there's no tomorrow. Not that I'm going to push you on that point, either…as usual…”

Angela sighed. “We need to talk, Bethany.”

Bethany's chipper persuasiveness halted. “Well, that sounds ominous. What happened? You've got a brain tumor or something?”

“Well, there was a little medical thing….”

“Oh, my God.” Bethany's voice crackled with worry.
“There's never anything ‘little' with you. Do you really have a brain tumor? Something else serious?” Her caring was evident, as was her increasing panic. “I can be on a plane in an hour….”

“Whoa! No brain tumor, no problem, I'm fine,”

Angela said, loving her for being such a good friend, but still ruing her impulsive nature. Even though it was one of the things she most admired about her friend, it was hard to contain. “I had a little jolt, that's all…lump in my breast, turned out to be nothing.”

“For the love of…Angie, don't scare me like that!” Bethany scolded.

“I didn't mean to…but the whole thing scared some sense into me.” She thought about her new agreement with Josh. “Okay, maybe
sense
isn't quite the right word. But it scared some courage into me.”

Bethany went silent for a moment, then a tone of glee crept into her voice. “No way. Don't tell me you…”

“You're talking to an ex-virgin, pal.”

Bethany crowed. “Whoo-hoo! Finally!” Once she'd finished cheering, her tone got businesslike. “Who did it, where was it, how did it go? Full report. I want every juicy tidbit.”

“Well, you're not getting every juicy tidbit,” Angela said. “But I'll tell you this…it's everything you said it was, and then some. And then, just a little bit more.”

“So how did this all come about? You were introduced by friends? Met at a party? In line at the DMV?”

Angela bit her lip. “Actually, it was more like a decision I made. This guy is fairly well-known around Manzanita—not exactly as a womanizer, but as a…” She thought of how best to describe Josh. “A professional
bachelor, let's say. I just sort of…well, I made him an offer.”

“Don't tell me…you decided you were going to lose your virginity to him, and then went gunning, didn't you?” Bethany's laughter was exuberant. “If you could see me, you'd find me kneeling in front of my phone in homage to you. Don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't think you'd have the balls to just go up to a guy and ask him to jump you.”

“Oh, knock it off,” Angela said. “It turned out okay in the end.”

“I just bet it did,” Bethany said. “So, are you going to see him again, or what?”

“We've worked out a sort of…arrangement.” Angela could feel her face coloring. “We, er,
see
each other, but it's nothing serious.”

Bethany paused again. “Oh, my God. Angela Snowe, the virgin extraordinaire, has herself a
fuckbuddy?
”

Angela winced. “Oh, and doesn't
that
sound attractive.”

Bethany obviously recognized her friend's tone, and eased up. “Sorry for my bluntness, but you know me. It's just that a couple of months ago, I was scolding you to get out more, maybe consider dating. Now, I'm talking to a flagrant libertine, and I honestly couldn't be happier.” Bethany's voice was warm. “I'm proud of you, Angela.”

Angela relaxed. “Thanks, Bethany. You're right. I was too comfortable. I figured I had plenty of time—who doesn't think that way, right? Next thing I know, I'm facing breast cancer and then I wasn't, and it was the push I needed. I just jumped into everything I ever wanted to try. I'm barely even
home,
I'm taking so many
classes. I probably won't stick with everything, but… Bethany, I feel like a new person.”

“I've got a shoot in a little while, sweetie, so I'll have to cut this short. But I've got to get one more try in.” Angela could hear the smile in Bethany's voice. “I don't suppose this ‘new person' has a passport?”

Angela thought for a second, still drenched in her new euphoria. And then it struck her.

In six months, my arrangement with Josh will be over.

She saw her arrangement with Josh as an experiment in personal growth. She didn't want a relationship, and neither did he. Instead, he was helping her test her wings. She wasn't going to hide in her books anymore, or avoid adventures. Between her classes, her friends and Josh, she would finally start living the life she'd secretly wanted.

What better way to culminate this six-month experiment by finally doing what she'd always dreamed of—traveling to Europe?

“You know, Bethany,” she said slowly. “You're on. I'll go to Italy.”

 

J
OSH SAT AT HIS DESK
, watching the blink of his voice mail light on his phone. He knew there were several urgent messages from his marketing team, about the fact that the agency had made a huge mistake, and their new product launch was going to be off schedule. In the meantime, Bill had pointed out that they were going over budget in marketing anyway for the second quarter, and something needed to be done. Adam's research and development team were starting to have problems with one of the natural emulsifiers they'd been toying with
for the new carob-soy bar. All in all, the day was going to hell in a handbasket.

Despite all of this, he thought with a self-deprecating grin, the thing that seemed to be popping up most on his mind was Angela. He wasn't sure how that happened.

It was the type of relationship most men only dreamed of. If some guy had told Josh that he'd be lucky enough to get a beautiful, sexy, willing woman, no strings attached, for six months, Josh would have probably bought the man a beer.

Now that he'd been experiencing it for a month, he'd probably punch the same man out.

He sat at his desk, ready to tear his hair out. He'd been “seeing” Angela for over a month now. He couldn't even bring himself to call it dating—dating was far too personal. He wasn't even seeing her that often. Between her crazy schedule of classes and her friends, he was lucky to get Friday and Saturday night with her, so he'd only “seen” her about eight times or so. And it always seemed to be the same thing. She would drive to his house. They'd engage in some small talk—if he were lucky, he could convince her to go to dinner, or if he were really lucky, a movie. She would be serene and indulgent, and would listen to his stories without sharing too much about her personal life. Then they would go back to his place and go at it like rabbits. After they'd gone two or three rounds, she would calmly smile, kiss him tenderly, then get dressed and go home.

He shut the report on his desk with a snap, rubbing at his eyes. That sounded awful. But he couldn't think of how else to put it. Any other man might consider this the perfect arrangement—“friends with benefits,” however
you wanted to call it. But for whatever reason, he finally figured out it wasn't working for him. At all.

The more maddening thing was, it seemed to be working perfectly for her.

If she had grown annoying, that would be one thing. He'd had that happen before: date a girl, have a great weekend, then in another two or three weekends he wondered what the hell he'd ever seen in her. But not with Angela. Despite her concentration on the physical aspects of their relationship, she was still sweet, still funny, still intriguing. Nevertheless, she was still completely emotionally unavailable. It was crazy-making. He'd have called it quits, except…

Except he wanted her so goddamn badly.
Not just her body, but her—her smile, her personality, the whole ball of wax.

His phone rang, and he answered it absently. “Josh Montgomery.”

“Josh? Honey, how are you?”

“Hi, gorgeous,” Josh said, a grin instantly lighting his face. “I was just going to call you.”

“Don't try to play me, Josh. I'm your mother. Your charms are wasted,” she said, laughing. “The real question is, when are you going to
see
me?”

Josh grabbed his Palm Pilot, flipping through his calendar. His weekends had
Angela
blocked out. “I don't think I can get away any time soon. Solar Bars is in a little bit of a crisis right now.”