The Rebound Guy Page 5

  “I’ll…tickle you.” Cop out, he berated himself.

  She squirmed playfully on the bed, her body sinuous and so, so sexy.

  Eric’s hands trembled as he unzipped his fly.

  “Ah…you’re opening your fly.”

  “Very good. That was a gimme.” He dipped one finger between her legs and stroked her swollen clit once. She sighed. “Now what am I doing?”

  “You’re sliding your jeans off?”

  “Are you guessing? That could get you into trouble.”

  She giggled. “You’re just standing there, watching me.” He gave her one steady stroke and she moaned.

  “Good. Now what?”

  “You’re moving toward the bed. You’re leaning over and—oh!”

  “Say it. Say what I’m doing to you.”

  “You’re…licking my…clit…” She finished her sentence with an unintelligible sound. Her body arched at his intimate touch and he tasted her unique essence on his tongue. “Now?” He slid two fingers inside her and she moaned the words in a breathless tumble.

  Her whole body seemed to pulse around him and she whimpered as her orgasm hit hard, raising her hips and pushing herself against his hand.

  Eric held her, his hand tight against her mons, enjoying the feel of her sex contracting around his fingers, drawing him in. A simple touch and she belonged to him. He reveled in the power he held over her, enjoying her pleasure as much as his own.

  “My God…” she panted when her trembling limbs finally relaxed.

  “That was unreal.”

  He smiled as he withdrew from her. “It’s like you’re ready to come all the time.”

  She laughed tremulously. “Only with you…honest.” Her breath caught on the last word and Eric raised his gaze to her face. Her sultry smile faded. Her lips parted and, unbidden, her eyes fluttered open.

  “Make love to me, Eric. Please.”

  Lauren’s whole body felt like liquid fire. She sighed and curled her body around Eric’s as he lowered himself into the vee of her open thighs.

  He stretched his now naked body over hers, covering her with his warmth. While his hands explored her body, he kissed her until she lost herself in the sensation of his tongue laving hers.

  She’d loved his game, his masterful tone and the giddy fear of what he might do to her while her eyes were closed. She would have played all night, let him tease her to orgasm again and again, but her own words hit her and made her suddenly aware that this wasn’t a game.

  Only with you.

  She’d never felt as free or as sexy as she did with Eric. Was it because she knew him so well and trusted him to care about her feelings and her needs? She’d dated plenty of men, a few of whom she thought she loved, but none she’d ever trusted as much, or felt so certain with.

  Though she’d spent the day wondering how to deal with their sudden intimacy, she’d never actually been afraid Eric wouldn’t call her, that he wouldn’t want to see her again. Deep down, she’d never really doubted her friendship with Eric could survive a night of passion.

  One question tickled the back of her mind now, as he claimed her, his body taut above her: Would this ever be anything more? She took him in and let him love her, and long after he fell asleep with his arms wrapped around her, she whispered the words, “I love you.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Something’s different about you,” Clarice said when she cornered Eric at the air hockey table on Sunday. The frenetic atmosphere of Mr.

  Mouse’s Pizzeria flowed around them like white water rapids as they faced off over the game.

  “What makes you say that?” Eric’s gaze automatically sought Lauren, who was happily passing out ice cream cake to a dozen kindergarteners.

  Jeremy’s birthday party guests flocked around her like eager moths to a flame and she looked like she was loving it.

  Clarice blocked Eric’s first shot with a vengeance and the blue plastic puck sailed into his goal. “You’ve lost your arm. And you seem distracted.”

  “I’m not.” He retrieved the puck and lined up his next shot. This time he managed three returns before Clarice made a point.

  She jerked her thumb in the direction of the birthday cake frenzy.

  “Did you and Lauren have a fight?”

  “No! I mean, no. Of course not. What makes you think that?”

  Clarice tucked a strand of dark, curly hair behind her ear and whizzed another goal past him with clinical precision.

  “Damn!”

  “I’ve been practicing. Do you know how many parties I come to a month here?”

  Eric laughed. “I don’t want to know. Actually, I do. Tell me all about it.”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “We didn’t have a fight.” “You seem so formal with each other today. You hung up her coat, pulled out her chair—”

  “I always do that. I’m a nice guy, remember?”

  Realization swept over Clarice’s face just before she sank another goal on him. “That issue again? Let me guess. She’s dating Jack the Ripper and she wants your advice on how to get him to stop murdering prostitutes before she considers marriage?”

  Eric placed the puck on the side of the table and followed Clarice to a relatively quiet corner of the chaotic restaurant. He had no desire to psychoanalyze his relationship with Lauren, but he didn’t see much choice at the moment. His sister would bug him until he spilled something, so he needed to think of something to spill.

  It had been an amazing week. After Wednesday night at Lauren’s place, they’d spent Friday and Saturday night together, too. Like teenagers again, they were insatiable and uninhibited, but there was an unspoken issue between them now that neither had the courage to touch.

  As lovers, they were perfect. As friends, they found themselves drifting in casual formality. The reason was clear to Eric. They were both afraid to define their new relationship. He didn’t want casual sex and she obviously didn’t want a full-fledged commitment.

  He was, after all, the rebound guy. She might not want Mark back, at least not yet, but she wasn’t after another long-term relationship after the way the last one ended. Neither of them could admit to the other that their passionate fling had no future.

  “Let’s just say, the guy she’s with now wants more from her than she’s willing to give.”

  “He’s pressuring her?”

  “No…”

  “She’s skittish?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If she asks your advice, and I know she will, tell her to dump him. If she’s not sure how she feels about him, she probably doesn’t feel enough.”

  “Right.” Eric wondered how he’d pull that blade out of his heart.

  “Then you swoop in and ask her out.” Clarice winked. Everything always seemed so easy to her, so black and white.

  “It’s not that simple.”

  She put an arm around Eric’s shoulders and leaned up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “It’s always simpler than you think it is. You and Lauren would be good together. Give it a shot. I bet if you lay it all on the line, you’ll find out she feels the same way about you.”

  Eric shook his head, even as a grin broke through his troubled frown.

  “Maybe you could slip a note in her locker for me, like you used to do in high school.”

  Clarice giggled. “With one of those silly multiple choice questions on it and the boxes to check off? Let me think: ‘Dear Lauren, who is the cutest guy? Mr. Mouse or Eric?’ I’ll make your box bigger so she’ll get the hint what the right answer is.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think I can compete with a rodent in a bow tie.”

  The birthday party ended an hour later with a rousing chorus of

  “Happy Birthday” and the distribution of party favors. As the guests left, Eric watched Lauren. She looked sweet and untroubled, playing jacks with Jeremy while harried parents rounded up their sugar-fortified tots.

  When everyone had gone, including Cla
rice and Andy with their own sleepy five-year-old in tow, Eric retrieved Lauren’s coat and met her at the ball pit.

  “Care for one last dip before we turn in our ID bracelets?” he asked.

  “Oh, no thanks. I’m still a little sticky from the last time. I think I sat in gum.” She dusted off her hands and gave the bin of plastic balls a skeptical glance.

  “I’m sorry about this. I appreciate that you came along.” She laughed as she buttoned her coat. “I don’t mind. It was fun.

  Except for the kid who stuck his lollipop in my hair. Besides, I really like your family.”

  Eric took her hand and led her through the crowded playscape and finally out into the parking lot. Before opening the car door for her, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She tasted like cotton candy and she felt like heaven in his arms.

  When he broke the kiss, her heated glance fell to his lips. “Your place or mine?”

  “Neither.”

  “Ooh, someplace new?”

  He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and took a deep breath.

  She stiffened.

  “This week has been wonderful, really, but…”

  Lauren’s arms fell to her sides as she transferred her gaze from his to the top button on his shirt. “I understand.”

  “No, you don’t. Lauren, I don’t want to be your rebound guy anymore.”

  Lauren’s heart turned to stone at Eric’s words. Did he really think of himself that way? Had she given him any reason not to?

  After Wednesday night, she’d been careful around him, trying not to seem too needy. Truth was, she couldn’t get enough of him. Each time they’d made love she felt a glow, a heat that didn’t go away. She thought about him constantly and wondered how to tell him she didn’t regret showing up at his apartment nearly as much as she regretted not following through after that Fourth of July kiss.

  Now he wanted it to end. He had every right not to want to be used anymore. She put her hands on his chest and sighed. “I’m sorry, Eric. I never meant to—”

  He put a finger against her lips. “Let me finish. I want to make a change. I want you to go out with me.”

  “Where?”

  “Anywhere. I want to go on a date. And it doesn’t have to end up in bed, though I’m not going to rule that out, of course.”

  “You want to…date?”

  “Yes. I want to start fresh, from the beginning. Let me take you out to dinner, someplace nice and we’ll see what develops from there.”

  She shrugged, still uncertain what he was aiming at. They’d spent three nights together this week, woke up in each other’s beds, in each other’s arms, and he wanted to back off and go to dinner? “Where do you want to go?”

  “I’ll pick the place. How’s Tuesday?”

  “Tuesday? Not tonight?”

  “No. We need some time to regroup, to think about things.”

  Uh oh. Was this just a cleverly constructed brush-off? “Think about what?”

  “Everything.”

  She searched his eyes. The familiar spark was there and his mouth curved in a grin. “All right. Tuesday.” How would she get through two days without him?

  “Good. I’m going to take you home now. I’ll pick you up at seven on Tuesday. Dress up.”

  •

  Lauren forced herself not to call Eric on Sunday night. Instead, she busied herself cleaning her apartment to ease the frustration of not having him around. She’d taken his words to heart, but she couldn’t figure out how she’d get through a date without thinking about him peeling off her clothes and making her moan in ecstasy.

  It made sense, in a strange way. If they were nothing more than hump buddies to each other now, the relationship had nowhere to go.

  They needed to fill in the blanks they’d missed between the last time they’d met for lunch and talked about work and movies, and the moment she’d decided to seduce him.

  They’d skipped too many steps in the transition from friends to lovers.

  Then again, maybe there were no steps in-between. Maybe this exercise in restraint would just prove they weren’t right for each other.

  When the phone rang at eight, she jumped on it, then let it ring once more. Don’t be desperate, she berated herself. She lifted the receiver and forced her voice to sound casual despite the tremor in her stomach.

  Thoughts of Eric had left her electrically charged.

  Was it normal to feel like a cat in heat every time his name ran through her head?

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Mark.” The familiar voice cooled her sexual buzz instantly. She thought of hanging up, but decided she needed the distraction.

  “What, Mark?”

  “I want to apologize. I’m sorry for what you saw.”

  She laughed. “I bet you are.”

  “I mean, I’m sorry for what I did. You may have been right about my intent and I was wrong to allow something like that to happen.”

  Lauren sat on the edge of her bed. Her eyes fluttered closed and she rubbed them and pinched the bridge of her nose. “All right. I accept your apology. You’re admitting your mistake, and that’s good.”

  “Great. Can I come over so we can talk?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? You just said—” His voice rose in that petulant way he had. Lauren hadn’t realized until now how much it annoyed her.

  “I accept your apology. It doesn’t mean we have anything else to talk about.”

  “That’s it, then? You’re dumping me for Eric because he was there to give you a free ride when you wanted to get back at me?”

  Anger flared in Lauren, not because of Mark’s crass remark or his harsh tone, but because she feared he might be right. Her own feelings made no sense to her. Could she fall out of love with Mark in the space of a few seconds and fall in love with Eric just as quickly?

  The answer was at least partially clear. She hadn’t loved Mark. The pain she felt at finding him with Sandy had been a mixture of shock and indignant anger, but had he really broken her heart? No. He’d opened her eyes.

  “Mark, let’s just leave it, all right? If you had ‘intent’, then maybe you should be with someone else. I know I should be.” She hung up without waiting for Mark’s reply. She held her breath for a moment, waiting for him to call back with his closing arguments, but the phone remained silent. After a few minutes, she lay back on her bed, relieved and a little out of sorts.

  Mark wasn’t right for her. No need for cross-examination there. But his words still stung. What could she do to convince Eric he was more than a rebound guy? What did she need to do to convince herself?

  Chapter Nine

  Eric contemplated the bouquet of pink roses he’d picked up on the way to Lauren’s apartment. How cliché, he thought. She’d probably think he was a sap for bringing her flowers.

  Maybe he should have gone with red ones, or perhaps a single rose?

  He laughed to himself. Why was he worried about her reaction? He’d already shown up on her doorstep with a box of condoms. Any kind of flower could only be a step up in class.

  He rang the bell, straightened his tie and waited. He hated ties.

  Lauren would think he was an ass, showing up with flowers and wearing a tie to impress a girl who’d thrown herself into his arms a week ago.

  Maybe that’s what this was all about. She’d chosen him then; he wanted her to know he chose her now.

  When the door opened, he knew he’d made the right choice. She looked incredible.

  Her sexy black dress had barely-there straps and her shoes laced around her ankles. She’d put her hair up and her lips were wet and red as sin, like she’d been sucking on something juicy and sweet.

  How was he supposed to concentrate on dinner when she looked like that?

  “You’re early,” she said. He watched her mouth, caught by the shimmer and thought wicked things.

  “No traffic.” He handed her the flowers.

  “Thank you.” She
seemed to hesitate, bit her lip as she took the roses and stepped back. “Do you want to come in?”

  Oh, yes. But if he did, they’d never leave. He wanted to see how that hot little dress looked on the floor. “The reservations are for seven-thirty.

  We need to get going.”

  “Okay.” Disappointment flickered in her eyes. Who was he kidding?

  They’d never get through a meal. Just looking at her, the curve of her shoulder, creamy against the thin black strap of her dress, made him hard as a rock. He wanted to taste her , dip his finger down into the tight cleft between her breasts and run his hand up her thigh under the flowing hem of her skirt.

  “I’ll get my purse and put these in water,” she said as she turned toward the kitchen. As she moved, her hips swayed and her dress whirled around her thighs.

  Eric licked his lips and tugged at his collar. His cock stood at full attention when she stretched to reach for a vase from a high shelf next to the sink. Her fingers just missed it.

  “I need to get the step stool—”

  “Don’t bother. I’ve got it.” He crossed the living room in three strides, barely aware of the fact he’d shut the door behind him when he entered.

  He reached over her head to retrieve the vase and all logic fled.

  With her body pressed between his and the kitchen countertop, he felt every curve. The scent of her perfume, a musky, warm floral, seeped into his brain and kicked his libido into overdrive.

  As they set the vase on the counter, he brought one arm around her waist and drew her body tight against him. She moaned when his lips found the soft spot under her right ear.

  “What about dinner?” Her question ended in a sharp sigh of surprise as he burrowed his hand under her skirt, searching for her heat.

  “We should…go. Now.” His body refused to obey his words. He craned his neck around to make sure he actually had closed the door behind him. He hadn’t really meant to, but maybe instinct had taken over. Some part of his brain had known that if he crossed the threshold, the gentleman he’d wanted to be tonight would be left outside in the hall looking in while bad Eric took over. At least the neighbors wouldn’t be doing the same.