“We get a divorce.” At least he had the grace to blush when he said that.
I feel like crying. I really do. She couldn’t get mad at him, though. Other than sex, after ten long years, they had no basis for a marriage. “See, that’s where we’re different. You want a fling. I want forever.”
That got his attention. “From me? You want forever? From me?” His voice was shrill with shock.
You would have thought she’d asked him to cut off his balls and wrap them in a gift box. “No. I mean, not necessarily. Probably not. Aaarrgh! Stop confusing me.”
He grinned, as if confusing her were a good thing… or as if confusion was her normal state.
“Bottom line. Next man I get involved with, it won’t be a fling.”
“In other words, back off?”
She nodded. “I know why I don’t want to get involved with you again, Rusty, but what’s your problem? You moved beyond bimbos?” God! How much more pathetic can I get?
“Charmaine, what is it with you and the bimbo crap? You go for the image, rub it in people’s faces, then get offended if they take you for what you are.”
Look beyond the façade, Dumbo. Care enough to know me. That’s what I want. “I am what I am,” she said stubbornly, though that didn’t really answer his question.
“Yeah, well, I am what I am, too.” Rusty could be stubborn, too. “Truth to tell, honey, there’s a lot of my father in me. Once my mother did a job on my father, he shut himself off emotionally. To everyone, including me. He never wanted to risk himself again. He became a bitter shell of a man. I have no desire to get married again. Once burned and all that stuff.”
“Your father was as misunderstood as I am.”
“I haven’t a clue what that means.” He shrugged. “So, I’m a bitter young man.”
It was a sad picture Rusty painted of himself.
“And that’s all you want?”
Rusty stood with his hands in the water for several long moments before he turned to her and suddenly placed his wet hands over her breasts. “Nope, that’s not all I want.”
Did the man hear one single word I just said? She blinked with shock at the wet hands cupping her breasts.
Before she had a chance to shriek, or bop him on the head with the soup ladle sitting in the draining rack, he moved his hands and fingers over her breasts so that the fabric of her blouse stuck wetly to her. Only then did he step back and look at her.
“Wha… why did you do that?”
“Oh, darlin’, I’ve wanted to do that since I stepped into this kitchen tonight and saw you in that see-through shirt. I figured with the no-sex line you just drew in the sand—uh, linoleum—this would be my last chance.”
He is incorrigible. “It’s not a see-through shirt,” she said indignantly, then looked down to see herself clearly outlined as if the white blouse and nude-colored bra were nonexistent. “At least it wasn’t see-through before.”
“If you’re going to slap me, you better do it quick before I kiss you.”
Kiss? Oh, no! If he kisses me, I am a goner. “This is a bad idea,” she said, even as she allowed him to back her up against the wall.
“It’s the best damn bad idea I’ve had in ages.” He nuzzled her neck and nibbled a line from her ear to her chin, then back again. “Uhmmm,” he whispered into her ear as he licked and blew and about shattered every resolution she’d ever made not to get involved with him—or any man—again. Four broken marriages and a dozen failed relationships over the past ten years had finally sunk in, or so she’d thought until now.
“Remind me again why you’re doing this.” She moaned even as she spoke, so intense was the pleasure of his mouth brushing across hers.
“Because you heat my blood and melt my bones. Because you turn me breathless. Because you tempt me.”
Sounds good to me. He lifted her by the waist so she stood on tiptoes. Then he used his knees to spread her legs and nest himself against her groin. His erection fit perfectly between her legs. Even with her slacks and his jeans, she felt him. And she wanted him.