Grease Monkey Jive (33 page)

She surveyed his staked out body, from palm to instep, mapping the terrain of his chest and torso, fingers and lips foraging for the places he was most sensitive, his neck, just below his earlobe, his jaw, the crest of his hip bone. She studied detail; she committed it to her databank. She searched for hidden treasure, noting all his reactions to her touch. She made him jerk and shake, calculated the limits of his control, and then she tried to break them.

She tamed his body’s boundaries and built a campfire in him, but she never quite took him where he wanted, deliberately teasing him, leaving him wanting. And when she was ready, when her movements had gone from lazy and languid, to trembling and twitching, she drove his body to claim her own pleasure. She made him arch his back off the bed, roll his eyes closed. She had his hands gripping the bed from the want to touch her and the fear she might stop if he tried. She made him roar out his need and shout out her name when she gave him his release.

After, he didn’t need permission to touch the dancer. She accepted the weight of his arms and the tenderness of his kisses with soft sighs and watering eyes. She rocked his world, swapped his sea for sky, his bitter for sweet, his then for now. She took everything he knew about women and made it a lie. This woman was remaking him. Touch by touch. Word by word. Accepting him despite where he’d come from. Knocking his rough edges off, buffing away the muck over the stone of his heart that had made him seek the casual, distrust the permanent, and value the disposable over the precious.

She was changing him. She was his new life.

Alex opened one eye and closed it again. Quicker than a blink but the sight of Dan lounged back on his elbow, the sheet loose across his hips, bare and tanned and sleep-rumpled was burned on her retina. “How long have you been watching me?”

“That’s not the right question.”

She kept her eyes closed. “It’s too early for there to be a wrong question.” She had no idea what time it was. They’d kept each other awake late and she was pleasantly exhausted, aching in all the right places.

“It’s never too early for the wrong question.”

The caffeine hit of his sleep-roughened voice was almost enough to make her stir. “I’m not awake enough for this.”

“That’s ok. I’ll watch.”

She tensed, expected a sudden tickle attack while willing an entirely different assault, one that might fully wake her to breathlessness. Everything about him inspired her to forget to breathe, from the brutal view she’d had of his childhood and the way he’d tried to shelter her from it, to the slightly unnerving amount of attention he focused on her. Nothing happened, not a movement of the bed, not a shift of the sheet, so now anticipation had her wide awake. She opened the eye again. “What’s the right question then?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Alex closed her eye and snuggled into the pillow. “Now I know why you can’t keep a girlfriend.” She braced for the pounce. Again nothing happened. She couldn’t even hear him breathing. A sudden wave of panic hit her. Maybe he didn’t see the humour in her girlfriend crack. Maybe that went too far. She sat upright, hauling the sheet under her arms, turning to face him. He was exactly where he’d been, stretched out on his side, half under the sheet, head resting in the triangle of his hand, elbow and shoulder – watching.

He said, “You’re funny,” and his lazy smile and busy eyes made her earlier exhaustion fly away on wings of impatience.

“So, jump me already.”

He laughed, low and dirty. But he didn’t move, other than to blink and breathe and watch.

“Are you sick of me already?”

“Do I look sick of you?”

He looked incredible. Ripples on muscled ripples, ready energy even in repose. He was looking at her like she was breakfast. She swallowed hard. “You could be. I don’t know you well enough to tell.”

“Come a little closer then.”

“Oh no – that’s a trap. I think I’ll stay right here.” She hitched the sheet a little higher as though it would be protection against him if he chose to move, as though she suddenly didn’t want him to tackle her after all.

“That’s ok. I can watch. I like to watch.”

“I noticed. You like to follow instructions too.”

His smile broadened. “Some instructions. You’re very bossy, you know.”

“I thought you liked bossy.”

“I can take it or leave it.”

“Oh no.” She liked this game, it could go anywhere. There’d never been games quite like this with anyone before.

“You needn’t worry. I like you, so I’m inclined to take it.”

“What happens when you become disinclined?”

The devil was in his grin. “You should stick around and find out.”

The sun lighting the room was doing something to Alex’s temperature or maybe it was his eyes. It was time to roll the dice. “If I ask you nicely, will you jump me?”

He slowly worked his eyes over her face. “How nice can you be?”

She dropped the sheet and shrugged one shoulder. She could be a devil too.

“Hmm, that is nice.”

“So?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“You need to think about it?” Her voice had hitched up an octave. Who was this man of steel in the bed beside her, regarding her coolly?

“I’m a considerate kinda guy.”

“It’s not feeling like it from my end.” He was making her sit there naked and beg. It didn’t feel like a winning hand.

“What’s it feel like at your end?”

She said, “Lonely,” and made it sound plaintive, amazed when he still didn’t move. He said, “Oh baby,” in a way that made her hotter, so she turned mournful into grumpy. “You’re doing this deliberately.”

Dan dropped the smile, gave a kind of helpless sigh. “I’m just waiting for instructions.”

If she laughed, he’d win, so she bit it back. “I asked you to jump me.”

“No, you asked me what I’d do if you asked me to jump you – nicely.”

It knocked the laughter out of her. What was he playing at? “And you need more of an invitation than that?”

“You have no idea the depth of my need.”

He didn’t move and neither did she and suddenly this felt serious. Something deeper, a more dangerous game, it made her unsure of what to do next. “It’s too early for this.” She reached to pull the sheet back over her breasts and he said, “Don’t,” in a way that made it a command and she dropped the sheet.

He said, “Come here,” and she obeyed that order too, settling on her side, the mirror of him, face in her hand.

“Alex, I am going to jump you. I am going to enjoy jumping you, every lick and bite and stroke of it. I’m going to touch you in places you barely know exist. I’m going to make you wish you hadn’t teased me with that sheet and I’m not going to stop, even when you beg.”

She gulped. Commander Dan was so hot he might scorch the sheets. Her brain had gone all liquid and she nearly missed him say, “Is it too early for you?” so he said it again in just that tone of voice that made her desperate to obey. She got a “Not too early,” out of lips she was biting. Her whole body was humming and the bastard still hadn’t moved.

He said, “Good, but first I want something,” and she groaned. If he didn’t touch her in a minute, she’d have to jump him. What could he possibly want right now that didn’t include full body contact?

Whatever it was, he moved. But not the way she wanted him to. He sat up and shifted to the foot of the bed, miles away, settling crossed legged, a tail of sheet across his lap, a life drawing artist’s dream of physical perfection.

“You are pure evil.” She flopped down on her back and pulled the sheet over her head. He laughed and grabbed her by the foot dragging her off the pillow and down the bed towards him, sheet and all.

“Tell me what you want in your future.”

She flipped the sheet off her face. “In my future I want you to keep your promises and jump me.”

He squeezed her ankle and tugged her further down the bed. “Try a little longer in the timeline.”

He was so frustrating. He had a grip so tight on her ankle he might cut off the circulation to her foot and he was looking down at her in a ‘he who must be obeyed’ manner.

“I want to have breakf...” He tugged again, she slid further down the bed, so she tried again with a longer timeframe in mind. “I want to win the competition, buy a new second-hand car, have something left over for books and living expenses, and not have to take a part-time job other than teaching.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Tell me what comes after uni?”

“I’ll have a degree. I can get a better job than I would have without one.”

“What type of job?”

“In a bank or a big corporation with a graduate program.”

Dan let go her ankle but pulled at the sheet and moved his hand under it to lie warmly on her shin. “Go on.”

“I want something secure. I want somewhere I can keep learning and advance up the ladder, you know.” Except maybe he didn’t, the only ladders he used were the kind with real rungs.

“That’s really what you want?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. I want to understand what you dream about for the future.”

“What do you want in the future?”

He grinned and his hand moved up to her knee. “Jumping you, breakfast, and winning the competition.”

“Why do I have to project into the next ten years and you get to quit after a morning and a couple of months?”

“I’d like to jump you every morning, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and because I’m asking the questions.” There was that voice again, strong black coffee, authority and power and be careful what you wish for.

“Not fair.”

“Life sucks.” He’d made the word ‘sucks’ sound like sin. “What you just told me about your career, is that what you dream about doing?” His fingers stroked the back of her knee and it was hard to concentrate.

“No. I dream about doing something more creative, having my own business, working with people, not numbers and spreadsheets.”

He stilled. “Why isn’t that your answer?”

“Because it’s a dream and, in case you haven’t noticed, dreams don’t put food on the table and buy cars and give your mother the occasional holiday.”

“They might.”

“They don’t.”

“Since when are dreams and success mutually exclusive?”

“Since forever. That’s why they’re called dreams. People who chase dreams take risks. I’m not a risk taker. I’m not a gambler.”

He leaned forward so his face was closer. “You gambled on me.”

She frowned. “You’re a small-time risk.” She knew saying that was a tactical error the minute she looked in his eyes. There was nothing small time about Dan. He unfurled and braced a hand either side of her, looming dangerously close. “But I’m still a risk.” It was a statement not a question.

Alex nodded. He wasn’t smiling; he was trying to psyche her out, but his eyes were full of play. “But you think I’m, what, manageable?”

“Yep.”

“Disposable?”

“Yes, if you don’t keep your jump-me promises.”

He tried to hide his smile as he pushed away, went back to his cross-legged position. “Fair enough. But why isn’t doing something more creative than what you’ve mapped out for yourself manageable?”

“Because there are too many ways it could go wrong.”

“Like what?”

“I know you had a crappy childhood. Mine was nothing half as bad as yours, but still we didn’t have much. Gran was sick a lot, Mum had to work all the time to pay for her treatment and school fees, there wasn’t much spare. We moved nine times in fifteen years and I want something better than that. I want to help Mum and Gran have an easier time. I need security for that. I need a plan and I need to stick to it. Things don’t happen by magic. You have to work at them, and, in the real world, dreams don’t happen at all.”

“What about dancing and teaching?”

“This is my last year. I have to give it up and get more focused about study. I have a more difficult academic load next year and if we don’t win I’ll need a part-time job that pays more. And after that, well you’ve seen what it’s like, the ballroom scene is mad. It’s not a good fit for a career professional.”

“That seems a shame.” He drew wistful little circles with a finger on her thigh.

“I’ll miss it, I’ll really miss it, but you can’t have everything.”

“Wouldn’t it be good to try to keep it?” His hand had moved to her inner thigh where the circles were a lot more distracting. He couldn’t possibly expect a serious answer when he was making a serious move on her.

“Wouldn’t it be good if Jeff could make us breakfast?”

He clamped his palm down on her thigh, very no nonsense, very still. “Leave Jeff out of this.” Alex parted her legs to give him some encouragement to move again. “Why are you asking me all this?”

He didn’t move, but his hand was hot on her thigh, his fingers splayed, tentacles of heat tenderising her whole body. “I want to understand what you want in life.”

She didn’t know how he could be so still and so frustrating. When she said, “Why?”, she wanted an answer to both questions.

Now he moved. One hand up and over her hip, a hot trail that made her writhe, the other tearing the sheet away. He levered himself over her, knees either side of hers, hands either side of her shoulders. “Because you’re in my life and what’s important to you should matter to me.”

Alex said, “Oh.” Her heart was hammering hard in her chest. She was awed by the simplicity of what he’d said and how it made her feel – vital. Loved. She stroked his chest. “What do you dream about?

“Staying lucky, big waves, fast cars, faster women.” He lowered himself so they were nose to nose. “You.”

“Oh, but...”

“Shut up. I’m jumping you.”

It was an order she was thrilled to obey.

Scott played the song one last time for the night. “They’re ready.”

“They’re certainly something.”

“You knew it. You’ve always fancied yourself a matchmaker.”

“I have not.”

“Face it, Uncle Trev, you win. You picked it and I can only worship at the feet of your superior ability to play cupid.”

“As you should,” said Trevor, rising to the occasion and waving his coffee mug with the air of a benevolent dictator.