Sex Drive (27 page)

I was tempted to snipe back that there was nothing
actually
wrong with getting a perfect average, but I repressed the urge and tried to see things from her perspective. “I didn’t mean it that way. Just, you were sick, you had a surgical procedure, and now you’re doing all this makeup work when you’d rather be trying on wedding dresses. It’s got to be tough. And let’s face it,” I gave her a rueful grin, “if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s study.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, you were always pretty obsessive.” Then she sobered. “And I am now too, what with papers, exams, and the wedding. It’s a little scary.”

I touched her shoulder. “I’m really good at organizing time. And I’m here to help, Merilee. In whatever way I can.”

After a moment’s careful scrutiny of my face, she relaxed and gave me a hug. “Thanks, Theresa. I can use the help.”

I hugged her back. “How about we sit down tomorrow morning and make up a plan?”

“A plan.” She paused, and I sensed a taunt coming. But all she said was, “Sounds good.”

She turned to leave, then swung back. “I have to ask. Is Damien as hot as he looks?”

“Hotter.”

I expected a teasing retort, an unfavorable comparison to Matt, but all she said was, “Wow.”

After she’d gone to her room, I hurried through my bathroom routine, set my alarm, and tumbled into my old bed. I was wondering how Damien and I were going to deal with our faux engagement when sleep dragged me under.

Showered and dressed, I checked voice mail and e-mail before heading downstairs, but found no message from Damien. There was no point calling him as he’d be heading off to the radio station. I wondered if the interviewer would ask him about the engagement story.

Downstairs, the scent of coffee greeted me and I found Mom and Dad, dressed for work, and Merilee in a bathrobe sitting at the kitchen table. The usual hodgepodge of cereal, toast, bagels, fruit, and juice was scattered across the table and countertops. My family had never been into cooking real breakfasts.

I poured myself a mug of coffee as we exchanged good mornings, then took a grapefruit from the fruit bowl, sliced it in half, and found a grapefruit spoon.

“Theresa, I have to get to the office soon,” Mom said. “But I’ll be home for dinner. We’ve planned a welcome-home barbecue.” She exchanged glances with Dad, communicating in their unspoken language. “We want you to invite Damien.” It was a pronouncement more than a friendly invitation.

“Uh, good, I’d hoped to ask him over.”

“We want to hear what he plans to do about—” Before she could finish her thought, the phone on the counter rang.

Merilee jumped up to answer. “Hey, Kat. Hang on, let me put you on speaker.”

When I’d left for university, my parents had bought a fancy conference-type phone so the family at home could gather and talk to the members who were out of town. Now Merilee stretched out the cord, plunked the phone in the middle of the kitchen table, and pushed a button. “Can you hear me?”

“Sure can.” Kat’s voice came out of the speaker. “Is everyone there?”

Mom and Dad said hello, then I said, “Hi, Kat. I made it home late last night. Are you—” I was going to ask if she was on the train, but before I could finish, she said, “You’re engaged? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m not. Where did you hear that?” Surely it wasn’t in the Canadian papers.

“A friend e-mailed me from Australia. She saw it in some tabloid.”

“This is exactly the kind of thing we’re concerned about,” Mom said.

“It’s all a big mistake,” I told Kat.

“I thought it must be.”

“You’d have known for sure if you’d seen the guy,” Merilee said. “He’s seriously hot.”

“Seen him? You’ve met him?”

Merilee ignored my frown and said, “Yeah, they were on the same flight. They had some little fling or whatever.” She snorted. “Can you imagine Theresa being engaged to one of the ten sexiest bachelors in Australia?”

“You guys, I’m here!” I said loudly. “And thanks for that vote of confidence.”

“What?” Kat’s question came out of the phone and Merilee shot me a puzzled look. Across the table my mom was shaking her head and my dad looked like he’d be much happier at the university, safe within the sane world of his lab.

I gave a huff. “You think there’s no way I could possibly attract a seriously hot man.” Being with my family was reawakening all my self-doubts, and it was hard to cling to the newfound confidence Damien had instilled in me.

After a couple of long, unflattering moments of silence, Kat said, “It’s just that you go for the professorial type. Like Jeffrey.”

“Except,” Merilee put in, “that since Jeffrey, you don’t go for any guys at all.”

“I
go
for Damien. And he goes for me.” I reminded myself of the things we’d said, the way he touched me, the expression in his eyes, and said with certainty, “It’s more than a fling. It’s a relationship.”

There was a long silence, then the voice from the speakerphone said, “Oh my gosh, Theresa has a boyfriend!” Kat sounded like a teenager.

“I do.” Her acceptance made me laugh with giddy pleasure. “I really do. And he’s not only handsome, sexy, and successful, he’s smart and very nice, too.” I was aware of my mother crossing her arms across her chest and frowning at me, but ignored her.

“Sounds like the perfect man,” Kat said. “Even better than Matt.”

“No one’s better than Matt,” Merilee said huffily.

“How did you meet?” Kat asked.

The question I’d been expecting. “At a bookstore. He’s a novelist. And then on the plane.” Before she could probe further, I turned the tables and said to Kat, “And how about you and this man, Nav? Is it serious?” Let her take the heat for a while.

“Nav? Oh, he’s great.”

“The relationship must be pretty serious if he’s willing to come all the way across the country to go to a wedding with you.”

“And meet the parents.” Mom finally put a word in.

“Right. Well, let’s see. He’s actually pretty much what Theresa said about her novelist. Except, Nav’s a photographer. But he’s, you know, all those good things.”

It wasn’t like Kat to be so reticent about a man. Usually she fell hard and couldn’t stop gushing.

“We can’t wait to meet him, honey,” Mom said. “Right, Ed?”

“Right,” Dad said. “Though it’s disconcerting to suddenly have men, left, right, and center, trying to take my girls away from me.”

“Nav and I aren’t about to get married,” Kat said quickly.

“Nor are Damien and I.”

“Unless his
people
tell him to
spin
it that way,” Mom said, sotto voce.

I shot her a nasty look, yet felt uneasy. Surely Damien wouldn’t follow his agent’s and publicist’s advice without involving me in the decision. My heart told me he wasn’t another Jeffrey, but my brain reminded me I barely knew him.

“You’ll always have Jenna, Dad,” Merilee said. “She thinks monogamy sucks.”

“I don’t want you girls following her example,” he said quickly. “It’s downright dangerous, as well as foolish, to take up with one man after another.”

Merilee and I glanced at each other but buttoned our lips. We knew perfectly well that Jenna didn’t believe in serial monogamy. It wasn’t always one man
after
another; sometimes she had two or more on the string—and in her bed—at the same time. A small fact our parents had no need to know about. They worried enough about our flaky sister already.

“No news from Jenna about her travel plans?” Kat asked.

“Not a peep,” Merilee said. “Unless she got in touch with you, Theresa?”

“No.”

There was another long silence, punctuated by Mom drumming her short-nailed fingers on the table. Jenna frustrated her more than the other three of us put together.

I worried about my sister, too. Naïve, optimistic, unrealistic, self-centered—she was all of those things, and you’d have thought she’d have gotten herself into trouble more than once. The weird thing was, somehow she had always come through safely in the end. So far.

“Kat,” I said, “Merilee and I are going to discuss wedding plans, then I’ll call or drop an e-mail and let you know where things stand.”

“And I have the e-vite. I’ll send it next time I get Internet access.”

“Weren’t you in Toronto last night? Couldn’t you have sent it from there?”

“I, uh…didn’t have it ready then.”

She’d had hours on the train from Montreal to Toronto, then the evening in a hotel room. Surely she’d have had time. But of course, she might have taken along some work projects she needed to finish first. Or, even more likely, partied with people she’d met on the train.

We said our good-byes, and I was relieved that Kat hadn’t asked how we were going to handle the media, and my parents hadn’t expressed their annoyance with Damien.

Mom and Dad stood, saying they needed to go to work. “But make sure Damien’s here for dinner,” Dad said. “We want to hear what he has to say for himself.”

I stood too. Time to act like a grown-up. “I’ll invite him. I also want to ask him to spend the night. With me.”

Merilee blew out air in a low whistle, then there was a long moment of silence as my parents did another of their wordless communication things. “Invite him,” Mom said. “We’ll talk to him and see how things stand after that.”

I bit my tongue. It was their house, after all. If they decided they didn’t want Damien in it, then I wasn’t staying, either. “He has a book signing tonight, so can we have an early dinner?”

Mom gave a long-suffering sigh, but everyone agreed, and Merilee said she’d tell Matt.

After they’d gone, Merilee said snippily, “This house hasn’t seen so much drama in a long time.”

It was interesting being the exciting sister for a change, but I didn’t mean to overshadow her. “What are you talking about? Your wedding is our big drama.”

She brightened. “You said we could sit down and do some planning?”

“Absolutely. I’ve drafted a wedding project plan on my computer.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course you have.” Then she reached over and grabbed my hand. “Seriously, Theresa, I really appreciate this.”

When she went upstairs to shower and dress, I toasted a whole-wheat bagel and smeared cream cheese on it, refilled my coffee mug, and listened to Damien’s radio interview. When the interviewer asked him about the tabloid story, he said, in an engagingly offhand manner, “Hope you don’t mind, mate, but I’m here to talk about my books, not my personal life.” The host respected his wishes, and the interview went off well, with Damien sounding relaxed, confident, and charming. No surprise there.

I missed him, but shoved that thought away when Merilee came back downstairs carrying my computer. We worked at the kitchen table and within a couple of hours had a schedule roughed out that combined her school responsibilities and the wedding preparations. We barely argued over anything, and by the time we were done we were both exhilarated.

In some ways, it was like I’d never been away. My sisters and I had always been very different, and those differences had led to many squabbles, but there had also been times when we let loose and had fun. Collaborated on a gift for our parents, read stories aloud, danced to the latest hit tune, did each other’s hair or toenails.

That was what it was like now when I told Merilee I was going to meet Damien. She offered the loan of her car, then asked what I planned to wear. I showed her the wardrobe I’d packed back in Sydney, which even to my eyes seemed hopelessly boring. She dragged me into her room and tossed clothes at me. Then she perched cross-legged on her bed while I modeled.

We agreed on a camisole-style T-shirt in a gingery shade and a brief denim skirt with a front zipper. She jumped off the bed and found dangly copper wire earrings. “You look really pretty,” she said on a note of surprise. “Damien’s been good for you.”

“You have, too. Thanks for the wardrobe assistance.” When things were like this between us, it was definitely wonderful to have a sister.

Amicably we sat down together and I helped her study for an exam.

That’s what we were doing when Damien phoned. I congratulated him on the radio show and he brushed it off, saying the interviewer had made it easy.

Nervously I asked, “What’s the news from your, uh, people?”

Merilee gave an exaggerated eye roll.

“Tell you when I see you. Did you manage to borrow a car?”

“Merilee’s loaning me hers.”

“Great. I’ve arranged a late checkout, so when you get here, park the car and come on in. I figured we could use some private time.”

“Oh, yes.” To talk, and hopefully hold each other and make love. Not to fight about what he was going to tell the media.

As I drove downtown in my sister’s beat-up old Honda, I started to get anxious again. Even if I did trust Damien, my brain could generate half a dozen unpleasant scenarios.

W
hen I knocked on Damien’s door, he swept me inside, shoved the door closed behind me, then held me at arm’s length and examined me. “Wow, Prof, you look like a student, not a teacher.”

“Is that a compliment?” I searched his face for signs that he had bad news to deliver, or felt anything other than thrilled to bits to see me, but didn’t find them.

“You look great. Very sexy outfit on a very sexy lady.” Now he pulled me tight. “I’ve missed you, Tezzie.” His lips met mine hungrily.

It felt so good to be in his arms again, bodies fitting together just right, his hardness and my softness a perfect match. For long minutes we clung together, kissing as if we couldn’t get enough of each other’s mouths. I could feel the firm press of his erection against my stomach and my legs were weak, my pussy throbbing with need.

I wanted him inside me now, but I also wanted to keep on kissing because his mouth was so delicious, sweet and firm and tempting like a perfect dessert that you never wanted to finish.

Yet, in the back of my mind was anxiety over what his agent and publicist had advised. I broke away. “Damien, I need to know. What about the engagement thing?”

He groaned and tried to pull me back. “Let’s talk about that later.”

I shook my head. “What did your people recommend?”

A shadow crossed his face.

“I’m not going to like this, am I?”

He shrugged. “Hope not. I didn’t. They want me to deny the whole thing. The engagement and our relationship. To say I was joking around with a flight attendant and she took me seriously.”

My frown deepened. “They want us to stop seeing each other?”

“They say it’s okay to be colleagues—especially if my agent sells our proposal—but they don’t want us having a romantic relationship.” His mouth twisted. “They even said you might prefer it that way, since the tabloid thing could hurt your professional reputation.”

“My parents might prefer it. Damien, what did you tell them?”

“Said I wasn’t happy, but I’d talk to you and we’d let them know what we decide.”

No, this man definitely wasn’t Jeffrey. I wrapped my arms loosely around his waist and gazed up at him. “What do you want to do?”

“Go on like we planned,” he said promptly. “Let this relationship develop and see where it takes us.”

“In secret? What would you tell the media?”

“Damn, no, not in secret. I don’t want to be sneaking around like we’re doing something wrong. I guess I’d tell the media we’re, what do they call it? An item?”

“An item?” My parents would have a cow, but I kind of liked the idea of being an item with Damien Black. A grin curved the corners of my lips. “What about your sexy bachelor reputation and the PR campaign?”

He shrugged. “Guess they’ll have to tone it down. I never wanted my personal life to be such a big part of my image anyhow.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute, you haven’t said what you want. Do you agree with your folks? Would this hurt that whole distinguished professor thing you’ve got going?”

“If I get invited to a few less international symposiums, I can live with it. It’ll probably up my cred with my students. Besides, if we go ahead with our book, that’s going to offend some of the academic purists, too.”

“Shit, I’m really wrecking things for you.”

“Damien, it’s worth it. The book will influence more people than I ever could in my ivory tower. And you—” I grinned at him. “Being an item with you is definitely worth it. I’ve been happier in the last couple of days than I can remember ever being.”

Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that, have shown my vulnerability and let him know how important he was to me, but I didn’t want to hold back with Damien.

He captured my head between his hands and stared at me. “Hey, you with the billabong eyes, that’s how I feel, too.” He kissed me, gently and lingeringly, then led me toward the bed.

He sat on the end, positioning me between his legs. Then he undid the button at my waist, slid down the zipper, and watched as the skirt dropped to the floor. His hands caught the hem of the cami tee and slowly he peeled it up, revealing my torso inch by inch until finally he pulled the shirt over my head.

I stood in front of him in only the white lacy bra and bikini panties I’d bought at the lingerie shop in Honolulu.

Damien rested his head against my stomach and sighed, a long, soft whoosh of air against my naked flesh. “Tezzie, it doesn’t get any better than this.”

I threaded my fingers through his thick, glossy hair, hair twice as long as my own. “No, it doesn’t.”

We held each other for a long moment, then I said, “Well, it might get better if you took your clothes off.”

He chuckled, then stood and efficiently peeled himself out of his shirt, pants, and underwear. “Better?”

“Oh yes.” Studying his naked perfection, I marveled at the fact that he was mine to touch, mine to make love with. Slowly I ran my hands down his chest, gently pinched his nipples, watched his flesh quiver. Heard his soft moan. Saw his cock swell, the glistening tip telling me he was as aroused as I.

My panties were damp, my nipples hard against the lace of my bra, my whole being was charged, both erotically and emotionally. “I want you, Damien.”

He teased the straps of my bra down my shoulders and reached for the back fastening. “Then take me. Now. However you want.”

After the bra fell away, he hooked his fingers in the sides of my panties and tugged them down.

“Me on bottom,” I told him. “You on top, as deep inside me as you can reach.”

Next thing I knew, I was sprawled across the bed and he was lowering himself, sheathing himself, caressing me between the legs until I squirmed. “Come into me. Now.”

With one quick thrust, he obeyed, plunging fast and deep.

Locked together, we gazed into each other’s eyes.

Then, slowly, he rose to his knees and as he did, I hooked my legs around his hips to keep him inside me.

“As deep as I can reach?” he asked in a throaty murmur. “Then how about this?”

He lifted my bent legs, one at a time, until my legs were straight out, resting on his shoulders, my body opened to him in a wide V. Oh yes, now he was seated inside me even more deeply.

But he wasn’t finished. He leaned forward, bending me slowly at the waist. I had a vague recollection of some PE gymnastics class where we’d lain on our backs and brought our legs up and over our heads, as far as we could reach. Never had I realized gymnastics could have such a sexy application.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Oh, yes.” It felt amazing as we adjusted position and he stroked me deep inside. I put my hands at my waist, bracing my body, which let me bend even farther. Breathlessly, I whispered, “That’s as far as I can go.”

He thrust slowly and gently between my spread legs. The view was an incredible turn-on and I watched, fascinated, as his rigid cock moved in and out, slick with moisture.

My muscles rippled around him, hugging him tight, then releasing, in time with his own motions. The pressure inside me was exquisite as arousal built, an erotic tension that pulsed outward from my center to every cell in my body.

His face was flushed, his breathing ragged. “God, Tezzie. Beautiful Tezzie.”

“You make me feel so good.” My own words came out between pants. “Making love with you is—” My breath caught as he shifted angle and his penis stroked that gloriously sensitive spot inside me. He hit it again, and again, and…

“Damien!” I exploded in orgasm.

He kept pumping, hitting that same angle with each stroke, and before I’d finished climaxing the first time, it was happening again, and this time he came with me, letting out a deep groan of satisfaction.

When we both finally managed to catch our breath, we untangled our bodies and collapsed down on the bed, side by side, holding hands.

Sex had never been like this before. I’d never imagined it could be. Yes, I’d discovered my sex drive, but it wasn’t just a physical thing, it was everything I felt for this man. “We’re good together.”

He rolled on his side, propping himself on an elbow. “Gee, you think?” Then he frowned a little. “Seriously, are you saying it’s
only
good? Like, you’ve had better?”

“No. I’ve never had anything close to this.”

A smug grin curved his lips. “Okay, then.”

I raised my eyebrows. “That’s all you have to say? Just, ‘okay, then’?”

“What I mean is, it’s the same with me. This is the best ever. We’re so in tune, it’s…” He shook his head. “And again, I can’t find the words.”

“That’s all right. I get the picture.” A couple of days ago, I’d have thought he was feeding me a line. Now, I knew Damien. He’d never do that. I also knew that sex between us wasn’t only about technique, it was about the way our two personalities—perhaps two souls—meshed.

Damien and I truly did have something special.

After cuddling for a while, we finally, reluctantly, pulled ourselves out of bed.

“It’s okay with your folks that I stay at your house?” he asked as I headed for the bathroom.

I turned back. “We’ll see. They’re not thrilled about the tabloid thing.” I hoped Damien’s genuineness and charm would win them over. “If not, then we’ll get a hotel room.”

“Theresa.” He came to me and caught my hand. “I don’t want to get between you and your parents.”

I shook my head. “We’ll work things out.” I’d make them understand.

Fortunately, he took me at my word and we both got ready to leave.

“What about your grandmother?” he asked as we left the room. “Want to go visit?”

I’d talked to Merilee about Gran. “Apparently she’s sharper in the mornings. How about we go tomorrow, on the way to the airport?”

“Sure.”

He’d already checked out of the hotel, so we took his luggage down to Merilee’s car. As I drove to my parents’ house, he used his cell to call his agent, tell her what we’d decided, and ask her to discuss it with his publicist. I listened to his side, as the agent seemed to raise objection after objection and Damien stood firm.

When we pulled into the driveway, he admired the house and yard. Inside, I gave him a quick tour of the main floor, then led him upstairs. “The second floor is me and my sisters, and Mom and Dad’s bedroom and offices are on the third floor.” Merilee’s bedroom door was closed. If she was following the schedule we’d worked out, she’d be inside writing a paper.

I led him into my room to dump his luggage and he gazed around curiously. “Stuffed animals, huh? Cute.” Then he grinned and picked one up. “Hey, you even have a koala.”

We both gathered our work and headed out to the patio. He called last night’s reporter and gave him a quick phone interview, then settled in a lounge chair proofreading his next book. He looked comfortable and at home in khaki shorts and a golf shirt. Having neglected the student exams for too long, I piled the stack of booklets on the metal patio table and began marking.

After perhaps an hour, Damien rose, stretched, and came over to stand behind me and plant a kiss on the top of my head. “I’ve finished the galleys.”

“Congratulations.” I tipped my head back and this time the kiss landed on my lips. Soft, lingering.

“Enough of that,” he said with a grin, “or I’ll want to drag you up to your room.”

The sound of throat-clearing made us both jerk upright. “Mom!” I leaped to my feet. “This is Damien. And Damien, this is my mother, Rebecca Fallon.”

“Ms. Fallon.” Damien stepped forward to offer his hand. “Thanks so much for inviting me over.”

She shook firmly but didn’t smile. “Believe me, we want to get to know you. And find out what’s going on with this crazy engagement business.”

“We’ve sorted it out,” I hurried to assure her.

“Good.” Still no smile. “When your father gets home, you can tell us all about it.” She glanced at her watch. “I must run up and get changed. Theresa, there are steaks and veggies in the kitchen. Can you get things going for dinner?” A frown creased her forehead. “Your dad was supposed to get the steaks marinating. Do you know what he puts in that secret marinade you love so much?”

I shook my head.

“I’m a fair hand with the barbie,” Damien said. “If you trust an Aussie to put something together?”

Mom kinked up an eyebrow and studied him. “Trust needs to be earned. Let’s see how you do.”

When she’d gone upstairs, Damien said, “So, the barbie’s the first test. If I pass, then she might trust me with you?”

“It doesn’t matter whether she does. I’m an adult.”

“Loosen up, Prof, I’m kidding.”

“You may be. My mother isn’t.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Then lead me to the kitchen and let’s get going.”

I took him there, showed him the basic layout, and helped locate ingredients for his marinade.

“Want to barbecue potatoes and onions, too?” he asked.

“You mean potatoes wrapped in foil?”

“No. You cut them in thick slices, boil them a few minutes, then toss them and some thickly sliced onions into the same marinade as for the steak. Then grill them.”

“Sounds good. I’ll make a salad and lay out cheese and crackers for appetizers.”

We were working companionably when Matt came through the open kitchen door. “Hey, Theresa. Uh, Damien.”

I’d never actually introduced them, but Damien was already saying, “G’day, Matt.”

I gave Matt a quick hug. “Merilee’s in her room, working.”

He’d just gone to join her when Dad came in, looking frazzled. “Damn, I was supposed to get the steaks marinating.”

“It’s under control,” Damien said, pointing to the deep bowl that housed the steaks and whatever special mixture he’d concocted. “’Fraid you’re in for an Aussie barbie tonight, Dr. Fallon. Hope I’m not stepping on any toes.”

Dad narrowed his eyes. “I’m not territorial about the barbecue. But I warn you, I’m protective of my daughters.”

“I appreciate that,” Damien said, voice firm, gaze level. “And I’ll tell you, I have no intention of doing anything to hurt Theresa.”

“She’s told you about Jeffrey?”

“Yes. Nothing like that’s going to happen this time.”

“See that it doesn’t.”

The two men’s eyes locked for a long moment, then Dad’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Have you worked out what to do about the tabloids?”