Text Me (8 page)
“Hey boys,” Mary Ellen said as she sat in the chair Pete
pulled out for her.
Trav remembered his manners a minute too late and reached to
pull out Ariel’s chair. But she’d already done so herself. “Sorry,” he
muttered, pushing it in for her.
“It’s okay. I’m a big girl,” she said with a grin. “So
what’d you do today?”
“Just walked around, soaked in some of the culture,” Pete
said.
“I actually grew up not far from here, so for me it was more
a trip down memory lane.” Trav threw out the information casually, hoping to
use it to build on later for the big confession.
“Oh wow, we might have gone to rival schools then.” She
smiled and bumped his arm with her shoulder. “I played a mean game of tennis.”
“Given I’m a few years older than you I was probably already
out of high school when you were a freshman.” The image of her running around a
tennis court with her short skirt flapping wouldn’t leave his mind. He cleared
his throat, hoping his mind would clear with it. “So how was work?”
Mary Ellen sighed. “Long. We had the dinner shift where we
work and there’s another corporate retreat. Why fifty-year-old men think the
phrase ‘nice tits’ is a good idea for a pick-up line, I’ll never know.”
Pete used one hand as a pad, miming crossing something out.
“Cross that one off my list of possible pick-up lines.” They all laughed.
A waitress showed up to take their order. After she was gone
they fell into small talk, general subjects. Unlike a lot of tag chasers he’d
known in the past, the girls didn’t beg for details about their deployments,
hoping for juicy—or gory—tidbits. It was like they knew without being told that
it was a sensitive subject best left alone. He appreciated the understanding.
“So what do you plan on doing with your degree after you’re
done?” he asked Ariel after a line of servers brought their dishes.
Her smile lit up the darkened corner and warmth slid into his
belly.
“I’m getting my Master’s in social work right now—”
“Oh boy, here we go,” Mary Ellen muttered.
“Shut up,” Ariel shot at her, then turned back to Trav. “I’m
going to work with the foster system here in Philly. I’ve already interviewed
and the job is lined up, thank goodness. It’s something I’ve wanted to do
since, I don’t know, forever I think. My brother was adopted out of foster
care, actually. He was twelve when he came to us.” She paused to take a bite of
food.
“Insensitive jerk,” Mary Ellen put in.
Ariel just rolled her eyes as she chewed and swallowed.
“Anyway, the great part is that I’ll be close to home. I can work with the
foster system and my parents’ camp in conjunction. They own a summer camp,” she
clarified. “Just your normal summer camp that kids spend a few weeks at during
the school break. Swimming at the lake, learning to ride horses, that sort of
thing. But they try to offer as many scholarships as they can for
underprivileged kids to go.”
“Where’s the cash from that come from?” Pete asked.
“Well, sometimes from businesses donating. But mostly
throughout the year they host corporate retreats for executives. You know, like
two-day team-building workshops. Businesses are willing to pay for stuff like
that, and they don’t use nearly as many resources as summer camp kids do. So
that goes into scholarships as well.”
“Hence why we put up with the butt-pinching geezers,” Mary
Ellen added. “I run the stables, which don’t always get a lot of use when the
kids aren’t there. But I also give private lessons throughout the year.”
“So I hope to help my parents get hooked up with more
at-risk kids for scholarships, maybe even build in a long weekend at the camp
for special kids.”
She sparkled. Her eyes glowed and she bubbled with
enthusiasm. The passion she felt for this future project was evident to
everyone. His respect—as well as desire—only climbed.
The meal ended and the foursome headed out the front door.
Pete, taking his cue from Trav, enacted their previously discussed plan to give
Trav some time alone with Ariel.
“Mary Ellen, I wondered if you wanted to take a walk,” he
started as he took her elbow and walked her down the sidewalk.
“Oh, um,” she stuttered, throwing a glance over her
shoulder.
“Go on. I’ll call you,” Ariel called and waved a hand.
“All right.” She walked with Pete the opposite way, leaving
Trav and Ariel alone.
“Come on, let’s walk this way.” Ariel grabbed his hand and
tugged until he caught up, checking his stride to match hers as they walked
away from the commercial area of downtown. “I’m glad to get some time with
you.”
“Yeah, me too.” His throat felt as if it were swollen shut.
Now was the time. “I wanted to say something, actually.”
“Oh, me first,” she said, eyes sparkling. “I’m glad I met
you. I’d been avoiding relationships or attachments for a while because I’m too
busy. And I know you’ll head back to your base and all. But…” She stopped and
looked up at him. “But I’m glad we met. You’re a good guy. And I won’t regret a
moment of our time when you go back.”
Well. What the hell could he say to that? “I’m glad I met
you, too. But I need—”
“Shh,” she murmured and reached up to press her lips to his.
“I think I know what you need. I need it, too. We’re two blocks away from my
apartment. I want you to come back with me. Make love to me in my own bed.”
He had to say no. He had to resist the urge to blindly
accept her offer, drag her back to her place, strip her bare and give them the
pleasure they both wanted. Must resist.
She twined her arms around his neck and pressed her body into
his. “Come home with me, Donovan.”
“I would love to but—”
She nipped his earlobe and his good-intentioned resistance
died a quick death. He sucked in a breath and she chuckled into his neck.
“Come home with me,” she said again.
He simply nodded and followed along, docile as a puppy, when
she took his hand and led the way.
Chapter Seven
She couldn’t fall in love with him. That would just be
stupid. She wouldn’t fall in love with him. He’d be gone before she had the
chance.
But at this rate, she might be well on her way to a broken
heart before he went back to California. And it was a risk she was willing to
take.
Reality could wait until tomorrow.
“Are you sure?” he asked as she unlocked her door. “I know
how women are about their space and male invasions. We could head back to the
hotel.”
The offer was nice and she knew what he meant. But the hotel
was impersonal. Cold. She wanted the warmth of coming home with someone she
really liked. At least once.
“Nope. This is what I want.” She flipped on lights as she
walked through the living room and small dining area. “Nothing special to see,
just your average apartment that caters to college students.” She didn’t look
behind to see how he was taking it all in, just assumed he was following as she
walked past the room she used as an office and straight to her master bedroom.
She stopped by the foot of her bed and turned.
Donovan ambled through her bedroom door a moment behind her,
hands in his pockets as if he were afraid to touch anything. “It’s nice.”
“It’s efficient,” she corrected. Clean and safe, those were
her two necessities. Past that, she hadn’t wasted time or money on beautifying
the place. “I’m only here about four days a week and I have a cabin at the camp
that I stay at if I’m there too late.” She ran a hand over her simple cream and
blue comforter. “It works for now. I’m hoping to buy a place halfway between
camp and the city in a few years, when I’ve saved up enough.”
“It’s a nice goal.” Donovan shrugged out of his jacket,
folded it and placed it on top of her dresser. His eyes roamed the relatively
unadorned room. White walls, no artwork or pictures other than a frame holding
a family photo. Plain curtains.
His brows scrunched, two parallel lines were etched between
them. He was looking around her room, but for some reason she felt as if his
eyes weren’t truly
seeing
anything.
What was going on in that head of his?
Ariel walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his
waist, pressed her forehead to his chest. After a moment, the solid comfort of
his arms held her tightly to him. His chin rested on her head.
“You okay?” she asked, her voice muffled by his shirt.
“Yup. Just got distracted for a second.” He used one hand to
tip her chin until she could see his face. “Won’t happen again.” And he kissed
her.
The kiss was slow, steady and intoxicating. He kissed her as
though he were in no hurry to move on. As if they had a lifetime to spend
exploring each other rather than a few days. Warmth pooled in her belly and
spread out through her limbs, her nerves buzzed and she squeezed her thighs
together when she felt the first tingle of anticipation.
He took his time stripping her down. With every inch of
exposed skin he took his time to explore with his lips, his tongue, his teeth.
Gentle nips made her jolt, whispered brushes of his lips forced a shiver.
When she was in her bra and panties—feeling grateful she’d
taken the time to pick out a cute pair instead of her five-for-five-bucks
cotton set—he picked her up as if she weighed nothing. She waited for him to
toss her on the bed. Instead he laid her down as though she were fragile and
precious. Her heart took another traitorous tumble and she pressed her eyes
shut to keep frustrated tears from falling. Frustration from knowing
anything—everything—they had was finite.
“You have the smoothest skin,” he murmured as his lips moved
down her collarbone to the valley between her breasts. He undid the front clasp
and the material fell to the sides. He nuzzled, nipped and licked around the
soft skin, all while avoiding her tight nipples. He took a bite from the soft
flesh under her breast and she moaned, wiggled a little in an effort to force
contact with her hard nipple.
He laughed and used one hand on her shoulder to keep her
still. “Calm down. We’ll get there.” But instead of relief, he moved to the
other breast, licking and nibbling his way around in that same teasing manner.
Just as she was about to grab his head and pull him where
she wanted him, his teeth closed around one tight bud and he bit down. Hard.
Her eyes flew open and she gasped for breath. It hurt, but
it didn’t. And she felt a responding throb between her legs. He soothed the
ache with his tongue and the sting was a distant memory as her body wiggled and
danced in answer to his laps and sucks. He moved to the other breast and she
braced herself for the same pleasure-pain, but it didn’t come. He gave a gentle
tug with his teeth and sucked once before moving down her stomach.
Everywhere his lips touched, her body twitched
involuntarily. Her abs tightened and she couldn’t stop shifting her restless
body. Then he reached the apex of her thighs and she couldn’t move at all.
Once again he surprised her by not slipping her panties down
her legs. Instead he let his tongue roam and trace the outline of the black
lace. Around her hips, over her thighs, then one long line down her center.
“You’re so wet,” he said, his voice sounding distant. “I can
feel you through the fabric. God that’s hot.”
He pushed her knees wide. She raised her head in surprise.
There was no way to get her panties off now, not with her legs that far apart.
Before she could point out the obvious flaw in his plan, he surprised her
again.
Donovan leaned down and let his tongue run over her panties,
teasing her through the fabric. He reached her clit and pushed down, the tip of
his tongue barely making contact.
It wasn’t enough. She thrust her hips up, silently begging
for more, but one hand clamped on her waist and pushed her down with firm
authority.
“Don—Donovan…”
He caught that sensitive bundle of nerves between his teeth
and a scream stuck in her throat, came out garbled and watery. Her knees flew
together, trapping his head between them.
“Problems?” he asked, voice muffled by her thighs.
She inhaled deeply and said, “No. Surprised.” She took a
pillow and covered her face in embarrassment. God, one little nip and he almost
had to scrape her from the ceiling. Very suave.
“If you don’t like it then tell me and I won’t do it again.”
“No!” she said then bit her tongue. Her face felt as if it
were on fire. “That’s not it, it just surprised me is all. I’ve never…no guy’s
ever…you know…bit me…” She groaned and turned her face into the pillow. What
were the odds she could convince him to use the pillow to smother her for real
and end her agony?
He pushed down with his hips, his denim-clad erection
pressing heavily into her groin. “Gotcha. But if you don’t mind, I think I’m
ready to move on to something we have done before.” He reached over his head
and pulled his shirt off in one motion, tossing it onto the floor.
She gave in to the urge and ran her hands up and down his
chest a few times, brushing his flat nipples as she passed by. He was a rock,
all muscle. Not a soft space on him, including below the belt. Her fingers
drifted to his belt and she undid the buckle and the first button. Her arms
were too short and she couldn’t reach his fly so she pushed his shoulder until
he rolled onto his back.