Just Fooling Around(41)

“No,” she answered, and he began to breathe again.

Until he noticed the teeth still working her lower lip in a busy manner that shouldn’t arouse, but did. “I can see you’ve still got some questions.”

“What about you?”

“I’m footloose, disease-free, got a couple of parking tickets in Fargo and someday they’ll catch up with me, but that’s it.” His eyes widened at his own thoughtlessness. “Condom! And by the way, I have that…in case you don’t.”

Considering the provisions in her house, he would bet his right nut that she had a condom, too.

“I have a condom,” she confirmed, but she didn’t sound enthused. Goddamn it. He had liked her enthused.

“Why don’t you tell me what the problem is? I can’t fix it, unless you talk about it.” To be honest, he could lay here all night, with those no-nonsense legs astride him, damp panties rubbing his belly like some X-rated good luck charm.

“It’s not that easy,” she told him, sad and forlorn, and he reached up, brushing his thumb over her mouth to make her smile again.

“I know I don’t look like a man of intelligence. People think I’m just some pretty flyboy who’s a few noodles short of a casserole, but you should know that I graduated pretty high up in my class at A&M. I can fix a lot of things. Why don’t you try me?”

“I don’t believe in duct tape. It’s a cheap fix that wouldn’t withstand a real crisis, and if I’m going to do something, I should commit one hundred percent, not try to bandage it up with a patch that won’t last in the long run.”

He started to laugh. “Is this a survey on home repair or sexual proclivities?”

“It’s a metaphor,” she said, sounding miffed.

“For what?”

“My life.”

Damn. Whenever women started talking in broad, nonsensical strokes that involved the words my life or my feelings, it didn’t bode well for relaxed conversation, for sex, or for effective communication between males and females. However, he was interested in hearing her philosophies on life because he suspected it wouldn’t involve body image or shopping, or the evils of panty hose. No, he instinctively knew that Devon Franklin worried about things on a more serious plane.

So, despite the screaming protest of his cock, Chance pulled her down on top of him, burying her head in his shoulder, and rubbed her back. Up and down, his long comforting strokes might put him in mind of the sexual act, but his heart was actually in the right place. Hopefully she would overlook the heat-seeking missile that was jutting impatiently against her belly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, just as the yellow lights of the generator dimmed, glowed and then diminished to black.

“That.”

“I like the dark,” he said against her hair.

“I’m cursed. You should know that most men who sleep with me end up running in the opposite direction as fast as their feet can carry them, which usually isn’t very fast, because they get beat up, or attacked by wild dogs, or caught up in a terrorist sting, or chained to strange devices and I don’t mean that in a sexual way. I mean bad. Cursed. Bad.”

“Listen, darling, I think you’re probably being overly dramatic. My track record isn’t that hot, but you don’t see me throwing in the towel. A sexy woman in the prime years of her life—that’s you—should not be creating obstacles to your future physical happiness. There’s no such thing as curses.”

“It’s real. Your ball and chain. Your nose. The power, the phones.”

She sounded so woebegone, so convinced that everything was her fault. It was refreshing to find a female who wasn’t quick to blame the male species, but in this case, he felt guilty because none of this was her fault.

“Devon, I made the ball and chain as a joke. I grabbed a cannonball from the base and bribed a grease monkey out of his welding gear. And if you bumped my nose, that’s only ’cause I’m stubborn and don’t take rejection easily. Not that it happens often, which is why I’m unfamiliar with exactly how to handle it. But if you think you’re to blame for any of my stupidity, well, that’s just stupid.”

She sniffed and smiled and pressed a kiss to his mouth. A soft kiss that willed him back into sexy thoughts again, not that they had been far away.

“You’re very nice,” she whispered, and it touched him in multiple places—his mind, his heart, and his cock, as well, which went without saying, which was why he felt the need to correct her.

“Not that nice. Let me tell you the sordid truth about men, sweetheart. You lie naked against them, sexual fulfillment so close that their minds are already imagining it, then they will tell you anything to get into your pants.”