He groaned, holding her tight as his brows scrunched, his groans turned primal, and he came too.
* * *
They lay tangled up in each other, clothes still half-on, having fallen into bed.
“If my calculations are correct, that was twice,” he said, as he ran his fingers through her hair. He loved the feel of her hair against his skin.
“That has never happened to me before,” she said, still dazed, and he wanted her to look like that again and again with him. As soon as he thought that, he realized he didn’t want a one-night stand with her. He wanted two nights, three nights, more and more. To make her come again and again. To bring out that response.
“We can do it again,” he said, offering in a tone that was both playful but truly sincere. He wanted her to know he meant it. He turned on his side, propping his head on his hand, running his fingers down her hipbone. “Michelle with two Ls, what would you think about another time?”
“Well, I should hope you’re planning on another time in about, say,” she stopped to look at her watch, “fifteen minutes.”
He laughed lightly. “Yes, obviously this room is for multiples of multiple orgasms, and I fully intend on fucking you again in, say, ten minutes.” Then he turned more serious, because he wanted her to know that this could be more than one night. Funny, how he hadn’t expected that, and had figured a quick romp and then goodbye would be all that was needed. But even though he had no intention of anything serious happening, because he was no good at those type of relationships, he could go for dinner, and another night like this. Or just skip the meal and have her come over to his penthouse apartment, drink wine, and then enjoy some window sex in front of the full-length glass in his living room that overlooked the park. Yeah, he could go for either, both, any combo. “But I also would love to see you again. What are you doing this weekend?”
She paused, the corner of her lips quirking up in a half-smile. “Just Jack, are you asking me out on a date?”
He grinned, then leaned in for a quick kiss, brushing his lips against her bruised and red ones, the evidence of how she’d been kissed, and desired. His mark on her, this woman he wanted. “I suppose I am.”
“Then you’re going to need to be more than Just Jack. Want to cough up that last name now?” she said, making a gimme motion with her hands.
He parted his lips to answer, but was cut short when Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” started playing, a loud crescendo of the most famous part of the piece of music. Michelle twitched, her shoulders visibly tensing. She sprang out of bed, hunting for her purse, then fishing around in it for her phone as she buttoned her shirt. Possibilities flashed through his brain—was she married? Was this the Bat Call from a friend, saving her from a man she didn’t want?
“Michelle here,” she said in a crisp, business-like tone as she tucked her shirt into her skirt.
Maybe it was work. He didn’t know what she did for a living.
Listening to the call, she nodded several times as she stuffed her feet back into her black pumps, then smoothed a hand down her shirt. “I understand. Please tell her I will call her in three minutes.”
She hung up, and sighed heavily. “Jack. I’m so, so sorry. That was my service. A patient of mine needs me. But I swear I want to see you again, so please take my number and call me tomorrow, okay?”
He narrowed his eyes, not sure if he believed her. “If you just want a one-time thing, that’s cool. Or if you’re married and rushing home to your husband, maybe let me know that too so I can stay far away.”
She walked quickly to the bed, bending down to drop a kiss on his lips. “I swear I’m not married, not even close. And I haven’t been involved with anyone in ages, and I would really like to see you again, so give me your number and I’ll call you right now so you have mine in your phone,” she said, and she seemed so earnest and bullshit-free that he chose to believe her. He knew what she did now; she was a doctor, and that made sense since she’d said she made people feel better. Noble profession, and all. He rattled off his number, and she dialed it. His phone sounded from his pocket.
She arched an eyebrow. “You like Ravel?”
He nodded. “Classical music aficionado here.”
“We have so much to talk about. Text me tomorrow. And, Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for the two best orgasms of my life.”
“Next time, we’ll make it a double of a double.”
“I’m going to hold you to it. And on that, I need to run,” she said, slinging her purse higher on her shoulder then opening the door. It clanged loudly behind her when it shut, the sound of the night ending far too soon.