He remembered the look of mock outrage she’d given him when he’d accused her of that.
Sunny twirled his chest hair around her finger until he covered her hand with his. “Don’t do that.”
She stopped immediately, as if he still had the power to make her regret not doing so. “You’ve given me a lot of firsts this weekend.”
“I have?”
“Yep.”
“Like what else?” he asked, sounding much more interested than he had when she’d started.
“Well,” she blushed becomingly, “my first . . . uh . . .”
“Say it.”
She doubted there would ever be a time when she didn’t feel an immediate, almost undeniable urge to obey the command in his voice. “Enema. You gave me my first. And . . . what you did afterwards. That was my first time, too.”
“Anal? You don’t get out much, to you?”
She hit him, which she had discovered she enjoyed doing. “Not really.”
He finally asked her the question: “How long had it been since your last lover?”
Her eyebrow rose, but she didn’t seem at all offended by the question. “Let me see, what year is it?”
He sat, less than patiently, while she calculated.
“Six years? Six and a half or so? Somewhere in there.”
“I thought it had been a while. You are incredibly tight.”
She bit her lip, knowing her face was bright red. “I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Good, because it is.”
“Why so long?”
Feeling a little defensive at the question, she countered with, “How long since your last girlfriend?”
“Not counting one night stands?”
“Not counting.”
“I’m forty some-odd now, and I was in my early thirties then.”
“Wow.”
“I was busy.”
“So was I,” she returned.
“Damn, we’re pitiful,” he pronounced, and she dissolved into giggles before again glancing at the clock on the nightstand.
“Breakfast?” he offered.
“If it’s quick,” she said, running into the football-field sized shower.
He debated joining her there, but thought it might smack of desperation, so he threw on pajama bottoms and a robe on and went downstairs. By the time she got down there, she was dressed again. He missed seeing her in the altogether, and he told her that. She blushed prettily, as she always did, and he told her that, too.
Sunny was wondering why he was in a robe and pajamas, but she got her answer when two little people burst through the side door and into the kitchen to tackle their uncle.
“Halt,” he said, and they froze as if they were playing Freeze Tag. “You know better than to storm me when I’m at the stove.” Her body clenched automatically. It was all too familiar with that tone.
“Yes, Uncle Rod,” they said in unison, standing stock still and gazing up adoringly at him.
He dished up Mickey Mouse pancakes for everyone, with real syrup and butter, plus eggs and bacon, then knelt down and opened his arms to them. The kids – two boys – nearly knocked him over with the force of their greeting, both chattering at once about their weekend.
“Who’s that?” one of them asked.
Rod brought them over to her and introduced her. “This is Ms. McClure. Sunny, this is Sam and Denny, my nephews.”
Having had little experience with kids of any age, she offered her hand, and was impressed when they didn’t look at it like an alien, as most kids did.
“It’s very nice to meet you, boys.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” they answered in unison, taking their seats.
It was a loud, crazy breakfast, after which he sent the boys in to the den to watch cartoons. “Their mom works an early shift, and she drops them here with me so that I can bring them to school.”
“That’s very nice of you.”
“Well, you know, I’m that kind of guy . . .” he said, trying – but failing miserably – to look modest.
Sunny guffawed loudly.
“C’mere,” he said, crooking his finger at her. She followed him into his study, where he showed her where his safe was – although not the combination, of course – and retrieved her cell and her keys. They both jangled loudly.
“I’m sure the world has collapsed without me to keep it twirling on its axis.” At first she had thought she was going to die if she didn’t have her cell or her computer, or preferably both, but now that she had it, all she wanted to do was throw it back into the safe and herself into his arms. She didn’t figure she ought to do either of those things, so she settled for tossing it into her purse.