Seeing Red(8)

“Fringe benefits?”

He had a deep, rumbling timbre to his voice when he spoke at low volume that made her suck in air and close her eyes. She hadn’t noticed how arousing it was before this weekend. Hadn’t cared to, but now, she couldn’t help but to compare and contrast. By the end of her marriage to Spike, she’d grown weary of everything about him, including that grating, whiny singing voice of his. Dirty hipster bastard. She hoped he choked on his own guitar pick, or even better, his new girlfriend’s studded tongue.

Asshole.

“Sex, I mean,” she explained. Might as well be clear. After all, this was just Seth. Why be embarrassed? He probably wanted the exact same thing. Hadn’t he insinuated as much in the past?

He stared at her, his hazel eyes a bit rounder than usual, and his eyebrows inched upward.

Perhaps it was a bit out of the blue, but she’d never been one to hash her words. Everyone knew that.

She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, still staring, but fortunately his expression relaxed. Now he looked less stunned at the forthright nature of her proposition and more wary.

“Yes or no, Seth?” she said as a nudge. She kept her stare trained on him and untangled her legs from beneath her to stand.

“I feel like no matter how I respond, it’ll be the wrong answer,” he said finally.

Smart man. But, for once, she wasn’t interested in laying booby traps. This was just an extension of their business agreement, really. Two consenting adults with physical needs. That was all.

“Is this a test?”

“No.” She didn’t even taste the last few drops of wine she poured onto her tongue. Her core temperature had risen all of a sudden because her gaze had landed on the hands resting on his knees. Large hands, and strong ones, judging by the feel of them on the beach earlier when he’d pulled her into an embrace that had felt oddly possessive. That embrace should have bothered her a great deal, but it hadn’t. She didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way he’d brushed his lips across hers in a gentle hello before he closed his eyes, as if he were savoring her essence before tasting. Or maybe because it was a different kind of possession than she’d known those years with Spike.

Spike had wanted to own her. He’d controlled her movements and dictated her appearance. And yet, eighty percent of the time, she felt as though she didn’t exist in his presence. Young rock stars weren’t supposed to have wives and small children at home. Certainly not technical-writer wives descended from Mayflower settlers.

Either way, she didn’t want to be possessed again, no matter how sweetly the possessor captured her. She’d had her heart broken beyond repair, and if it meant she’d die lonely, she’d never cause any man that same turmoil. She was a pain in the ass and knew it.

But, she wanted to be undone by this man for the night. She craved his touch. Gentle sex. Angry sex. Didn’t really matter which, as long as it was mindless.

To Seth, them coming together would probably mean more than a joining of flesh. She couldn’t give more than that and didn’t want to hint at it, but still…she couldn’t resist him. Didn’t want to anymore, and if that made her cruel, so be it.

“Yes, or no?” She turned her back to him and ducked through the fabric entryway with her glass and bottle. She didn’t turn back to await his response, but still it came, along with the clink of his beer bottles and the sound of his feet shuffling in sand.

“Of course.”

She didn’t wait for him to catch up to her side.

Now she was a woman with a purpose, and carefully trod up the small dune between the beach and bungalow, already slipping her hand into her pocket for the key. She was aware of his presence behind her on the path, even without hearing his footsteps. The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled; her spine tingled with his proximity. Her cheeks burned and breath hitched as she walked.

Was this supposed to be easy? Six years of Spike, and two long-term boyfriends before him. That was all. Vixen, she was not, and she didn’t even have the experience to pretend.

Her hand shook as she angled the key card over the slot, and it took her three swipes to activate the little green light telling her to push. Stepping into the dark bungalow and spying Toby’s backpack on the sofa, stuffed to the gills with toys and picture books, she worried briefly about Carla, but took a steadying breath realizing that her friend would have called if there were a problem. Or dealt with it herself.

The door closed softly behind Seth, and she strode to the small kitchenette and set her glass in the sink.

He followed, and when his hand pressed at the small her back, she startled.