New York Nights: Shaken and Stirred

Finally he stopped counting. “What does ‘oh’ mean?”

“Just ‘oh.’”

She sounded miffed, slightly defensive and hurt. The miffed he could handle, the defensive was completely normal, but the hurt was like a hot poker against his heart. So the time for talking was not over. “Tessa?”

She put down her rag. “I liked it,” she said, which came out like a confession rather than a compliment.

Gabe chose to ignore that important point and smiled. “I know.”

“At least once I got to the part where I could separate you from the other man.”

Gabe blinked. “What other man?”

She worked her mouth, struggling to explain, but eventually she got there. “You know, the not-you other man. Anyway, once I got over that hump, figuratively speaking, it was great. I didn’t know it could be like that.”

This time she gave him a half smile. Almost shy. And right then, it didn’t matter if it was one in the morning and he’d had three hours of sleep. Right at the moment Gabe could have scaled the George Washington Bridge single-handedly.

“Gabe?”

“What?” he asked, starting to like this conversation. Gabe wasn’t nearly the horndog that Sean was. Gabe worked too hard and didn’t worry a lot about sex. There was usually a willing female when his body got too tense. Yet this time it was Tessa and things were different. Last night had been different. He’d wanted to please her, wanted to make her scream.

Gabe had never thought about lust that way, never felt the hard kick inside him. But last night some switch had flipped on inside him, and now that he had gotten used to the sudden atomic surges in his cock, gotten used to the low-grade hum in his brain, he wasn’t ready to flip the switch back off again.

Weakling.

“Could we keep pretending?” Tessa asked.

“Pretending what?” he asked, wondering what pretending had to do with sex.

She waved a hand, searching for words. “Pretending that you’re…somebody else. For instance, a mysterious stranger who I don’t know and who never tells me his name.”

Ah, the male ego. Such a powerful force, so easily annihilated. Gabe looked at her, wondering what strategic move he’d done wrong last night, because it was obvious that while he’d been thinking screaming, she’d been thinking somebody else.

“I’m not sure I like that game.” Which was more polite than Hell, no.

“You liked it fine last night,” she reminded him.

“I didn’t know that’s the game we were playing last night. Hell, Tessa, I didn’t even know we were playing a game. I don’t know. I don’t think you’re ready. It’s only been four years—” Jeez “—you need to ease back into things. You shouldn’t have to pretend,” he said. Especially with me, he thought, keeping quiet on that one.

Her cheeks were flushed, not with anger but embarrassment, and Gabe couldn’t figure out why this game thing was so important to her, but he was willing to try and understand. For Tessa, he would trudge onward to comprehend the great unknown that was the female brain.

“It’s difficult for me because we’re friends, and I don’t want to mess with that, but I liked last night. I really liked last night and I think if I thought of you as someone else other than you—my friend—then it’d be easier. Does that make sense?”

Gabe considered it. “No.”

She frowned in frustration and then tried again. “A healthy fantasy life should be part of every woman’s innate sexuality,” she told him, sounding like something on a TV talk show. Maybe that’s where this was coming from? Maybe Tessa had decided to start living again and she thought Gabe was safe.

That should have been a comforting thought.

Gabe was uncomforted.

He leaned one hip against the bar, not sure what to say.

Tessa reached out a hand, touched him on the arm. One touch that felt like a brand. “Please.”

“You’re sure about this?”

Tessa shot him a cocky smile, the one she always used right before torching her Flaming Lemon Drop shooter. “Oh, yeah.”

She sounded so confident, so capable, so…turned on. Maybe he’d misjudged last night. Maybe there was no reason for all his guilt. And then her body shifted, drawing his eyes. The scent of her, of Tessa, filled his mind until he couldn’t think. His blood heated, and right then Gabe really didn’t care about cleaning up or closing down. He needed to kiss that cocky mouth. Needed to touch her again.

He pulled her close and molded her to him, feeling the vulnerability, feeling the rightness of it. He looked down at her face, the eyes so carefully closed, but he didn’t worry about that. He needed to take that mouth again.

And it was exactly like last night. That same blaze ignited inside him. Her mouth was soft, so teasingly soft, and it opened easily for him, as if it was his own private stock. His hands traced over her, finding the places that he already knew. Gabe’s body, his cock, his hands, his mouth, already knew the game—and couldn’t wait.

Tonight she wrapped her arms around him, touching him in ways that she hadn’t last night. Her hand reached down, cupped him through his jeans, and he nearly shot off right there.

He wasn’t like this, he kept reminding himself. He didn’t lose it like Sean. But, damn, he was inches away from losing it now. He wanted to take her there, in the bar, with the lights shining from overhead, and he knew he needed to get control.

Her uncontrollable hand reached for the button at his fly, and he stopped worrying about the damned protocol. Desperately Gabe fumbled for the light switch, sighing with relief when darkness fell, only the dim glow of the city shining in from the front windows.

No one would know. No one would know but Tessa and Gabe.

He stopped her hand before she got farther because he was close to bursting—and they hadn’t even started. Not yet.

Purposefully Gabe grabbed her hand, walked her around the bar and then sat her up on the bar stool. Not satisfied with the situation, he eased off her shirt and bra, finding the soft skin that he was rapidly developing a taste for. Now the situation was looking up.

Tonight Tessa was bolder with him, running her hands under his shirt, removing the soft cotton, leaving them skin to skin. He wrapped her jean-clad legs around his waist, his body seeking home, eager to find the moist honey that Gabe knew was waiting there.

Tessa grinded against him with painful friction, and his body jerked, impatient with the layers between them.

One way to fix that. He wrenched down her zipper, his hands already reaching beneath the tight material, underneath the damp fabric, finding the warm pulsing piece of her that he wanted to own.

Tessa moaned in his mouth, and he hauled her off the stool, stripping her jeans in one easy pull. The lean legs wrapped around him, and he set his erection free. With shaking fingers, he sheathed himself and then slammed into her core.

He swallowed her cry with his kiss, tasting the tang of lemon, the softness that was Tessa. And because she liked to prove him wrong, her hips surged against him, and the firelust began all over again.

Five times he moved inside her, but the angle was wrong. Not enough. Not deep enough. Not enough of her. Frustrated, he swore and lifted her onto the bar, following on top of her. This time when he drove into her, he heard her answering sounds, music to his mind.

Suddenly, strong legs wound tightly around his waist. That was what he loved most about being inside her, this urgent desire to have him closer and closer until their bodies fit together like one.

Her hand fisted against his back, and he could feel the hunger that was raging inside her.

“I like the dark,” she whispered, her lips tasting his neck. “I love the dark.”

“Tessa,” he said but then stopped. Gabe wasn’t used to talking, wasn’t used to the games that women and men played. He’d always been obsessed with Prime, but this…a man could develop a new obsession.

“No names,” she whispered and then twisted in a neat little turn, climbing on top.

The dim light hit her body, her skin shimmering in the shadows, her breasts glistening with moisture, and his heart all but stopped. Her head fell to one side, her neck so long, so smooth, and his heart started beating again, hammering against his chest. He felt it then, desire, fear and the absolute certainty that he had crossed over some imaginary line, a point where there was no going back. Ever.

Tessa rode him, bucked against him, her hands skimming over his skin, and Gabe knew he was close. He grabbed her hips tight, plunged inside her, pistoning back and forth, wanting to pull her over the edge, wanting to watch her face as she came. Soon her mouth fell slack, her body tensed and, with a long cry, she climaxed, pulling him in after her.

IN THE DARKNESS, SO many things could stay hidden. Tessa felt his body beneath hers, marveled at the strength there, imagined the long hours that had made him that way.

He was her pool boy, her landscaper, her repairman and her delivery man, all wrapped up into one neat package of her ideal lover. That knowledge she could accept, letting the fantasy weave over her, keeping her mind free to explore, to enjoy and, best of all, to savor. As long as he was nothing more than a fantasy, she could look at him with a lover’s eyes. Tessa could still make love to him, and all she had to do was pretend. Not a problem.

She rose and dressed, watching the play of the muscles in his chest, his butt as he put on his clothes. The lines of his body were so hard and fluid, like a sculpture but alive and burning with heat.

“Tessa,” he started and then stopped, and she was grateful that he understood, that he never questioned why their relationship must stay in the dark. But there were so many places to go, so many other places that lovers could meet in secret.

“I think we should meet at a movie next time,” she told him, daring to propose something new. “In the afternoon, when nobody’s there, in the back row.”

“I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice unsure. “Are you still playing the game?”

She laid a finger on his lips, pressed a kiss against his chest. “Ssshhh. Think. Fantasize. So many things to do in the dark. Tomorrow. Meet me tomorrow afternoon.”

Her heart raced, pumping with excitement at the idea of seeing her lover again so soon. He reached for her, kissed her with passion, eagerness, devotion, and soon she could feel the decision inside him.

“All right.”

WHEN GABE FLIPPED ON the bar lights, he expected to find Tessa still caught up in the last throes of passion. Instead she was unaffected, her face smiling, with none of the husky thrill that he’d heard in her voice earlier.

Inside, Gabe knew perfectly well that something was screwed, but his body still hummed from being surrounded by her, and for the moment he could convince himself that everything was fine.

They closed up together, Tessa whistling a Donna Summer song as she finished, and then he walked with her to the subway, back to the apartment they both shared. Once inside, he looked at her curiously, wanting to hold her again but not daring to ask.

She gave him a careless smile and waved before shutting her bedroom door. “See you in the morning.”

Gabe contemplated the closed door, contemplated his aching cock and decided on a shower.

Cold.

THE CHIRPING SOUND OF Tessa’s cell woke Gabe bright and early on Wednesday morning. He didn’t intend to eavesdrop on his roommate’s conversation, but she certainly wasn’t making an effort to hide her words, talking loudly, and then his ears perked up at four of them two-bedroom, one-bath.

The more he listened, the guiltier he felt, but not so guilty that he would stop. She made noises of general agreement, tossed out some numbers and in general seemed happy as a clam.

Gabe frowned.

When she wandered into the living room, he was already waiting for her. “Phone call?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied, a stupid answer that didn’t help him at all.

“Oh. Making plans for tonight?” he asked, trying again. “Remember, you’re supposed to work. It’s my poker night.”

“No plans,” she said breezily.

“What was it then?” he asked, which sounded so pathetically obvious, but, okay, lately he seemed to be losing his usual subtle touch.

“My potential new roommate,” she replied, beaming at him.

Roommate? What the hell? Now, sure, they were only on day two of the Great Roommate Experiment, but in Gabe’s world, things were good. “A new roommate? What the heck is that about?”

“I told you that I’d be out of your hair as soon as I could.”

Yes, that had been the plan before they were sleeping together. “That’s really fast. What do you know about this person?”

“Well, Dad, funny you should ask, but I think you’d approve. He owns a bakery in the East Village, has a dog named Butch and is subleasing a fab two-bed, one-bath convertible in Hamilton Heights. It’s no Hudson Towers, is slightly more modern than I like, but on the plus side, there’s lot of square footage, the rent is good and he sounds reasonable.”

“A guy?” he repeated stupidly.

Tessa folded her arms across her chest. “Since I’m currently living with a male, I decided I should expand my horizons.”

“I thought you weren’t going to live with a guy.”

“Do you have a penis, Gabe?”

Gabe let that remark slide. “He’s a stranger.”

“You were my friend,” she said, possibly a jab below the belt but the truth nonetheless.

“That’s low, Tessa. I’m still your friend,” he told her, letting the truth wash off his back like a duck. Sleeping with someone and being friends with them were not mutually exclusive. Except with Tessa, a little voice reminded him. Gabe told the little voice to shut up.

“I can’t live with someone who doesn’t respect my personal boundaries,” she answered. “I can’t live with someone without having boundaries, and if we’re having sex, the boundaries don’t work.”

Now she wanted to talk about personal boundaries? He had thought they’d gotten past that about the sixth time he’d seen her naked. And now she was contemplating moving in with a complete stranger who, for all she knew could be a serial killer? Something was totally wrong in this picture, and he kept his temper, choosing his words carefully but still pissed. “I respect your personal boundaries. For God’s sake, I’m the only freaking person who’s going to respect your personal boundaries. Did you notice who left your toothbrush untouched on the sink this morning? That was me. And did you see who saved the last bit of milk for you even though I can’t drink my coffee without it? Me again.”

“I didn’t know I was an inconvenience,” she mumbled, and there was something in her green eyes. Pain. He recognized it. And, yes, he was a jerk.

Gawd.

Gabe collapsed into his favorite chair, wondering why it seemed as if they were suddenly speaking in different languages. Was sex really such a friendship killer? This is Tessa, the little voice reminded him. Gabe tried again. “I don’t want you to think you have to move out. It’s not bad with you here, honestly. Actually, it’s nice having someone else around.” It was the truth.

The pain faded from her eyes—thankfully. But Tessa still didn’t look convinced.

“This is temporary, Gabe. We always said it was temporary. Don’t try changing things on me. I don’t like change that I don’t initiate, I don’t handle it well and in general it freaks me out. I don’t like being freaked out. Let me look at the apartment. I may hate it,” she added, which he knew was supposed to make him feel better.

“Okay,” he agreed, still not feeling better.

“I’ll see you at the movie,” she added, and he stared after her, trying to comprehend all that was her but not. The movie was probably a bad idea, but nothing in the world could keep him away.

THE THEATER WAS DARK when she arrived. She’d worn a skirt, new high heels, and wickedly enough, no panties. She found him waiting for her in the last row. They’d picked a deathly dull foreign movie six weeks into its run, so the place was empty except for Tessa.

And Xavier.

Last night she had started to think of him as Xavier when she’d lain alone in bed and remembered their stolen moments together. She couldn’t call him by his real name, so she’d picked another name. A name so far from who he was that she never worried about confusing the two.

Tessa picked a seat that was one down from him, wanting to feel as if they were strangers. It was more fun if they were strangers.

Today he wore a baseball cap which hid his face from her, everything except for the full curve of his mouth, which she would recognize across a crowded room, across a packed stadium and most thrillingly, when it touched her lips.

She smiled at the floor, adjusting her skirt across her knees, not wanting to act too forward, but she wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to casual affairs hidden in secret.

His fingers rested on the armrest, inching toward her bare legs, her skirt, yet she was an inch out of his reach. She saw his frown and smiled. He slid down one seat, the cushions so close she could smell him, feel him, his arm hot against her own.

When the lights dimmed, the commercials played, meaningless words, because she was only aware of him. His fingers drifted closer, so close that if she moved only one small centimeter, they would be touching. Music blared through the speakers, causing her to jump, and in that moment his hand captured her thigh, hot and purposeful. She longed to clamp her legs together, but then he would know her weakness. Still, it wasn’t long before the fingers moved. Sliding innocently back and forth along the bare skin of her thigh.

The air was chilled, and she liked his comforting touch, but then the cunning fingers moved beneath her skirt, sliding closer to her heat. This time she did clamp her thighs closed. She heard his laugh, soft, and the fingers returned, gently pleading, seeking entrance to the secret place she denied him.

Tessa hesitated, unsure, but the fingers were so warm, so comforting, and so finally she slid her thighs apart, only a bit. But it was enough.

Xavier found her warmth easily, stroking her, making her squirm in her seat. Each time he moved across her lips, her muscles gripped him here, and she slid down in her seat, wanting to feel more of this wickedness. He laughed again, took his finger in his mouth and licked.

Tessa groaned and he laughed again. Low, because he knew what this was doing to her. This time he took her in his lap, and she could feel his hardness against her rear. While she sat, the movie began to play—and so did Xavier.

Now, without any barrier to her, he stroked her at his leisure, his fingers pushing inside her, playing with her tortured flesh.

Tessa squirmed again, feeling naked and exposed, but he didn’t release her. Instead his arms surrounded her, his erection pushing against her, harder, firmer, and she liked that part. Liked that she could control him, as well.

She slid her thighs farther apart to give him free rein and to more brazenly slide against him. She did, twice, feeling his thickness prod beneath her, before his arms stilled her. She fidgeted in his lap, expressing her displeasure, and felt his answering jerk of flesh. This time it was she who laughed.

“You like that?” he asked, his lips against her ear. Then he whispered more words, his fingers curling inside her, using his hands to make good on his urgent promises.

Tessa felt a sudden moan rise up inside her, forgetting the game for a moment. She wanted more; her whole body shook with it. She wanted more than his hands and she reached down between them, grasping him in a crude gesture that communicated much more than words.

He didn’t need her to ask twice. She felt his hand working his pants and heard the crinkle of a foil wrapper. She sat there, waiting, waiting, waiting, until silently, easily, he repositioned her on his lap, sliding deep inside.

This time Tessa did moan, louder than she’d intended, because this was sweet relief, filling her up. Slowly he lifted her, then she slid back down on his slick flesh, slick because of her. It was an odd feeling of being empty, then slowly possessed by someone else, his body so deeply embedded inside her.

Her head fell back against his shoulder, and he kissed her neck. Such a small, simple kiss, not the passionate kiss of her fantasy lover but the kiss of someone else, a kiss that would jolt a woman right out of her fantasy. Tessa half rose in his lap, the fantasy over, and he didn’t understand. He thought she was still playing the game.

He held her tight against the chair back in front of them, entering her from behind, and she knew who was there. She could feel the tightness in her chest, she could feel him, taste him, smell him.

This is Gabe.

Again and again he pushed inside her, bearing down on all the barriers that she had built up around her. He filled her so completely, so totally, and she couldn’t fight this. Her body couldn’t fight it. Even more dangerously, her mind couldn’t fight it either. Pleasure, exquisite pleasure, overwhelmed her, pleasure so exquisite that it hurt, white-hot and splitting her in two. Again and again he moved, and she wanted to scream. In satisfaction and in fury. But Tessa couldn’t. She’d kept the sound inside her for too long. Finally she came, soundlessly.

A long, long moment passed and she could feel him still inside her, feel his arms around her, and she knew. It would be so easy with Gabe. So easy to believe that with him she didn’t need to worry about a thing in her life. No apartment, no career. Just one man and a woman, alone.

Then he pulled out of her, his arms disappeared, and Tessa hurriedly tidied her skirt, her fingers silently skimming over the tatooed letters on her backside.

There were things to do, an apartment to find, a career to prepare for.

Quickly Tessa left before she did something stupid for the second time in her life.

6

FORTY MINUTES LATER, Tessa had changed into blue jeans and a ragged T-shirt and then went to talk to a man about an apartment. The Hamilton Heights building had been built in the seventies, and had central AC, but the place itself had no character, no soul. Samuel was a nice enough man, with a well-trained English bulldog, and he needed a renter now, but he wasn’t roommate material. Not really.

Pathetically enough, her standards had changed. Sex with Gabe had done that to her. Weakened her.

Tessa told Samuel that she was allergic to dogs and left him and his bulldog, wishing them both good luck.

Her next stop was crosstown to West End Avenue. Hudson Towers.

Tessa needed the visual reminder, the tangible piece of real estate that represented what she knew she was capable of achieving. At eighteen, she’d been so full of dreams before she’d met Denny, and then Denny became her life and her dream—but man dreams weren’t going to pay her rent. No way would she let Gabe become Denny redux.

Get a life, she told herself and then promptly remembered she was working to get a life, which was why she was standing her at the exterior of Hudson Towers instead of going to Accounting class. Tessa might have poor decision-making skills, but at least she was self-aware enough to know it.

On that note, she grabbed a coffee and sat inside a bus shelter, watching the tenants as they entered and left the building. Power suits and biking shorts. Smart sundresses and yoga pants. These were people who knew what they wanted in life and how to get it.

Tessa took in her own crummy T-shirt and wondered what key piece was missing from her DNA. Recently she’d been sidetracked from her goals, but all she needed to do was regain her focus. Regain her independence. Maybe she wasn’t as tough as her brother, but deep inside she was a Hart and she could do this. She knew she could.