Gone With the Nerd (Nerds, #4)(31)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

"Me, too. I’m not that secure, I guess."

And that was when he realized that Zoe needed him. He would love her so completely, so thoroughly, that she would accept herself as she was. But it was a little soon for that kind of declaration. "Just so you know, a nerd would scoff at cosmetic surgery."

"Of course they would. Because they don’t need it. They live by their wits, not their looks."

"I thought that’s why you wanted the part in this movie, so that you could escape the glam-girl reputation."

She took a bite of her cheese and chewed it while she gazed at him. Then she swallowed. "You really were the debate champion, weren’t you?"

He shrugged. "Yeah."

"And you’re forcing me to think this through. I suppose that’s a good thing."

"Thinking has its place." But sometimes it was better not to think at all, like when he was deep inside her. And he was looking forward to that moment happening again soon.

"Well, here’s your answer, Mr. Smarty-pants. Yes, I want a role that doesn’t depend on glamour to see how that goes. I hope it gets me more respect as an actor. But I didn’t say I wanted to give up on glamour completely."

"Why not?"

She looked at him in amazement. "Because it’s fun to be cool!"

"Is it? Last time I checked you were having trouble meeting me for lunch because you were about to be mobbed. So far nobody’s recognized you up here, but you’ve been paranoid that it would happen and ruin your weekend."

"True." She gazed at him thoughtfully for several seconds. Then she nodded. "Yes, that certainly is true."

He decided not to push his advantage. He’d planted the idea of moving into a different phase, but she was the one who’d have to make that decision. If she did, he’d be there for her. If she wanted to keep her image, then she wouldn’t want to hang around with the likes of him.

So he cut himself a piece of cheese and began to eat. He needed his strength for the next round. Maybe if he made her happy enough in this bedroom, she’d figure out that they shared something better than being cool.

"You never told me what Margo called about."

And he didn’t want to tell her now, either. But she deserved to know. "The manager of the Bigfoot Motel called her to report that Kristen had made a reservation for tonight."

Zoe stiffened. "I was so hoping that was a false alarm."

"Yeah, me, too. According to the motel manager, she guaranteed it with a credit card and told him she wouldn’t make it in until late, probably after midnight."

Zoe was quiet for several seconds. Finally she turned to him. "Look, you know her. I don’t. Could she possibly be behind the incident with the bees or the gas stove?"

He sighed and leaned against the headboard. "I don’t see how. She’d have had to orchestrate those things from Chicago, and that means contacting someone locally. That’s very far-fetched."

Actually, his overactive brain had already figured out how she might have done it. Lawyers knew people on both sides of the law. Through various connections she could have found someone in the area willing to do her dirty work. But he couldn’t believe she was capable of that.

"Plus it makes no sense for her to show up here if she’s been sabotaging us," Zoe said.

"I guess not." And yet it did make sense. Although he hadn’t specialized in criminal law, he’d learned something about the criminal mind. Criminals tended to be proud of their handiwork. They liked to admire the results. Kristen couldn’t do that if she stayed in Chicago.

What was he thinking? Kristen wasn’t a criminal! She was simply a woman afraid of losing her man. And she was losing him. It looked like he’d be telling her so in person.

"Do you think she’ll out me?" Zoe asked.

"God, I hadn’t thought of that. I hope not." Damn, if only he hadn’t felt obligated to tell Kristen about this weekend. "I’m sorry, Zoe. It’s my fault if that happens."

"Don’t blame yourself." She picked up her lemonade. "You were doing what you thought was right."

"I’m sure she’s only coming here to confront me. It’s me she’s upset with, not you, so maybe she won’t say a word." He glanced over at Zoe. "And I don’t think she’s had anything to do with either the bees or the gas."

"I don’t think so, either. I’m probably letting Margo’s sense of melodrama get the best of me. She was like that back in high school and she hasn’t changed."

"You two hung out together in high school?" He still couldn’t picture it.

"Not really. We were both on the cheer squad. We sat together in some classes. We’re both 7"s." Zoe took a sip of her drink. "I sort of hate to tell you the history. I’m afraid you’ll think there’s a pattern there." "What kind of pattern?"

"Her boyfriend dumped her to take me to the prom. I always felt guilty about that. Now that I see her life went nowhere after high school, I feel even more guilty. Maybe if she’d gone to the prom with Rots—"

"Hold it." He set the breadboard on the floor so he could scoot closer and wrap his arm around her. Doing that made him want to have sex again, but he planned to complete this little discussion first. It was important. "You’re feeling responsible for how her life turned out?"

Still holding her lemonade, she glanced up at him. "Little differences can have a huge impact. For example, I couldn’t get the art class I wanted as an elective so I took drama instead. It changed the whole direction of my life."

"In a positive way. A nurturing way." He forced his mind away from thoughts of kissing her. Kissing could wait.

"Sure, but bad things can have the opposite effect."

"Not necessarily. Don’t tell me you never had a big disappointment, because I don’t believe it."

She took a sip of lemonade. "I didn’t get the lead in the play my senior year. I wanted that lead so bad I could taste it. Angie Leavenworth got that part, and I was better."

Now her kiss would taste of lemonade. But he wouldn’t dwell on that. "Did losing the part ruin your life?"

"No. It made me want to show that drama teacher what’s what." She grinned. "I did, too."

"I would say so." He loved watching her breathing nak*d, because then he could watch her br**sts quiver with each inhalation. But he couldn’t dwell on that, either.

"I get your point, though. Margo didn’t have to let that ruin her life. But I still don’t like being the one who took away her prom date." She put down her lemonade and turned toward him to wrap her arms around his neck. "And now here I am doing the same thing to Kristen."

He looked into her eyes. He couldn’t help getting an erection when she was so close, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t tell her what was in his heart at the same time. "You’ve shown me that I wasn’t ready to commit to her. You’ve done me a favor, and Kristen, too. Marrying her would have been a mistake for me and for her."

"I’m not so sure. I could be your last fling before you settle down."

He cupped her cheek in his hand, loving the softness and the way her eyes started changing color again. He’d pretty much finished the discussion, so he could let go of logic for now and start thinking of sex. "Until you came along, I didn’t know the meaning of the word fling."

"So I’ve corrupted you?"

"Yeah. And I’m loving it."

"In that case, I might as well corrupt you some more." And with that she wrapped her fingers around his penis. Life didn’t get any better than this.

Zoe had always thought bl*w j*bs were performance art, and she was, after all, a performer. But she wished she’d had more practice at this to be sure she was doing it right. Now that Flynn had decided to have sex with her she wanted to make sure he didn’t regret it later when he had the not-fun job of dealing with Kristen.

Therefore she threw herself into the moment. She licked, she sucked, and she nibbled with such enthusiasm that Flynn lost all dignity. He clenched his teeth and writhed on the bed until the sheets came untucked and started sliding toward the floor, leaving the mattress exposed.

She must be doing something right. Maybe she should draw out the moment, the way he had with her. So she paused. After he settled down some, she’d start in teasing him again. Anyone listening would think he was being tortured, but whenever she took a break and saw his glazed, pleasure-filled eyes, she knew he was on a sexual high.

Her contribution was all the sweeter because she didn’t think Flynn was used to this. She’d bet he was more about pleasing than being pleased. From what she’d heard, not every woman enjoyed the experience, either, which made no sense to her at all. What woman wouldn’t enjoy reducing a guy to a quivering hunk of desperation?

Most of the sounds he made weren’t words, only parts of words followed by a gasp when she really got him good. So when he babbled something that sounded like can come, she thought he finally wanted her to finish the job. But she decided to check.

"You want me to make you come?"

"No." He gritted his teeth and arched his back. "Condom … please."

Knowing he longed for that ultimate connection thrilled her. Maybe some men would have gladly let her lick them right into oblivion, but Flynn wanted more. In his current state of frenzy, he’d never be able to put the condom on for himself, either.

She leaned over the edge of the bed once again to snag the condoms, but at least she had a box to grab on to instead of a small packet. She and Flynn needed to organize this condom business differently so they were handy instead of having to dive down to the floor after them. Next time.

And she had no doubt there would be a next time. And a next. Kristen’s imminent arrival, whether they’d talked about it or not, meant that their privacy would end even sooner than they’d thought. That knowledge brought a sense of urgency to everything, especially this. Most especially this.

Despite some fumbling on her part, she had Flynn’s penis dressed and ready to go in short order. Once Flynn was ready for action, she climbed aboard. He seemed to like that.

She did, too, for that matter. She was more than ready for a game of hide the flashlight. Once she was settled, she wiggled a little because it felt so good to do that. Working on him all that time had charged her up, too.

He circled her waist with both hands and held her still. "Better… take it easy."

She leaned forward and rubbed him with her br**sts as she gave him a long, slow kiss. "I’ll take it any way I can get it." It was their first chest-to-breast encounter, and she gave it an A-plus. The soft mat of hair cushioned her tits exactly right.

He trembled beneath her. "I have … zero control."

"And you’re not used to losing control, are you?" She rotated her hips. Flynn’s response gave her the courage to be flamboyant, and she was loving that.

He gasped and tried to hold her still. "No."

"I’m going to make you come." She rotated her h*ps in the opposite direction. "And you can’t stop me. You’re not in control of this one, Flynn, baby."

"Zoe, let me—"

"No. My turn." She started to ride him.

At first he tried to restrain her. His gaze burned with stubborn determination as he fought the onset of his cli**x. "You first," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Not this time. We’re doing this out of order for a change."

He swore softly.

"Give it up," she murmured. "Give it up for me." She was very close, too, but she didn’t want him to know or he’d keep trying to hold off. For once in his sexual life he was going to lose it first, and she was the woman who would make him.

Gradually the pressure of his hands underwent a subtle change. Instead of holding her in place, he began to urge her on.

She smiled in triumph. "Like that?"

"Yes. God, yes." He began to pant.

She turned on the speed and bit her lip against the orgasm pounding at her door. She wouldn’t bow to it yet. Not until—

"You … win!" With a groan of surrender, he arched upward.

She bore down, and his spasms triggered her response. Rocking against him, she milked his every shudder, taking the spasms inside her body to blend with the waves of sensation spilling over her. What a rush. What a feeling of power and unity.

At last she drifted down onto his chest and nestled her cheek against his. Tenderness flowed through her as she thought of how vulnerable he’d become in that orgasmic moment. She felt incredibly proud of her ability to make that happen. No wonder guys liked to be in charge.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Flynn was wiped. After very little sleep the night before and the mother of all orgasms a minute ago, he couldn’t move. Vaguely he was aware that Zoe was taking care of things, things he should be dealing with in the aftermath. He shouldn’t let her do that.

He shouldn’t allow himself to fall asleep on the slippery surface of the mattress with the sheets gone who-knows-where and cheese on the floor that should be refrigerated and after-sex cuddling that hadn’t been accomplished. In that jumble of thoughts, only one kept rising to the surface. Flynn loves Zoe.

If he ever left this bed, which at the moment seemed highly unlikely, he would take the knife he’d used for the cheese and go outside to carve that into a tree. Maybe he’d put clothes on first. Or maybe not. In his current state, clothes didn’t seem all that important to the scheme of things.

Then Zoe returned to the bed, arranged her soft body so that it touched his at many outstanding points, and pulled one of the tangled sheets up over them. He tried to say Thank you, but his mouth and tongue and vocal cords had taken a vacation. The rest of him was pretty much on temporary leave, too.

He hoped he wouldn’t sleep all night. Something was about to happen around midnight, but damned if he could remember what. For now he had Zoe nestled against him, and a man couldn’t ask for any more than that. He slept.

He woke up with a start. The room was mostly dark except for the patch of moonlight shining on the wicker chair containing his clothes, his glasses, and his PDA. Outside, the forest was quiet, eerily so. And then a smell like a battalion of skunks came through the window. Sasquatch!