Her Man Friday(41)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

Lily’s breath caught in her throat as she felt Mr. Freiberger step up behind her, his entire body shadowing hers—and then some. She told herself that there was nothing untoward in his gesture, despite the intimate posture, and that he was only trying to be helpful, despite the raging inferno he’d ignited in her belly. Any inappropriate ideas she might be entertaining at the moment—and my, but they were becoming more and more inappropriate with every moment that passed—were entirely of her own making.

He certainly did smell good, she thought, clean and rugged and masculine. His warmth surrounded her as he reached up over her head, his arm brushing against the one she still extended upward. He’d rolled the cuffs of his white shirt back to his elbows, and she cursed herself for not having had the foresight to push her own sleeves back before summoning him.

Especially when he leaned forward some more, an action that rubbed his arm all along the length of her own, creating what she was sure must be a delicious friction, if only her flesh were bare to enjoy it. She did very much enjoy, however, the feel of his entire upper torso pressing into her back as he plucked from the shelf the box of tea cookies she’d tried to reach herself. Much to her relief, after completing the action, he didn’t immediately pull back. Although she couldn’t see what he was doing back there—and she was much too polite to ask—she was almost positive he bent his head down toward hers a bit and…

Sniffed her hair.

And that was when Lily’s superior intelligence told her that there might have been more to Mr. Freiberger’s offer of help than she’d originally thought. Well, her superior intelligence told her that, and also the fact that she felt the hand that wasn’t reaching up for the tea cookies settle, very possessively, on her waist.

Yep, guys like Galileo had nothing on Lily when it came to recognizing overtures of a personal nature. And a man’s fingers creeping under the hem of a sweater to strum delicately along a woman’s bare flesh? Well, she was pretty sure that that was definitely an overture of a personal nature.

It was also a damned nice feeling.

"Mr. Freiberger?" she said, scarcely recognizing the deep, leisurely timbre of her voice.

"Hmmm?" he answered from behind her, still unmoving, save the soft, deliberate, back and forth motion of his thumb over her skin.

"Um, may I…" She swallowed hard as her body’s temperature began to rise. Fast. "May I ask what you’re doing?"

"I’m helping you," he said in as matter-of-fact a voice as she’d ever heard, as if he weren’t currently wreaking havoc with her senses and turning her insides into tapioca. Really hot tapioca. "With that thing you wanted me to help you with," he clarified further.

Now, how could he have known about that thing? Lily wondered. She’d never spoken of that thing—that incredibly erotic, sexual fantasy thing—to anyone. Then, it dawned on her that he wasn’t talking about the fantasy thing. He was talking about the bug thing. Wasn’t he?

His little finger dipped below the waistband of her skirt.

Well, perhaps not.

As he continued to stroke her bare flesh, leisurely, delicately, seductively, the hand that gripped the tea cookies moved lower, depositing them on a shelf at Lily’s shoulder level. The hand, too, deposited itself there, something that rather hampered any effort she might make to pass by it and leave the pantry.

Had she wanted to pass by it and leave the pantry.

Which, of course, she didn’t.

Not yet, anyway.

Not until she fully understood exactly what Mr. Freiberger had in mind. However, that might be difficult to decipher, she thought, if he remained so stonily silent.

The hand at her waist crept toward the front then, his thumb still skimming just below the hem of her sweater, his little finger still exploring below her skirt, halting when he reached the smooth expanse of skin above her belly button. A little explosion detonated inside her beneath each of his fingertips, their fires spreading through her entire midsection. Lily opened her mouth to repeat her earlier question, but his fingers splayed open wide, an action that brought his thumb to settle over the front closure of her brassiere.

Okay, she was pretty sure she could tell now what Mr. Freiberger had in mind. Voicing his intentions at this point would be a tad redundant, so it really wasn’t necessary for her to ask him again what they might be.

But there was something else that prevented her from speaking aloud any of the numerous questions tumbling through her brain. For some reason, she received the definite impression that he didn’t want them to speak, and for some reason, she didn’t want them to, either. So she only stood still, waiting to see just how far he planned to carry out this… whatever it was. Waiting, too, to see just how far she planned to let him carry it.

Leaning her own body backward, Lily turned her head to press her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt. Inhaling deeply, she grew intoxicated by the dark, masculine scent of him, grew dizzy with the sensation of his bare hand opening over her bare belly. He dipped his head lower, but stayed far enough back that she couldn’t see his face, then brought his other hand to join the first at her waist. Uncertain what to do with her own hands, Lily only continued to grip the shelf she had grabbed in surprise when Mr. Freiberger had initially touched her. And she waited again to see what he would do.

What he did was dip his entire hand under the fabric of her sweater, scooting it gradually higher until he cradled the lower curve of her breast in the L-shape created by his thumb and long forefinger.

The heat in her belly exploded again, spreading warmth throughout her entire system, and her breathing grew shallow at a time when she most needed it, dizzying her further. She opened her mouth to offer some kind of reaction—though she wondered honestly if it would be one of discouragement—but he pressed his other hand lower, to the hem of her skirt, which he slowly, slowly, oh… so slowly, began to urge up along her thighs.

This was utter madness, she thought. Where on earth had all this come from? Certainly she and the bookkeeper had been making eyes—and other body parts—at each other since his arrival. But nothing had prepared her for this kind of encounter. She felt wanton and languid and easy, and was fully tempted to succumb to his overtures right here, right now, right quick. It was a sensation Lily had never experienced before, and she felt drugged by it, as if she had no control whatever over her actions.

Oh, well done, Lily, she congratulated herself. She’d just blamed her responses to the man on a convenient narcotic reaction, and now she could let it go at that. Bravo, darling. You’ve just relieved yourself of all responsibility for your actions. Do carry on.