My Nerdy Valentine (Nerds, #7)(31)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

"While I do what? I only have one computer."

"We’ll stop by my apartment and pick up my laptop. Do you have wireless?"

She shook her head. "Dial-up, one line."

"Doesn’t matter. At least while I’m on the Internet, our creepo friend won’t be able to leave any tunes on your answering machine." He would love to spend the rest of the weekend in bed with her, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did that.

She seemed happy enough with the way things had gone in Gloria’s office that she might give up her schoolwork, and he couldn’t let that happen. Maybe they had some sort of perfect sexual bond, because he’d never made Helen that happy.

He finished his coffee. "So what do you say? We’ll go from here to my place, then back to yours and get busy."

"Yeah." She leaned her chin on her hand and gazed at him with lust in her baby blues. "Let’s get busy. That’s what I’m talking about."

If she was trying to seduce him, she was doing a damned good job of it. And he couldn’t allow it. "Amanda, concentrate."

"I am concentrating. You’re good, Will. Incredibly good."

He groaned. "Ordinarily a guy loves hearing that, but I promised you I wouldn’t sabotage your schedule. I shouldn’t have come on to you in Gloria’s office. I shouldn’t have lost it the way I did, because now—"

"Now I have a new standard." She rubbed her foot along the side of his calf.

It took him a moment to realize she’d taken off her loafer to give her foot more flexibility as she stroked his leg. He’d never imagined she’d be so uninhibited. "You have to write this paper, and you know it."

"I’ll write it. But I’ve kept my nose to the grindstone for months, and where did it get me? Sexually frustrated beyond all belief. I had no idea how uptight I was. That can’t be good for a person, right?" "Maybe not, but—"

"Look, we have a stalker we can’t identify, so I need you to hang around for a while. After what just happened, I know it will happen again. Don’t you?"

"If you don’t stop stroking my leg, it’s liable to happen sooner than you think."

"Good." She ran her foot along his thigh. "I want to find out if all those fireworks were a fluke. Maybe next time won’t be anything like that."

He lowered his voice. "Stop it. You’re giving me an erection."

"Really?" She wiggled her toes against his crotch. "Mm. I can tell. You may be ready to write a paper, but that bad boy of yours wants to play."

"Let’s go get that laptop." He wadded up his napkin and threw it on his plate.

"Wouldn’t you rather have a lap dance?"

He gave her what he hoped was a stern look, and she laughed. Blowing out a breath, he got to his feet while standing was still a possibility. He was beginning to understand the problem.

Amanda was an all-or-nothing person, a woman with a one-track mind. Without fully realizing the danger, he’d thrown the switch and sent her barreling onto a different track. He had to admit she seemed much happier on this track. Her skin glowed and her eyes sparkled. The tenseness had disappeared from her expression and she laughed more.

But was he aiding and abetting as she sacrificed long-term gain for short-term satisfaction? His conscience said yes. His libido told his conscience to shut up and enjoy the most amazing sex in the world while he had the chance.

Amanda preceded him out of the restaurant, and as he followed her, he could swear that even her walk was different.

Thanks to his sexual intervention, she’d loosened up, and the effect was spectacular. Too bad he still felt guilty as hell for making it happen.

Amanda wanted to see Will’s apartment because she suddenly craved information about this man who had given her the sexual time of her life. She also remembered that Will possessed some glow-in-the-dark condoms. Swiping more than one of Gloria’s purple ones hadn’t seemed right, but the question of buying a supply hadn’t been discussed, either.

When Amanda walked into Will’s living room, the drapes were drawn, but there was enough light filtering around the edges that she could see that the furniture was a little more upscale than hers. It probably belonged to him, whereas she’d rented her place furnished.

The neutral colors he’d chosen told her that he was a typical guy—uninterested in decorating and happy so long as the chairs and couch were comfortable. The fabric covering the furniture—one of the new microfibers—told her that he didn’t want to worry about upkeep.

"I’ll get the laptop." He left his jacket on and headed down a hallway. "I’ll only be a minute."

"Take your time." Before they left she planned to bring up the subject of condoms, but she didn’t have to hit him with it right away. She could tell he was conflicted about their new direction.

Logically, she should be conflicted, too. But she’d had no clue that she was multi-orgasmic. That kind of information made a girl sit up and pay attention, especially after months of abstinence.

Three framed pictures sat on top of his TV cabinet. Unzipping her parka, she wandered over and looked at them. A family of four, including Will a few years younger, stood in front of the Eiffel Tower. A more recent photo showed the same family, aged a few years, surrounding Will in his cap and gown. The third picture showed Will and Justin, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, at the same graduation ceremony.

So Will had both parents, at least as of the last picture, plus a brother. The whole family had been to Paris, unless it was a faked picture. Knowing Will, she didn’t think the picture was a fake.

She was acutely aware that she didn’t have any pictures like this because she hadn’t had a life like this. Someday she’d love to have that kind of life for her children, but that was years away. Because she hadn’t been motivated to make something of herself until after her mother died, she was a late bloomer.

But that wasn’t necessarily true of Will. Those parents of his probably expected him to get married soon and give them grandchildren. Will might expect the same thing. She was so not ready for that routine.

But she could still have some fun for the time being. She’d been a martyr long enough. Fate had dropped a gifted lover at her doorstep and ignoring that opportunity seemed like a crime against nature.

"My family," Will said as he came back carrying a computer case over his shoulder.

"Nice." She couldn’t get over the difference in her reaction to him post-coffee-table sex. Last night had been great, but the activity on that coffee table had changed her forever. Now one glance at Will and her engine was lubed and racing. "Paris, huh?"

He walked over toward the TV cabinet, bringing the scent of Old Spice with him. He glanced at the pictures with a smile. "My mother’s French. We went to visit my grand-mere."

Hearing him speak that one word with the correct accent ramped up her response, for some crazy reason. "Do you speak French?" "Un petit pen."

She’d never known a man who spoke French. "That’s kind of sexy. What else do you know?" Apparently she had a fantasy of some guy whispering je f adore in her ear.

"Not as much as I should. Mom’s fluent. She can swear like a French sailor and nobody knows what she’s saying. But she wouldn’t teach me those words." He shifted the strap of the carrying case. "Ready to go?"

"What’s the French word for condom?" Not as subtle as she might have liked, but she wasn’t leaving here without those glow-in-the-dark jobs or something equivalent. He was a guy. He should have little raincoats on hand.

He gazed at her. "Amanda, I feel like such a traitor to the cause. If I had any decency, I wouldn’t touch you again. You had a program going, and I’ve screwed with that, literally."

A horrible thought struck her. She’d been so busy telling him how wonderful the sex had been for her, but had he said the same? No. The possibility of humiliation clogged her throat so that she could barely speak. "You didn’t like it."

His jaw dropped. "Are you kidding?"

"No." She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket, "You’re a kind person confronted with a sex-starved woman who’s been raving about the experience. You don’t have the heart to tell me it was only so-so, that you’ve had a lot better."

He put down the laptop. "That’s ridiculous."

"It’s not ridiculous. You wanted to do it on the love seat, but I made you go for the coffee table, instead. The position was probably hard on your knees, and then you had to wear that purple thing. For all I know, it was the worst sex you’ve ever had in your—"

"The best." He grabbed her by the shoulders. "The best sex I’ve ever had in my life."

She searched his expression and tried to tell if he was putting her on out of sympathy. "You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?"

With a groan, he tossed his glasses on the TV cabinet, pulled her close and planted one on her. He certainly kissed like a sincere person. Before long he kissed like an aroused person, too. French kissing took on a whole new meaning when administered by a guy who could actually speak the language.

They managed to get out of most of their clothes without breaking the lip lock, which involved some Houdini-like gyrations. It was fun, like a game of Twister, only with a bigger prize. Oh, yes, she remembered the size of the prize very well.

Covering the prize was an issue, though. She hated the thought of maneuvering all the way back to his bedroom, especially when his couch was within arm’s reach and she was so turned on. The trip to the bedroom could be a real buzz kill.

Yet the clothes were coming off really fast, and they were both breathing like freight trains. When they had everything removed except their socks, she decided the time had arrived for Will to produce the requisite condom.

She pulled her mouth free. After all that kissing, she only had breath for two words. "Get condom." She sounded like Tonto in a Lone Ranger flick, but at least she’d delivered the message.

"Right." He groped for the computer case strap. Dragging the case along the floor by the strap, he pushed her toward the couch. She hoped he didn’t plan to start on her paper now. That would be taking multitasking too far.

After guiding her onto the couch, which turned out to be even more soft and yielding than it looked, he crouched by the computer case and unzipped it.

She gulped for air. "Tell me you’re not going to type."

"No." He reached into the case and came up with a foil packet.

"You packed condoms in with the laptop?" Knowing he’d planned ahead made her grin like an idiot.

"Yeah." He grinned back at her. "But I felt really guilty about it."

TWENTY-FOUR

Will had enjoyed three sexual episodes with Amanda, and they had yet to do it on a bed. But he wasn’t complaining. Once he was buried deep inside her, he hardly cared that he didn’t fit and his legs hung over the rolled arm of the couch. But he vowed that the next couch he bought would be two feet longer.

With the drapes drawn, the colors mostly disappeared, even from Amanda, who looked like one of those old-time sepia photographs in this muted light. Even in sepia, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was still wearing her socks, and he felt them rub against his thighs as she entwined her legs with his.

His back had a little crick in it, but he wouldn’t think about that. He’d think about how happy his c*ck was right now, snug inside her hot little vag**a. What was a little back pain for a reward like that?

She gazed up at him, lips parted, eyes enormous, br**sts quivering with her rapid breathing. "I guess there’s not enough light to make it glow."

Glowing condoms no longer interested him. "Who cares?" "Not me. This feels so good."

"Uh-huh." And he’d thought the wildfire between them could be controlled. What a dope. "But it’s wrong."

He drew in a sharp breath. He should have expected second thoughts. "You’re right. But please don’t ask me to stop now." He doubted he could, not when lust pumped through him with such demanding force. One more orgasm, just one. Then he’d take the pledge.

"Not stop. Just change positions."

"What?" He was so relieved he almost came right then.

"Yes. Get up a minute."

"I don’t want to leave." He was still a little shaken, still worried that she’d change her mind and reach for her clothes.

"Two seconds. Then it’ll be so much better."

To say that he eased out reluctantly would be the understatement of the century. He’d achieved full contact, and he didn’t want to give that up for anything. He couldn’t imagine what she could do that would improve on the heavenly sensation he’d just lost.

Once he was clear, she turned over and got to her hands and knees. "See?"

He saw, and his heart rate spiked. He hadn’t been able to imagine an improvement, which demonstrated his complete lack of imagination. This new wrinkle promised to be an improvement, all right. Maybe this was what happened when you exposed a woman like Amanda to the pictures and videos in Gloria’s office. Amanda might have become an endless source of ideas.

Oh, Lord. If that was the case, he was a goner. Knowing she was highly responsive was thrill enough, but add in a treasure trove of innovation, and he would gladly become her slave. Starting now.

Joining her on the couch, he grasped her hips. Each of them had to put one foot on the floor before they accomplished what they were after, but once they did … he nearly passed out from the pleasure. She seemed to be liking it, too, judging from the happy noises she was making.

What a rush. From this angle he could see the sway of one breast as it reacted to each stroke. That alone would have been enough to send him into the red zone, but the friction from this position was unbelievable. He clenched his jaw and slowed down so he wouldn’t come yet.

He’d impressed her before, and he had enough ego to want to do it again. When she cried out softly and tightened around him, he bore down while holding back his own cli**x. The ripples of her orgasm rolled over his penis and he held on while she rocked against him. Moaning, she let her head hang while she caught her breath. Her hair fell forward, curtaining her face.