Divorced, Desperate, and Delicious

Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

  

Lacy stared at the tip of her nose and decided to count to ten and then she’d get up, slip on something soft and cottony, and give herself a hard swift kick on her cotton-covered butt. No, she’d give herself two. One for not having condoms, and another lick for letting herself get this close to having sex in the first place. Then, after she’d given herself a good talking-to, she’d hand Chase Kelly his walking papers. No, running papers. He’d have to move really fast or she’d go after him and drag him back.

She hadn’t counted to three when the bathroom door opened again. Naked from the waist down, she reached for the edge of her comforter and pulled it over her. Chase’s footsteps approached, then the mattress shifted in the familiar two-in-the-bed way that wasn’t so familiar to her anymore. The subtle give of her Serta just reminded Lacy of how long she’d been alone. She closed her eyes and felt the whisper of his breath across her chin.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have asked about protection before I started this, and slamming the door was stupid.” His lips brushed over her cheek.

“We can’t do this.” She put her hand on his naked chest to push him back, but she didn’t push. Instead, she just felt him: chest hair soft against her palm, firm flesh over firmer muscle. His heart thumped against her hand. Her heart thumped against her rib cage and the empty ache doubled between her legs.

“I can’t let this happen,” she said. “It would be stupid, and I’m a lot of things but stupid isn’t one of them.”

“I know,” he said. “But I can still . . . make you happy.”

His hand slipped under the comforter. She caught it around her belly button. “No,” she said.

“Lacy,” he whispered in her ear. “Let me pleasure you. Let me do this for you.” He dipped his finger into her navel.

She shook her head, wondering why she’d never known before how sensitive that little dimple in her tummy was. “No. I’m fine. Let’s just call this one big mistake and—”

“You’re not fine,” he said. “And the only mistake here is we don’t have protection. It’s been too long for you. You’re shaking. I can do this. I can give you what you need without ever—”

“But I don’t think I can,” she said, still holding his wrist tight against her lower stomach.

“I’m not asking you to return the favor,” he whispered, and kissed the edge of her lips. “This is all for you. Just you.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t think I can come without . . . Just stop.” She draped her free hand over her face and wished her Serta would swallow her up, or all those Serta sheep would show up and take Chase Kelly to dreamland.

“Oh, I see. Well, then, you’ll just have to let me try.” He nudged her palm from her eyes. “I’m really good at it.” He kissed her again. “Of course, I’ll have to use my tongue . . . and my fingers.” He wiggled his hand against her belly. The soft tap of his five fingers caused the ache between her legs to grow more intense.

“No.” She bit down on her lip. “It won’t work.” His lips brushed against her temple, and her hips shifted and her grip on his hand loosened.

“Don’t you remember how it was when you were a teenager and didn’t want to go all the way? Didn’t you . . . experiment? I’ll keep on my jeans, but I can make you feel like a million bucks. Sex without sex.”

Sex without sex. The words echoed inside her head. She’d never had sex without sex. Sure she’d learned to take the edge off her celibate frustration, but solo orgasms were like cooking for one: With no one to help stir the sauce or taste the spices, it hardly seemed worth it. And while the food might curb the hunger, eating alone made one feel . . . lonely.