“Um,” she said, gesturing vaguely at her couch. “Would you like to sit down? Or grab a couple of drinks from the fridge? I just need a minute.”
“Of course,” Adrian said, trying to summon the wisdom of his past self, a person who had struck the appropriate balance between nonchalant and attentive in situations like this. As he had not gone home to a woman’s apartment in this decade, the role felt as awkward as new dress shoes.
Caroline vanished into what he marked as her bedroom while Adrian went to investigate the refrigerator. It was crowded with single bottles of a variety of different beverages, both alcoholic and not: everything from high-concept sodas to gritty-looking kombuchas. There was a half-empty bottle of gewürztraminer in front, but Adrian decided thatcompletely soberwas how he wanted to retrospectively characterize Caroline’s decision to sleep with him, if she stuck with it. He found a large can of sparkling water, retrieved two glasses from the cabinet to serve it in, and sat on the couch to vibrate with uncertainty while he awaited Caroline’s return. He turned on the television,which was set to a very specific kind of satellite channel devoted to shows about deadly wildlife, then hit mute before a gazelle could meet its grisly end in the jaws of a Nile crocodile.
Five minutes later, when he’d nearly convinced himself that he ought to make an excuse and allow Caroline a graceful way to cut the evening short, she reemerged. She’d changed out of the black jersey outfit she’d worn for her play’s matinee and was now wearing the same little yellow knit dress from Tamsyn’s opening, the hem short over her long bare legs. She favored him with a small, close-mouthed smile, her hands brushing the fabric down over her hips.
Adrian was often haunted by the ghost of the person he’d been, the last time he was really happy: a twenty-three-year-old art prodigy with a Back Bay loft and a frequently occupied bed. That man was happy to interpret this as a clear message:Rail me in this sundress, please.
And oh, Jesus, did hehopethat was what she was saying, because he felt like he might die, could possibly die in a literal sense if he had to find his way home now that all the blood had rushed south out of his brain. He’d be hit by a MBTA bus in his disarray, covered with snow, and discovered only in the spring thaw.
Caroline sat down next to him on the couch, then immediately twisted to pull her feet underneath her, knees pointed in his direction. She put her hands on her thighs and looked at him expectantly.
“Do you... want to watch something?” Adrian croaked, gesturing at the television.
Caroline’s blond eyebrows condensed on her forehead.
“Killer snake shows for bad days, right?”
He had to offer her the out, because what possiblereason did she have for propositioning him? He’d been careful,socareful not to transgress any of the boundaries she’d set. She had to have no idea of the hours he’d spent guiltily pondering what it would feel like to pin her down and make her gasp his name.
“No.” Caroline drawled out the word like a drop of honey. She braced one hand on his shoulder and swung a knee across his lap, coming to straddle him. She settled comfortably on his thighs, tilting her head to the side. “I thought you were going to take me to bed?” Her expression was sweetly concerned:No take-backs, right?
Adrian let out the deep breath that had cluttered his chest, releasing some of his anxiety about the situation. Certainty wasn’t all he wanted from her—wasn’t even half—but it was a start. Her position put her cleavage at his eye level. He leaned in and ran his lower lip along the vee of her collarbone, inhaling the warm scent of her skin.
“All right,” he agreed again.
He settled lower on the couch, letting her slide down his legs until her thighs were spread wide against him. Then he tipped his head back so that she could kiss him. Caroline tucked her hair behind her ears and leaned in, bracing her forearms against his chest. Her mouth tasted like toothpaste.
He smiled wide at the evidence of what she’d been doing back in her room, and she felt it.
“What?” she asked from a breath’s distance away.
“Nothing,” he said, putting his hands on her waist and finally allowing himself freedom to imagine the body beneath her clothes. “Just happy.”
She hummed an agreement into his mouth and pressed herself further against him. He kissed her slowly, like he had no thought of anything else in his mind—although ofcourse he did. His tongue stroked leisurely against hers as he savored the softness of her lips. Caroline made an impatient noise and let him feel her teeth against the inside of his lower lip. He grinned wider, keeping his hands chastely settled at her waist.
But then she adjusted her seat to roll her thigh directly over his hardening erection, and he had to give up the game when he groaned directly into her mouth. She yanked at his sweater until he obediently lifted his arms, letting her pull it off and toss it behind the couch.
“Sweet Jesus, how many layers are you wearing?” she complained, eyeing the long-sleeved T-shirt still covering his chest.
He shrugged instead of discussing his heating bill, going after a very important freckle located between her breasts as she attempted to divest him of the other two shirts he had on. Those small triangles of knit fabric that formed the top of her dress had taunted him with the possibility that they might just... slip... during Tamsyn’s show. And now he tested that idea, finding that the straps slid easily down her round, tan shoulders to expose her teardrop-shaped breasts.
Indian yellow. He would have added the smallest dot of Indian yellow with the point of his paintbrush, a nearly imperceptible blush of warmth in the mix of alizarin crimson and titanium white that tinted the tips of her breasts. He wrapped his mouth around a nipple, tightening his fingers on her hips when he pulled hard enough to make her gasp.
Caroline spread her hands on his now-bare chest and looked down as though considering the logistics of the identical move from her position astride him. He didn’t intend to give her space to try, turning his head and givingthe same treatment to the other side of her body. Her hips bucked against him, more demanding this time. He didn’t lift his head, enjoying the small, needy noises that escaped her throat as he teased and licked her breasts.
The buck of her hips grew insistent, and he slid a hand up the outside of her warm round thigh underneath her dress. His intention had been to hold on to her hips and slow things down for a few minutes, but as his hand slid higher and higher, unimpeded by anything likeunderwear, he realized that he was one zipper pull away from fucking Caroline on her living room couch, in full view of a dozen of the world’s most dangerous reptiles. From the determined glint in Caroline’s eye—and the way she was investigating southern territory after her success in removing articles of clothing at higher latitudes—she was perfectly capable of making that happen without any further effort on his part. He was really not covering himself in glory so far.
“Right,” he said firmly, because he could at least do something more exciting than sit there with his mouth on her tits until one or both of them came from some light frottage. “Bedroom.”
He slid his hands under her ass like a sling and stood in one rough movement. Caroline squealed and wrapped her legs around his waist but didn’t fall, which he worried about after it was already too late to attempt a different move. It was a good thing she was mostly leg. He backed her up toward her bedroom, only slightly distracted by her teeth on his earlobe.
He staggered through the door, managing to drop Caroline on her big floral-print bed and not the floor. It was a good height. The perfect height, in fact, which was surprising if Caroline had picked it out, because he’d assumed she was—
He should have made some critical inquiries before this moment, before Caroline was scooting back to her bedframe—sturdy, that was good, not IKEA crap like the rest of her furniture—and looking up at him like the ten o’clock band had just come onstage early. He crawled onto the bed after her, dodging her grab for his waistband, then carefully propped himself over her, hands pressing her wrists to the mattress.
“Caroline, sweetheart, have you done this before?” he asked, trying not to sound terrified of the prospect that she had not.
