Love and Romance, etc.

Determined to shake off the sexual tension rushing through his mind and body, Blake jogged for several miles before he realized it wasn't helping. So he turned back for home. Merciless thoughts continued to fill his head. For godsakes, he wasn't a randy teenager with raging hormones. He was a man—a man who knew his own mind. It was humiliating to be overcome by such basic physical urges. That had never happened before, even when he was a teenager.

This was all her fault.

While attempting to consider his options for finding his father, visions of Emma tossing her hair across her shoulder, boldly meeting his unspoken challenge with her eyes, subtly entered his thoughts. Soon he was wondering which townhouse was hers, what she was doing tonight, if she was lonely... or if she had a guy in her life. Women like her didn't stay single, did they?

Blake found himself looking at townhouses from the sidewalk as he slowed his jog down to a brisk walk. But each place seemed to blend into the next. Until...

"Sweet Jesus!" Blake saw, through slightly parted vertical blinds, Emma in her living room singing loudly to some god-awful opera nonsense, vacuuming—naked!

A new and unexpected heat surged through him that he was unprepared for, nailing his feet to the concrete—unable to do anything except stare. His body responded so sharply that he couldn't look away.

Emma must have sensed him there. She abruptly stopped vacuuming, turned her head, then seemingly too startled to offer an objection or run to the window to close the gap in the blinds—she simply met his shamelessly-staring eyes without a flinch. She was like the proverbial deer in the headlight stare. But then, just as quickly, every delectably exposed curve of her body spoke of defiance, and the Emma he knew was back. And he smiled to himself, finding an oddly perverse pleasure at the challenge in her expression when she stumbled to the window to adjust the blinds to a more appropriate closed position.

Blake chuckled to himself as he walked up to her front porch. He didn't have to knock on the door. Emma, now clad in a silky light-green robe, threw open her front door. In a gesture of defiance, she lifted her chin as she boldly met his grinning gaze.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asked as her eyes shot daggers at him.

"Hi, Tinkerbell," he said, still grinning like a fool—but he didn't care. He thought for a second that he must look a disheveled mess, all sweaty, and smelling like a locker room—but what the hell. Apparently the CD had ended, because gratefully, the music had stopped.

"You are the most irritating man I've ever met," she said. "You know that?"

"Yeah. I get that a lot." Well, at least she didn't slam the door in his face. This was promising. Though she was still glaring at him, he maneuvered himself inside her front door before she could object. "And, yes, I am enjoying myself. Thank you."

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked as she closed the door and leaned heavily against it. She tugged her robe tighter together, then crossed her arms.

"Taking you up on your offer. Wow, something smells great! What's on the menu?"

"Spaghetti. And I didn't offer you anything."

"Yes, you did. That naked serenade was as bold an offer as I've ever seen."

"My clothes are in the dryer, and I was in a hurry."

"Uh huh."

She rolled her eyes and let out a breath. "I was taking a shower and my clothes fell in a puddle on the bathroom floor. So I threw them in the dryer while I finished getting ready for company."

"Company?"

She shrugged. "Family. My parents. Not that it's any of your business."

"Great," he said. "I'd love to meet your parents."

She shifted to one delicate foot as she crossed the other over her ankle. "You're not on the guest list, Blake."

"Mmm, I like the way my name sounds on your lips." He pressed his weight against the door by placing his palms on either side of her head, trapping her between his body and the front door. "You know, I could be—on the guest list I mean," he said, lowering his voice to a husky whisper as his lips came teasingly close to hers. He wasn't going to kiss her—yet. And he thought he was using incredible restraint.

Astonished, Blake's eyes went wide when she pulled his head down and crushed her mouth to his. So much for restraint. Apparently the lady had other ideas.

The touch of her lips on his sent electric impulses from his lips all the way down to his crotch. He returned her kiss as he smothered her mouth with desperate, demanding mastery. At least he'd like to think he was practiced. He took her mouth with all the savage intensity that had been building since she first arrived at his front door that day, forcing her lips open with the thrusting of his forceful tongue. Oh, she tasted sweet—just as he knew she would. A sweet little whimper sounded from her throat and he answered with more of his own devouring urgent kisses.

Emma placed her palms against his chest, caressed and teased with her small hands. Shocked by her eager response to his earlier challenge, Blake felt his knees weaken at the unexpected urgency he sensed from her. But she'd trumped him and he was trapped by the pleasure-filled moans his touch roused from her. And as he roused her passion, his own grew even stronger.

Blake pulled her from the door and backed her against the arm of the sofa. They both fell headlong onto the cushions as he fell atop her soft body. Emma's robe fell silkily apart, revealing taut pink nipples and firm tantalizing breasts. Her hips arched up where his body touched hers, painfully teasing his now aching hard-on—sinking his weight between her spread thighs. His hands teased and searched one erect nipple as she held him fast against her, drawing his face to hers in a renewed embrace. Each kiss she offered was filled with more heat than the last.

Her breasts were exactly as he'd expected. Perky, pink and tempting as hell. The smells in her home were driving him into insanity. The meal she had simmering in the kitchen, the scented candles glimmering in her living room, and her freshly washed hair. He gave her one last hot, wet, and deepened kiss—one he didn't want her to soon forget— before he pulled back and looked into her sparklingly green eyes. He closed his own eyes a moment, tried to regain his breath. "I want you to know how much restraint I'm showing you right now," he said as he brushed his lips across her.

"W--what?" Her breath felt warm against his cheek. Soon, her brow wrinkle as she looked up at him. Blake wasn't sure if her frown was from his comment or her own surprising and passionate behavior. He fought to keep his grin to himself.

He caressed her cheek and gently kissed her again before he said, "I won't take advantage of your state of undress, despite how much I want to make love to you, here on this couch. Your beautiful body and invitation in your eyes are driving me close to the edge." Her confused frown grew angry. But before she could offer him a retort, he placed a finger to her lips. "I prefer to date women before I take them to bed."

A menacing knock at the door erupted Blake from his seduction.

"Emma?" The knock became more persistent.

"Oh, God! It's my parents—" She shoved at his chest. "Get off me."

Reluctantly, he released her and stood up from the sofa. "Emma, I—"

"What are you doing? You have to leave. Now! No—not out the front door..." She forced him toward the kitchen. "Out the back door, please," she whispered harshly.

"No way. I'm not going to sneak away like—"

"Yes. You are. I don’t want to explain to my parents why a strange man is in my home."

"I'm not strange. I'm your neighbor that stopped by to help you...move your sofa."

"Clever, but no." Emma continued to shove at his back. Blake couldn't help the chuckle escape his chest. He was actually enjoying her distress.

He clasped her arms firmly against her sides to keep her from trying to shove him out the door like some lovelorn Romeo. "Okay, honey. I'll leave your way if—"

"Emma! Are you there?" asked a female voiced which must have been her mother.

"Please, Blake. I can't handle both you and my mother at the same time." Her eyes were pleading with him. The look was so disarming he nearly left without getting the promise he wanted from her.

He kissed her hard and brief while he still held her arms down. "Have dinner with me. Tomorrow. I'll pick you up at seven."

"I thought I'd made it clear I didn't want to have dinner with you."

"Yeah. But that was before I'd seen you naked. Dinner just seems like a technicality now."

She closed her eyes as her mother continued to shout from the front door. "Fine. Whatever. Tomorrow," she said and he released her.

Blake stepped through the back door—whistling to himself.

If he was a fool, he was a damn happy one.

THE LONELY GUYS
Copyright© 2004 By Bonnie Williams
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Logo Design - the lonely guys by Bonnie Williams