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“I like it. I hate houses that never look lived in.” He took a healthy bite of his pie and followed it up with coffee. “This is really good.”
“Thank you. How is the new book going?”
“It is going really well. I expect to get a lot of work done over the holidays, which is good because I am about to have a nicotine withdrawal induced stroke.”
Sandra knew that Connor permitted himself one cigarette a week when he was not writing and two a week when he was. “Have you tried the e-cigarettes?”
“I think they are a little like masturbation.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean they work, but do they really satisfy? I would probably be forever puffing on one of those things trying to get the feeling I get from a real cigarette.”
“I wonder if the cigarette makers would hire you for ad copy,” Sandra asked mischievously.
“They should. Think of the money that campaign would generate. Sex does sell.”
“It does.” The mention of sex made the kitchen feel even steamier. Sandra hastily changed the subject. “Did you enjoy Harris’s party?”
“Not really. I kept having déjà vu all night. I think after a time all the parties start to feel like all the parties before them particularly since there does not seem to ever be anyone new at them. I am not being an asshole by the way, that is merely an observation.”
“It’s true,” she conceded. “I tend to forget how…”
“Incestuous?”
“I was going to say cliquish. How cliquish we can sometimes be here.”
“Do you ever get bored?”
“Yes.” She could not believe she had voiced that aloud.
“Why not do something different?”
Sandra asked, “Like what?”
“Be a rebel and say no to a boring party and go into Manhattan for a night of theatre and drinking. Talk about something besides academia, this campus, and the general things that get talked about. Show up naked.”
Sandra sputtered laughter. “I suppose you know you wearing jeans and Topsiders marks you as a rebel, but not quite as much of a rebel as the woman who was our artist-in-residence a few years back. She would dance under trees during rain storms, waving about burning sage branches and belly dancing.”
Connor joked, “Maybe I should get some harem pants before the next party. I cannot be outdone. I must be the largest source of gossip on this campus.”
A vivid mental image of him in harem pants surfaced. That image was as erotic as it was comical and she laughed then blushed, a little fact that did not escape his notice. Her face bore a sexy little flush and her eyes were brighter than usual from the heat and her thoughts.
Sandra shifted her attention to the stove as the timer went off. “That would be the last batch of the cookies.”
“What kind of cookies?”
“Spice.”
“I like spice,” his eyes trailed down her upper body as he spoke, leaving no doubt what he meant by the words.
She got up and went to the stove. Unaware of how her jeans clung to her firm ass cheeks as she bent over to retrieve the pan and check to make sure the cookies were done to perfection she unwittingly caused Connor’s pent-in desire to ignite too suddenly for him to slow it down.
Warm and incredibly strong arms wrapped around her, causing her to nearly drop the tray of cookies onto the floor. His teeth nibbled at her ear, her neck and his fingers moved up, first caressing her breasts through her sweater then tugging at her nipples.
She got the tray down just in time. He spun her around, pushed her over the small table. Her cheek scrubbed against the wood and she could smell the coffee and pie they had enjoyed a few moments before.
His fingers tore open the buttons on her jeans and she wriggled to help him as he pulled them down. Her shoes tangled into the legs and she kicked and giggled as he swore a few times then gave up, leaving them tangled around her feet.
