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“Tell me,” he said, a smile behind his voice.
“My opinion of you changed when you brought the lubricant.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you again.”
“Hmm, and got very upset when you discovered I hadn’t used it.”
“Yeah, but what really made me mad was that you thought I wouldn’t mind hurting you.”
“So you said. Your angry reaction changed my opinion of you. You cared much more than you wanted to show. I saw that you weren’t nearly as rotten as people think. As you think.”
“Don’t go pinning any medals on me, Laura. You were still another man’s wife, but I started looking forward to being with you. I wouldn’t admit it, even to myself. But I did. It was his idea, and every time you met me, it was because he insisted on it. But after that day you had the orgasm, I stopped kidding myself.”
“So did I,” she confessed softly. “I knew it would be dangerous to be alone with you again. That’s why I told Foster I wouldn’t go back. But I did. And, despite everything that’s happened, I can’t honestly say I’m sorry I did.”
He came close to saying something then, making some kind of profession, the likes of which he’d never thought he would make to another human being. But the timing was off. Way off.
Instead, he took her hand and laid it against his chest, pressing it close to his heart. She wouldn’t know, couldn’t know—for him, who never invited a touch—how significant that small gesture was. But he knew.
She said, “I always wondered…”
“What?”
Looking chagrined, she shook her head. “Never mind.”
“What?”
“What you used.”
“Used?”
“To…you know. While I was in the bedroom, waiting. I always wondered what you did, what you used to get aroused.”
“Oh,” he said around a soft laugh. “I used you.”
“Me?”
“The first time we met there, you had on a soft pink top under your ball-breaker’s suit.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“You were wearing the kind of business suit that said you wanted to be taken seriously. Seen as an equal in the workplace, not as a woman. But it didn’t work, because to me you still looked like somebody I wanted to have sex with. Especially that top. It was about the color of this robe.”
“I know the one.”
“So to get it up, I thought about your breasts under the top, all soft and warm. Thought about sliding my hands up under your top and touching them. And that did it.”
“Just that?”
“Well, there may have been some flashes of tongue against nipple,” he added, grinning unrepentantly. “And the times after that, I thought about you, lying in there, prim on the top, nothing on the bottom, waiting for me. Worked every time. Of course, that last day was different.”
“Yes.”
He touched her lips with the backs of his fingers. “The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do was let you leave and go back to him.”
