“I was impressed.” Her face changed and he could see she really meant it. “I can see why you got a scholarship.”
He felt his chest swell with pride, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he pretended to be watching the couple sitting near the front of the theater. The next words she spoke made him actually flush and he was glad the lights were dim.
“You’re quite an amazing young man.”
He didn’t have any idea what to say. For some reason, he didn’t want her to know how much it pleased him. “You sound like my mother.”
“Well, we can’t have that.” Toni chuckled. “So tell me something…” She sat back in the red plush seat and he noticed her skirt riding up higher. The woman almost always wore skirts and it just accentuated her most astounding features. It was maddening. Henry knew damned well he shouldn’t be looking, or even thinking about it. But he did. He was. “Who was the girl?”
The question got him to stop focusing on her knees. “What girl?”
She raised her eyebrows. “The pretty redhead who waved to you.”
“You saw that?” He flushed with the memory.
She glanced sideways at him. “The whole stadium saw that.”
“She’s just a friend,” he insisted, sounding more defensive than he wanted to.
She didn’t respond verbally but he saw that press of her lips and knew for some reason she wasn’t happy with his answer. It made no sense at all, but he felt guilty on two counts-as if he was somehow betraying Libby by being here. Back when he was with Libby, he’d felt as if he was betraying Toni, and he wasn’t actually involved with either woman! It made his head hurt.
“Toni…” he started. She turned to him, her dark eyes even darker in the dim light. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. Something to bridge the sudden gap between them. He finally said something he hoped would convey to her what it meant to him, everything she had done and continued to do. “Thanks for coming.”
“You’re welcome.” She touched his hand, briefly. As the lights began to go down, she leaned over, murmuring, “Are you ready for this?”
He shrugged, sinking down into his seat. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
He was afraid it was all going to go too fast for him to keep up, but Toni was right-it had a linear storyline that didn’t jump all over the place. It started out with some girl wanting to rent the same apartment as some guy in Paris-but all of a sudden they were having sex in it. That, he figured, had to be the “tango” part of The Last Tango in Paris.
He’d seen Marlon Brando in Streetcar Named Desire in high school. This Marlon Brando was older, meatier. But the girl? He didn’t know who she was, but she reminded him a great deal of a young version of Toni-big dark eyes and long dark hair and legs that went on for-fucking-ever.
It was making him think things. Things he definitely shouldn’t be thinking. He watched Brando and the girl rolling around on the floor, feeling his cock starting to get hard. Although, he didn’t know if he was actually reacting to the movie or to the heat of Toni’s thigh against his in the dark.
Brando was mauling the girl on screen, pressing her into a wall in the empty apartment. The guy was old enough to be her father, for god’s sake. And that just made him consider Toni more, how she had been a neighbor all along, living right around the block, someone who had spent evenings hanging out playing cards with his parents. She was his mom’s age.
Henry gulped, watching the screen, trying to concentrate. There weren’t any words, just grunts and moans. Next to him, Toni uncrossed her legs, her thigh brushing his jean-clad one. He could see her knees, exposed, the shape of her body in the seat, lean but curvy. Sexy.
Stop it, he told himself. It was seeing Libby, he reasoned, after the amazing game he’d played, that had him feeling so excited. He was just still flying high, and the presence of the woman beside him was nothing but a physical reminder.
Henry tore his eyes away from his professor’s legs, back to the movie. Christ, they were going at it! The girl on screen moaned, arching, and he didn’t need subtitles to figure out what was going on. It made him squirm in his seat, feeling Toni shift beside him.
When she leaned in to ask, “Does this make you uncomfortable?” he actually jumped.
He glanced at her, then back at the screen. “Sort of.”
“Why?” She was close enough he could feel her breath against his cheek
“Because you’re here,” he admitted.
“Why does that make a difference?” Her words were soft, whispered, hot against his skin.
“I don’t know.” He wanted to say what he was really thinking, how much the girl on the screen reminded him of a younger version of her, but he didn’t dare. He couldn’t tell her the truth-that watching two people having sex on-screen made him think about her, imagining…well…
“I think you do,” she insisted and he stiffened when he felt her hand on his knee, squeezing gently. This wasn’t happening. That’s what he told himself, seeing the sex scene was over. He still couldn’t breathe.
Instead of saying anything, he mirrored her, putting his own hand on her knee, squeezing. He felt her tense and glanced up to see her looking not at the screen, but at his hand on her leg.
“Henry.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she met his eyes in the darkness.
“Sorry,” he said. But his hand moved on its own, nudging her skirt up to mid-thigh.
“Don’t apologize.”
Her thigh was bare. He was touching skin and could feel the heat of her. Crazy. That was all that registered in his brain. This was crazy. Not happening. A dream.
But it wasn’t. Her skin was like silk. And the hand on his was massaging gently. “What are we doing?” he breathed.
He heard her swallow, saw her throat work when she did, before she whispered, “That’s a good question.”
“Toni…” He turned toward her, seeing her lick her lips, watching her mouth glistening in the light and shadow.
“You’re not paying attention to the movie,” she said, gazing up at the screen as if she was actually focused there.
She wasn’t wearing stockings. He couldn’t think about anything else. “What movie?”
“You should pay attention,” she admonished him, but her hand was inching upward. It was nearing his crotch.
His gaze dipped down to the V of her button-down blouse. Her breasts had to be her second-best feature, full and round. She wore her clothes in the latest fashion, dark colored bras with light colored blouses, and it only accentuated them more. “I can’t.”
“What’s distracting you?” She was trying to stay in teacher-mode, asking all the right questions. Part of his issue with reading was staying focused, not letting the outside world get in the way. But it wasn’t the outside world that was the problem, and she damned well knew it, he was sure of that fact. He couldn’t quite believe it, but he couldn’t deny the hand nudging against the inseam of his jeans.
“You’re distracting me.” He whispered the words against the soft shell of her ear, feeling the tickle of her hair against his nose. “What would you say if I told you…”
His hand moved up on her thigh and he felt her clench, heard her gasp, but she half-turned toward him, shifting in her chair. “If you told me what…?”
“If I told you…” His lips moved against her cheek as he spoke.
“Henry…” Her voice turned to pleading.
“I just…” He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent. She was so close in the dark, he could feel her breath, coming too fast. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
She turned her head toward him.“About what?”
“Kissing you.” That wasn’t all he was thinking about. Not by a long shot. But it was a start. He felt the corner of her mouth against his lips, could almost taste her.
“So do it,” she breathed, turning and capturing his mouth with hers, the kiss hitting him with a force he hadn’t known possible.