“But Mrs. Lovett was as cold as a Frigidaire,” Georgeanne continued, leaving John to wonder how the subject had shifted from her parents to refrigerators. “And tacky… cryin‘ all night, she was tacky. When LouAnn White got married, she gave her”- Georgeanne paused, her green eyes sparkling with animation-“a Hot Dogger. Can you believe it? Not only did she give an appliance, she gave a little machine that electrocutes weenies!”
John tilted his chair back on two legs. He distinctly remembered a conversation he’d had with her about rambling. He guessed she just couldn’t help herself. She was a tease and a chatter hound.
Georgeanne pushed her plate to the side and leaned forward. The robe parted as she confided, “My grandmother used to say that Margaret Lovett was just too tacky for Technicolor.”
“Are you doing that on purpose?” he asked.
Her eyes rounded. “What?”
“Flashing me your breasts.”
She looked down, eased away from the table, and clutched the robe to her throat. “No.”
The front legs of the chair hit the floor as John rose to his feet. He looked into her wide eyes and gave in to insanity. Holding out his hand, he ordered, “Come here.” When she stood before him, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tight against his chest. “I’m leaving now,” he said, sinking into her soft curves. “Kiss me good-bye.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Awhile,” he answered, feeling his body grow heavy.
Like a cat stretching on a warm windowsill, Georgeanne arched against him and wound her arms around his neck. “I could go with you,” she purred.
John shook his head. “Kiss me and mean it.”
She rose onto the balls of her feet and did what he asked. She kissed like a woman who knew what she was doing. Her parted lips pressed softly into his. She tasted of orange juice and the promise of something sweeter. Her tongue touched, swirled, caressed, and teased. She ran her fingers through his hair as the arch of her foot slipped up his calf. Pure lust shot up the backs of his legs, took hold of his insides, and gave a good hard tug.
She was a pro, and he eased back far enough to look into her face. Her lips were shiny, her breath slightly uneven, and if her eyes had shown the slightest hint of the same hunger he felt, he would have turned and walked out the door. Satisfied.
John’s gaze shifted to the soft mahogany curls surrounding her face. The light shimmered in each silky corkscrew, and he wanted to bury his hands in them. He knew he should leave. Just turn and walk out. Instead, he looked back into her eyes.
He wasn’t satisfied. Not yet. He planted one hand on the back of her head, tilted her face to the side, and soul-kissed her to the bottoms of her feet. While his mouth feasted at hers, he walked her backward until her behind hit the edge of the china hutch doubling as a trophy cabinet. His kiss continued, across her cheek and along her jaw. His lips slipped to the side of her neck, and he pushed her hair down her back. She smelled of flowers and warm feminine skin, and he slid the silk robe from her shoulder. He felt her stiffen in his arms and told himself that he should stop. “You smell good,” he said into the side of her throat.
“I smell like a man,” she laughed nervously.
John smiled. “I’ve been around men all of my life. Believe me, honey, you don’t smell like a man.” He slipped his fingertips beneath one emerald strap of her bra and kissed the soft skin of her throat.
Instantly she covered his hand with hers. “I thought we weren’t going to make love.”
“We’re not.”
“Then what are we doing, John?”
“Foolin‘ around.”
“Doesn’t that lead to making love?” She grabbed her other shoulder and crossed her arms over her breasts.
“Not this time. So relax.” John moved his hands to the backs of her smooth thighs, grabbed ahold, and lifted. Before she could utter an objection, he plopped her down on top of the hutch, then stepped between her thighs.
“John?”
“Hmmm?”
“Promise you won’t hurt me.”
He raised his head and looked into her face. She was serious. “I won’t hurt you, Georgie.”
“Or do anything that I don’t like.”
“Of course not.”
She smiled and moved her palms to his shoulders.
“Do you like this?” he asked, slipping his hands up the outsides of her thighs, pushing up the silk robe at the same time.
“Mmm-hmm,” she answered, then softly licked his earlobe and slid the very tip of her tongue down the side of his neck. “Do you like this?” she asked against the side of his throat. Then she lightly sucked his sensitive skin into her mouth.
“Nice,” he chuckled quietly. He smoothed his hands to her knees, then back up until his fingers came into contact with the elastic and lace of her underwear. “Everything about you is real nice.” John tilted his head to the side and closed his eyes. He couldn’t remember ever touching a woman as soft as Georgeanne. His fingers sank into her warm thighs and he pushed them farther apart. While her mouth did incredible things to his throat, he slid his hands beneath the robe and cupped her behind. “You have soft skin, great legs, and a nice butt,” he said as he pulled her against his pelvis. Heat flooded his groin, and he knew that if he wasn’t careful, he could sink into Georgeanne and stay there awhile.
Georgeanne lifted her face. “Are you making fun of me?”
John looked down into her clear eyes. “No,” he answered, looking for a reflection of the desire he felt and not really finding it. “I would never make fun of a half-naked woman.”
“You don’t think I’m fat?”
“I don’t like skinny women,” he answered flatly, and moved his hands down her hips to her knees, then back up again. A flash of interest flicked in her eyes, and finally, a spark of desire.
Georgeanne looked into his sleepy gaze for a sign that he was lying to her. Since the onset of puberty, she’d done constant battle with her weight and had tried more diets than she could count. She planted her hands on the side of his face and kissed him then. Not the practiced and perfect kiss she’d given him earlier, a kiss meant to tease and tantalize. This time she wanted to swallow him whole. She meant to show him how much his words meant to a girl who’d always considered herself overweight. She let herself go, let herself melt into the hot, dizzying desire. The kiss turned ravenous as his hands touched, caressed, molded, and sent shivers clear to her toes. She felt the silk belt slacken and the robe part. He slid his hands across her stomach and up her waist. His warm palms slipped up her ribs, and his thumbs fanned the undersides of her heavy breasts. An unexpected and intense tremor shook her. For the first time in her life, a man’s touch on her breasts didn’t feel like an attack. She sighed her surprise into his mouth.
John raised his head and looked into her eyes. He smiled as if what he saw there pleased him, and he pushed the robe from her shoulders.
Georgeanne lowered her arms and let the black silk pool about her thighs. Before she knew his intention, John moved his hands to her back and unhooked her bra. Startled by his quick work, she raised her own hands and kept the lacy green cups in place. “I’m big,” she stated in a rush, then wanted to die for saying something so obvious and stupid.
“So am I,” he teased through a provocative grin.
Nervous laughter escaped her throat as one bra strap drifted down her arm.
“Are you going to sit like that all night?” he asked, and slid his knuckles along the lace edge of her bra.
His light touch sent tingles along her skin. She liked the things he said and the way he made her feel, and she didn’t want him to stop yet. She liked John and wanted him to like her. She looked into his sexy eyes and lowered her hands. Her bra slowly fell to her lap and she held her breath, waiting for him to make some lewd comment about her breasts-hoping he wouldn’t.