Naked Read online

  Alex came a half a minute after I did. He groaned my name, surprising me. I loved it.

  A minute passed before he reached between us to hold the condom and pull out of me. He rolled onto his back with a loud sigh. I stared up at the ceiling, unable to form words, boneless and sated.

  “I’m sorry,” he said after another minute.

  I’d been drifting, not quite sleeping but in a happy place. Now I pushed up on my elbow to look at him. “For what?”

  He sat, too, then scooted to the edge of the futon to deal with the condom. He looked over his shoulder at me. “For…well, I said it had been a while.”

  I thought he was kidding. Was certain of it, in fact, until I saw his face when he got up to head for the bathroom. And there I sat in the pile of pillows scattered by our passion, confused.

  I got up and followed him. “What do you mean?”

  He was washing his hands at the sink. “I mean…it was…fast. That’s all.”

  “Oh.” I chewed my cheek. This was delicate ground. “Hey. Look at me.”

  He turned, expression neutral. I was used to that. I put a hand on his hip, pulled him closer, right up against me. Flesh to flesh.

  “It was the best sex I’ve had in a long, long time.”

  His mouth fought not to smile. “When’s the last time you had sex?”

  “It’s been a long, long time,” I conceded, as I rose on my toes to kiss his mouth. “But that doesn’t make any less fucktastic.”

  He put his arms around me. Kissed me back. Laughed a little. “Next time…”

  I reached around to squeeze his ass. “Next time. Yes.”

  We spent the day naked or almost naked, watching movie after movie from his giant collection. He hadn’t moved in much furniture, but he had enough DVDs to stock a rental place. We ate pizza from his freezer and he made me margaritas using Gran Patrón Platinum tequila with a price tag that made me cough, while the booze itself slid effortlessly down my throat. He didn’t actually drink any, I noticed.

  “You sure you don’t want to go out?” Alex had pulled on a pair of loose, red silk boxers and lent me one of his soft and wash-worn button-downs. We’d made a table from a hard-sided suitcase, and sat on cushions from the futon. “We could head over to the Corvette. They’ve got wings on special there. Happy hour drinks, too, I think.”

  I was buzzed enough from the margarita, and I licked salt from the rim of my glass as I shook my head. “God, no. I’m stuffed.”

  He leaned to steal a piece of pepperoni I’d picked off my pizza, and stuck it in his mouth. “You should’ve said something, Olivia. I’d have made something else.”

  It took me a second to parse what he meant. “Oh…no, it’s fine. I don’t eat pepperoni, but not because…well, I guess it’s because I never had it growing up. I’m not offended by it.”

  I hadn’t actually thought about that—why I turned aside pepperoni and shrimp, two foods my mother would now rather be stabbed with an ice pick than eat. Why I’d eat turkey bacon and not the regular kind, or why I’d eat ham my dad sent home with me but never would cook it myself. I poked at the round red slices, which left a smear of orange grease on my fingertip, and instead of licking it off used one of the paper towels we had in lieu of napkins.

  He wasn’t asking, but I told him anyway. “My parents divorced when I was five. My dad’s Catholic, my mom’s Jewish. Both remarried. My dad’s been pretty active in his church for a long time, but my mom has just recently over the past few years decided to become observant. That means she follows the dietary laws and keeps the Sabbath.”

  Alex topped off my glass with more frozen margarita from the blender, his attention taken up with not spilling, but he shot me a grin. “I know what it means.”

  I laughed self-consciously. “Well, mostly around here people don’t.”

  He leaned to kiss the corner of my mouth. “You forget. I’m a world traveler.”

  I put a hand on the back of his neck so he couldn’t pull away. I turned the kiss from something small and light to deep. Hot. He was smiling when I let him go.

  “French kiss,” he murmured against my lips before sitting back. “A little later I’ll show you an Australian kiss.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “It’s just like a French kiss,” he explained, “but you do it down under.”

  I groaned and flopped back on the pillows. “Did you learn any good jokes in your world travels?”

  Alex stretched out beside me. “That’s the best I have, sorry.”

  I turned onto my side, facing him. “That’s okay.”

  “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

  I made a face. “Don’t remind me. But, yes. Not until four with Foto Folks, but I’ve got a few client jobs to take care of in the morning. Why?”

  “Just wondering if you had to go to sleep early.”

  I returned his smile. “I should. I should go home soon.”

  “No,” Alex said seriously. “Don’t.”

  I groaned again and flopped onto my back to stare at the ceiling. “Alex…”

  “Olivia.”

  I sat up and pulled my knees close to my chest, my arms linked around them. “I don’t want this to get weird or anything.”

  He tugged one of my locks. “It doesn’t have to.”

  I looked at the futon, pillows scattered and sheets rumpled, and the box with condoms spilling from it. I looked at our dinner. I looked at him.

  “This has been great, Alex. Really fantastic. And unexpected.”

  “I’m full of surprises.”

  Of that, I had no doubts. “I think I should go now.”

  His eyes narrowed and he looked away for a second, then back. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  “Alex…” I sighed. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted him to go down on me again, I wanted to fuck him again, and that, I knew, was only going to lead to trouble. And I had been warned.

  “Olivia,” he said again, patiently, “do you have a boyfriend?”

  “You know I don’t!”

  “Would you like one?”

  I rested my chin on my knees and studied him for a few long, silent minutes. He didn’t look away. He didn’t shift or twitch. Alex simply waited for my answer.

  “Don’t you think most people want someone?” I said finally. “Even the ones who say they don’t?”

  “Yes. I think so.” He tilted his head a little. “So?”

  “Do I want a boyfriend?” I squeezed my arms tighter around my knees, then looked deep into his eyes. “Are you offering?”

  “I like you. You’re beautiful—”

  I laughed.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You are. And talented. And fun to be around. I’ve never met a woman who liked the movie Harold and Maude.”

  “We haven’t even dated,” I said.

  Alex didn’t glance at the futon, scene of our sexcapades. “We can date.”

  “Uh-huh.” I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Maybe we can start with that.”

  He laughed. “Okay.”

  “Okay, now this is weird.” I unlinked my hands to stretch out my legs.

  “I told you it doesn’t have to be.”

  “I haven’t had a boyfriend in a long time, that’s all.”

  “I haven’t had a girlfriend in a long time, either. Probably longer than you haven’t had a boyfriend.” Alex ran a fingertip down my shoulder to my wrist, then pulled his hand away. He laughed, then held up a finger. “Wait here.”

  He jumped up and disappeared into the bedroom he never slept in, and came out a moment later with a frazzled silk flower on a green plastic stem. He dropped to one knee in front of me, a hand over his heart, and held it out. “Olivia. Will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend? Or not being my girlfriend, whatever you want to call it?”

  I broke into laughter and took the pathetic flower. “Where did you get this?”

  “It was in the bathroom vanity when I moved in. See? It’s fate.