“Agreed.” He leaned in so close she could feel his breath, her eyes closing in anticipation. “I think I’d better start here.”
His mouth captured hers, a sweet, gentle kiss, nothing demanding or insistent, but it still made her knees weak.
“That’s a good place to start,” she breathed as they parted.
“But not the best place to finish.” He grinned. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” She had no choice but to follow him down the beach as he led the way around a patch of sea grass and up toward a house. “What is this place?”
“It’s my parent’s place.” He dug into his jeans and plucked out a key.
“Nice.” It was cool inside, the air conditioning on-even the dew-wet mornings in Key West were warm and humid. It was large and spacious and utterly quiet.
He led the way, up a flight of stairs, opening a door to a bathroom. “Would you like a shower? Or maybe a bath?”
The tub was huge, black and marble and Carrie’s eyes lit up when she saw it.
“A bath,” she said immediately.
Doc took some towels out from the linen closet and put them on the counter. “I’ll get us some breakfast.”
She ran a hot bath and added the bubbles sitting at the side of the tub as well, melting into the water. I’m dreaming, she thought, floating lazily, eyes closed, her thoughts filled with Doc. She should have been worried about Maureen-and she was, a little. But the man downstairs cooking them both breakfast had somehow stepped into her life and obliterated everything else.
This is crazy, she decided, washing her hair and rinsing it, then running a soft, fragrant bar of soap over her curves. She was imagining him, his hands on her, touching her like that. This night-morning, now-wasn’t going to end without sex. They both knew it, but the anticipation was exhilarating.
She found a large, fluffy white robe hanging on the back of the door and wrapped herself in it, making her way downstairs. Doc was in the kitchen, the radio on-a blues station-flipping pancakes in one pan and worrying eggs in another.
“It smells fantastic.” She curled herself into one of the kitchen chairs, plucking a banana from a bunch on the table and peeling it. “Can I help?”
“You sit.” He slid pancakes onto their plates and then scrambled eggs. “I’ll serve.”
“That’s a switch.” She smiled as he put a plate in front of her. His dark curls were wet-he’d obviously taken the time to take a shower and he was still wearing boxers, but they were a different pair.
“I hope it’s okay.” He nodded at her food, already halfway through his eggs.
“Yummy,” she agreed, pouring syrup and licking some off her fingers. His gaze was on her, although his fork didn’t stop moving from plate to mouth.
“So why do they call you ‘Doc?’”
“Pre-med.” He swallowed and then grinned. “And I used to, uh…be the guy you could get stuff from.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Used to?”
“Yeah well…” He grabbed a bottle of ketchup and squirted more onto his eggs.
“Once you start med school you really get an education about what better living through chemistry can do to you in the long run.”
She nodded, making a happy noise when she took a bite of pancakes.
“Chocolate chips!”
He smiled. “So what about you? I know you work in the cafeteria. I know you’re graduating next year. What’s your major?”
“Business administration.” She took a sip of orange juice and made a face-too sour after the sugary sweetness of pancakes.
“Really?” His eyebrows went up. “I didn’t figure you for a business major. I thought you’d be into something more creative…art major or something…”
“If I had a choice, I’d be a creative writing major,” she admitted, sopping up syrup with the last of her pancakes.
“Don’t you?” He frowned. “Have a choice, I mean?”
“Not if I want to get a job when I graduate.”
He nodded. “Family pressure?”
The silence stretched for a moment and then she said quietly, “I don’t have one.”
“You don’t have a family?”
“My parents and little brother were killed in a car accident when I was sixteen,”
she explained. She didn’t talk about it often, mostly because she hated the sympathy.
She hated anyone feeling sorry for her, and of course she knew he was going to say it…
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “Thanks.” She was already used to the awkward pause that followed.
Doc cleared his throat and said, “So tell me about you and Maureen.”
“We’re roommates.” She wiped her mouth on a napkin-linen. “Best friends since freshman year…”
“And lovers,” he added.
“Yes,” she admitted, flushing.
“But you’re not just into women…” He looked at her quizzically. “I mean, unless I’m crazy, I get a pretty strong vibe that you like men, too. At least, some of us…”
She smiled. “I’m an equal opportunity lover.” Glancing up at him, she asked,
“Does that bother you?”
“Hell no.” He gave a short bark of a laugh. “After last night, you have to ask?”
She stopped short of rolling her eyes. “Ah, the whole lesbian fantasy thing.”
Grinning, Doc leaned back in his chair. “Well come on…I don’t know a straight guy who doesn’t get off on that.”
Carrie wiped her finger around the edge of her plate, capturing the very last of sweetness. “Talk to James.”
Doc rolled his eyes. “Well, I meant outside of the puritanical future ministers of the world.”
“I’ve never been with a man and a woman at the same time before,” she admitted.
He tipped his chair back down, leaning his elbows on the table. “Did it turn you on?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “You?”
“Being with two women?” he scoffed. “Like I said, might as well die and go to heaven now.”
Carrie frowned. “Don’t you think one woman is enough?”
“She could be…” He laced his hands behind his head and looked at her. “If she was the right one.”
They were playing a game now, cat and mouse. “How would you know?”
“I’d know.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “So you haven’t met her yet…?”
“I didn’t say that.” He laughed. “Come here.” He held a hand out and she took it, letting him pull her toward him. He situated her, standing, between his knees. “Carrie, I have to tell you something.”
“Hm?” She was distracted by the way his hands cupped her hips, even through the thickness of the robe.
“But I don’t want to scare you away again,” he admitted, looking up at her.
“You won’t.” Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair. Standing so close to him, feeling the flex of his thighs against hers, was making her crazy.
“Well…the first thing is…” He looked up at her sheepishly. “The poker game was fixed.”
She gaped at him. “You cheated!”
“Can you ever forgive me?” He looked like she was about to hit him, and she thought about it for a minute. It would serve him right.
She smirked. “What’s the second thing?”
“The second thing is…I can’t stop thinking about you.” He reached out, playing with the tie on her robe, tugging gently. “And it’s taking every ounce of my self-control not to just take you right here, right now.”
