even her light feet made audible noises. The door opened with all the subtle silence of fingernails on a blackboard. Vivian winced.
106
Just a little Bit Guilty
by Deborah Smith
"Hi!"she whispered when the door was open enough to see him. She leaned against the doorjamb in weak admiration. Jake wore a snug longjohn top tucked into his gray sweat pants, which were soft and clingy. White socks covered his feet, too. He had more clean, honest sexual charisma than any man she'd ever known.
"I'm sorry to bother you," he whispered coyly. "I just wanted to write down that word you told Aunt Vanessa, before I forget it. That Italian word for milk."
"Oh." She could barely repress her smile. " Latte . L-a-t-te."
"Thanks." He bent over quickly, brushed her lips with a warm kiss and started backing toward his door. The floor was both a chaperone and birth control device. Creak, creak, creak . "Good night, Viv. We can't make a single move up here without Aunt Vanny overhearing. She knows it, too." Vivian made a needy, whimpering sound and shut her door.
Ten minutes later, she pried it open again and slowly slid her feet along the bathroom floor. The floor said ungh uh, ungh uh , with every step. Immediately, she heard Jake's bed frame rattle, and then quick squeaks as he crossed the room. His door inched open, and he looked at her distraughtly.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she murmured. "Oh, I'm so silly. I just wanted to know if the rooster will crow in the morning. Ssssh . Forget it. Good night."—
She turned away, her head down.
Jake's broad hand snaked through the space in the door and circled her forearm. He bit back his laughter. His blue 107
Just a little Bit Guilty
by Deborah Smith
eyes were dark with interest. He inched the door open, and they stared at each other, breathing hard. Then the pressure of his fingers began to draw her toward him. The floor reported every step. She slipped her arms around his neck, and his went around her lower back.
Their mouths met gently, open and giving. He groaned in pleasure and tightened his hands against the top of her hips, urging her to press closer, which she did without hesitation. The hardness she found against his stomach was no surprise. The floor protested again.
"How can we possibly..." she rasped.
"Somehow, someway," he said gruffly. "I'll carry you to my bed."
The room was dark except for a square of light from the open bathroom door. Jake placed her on the bed and stretched out beside her, his hand on her stomach as she drew his head down to hers for another long kiss. Long minutes passed in which they lay perfectly still, just kissing and touching, their hands running over and then under the clothing that separated them. Her robe was now undone. Jake's fingers slid between the sweat shirt and her warm skin then began a tantalizing journey upward.
"You're quiverin'," he said, his lips against her ear.
"I want to move, Jake. You make me want to move, and I can't."
As if a reminder, the bed's box springs squealed. Jake's callused fingertips reached her breasts and rose slowly over them, an inch at a time, barely touching her but igniting tendrils of pure desire at every point of contact. 108
Just a little Bit Guilty
by Deborah Smith
His thumb scrubbed languidly over a nipple. Vivian moaned and arched her back. He legs stretched out toes pointed, and kicked the footboard.
The whole bed shook, and the headboard whacked the wall.
"Jake," she whispered. "This is torture. And not in a good way." He nodded against her shoulder, withdrew his hand, and drew her quickly, impatiently against him so they both lay on their sides. The bed shuddered and thumped the wall again. Breathing hard, he buried his face in her hair, and she eased one leg over his hips.
Five seconds later they heard Aunt Vanessa coming up the stairs.
"What do we do now?" Vivian begged. "She'll hear me if I try to go back." "Stay here." A delicate knock sounded at Jake's door. He looked down at Vivian
106
Just a little Bit Guilty
by Deborah Smith
"Hi!"she whispered when the door was open enough to see him. She leaned against the doorjamb in weak admiration. Jake wore a snug longjohn top tucked into his gray sweat pants, which were soft and clingy. White socks covered his feet, too. He had more clean, honest sexual charisma than any man she'd ever known.
"I'm sorry to bother you," he whispered coyly. "I just wanted to write down that word you told Aunt Vanessa, before I forget it. That Italian word for milk."
"Oh." She could barely repress her smile. " Latte . L-a-t-te."
"Thanks." He bent over quickly, brushed her lips with a warm kiss and started backing toward his door. The floor was both a chaperone and birth control device. Creak, creak, creak . "Good night, Viv. We can't make a single move up here without Aunt Vanny overhearing. She knows it, too." Vivian made a needy, whimpering sound and shut her door.
Ten minutes later, she pried it open again and slowly slid her feet along the bathroom floor. The floor said ungh uh, ungh uh , with every step. Immediately, she heard Jake's bed frame rattle, and then quick squeaks as he crossed the room. His door inched open, and he looked at her distraughtly.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she murmured. "Oh, I'm so silly. I just wanted to know if the rooster will crow in the morning. Ssssh . Forget it. Good night."—
She turned away, her head down.
Jake's broad hand snaked through the space in the door and circled her forearm. He bit back his laughter. His blue 107
Just a little Bit Guilty
by Deborah Smith
eyes were dark with interest. He inched the door open, and they stared at each other, breathing hard. Then the pressure of his fingers began to draw her toward him. The floor reported every step. She slipped her arms around his neck, and his went around her lower back.
Their mouths met gently, open and giving. He groaned in pleasure and tightened his hands against the top of her hips, urging her to press closer, which she did without hesitation. The hardness she found against his stomach was no surprise. The floor protested again.
"How can we possibly..." she rasped.
"Somehow, someway," he said gruffly. "I'll carry you to my bed."
The room was dark except for a square of light from the open bathroom door. Jake placed her on the bed and stretched out beside her, his hand on her stomach as she drew his head down to hers for another long kiss. Long minutes passed in which they lay perfectly still, just kissing and touching, their hands running over and then under the clothing that separated them. Her robe was now undone. Jake's fingers slid between the sweat shirt and her warm skin then began a tantalizing journey upward.
"You're quiverin'," he said, his lips against her ear.
"I want to move, Jake. You make me want to move, and I can't."
As if a reminder, the bed's box springs squealed. Jake's callused fingertips reached her breasts and rose slowly over them, an inch at a time, barely touching her but igniting tendrils of pure desire at every point of contact. 108
Just a little Bit Guilty
by Deborah Smith
His thumb scrubbed languidly over a nipple. Vivian moaned and arched her back. He legs stretched out toes pointed, and kicked the footboard.
The whole bed shook, and the headboard whacked the wall.
"Jake," she whispered. "This is torture. And not in a good way." He nodded against her shoulder, withdrew his hand, and drew her quickly, impatiently against him so they both lay on their sides. The bed shuddered and thumped the wall again. Breathing hard, he buried his face in her hair, and she eased one leg over his hips.
Five seconds later they heard Aunt Vanessa coming up the stairs.
"What do we do now?" Vivian begged. "She'll hear me if I try to go back." "Stay here." A delicate knock sounded at Jake's door. He looked down at Vivian
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