sex, she had to feel some sort of an emotional connection with her partner.
So she’d established a Three-Week Minimum Before Sleeping with a Guy Rule. After some trial and error, she’d found that was the ideal amount of time to require celibacy from someone new. Since then, she’d never felt uncomfortable after sex, and she wanted to keep it that way.
Gathering every ounce of willpower she possessed, she pulled away, gasping. “Tim, stop.”
“Why?” He continued kissing her neck, maintaining that excruciating level of sexual anticipation. “We’re just getting started.”
She twisted away as she caught a twitch of the curtains in the window of the neighbor across the courtyard. “No, we’re not. We’re just finishing. I’m going inside. Alone.”
“Aw,” he said as she put a hand on his chest and pushed him back.
“Believe it or not, I don’t screw around with men within twenty-four hours of meeting them.” Shoot, she really sounded like a prude, but he’d either take it or leave it.
“Come on, it’s been at least twenty-eight.” He flashed her that adorable, aw-shucks grin.
She chuckled as she pulled out her key. “That may be true, but I have a three-week-minimum rule. No exceptions.”
His grin wavered. He looked like a kid who’d been told the school year had been extended into July. “Aw, come on. We’re going to be so good together. Even your subconscious knows it. You snuggled up to me in your sleep this morning. That’s proof.” He rested his forearm against the doorjamb.
“My subconscious knows no such thing. That was...that was self-preservation. I was cold.”
He chuckled. “You know, I don’t think anyone’s ever gotten hypothermia in a hotel.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“How about dinner next Saturday then?”
“I can’t. I’ll be in San Francisco.”
After looking forward to the San Francisco conference for four months, she suddenly regretted having signed up for it. She and Tammy had piggybacked a few more days onto the trip for sightseeing after the conference was over.
A frown wrinkled his forehead. “When do you get back?”
“A week from Wednesday. We can get together then.”
“I can’t wait that long. Are you free tomorrow?”
“I am the day after tomorrow. I have a night shift, but we could have brunch.” She’d be exhausted, but damn it, she’d stay awake for him even if she had to down twenty cups of coffee.
“I’ll pick you up. Is ten okay?”
She nodded.
He gave her his cell phone number, then took a picture of her so her face would show up when she called him.
“And you will be calling,” he said. “We’ll be talking a lot.”
“You’re so sure of yourself.”
“It’s called confidence, baby,” he said with that infectious grin of his.
He gave her one last quick kiss with a tiny bit of tongue, and then turned, jogged to the stairs and actually slid down the inch-wide railing. Her heart was in her throat for the five seconds it took for him to reach the bottom. Anyone else, and they would have been tumbling down the stairs or tipping backward onto the concrete, but when he landed lightly on his feet without any indication of being out of control, she exhaled in relief. She should have known he’d be okay. As a hockey player, he must have phenomenal balance.
“You’re crazy,” she called down to him.
“Crazy about you,” he called back, pointing.
The door to apartment 215 opened and sixty-year-old Louise Crawford stuck her head out. Without missing a beat, Tim blew a kiss to her. When Louise blew one in return, Tim pumped his fist in the air, then finally left. Erin laughed.
Louise was her favorite neighbor. She might be a cliché—a widow with a canary, crocheted cozies for her extra toilet paper and a collection of tiny decorative teapots—except for the fact that she made her living as a phone-sex operator. Erin had been shocked to find that out a little while after she’d moved into
So she’d established a Three-Week Minimum Before Sleeping with a Guy Rule. After some trial and error, she’d found that was the ideal amount of time to require celibacy from someone new. Since then, she’d never felt uncomfortable after sex, and she wanted to keep it that way.
Gathering every ounce of willpower she possessed, she pulled away, gasping. “Tim, stop.”
“Why?” He continued kissing her neck, maintaining that excruciating level of sexual anticipation. “We’re just getting started.”
She twisted away as she caught a twitch of the curtains in the window of the neighbor across the courtyard. “No, we’re not. We’re just finishing. I’m going inside. Alone.”
“Aw,” he said as she put a hand on his chest and pushed him back.
“Believe it or not, I don’t screw around with men within twenty-four hours of meeting them.” Shoot, she really sounded like a prude, but he’d either take it or leave it.
“Come on, it’s been at least twenty-eight.” He flashed her that adorable, aw-shucks grin.
She chuckled as she pulled out her key. “That may be true, but I have a three-week-minimum rule. No exceptions.”
His grin wavered. He looked like a kid who’d been told the school year had been extended into July. “Aw, come on. We’re going to be so good together. Even your subconscious knows it. You snuggled up to me in your sleep this morning. That’s proof.” He rested his forearm against the doorjamb.
“My subconscious knows no such thing. That was...that was self-preservation. I was cold.”
He chuckled. “You know, I don’t think anyone’s ever gotten hypothermia in a hotel.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“How about dinner next Saturday then?”
“I can’t. I’ll be in San Francisco.”
After looking forward to the San Francisco conference for four months, she suddenly regretted having signed up for it. She and Tammy had piggybacked a few more days onto the trip for sightseeing after the conference was over.
A frown wrinkled his forehead. “When do you get back?”
“A week from Wednesday. We can get together then.”
“I can’t wait that long. Are you free tomorrow?”
“I am the day after tomorrow. I have a night shift, but we could have brunch.” She’d be exhausted, but damn it, she’d stay awake for him even if she had to down twenty cups of coffee.
“I’ll pick you up. Is ten okay?”
She nodded.
He gave her his cell phone number, then took a picture of her so her face would show up when she called him.
“And you will be calling,” he said. “We’ll be talking a lot.”
“You’re so sure of yourself.”
“It’s called confidence, baby,” he said with that infectious grin of his.
He gave her one last quick kiss with a tiny bit of tongue, and then turned, jogged to the stairs and actually slid down the inch-wide railing. Her heart was in her throat for the five seconds it took for him to reach the bottom. Anyone else, and they would have been tumbling down the stairs or tipping backward onto the concrete, but when he landed lightly on his feet without any indication of being out of control, she exhaled in relief. She should have known he’d be okay. As a hockey player, he must have phenomenal balance.
“You’re crazy,” she called down to him.
“Crazy about you,” he called back, pointing.
The door to apartment 215 opened and sixty-year-old Louise Crawford stuck her head out. Without missing a beat, Tim blew a kiss to her. When Louise blew one in return, Tim pumped his fist in the air, then finally left. Erin laughed.
Louise was her favorite neighbor. She might be a cliché—a widow with a canary, crocheted cozies for her extra toilet paper and a collection of tiny decorative teapots—except for the fact that she made her living as a phone-sex operator. Erin had been shocked to find that out a little while after she’d moved into
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