Free Tease by C. D. Reiss Page B

together to suppress a smile that would have mortified me in front of Darren and Gabby.
    “You clean up nice,” I said.
    “Obviously you were intending to clean up in that old thing as well.”
    I snapped my bag shut. “Good thing the Salvation Army was open late.”
    He held out his hand, and we laced our fingers together.
    “You met Darren, I guess?”
    “Yes. He mentioned his shotgun.”
    “This is Gabby.”
    “Nice to meet you,” Jonathan said.
    “Hi.”
    “Okay, great,” I said. “Let’s go.” I pulled him out the door. I saw Lil standing outside the Bentley, which looked damn near vertical parked on my hill.
    Darren stood in the door and wagged his finger. “Remember what we talked about. Not a minute later, young man.”
    Jonathan walked backward a step and waved to Darren. “Eleven tomorrow morning, yes, sir.”
    “Hi, Lil,” I said. “How did you enjoy my hill?”
    “Quite a ride,” she said. “I want to try it in the Jag.”
    “Be careful.”
    “I was born careful, miss.” She opened the door for us. I slid in, and Jonathan got in right after and sat facing me. Behind him, the partition between us and Lil was shut. We sat quietly for ten seconds. My eyes must have eaten him alive as much as his undressed me. By the time the car started rolling, we were on each other, lips searching, tongues twisting, hands testing how far they could get before we risked wrinkles and stains.
    He put his hands up my skirt, and when he felt the garter, he whispered oh into my ear. But I cringed because he’d gone up high enough to touch the bruises. He pulled back and said, “Let me see.”
    I pulled the skirt to the top of the stockings.
    “Monica, are you shy all of a sudden?”
    “Don’t freak out.”
    “I guarantee you I’ll freak out.” His tone told me he didn’t mean “freak out” in the same way I did.
    I pulled the skirt up to reveal the black silk garters, and though the fronts of my legs were fine, he could definitely see the damaged insides.
    “I did this?”
    “We did it. I shouldn’t have worn garters, but they were so pretty.”
    “Turn around.”
    I turned to face the back window, my knees on the seat cushion, my hands on the back of the seat, steadying me. He touched me when he pulled my skirt up, his fingers barely grazing my skin. He didn’t hurt me, but the anticipation of pain made me flinch anyway. He kissed where I hurt, lips soft and yielding. “I’m sorry,” he said as he kissed the backs of my thighs.
    “Don’t be. It was worth it.” He pulled my dress down and gently guided me back to sitting. I took his hands. “I just got a little bruised, but I was never scared.”
     “I feel terrible.” His elbows rested on his knees, a posture I remembered from the morning I saw him talking to his ex-wife on the back patio. His eyes searched mine, looking for any hidden anger.
    “Okay, stop it. Really. I’ve never had sex like that in my life. The bruises will heal. My brain chemistry is what’s totally fucked.”
    “That’s a high compliment. I should say thank you first.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    He held his hands over my thighs. “I’m afraid to touch them.”
    “Do it.”
    “I’m going to San Francisco for a few days. By the time I get back, these should be healed enough I won’t have to worry about hurting you.”
    “I remember asking for it.”
    “God,” he whispered, “so do I.”
    He put his hands on my neck and kissed me all the way to the museum.

CHAPTER 12
    We walked hand in hand to the L.A. Mod from the parking lot, taking an extra turn around the block. His dry palm against mine, the tracks of his thumb drawing circles on the base of my wrist, and the sound of his voice seemed to have a direct line to the heat in my crotch, which pulsed to its own beat after the make out session in the car. 
    The museum had been built on one of the busiest streets in the city, set back to leave room for a granite courtyard flanked by steps on either side