Free Indecent Suggestion by Elizabeth Bevarly

go back up right now. It’s ten o’clock, when our original appointment was scheduled. She’d have time to see us again for another session.”
    “No way,” Turner said decisively. “I’m not going through that hoodoo again. If it didn’t work once, doing it again won’t make any difference.”
    She eyed him thoughtfully for a moment before asking, “What do you think she meant by all that ‘go home and do laundry’ stuff?”
    “Got me,” he replied.
    Becca’s disappointment was obvious. “I was so sure it would work,” she said. “Now what are we going to do?”
    Turner glanced up the street, at a drugstore on the corner. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going for a pack of smokes.” He started off, but Becca’s hand on his arm halted him.
    “Wait,” she said.
    “What?” he asked, turning around to face her.
    “Maybe we could still try to quit on our own. Cold turkey.”
    He expelled an irritated sigh. “We tried that already, remember? Back in college. It was pointless.”
    “But we were kids then,” she reminded him. “We’d do better now. We’re grown-ups. We have more stamina.”
    Oh, she had to use a word like stamina, Turner thought. Yeah, he’d love to show her some stamina now. Except not where it came to quitting smoking. On the contrary, he wanted to start smoking with her. And there wouldn’t be a cigarette in sight when he did. Screw the statistics that said college boys had more stamina than guys his age.Turner could prove it all night to Becca if she gave him half a chance.
    Oh, yeah, baby. I got your stamina right here.
    “Turner?” she said, bringing him out of his reverie. His daydream. Fantasy. Lurid desire. Whatever.
    “What?” he asked, unable to curb his irritability.
    “You look kind of…”
    “What?” he demanded again, even more grouchily this time.
    But instead of answering him, Becca began to nibble her bottom lip worriedly. Oh, hell. He hated it when she did that. Because it made him want to nibble her bottom lip, too. And still she had her fingers curled so tentatively—and so temptingly—into his forearm, making him want to curl his fingers less tentatively—and more temptingly—into parts of her.
    Dammit, why did she have to value their friendship so much? Why couldn’t she dislike him enough to become sexually involved with him? Life was so freakin’ unfair.
    “I’m sorry,” he murmured, gentling both his voice and his attitude. “I just get a little irritable when I go too long without smoking.” And he wasn’t just talking about cigarettes there, either. It had been too long since he’d smoked up the sheets with a woman, too. Which, now that he thought about it, could also be contributing to his need for cigarettes lately. Not to mention compounding his need for Becca.
    “Well, since you’re already irritable,” she said, “what’s the harm of trying to go longer between cigarettes? We don’t have to go cold turkey yet. Just cut back. How about that?”
    God, she was so beautiful, he thought, scarcely hearing her question. Behind her, a streetwise maple tree was still clinging to what was left of its reds and golds and oranges, and the sun overhead lit reddish-gold fires in Becca’s tawny hair. The cool autumn breeze danced with the silky locks, nudging a few errant strands over her shoulder and into her eyes. His fingers itched to reach up and tuck the wayward tresses behind her ear, but she beat him to it, carelessly flipping her hair back on her own.
    He’d touched that hair himself, he recalled, had sifted it through his fingers and buried his hands in it. And he’d touched other parts of Becca, too. Parts he wouldn’t mind exploring again, though years had passed since the last time it happened. He’d touched his lips to hers, had tasted her deeply. He’d held her breast in the palm of his hand, and his fingers had been slick with the damp heat of her. Maybe it had only happened a few times, and maybe only because