Free Rock'n Tapestries by Shari Copell Page B

involved take-out pizza and the opening of gifts, after
which Mom usually stuck her nose in a book and Dad fell asleep on the couch. 
Tonight I would have someone to talk to, perhaps watch a movie with.  
    Asher
looked rather befuddled when I retrieved the gifts that he’d purchased from my
closet and laid them on the floor in front of him.  “I’m afraid I don’t know
the first thing about wrapping gifts.”
    “Didn’t
I hear you say you wrapped your guitar last year?”
    “Yes,
but no one saw it.  I did a terrible job. I don’t want your mom and dad to
think I’m an idiot.”
    “They
won’t think you’re an idiot just because you can’t wrap a gift. My dad sucks at
it too, so he always hands it off to my mom.  I’ll show you how.”  I picked up
the foot massager, which was in a fairly large box.  “We’ll start with this
one.  It’ll be easy.”
    We
cut, taped, laughed, and wrapped, then laughed some more.  Being his friend was
turning out to be so much easier than being his lover.  I was glad I had taken
Marybeth’s advice. In fact, everything was going better than I had dared to
hope for.  At least until I reached across to get the tape he’d dropped beside
him.
    I
swear I didn’t intend for it to happen.  I was just trying to get the tape.  I
leaned across and got a whiff of him—not Paco Rabanne this time, but something
equally as heady. I turned my head just a little and caught his gaze. His lips
were a scant millimeter from mine.  We both blew out a frustrated breath at the
same time and then...
    In
one smooth Asher-movement—I still don’t know how he did it—he swept across my
waist with one arm and before I knew it, I was lying flat on my back beneath
him, the full length of that long body pressing me into the carpet.
    I
stared up at him for a nanosecond, not breathing, and then he dropped his mouth
over mine with a patently sexual groan.  He slanted those full lips across my
own as though he were starving, grinding hard, pushing me to answer him.  And
to my horror, I did.  Big time.
    It
was the freaking Fourth of July under my skin. Every nerve ending I possessed
was singing the Hallelujah Chorus .  He expertly plundered my mouth with
his tongue, and all I could think was that he still tasted the same. Warm hands
slipped under my shirt, pushing my bra up and over my breasts. Somewhere I
heard a warning that I should stop him, but I went limp instead. His hands completed
a primal electric circuit within me as they brushed over nipples so eager to be
touched they practically leapt into his palms.
    Godgodgod.   How often had I thought of this? 
He still did something to me that I was sure no other man would ever be able to
do.  My arms went around his back, and I pulled him against me.  His cock was
cradled in the junction of my thighs, large and hard even through two layers of
jean material.
    He
pulled his mouth from mine, breaking the kiss with a slight pop .  We
were both panting. I was soaking wet, ready to let him do whatever he wanted to
me.  So much for the resolve to be just friends.
    “I
want you so bad,” he whispered against my mouth, those caramel eyes begging me
for more.
    Reality
hit me like a ton of bricks . Jesus Christ, Chelsea, he’s got you pinned down
on the floor of your bedroom, and your mother is just downstairs!
    “We
can’t. My parents...”
    “Later,
when they’re sleeping. Please.  I have a condom in my wallet...”
    It
felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me with a baseball bat.  Always
ready at the drop of a hat, aren’t you?  I glared up at him.
    “Oh,
let me put on my surprised face,”  I hissed as I bared my teeth at him.
“Get off of me! I’m not going to be just a fuck buddy for you!”
    His
nostrils flared, making him look like a wild animal. I nearly caved.  God, he
was so gorgeous .
    That
look was quickly replaced by one of regret. He sighed and rolled away, running
a hand through his hair as he leaned