together, savoring the burn of arousal between them. Good God, this man could turn her on, even via a computer. More than any other guy had done in person. Another message popped into her in-box. I’m here. I can’t believe it’s you, Suzanne.
She beamed with delight. A real—or virtually real—conversation. Quickly she typed: It’s me. Wow, San Francisco, I’ve only been there once, but it’s a terrific city. She wanted to ask a thousand things. What did he do, and how did he like his job? What were his parents like, did he have siblings? What did he do in his spare time? Did he like animals? What should she ask first?
Her fingers faltered. Mouse regarded her with a steady gaze that seemed almost amused. Like he knew she was all set to gush like a teenager who’d just met a boy who might turn out to be The One.
Suzanne frowned. What was she thinking? This was not a teenage crush, nor was this her Mr. Cleaver—and she didn’t want him to be. She was way too young to be thinking about marriage.
What was it she really wanted from caveman? Jaxon?
Sex. Excitement. Proof she could be sexy.
A new message popped into her in-box. Suzanne? Are you there? Did I go too far? Sorry if I offended you. Now she knew how the conversation was supposed to go. She deleted her unsent comment about San Francisco. Like Jenny had said, skip the travelogue and get to the good stuff. That’s what he’d expect. That’s what he wanted. You didn’t offend me, you got me hot! Just like you do every time I remember what we did in that cave. SEND. His reply was immediate. That was one wild afternoon!
She paused, fingers poised over the keyboard. She’d held herself out to be outrageous69. Could she deliver?
If the gals were only here to help.
The thought of the four of them brainstorming the wording of erotic e-mail made her giggle, which in turn relaxed her. This should be easy. All she had to do was fantasize about being with him.
But first . . . On one side of her desk, family faces smiled at her from picture frames: her mom and dad in the garden; her sister, Bethany, with her husband and two kids surrounded by Christmas clutter. Suzanne turned the photos facedown. Now there was only one face left, this one feline, gazing at her with a quizzical expression. She lifted the grey cat from her desktop and he gave a squall of protest as she set him on the floor. “Sorry, Mouse. Go sleep with Melody and Zorro. Trust me, you don’t want to know about this.” Then she began to type.
Remember how we walked up the hill, holding hands? Both naked, both aroused. Then we slipped inside the cave and it was so dark I could barely see you.
Imagine we’re there. Feel me, Jaxon. We’re kissing and our bodies are pressing together and then, suddenly, you lift me. I grip your shoulders with my arms and lock my legs around your waist, and we’re still kissing. Are you with me?
She clicked SEND.
Waited.
Double-clicked eagerly on his response.
Oh yeah, I’m with you. I’m with you, and as hard as I was that afternoon.
Wow! Was he, or was he just saying that to be sexy?
No, this was her caveman. Of course he was hard. Beautifully, achingly hard. For her.
And she too was intensely turned on, not just by the memory of Crete but at the thought of Jaxon, at his computer in San Francisco, aroused long distance. By her. Her words, and the memories they conjured.
She hadn’t felt such a sense of female power since that afternoon four years ago. Yes, in this moment she really was outrageous69. You are naked, aren’t you? she typed.
His reply came. I could be. Do you want me naked?
Always! She typed back. But undress slowly. Undo your shirt buttons one at a time, and pretend those are my fingers, parting your shirt, slipping inside.
Shirt. Was he even wearing a shirt with buttons? Or maybe a T-shirt? She hadn’t the slightest idea how the guy dressed. He answered, Okay, but what I’d rather be doing is reaching inside your shirt. In my
She beamed with delight. A real—or virtually real—conversation. Quickly she typed: It’s me. Wow, San Francisco, I’ve only been there once, but it’s a terrific city. She wanted to ask a thousand things. What did he do, and how did he like his job? What were his parents like, did he have siblings? What did he do in his spare time? Did he like animals? What should she ask first?
Her fingers faltered. Mouse regarded her with a steady gaze that seemed almost amused. Like he knew she was all set to gush like a teenager who’d just met a boy who might turn out to be The One.
Suzanne frowned. What was she thinking? This was not a teenage crush, nor was this her Mr. Cleaver—and she didn’t want him to be. She was way too young to be thinking about marriage.
What was it she really wanted from caveman? Jaxon?
Sex. Excitement. Proof she could be sexy.
A new message popped into her in-box. Suzanne? Are you there? Did I go too far? Sorry if I offended you. Now she knew how the conversation was supposed to go. She deleted her unsent comment about San Francisco. Like Jenny had said, skip the travelogue and get to the good stuff. That’s what he’d expect. That’s what he wanted. You didn’t offend me, you got me hot! Just like you do every time I remember what we did in that cave. SEND. His reply was immediate. That was one wild afternoon!
She paused, fingers poised over the keyboard. She’d held herself out to be outrageous69. Could she deliver?
If the gals were only here to help.
The thought of the four of them brainstorming the wording of erotic e-mail made her giggle, which in turn relaxed her. This should be easy. All she had to do was fantasize about being with him.
But first . . . On one side of her desk, family faces smiled at her from picture frames: her mom and dad in the garden; her sister, Bethany, with her husband and two kids surrounded by Christmas clutter. Suzanne turned the photos facedown. Now there was only one face left, this one feline, gazing at her with a quizzical expression. She lifted the grey cat from her desktop and he gave a squall of protest as she set him on the floor. “Sorry, Mouse. Go sleep with Melody and Zorro. Trust me, you don’t want to know about this.” Then she began to type.
Remember how we walked up the hill, holding hands? Both naked, both aroused. Then we slipped inside the cave and it was so dark I could barely see you.
Imagine we’re there. Feel me, Jaxon. We’re kissing and our bodies are pressing together and then, suddenly, you lift me. I grip your shoulders with my arms and lock my legs around your waist, and we’re still kissing. Are you with me?
She clicked SEND.
Waited.
Double-clicked eagerly on his response.
Oh yeah, I’m with you. I’m with you, and as hard as I was that afternoon.
Wow! Was he, or was he just saying that to be sexy?
No, this was her caveman. Of course he was hard. Beautifully, achingly hard. For her.
And she too was intensely turned on, not just by the memory of Crete but at the thought of Jaxon, at his computer in San Francisco, aroused long distance. By her. Her words, and the memories they conjured.
She hadn’t felt such a sense of female power since that afternoon four years ago. Yes, in this moment she really was outrageous69. You are naked, aren’t you? she typed.
His reply came. I could be. Do you want me naked?
Always! She typed back. But undress slowly. Undo your shirt buttons one at a time, and pretend those are my fingers, parting your shirt, slipping inside.
Shirt. Was he even wearing a shirt with buttons? Or maybe a T-shirt? She hadn’t the slightest idea how the guy dressed. He answered, Okay, but what I’d rather be doing is reaching inside your shirt. In my
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