Read Online No Regrets by Claire Kent - Free Book Online Page B

comfortable than the thought of birthday spankings.
    He poured out glasses of Merlot, and we went to the couch to sit down.
    “So how old are you?”
    I made a face, but I was determined not to make a big deal about something that just wasn’t. “Thirty-nine.”
    “Are you all depressed about it?” He didn’t look surprised or appalled by my age. Just curious.
    I shook my head. “No. It’s just a number. I don’t feel any different.” I peered at him closely. “Am I older than you thought?”
    “I hadn’t even thought about how old you were. What does it matter to me? Your age doesn’t affect how hot you are.”
    Well, that was refreshingly honest. And kind of nice to hear. “It’s good to know you have your priorities in order. What about you?”
    His eyebrows drew tighter. “What about me?”
    “How old are you?”
    “I promise you that my age doesn’t affect how hot I am either.”
    I relaxed back against the couch, enjoying the repartee. “I believe you. But you didn’t answer my question.”
    “What does it matter?”
    I was so surprised by his reluctance to tell me that I straightened up. “It doesn’t really matter, since I’m pretty sure you’re of legal age for sex. But I want to know.”
    “I’m definitely of legal age.” His put his glass down and leaned forward. “And speaking of sex…” he began in a thicker voice.
    The tone gave me shivers, but I persisted, “Why are you being so stubborn about it? I know I’ve got to be older than you, but I told you how old I am.”
    “How old do you think I am?”
    “So we’re playing that game, are we? Fine. Twenty-three.”
    He made a choked sound and stared at me, “No. I’m older than that.”
    I couldn’t hold back my laughter at his horrified face.
    “Damn it, you weren’t serious,” he growled.
    My whole body was shaking with amusement and a kind of pride at having bested him at verbal play—which I’d discovered was no small feat. “Of course, I wasn’t serious. Did you think I’d hook up with a guy just out of college?” My amusement faded into a smile. “It takes a certain level of maturity for a guy to even be sexy to me.”
    “And I meet that level of maturity?”
    “Oh, yeah.”
    “Good.” He took the glass of wine out of my hand too. “Other than that, age doesn’t matter.” He leaned forward to kiss me.
    I leaned back. “Tell me how old you are first.”
    “I make it a point to never answer questions that are asked purely out of nosiness.” He leaned forward again, his breath blowing against my skin.
    I put a hand on his chest. “And I make a point of not kissing guys who won’t answer my nosy questions.”
    “Then we’re at an impasse.”
    “I guess so.”
    “We’ll see who caves first.” He reached out to stroke my neck down to my shoulders, and I shivered at the touch on my skin.
    “I told you that I don’t kiss guys who won’t—“
    “I’m not kissing you.” He reached for me again, and before I could think to object, he had me laid back on the couch so he could caress me. Even over my clothes, the touch aroused me before I knew to expect it.
    Realizing I was quickly losing this little game, I tried to swat his hands away. So we ended up having a playful wrestling match until he had me trapped on my back on the couch, his body over mine.
    His hands had moved up my sides, just at my ribs—but now they seemed to linger just on the edge of my breasts. The playfulness of before faded beneath an entirely different kind of pull.
    I arched my back up, pushing my breasts against the heels of his hands. And I inhaled with a shuddering wave of desire.
    Josh seemed to recognize the shift in mood too, and his hands grew still. His blue eyes ignited as he gazed down at my body beneath his and then back up to meet my eyes.
    We stared at each other for a long, tense moment—the attraction so thick and heavy, it held me trapped in place.
    Then Josh muttered, “Fuck, Leslie.” And he leaned down