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I didn’t like thinking of her sad.
Then again, I didn’t like thinking of her all snobby and smart like she usually was, either.
My mind automatically reverted to thinking about her in other ways. More physical ways. Which actually made it very difficult to study.
I glanced at the door, making sure it was locked, and put the book aside, stretching out on my bed and slipping one hand down my shorts as I folded the other arm back behind my head and let my eyes slide shut.
Thinking about Clara at all had an effect on me, and it was getting harder to ignore.
I fisted myself roughly, recalling the way she’d looked when she’d first stepped into Mom’s house Thursday night, the way her golden hair had fallen down over her delicate collarbone, and how those pouty lips of hers had been painted dark.
What would those lips look like wrapped around me? I pumped harder now, imagining it. Fuck, she was hot. I considered what a good girl she’d always been and wondered what that would be like in the bedroom. As I jerked myself off, I imagined her in my room, leaning forward over my bed with her dress flipped up to reveal that perfect peach of an ass. God, what I wouldn’t give to stand behind her, see her looking over her pale shoulder at me with that teasing glint in her deep ocean eyes. What I wouldn’t do to feel myself sliding inside her, gripping the flesh at her hips and making her scream my name.
That did it. The thought of turning the good girl bad had me spurting over my stomach, and almost immediately feeling a surge of guilt about using her that way, for my own gratification. The guilt was not terribly deep, however. Mostly I felt good. And ready to face her for the engagement party.
I’d shower and dress nicely, as Mom had asked. And then I’d be the perfect gentleman. Clara wouldn’t know what hit her. She’d find herself uncontrollably attracted to me, unable to resist the charms that had won over so many women before her. And then maybe, just maybe, I’d fuck her and finally get the girl out of my system.
But I already knew two things for sure. One, there was no way I’d just charm and fuck a woman like Clara. She was too smart, too classy, and too good for that. And two, if she’d been in my system this long, the odds of fucking her out in one night were slim to none. Clara was a problem I had for good, no matter what else my life held. Some part of me would always have it bad for the smart girl next door.
* * *
“Sylvester, are you ready?” Mom’s voice came through the door, pulling me out of a very deep sleep.
Shit. I was asleep? I definitely hadn’t planned to fall asleep...but I’d been all drowsy after my afternoon slapstick session, and then I’d let myself doze. I looked at my watch. And now it was fifteen after five?
“Uh, yeah, one minute,” I yelled through the door.
“Clara is expecting you soon,” she called, sending my adrenaline spiking even more. I needed a shower, and I’d planned to take my time getting dressed and arriving at Clara’s cool, calm, and collected. Instead I was going to be sweaty, stressed, and whatever the opposite of collected was.
“Yeah, I know, I’ll—” I pulled open the door, planning to sneak to the bathroom before Mom realized I hadn’t showered, but she was still standing right outside the door. “Oh. Wow, you look great, Mom.”
“Don’t flatter me. You haven’t even showered!”
“But you really do look amazing. That dress makes your eyes pop.”
Mom’s mad face slid just an inch. “You’re going to be late.” Some of the anger had left her voice.
“Don’t worry about me. You and Dad go on ahead, and I’ll be right behind you.”
“With Clara and Katie.”
“With Clara and Katie,” I repeated. “And they will be charmed and impressed by my gentlemanly wiles and excellent fashion sense.”
Mom pressed her lips into a line like she didn’t agree with any of this, but then she seemed to realize that time was wasting. I dashed past her into the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, I was locking the front door and heading next door, only about seven minutes behind schedule, and looking pretty fucking good, if I did say so myself. I’d put on my black slacks and a tie, and I had a tailored sport coat in case Mom insisted I needed a jacket.
I rang the doorbell at Clara’s and waited, feeling a surprising twitch of nerves battling in my gut. I hadn’t been nervous around a woman in...well, since high school. Maybe I wasn’t nervous now. Maybe it was all the bacon.
The door opened a couple inches, but Clara didn’t appear in the crack, and then the door slammed shut again.
What the hell?
I was about to ring the doorbell again, when the door opened once more, and this time, I looked a lot farther down than I had the first time and caught a tiny blond head and a sparkling blue eye before the door slammed shut again.
“This must be one of those magic re-closing doors,” I said loudly, sinking to my knees to catch the little imp at eye level next time. “I’ve heard about these, but thought they were only installed at very fancy palaces or—”
The door opened again, only this time, it opened all the way, and I found myself staring at a pair of very sexy tanned legs that ended in navy blue strappy sandals.
