His Good Girl Page 4

  It actually hadn't even crossed my mind. We sat down at a table for two in the back of the dimly lit bar and ordered a couple of drinks—Coors for him, and a fruity cocktail for me—and were making small talk as a number of people embarrassed themselves on stage. Most were embarrassingly off-key, but not one of them seemed to mind. Everyone was, in fact, hooting with laughter as they tried to sing along to the song they'd chosen. It was entertaining to watch, but had I known that Kevin would insist I give it a go myself, I would have walked out before our drink order had even arrived.

  "I think it would be fun," he cajoled, squeezing my hand in encouragement.

  "Easy for you to say," I muttered.

  "If you really don't want to…"

  He trailed off, but with those puppy dog brown eyes of his, he had me, and he probably knew it by the way I was squirming in my seat. "If I'm going to go up there—" I gestured to the stage where a busty redhead was belting out, 'Only Girl', "I'm going to need a lot more alcohol."

  "And here was me thinking you weren't the drinking type. I thought that, as a nurse, you'd know better." He grinned at me as he signaled for our waitress. Once she was within earshot he said, "Another for the lady."

  Kevin told me about himself as I sipped my cocktail. He told me about growing up in Michigan with a sister almost a decade younger, about his college days in the Delta Gamma fraternity—he claimed he'd been their equivalent of a water boy, but I didn't buy it—and about moving to Georgia. I stayed involved in the conversation, mostly listening, although I did offer a comment here and there. But even as we talked, I couldn't help but glance back at the stage every so often and swallow hard.

  Why had I ever agreed to go and sing? I didn't think of myself as much of a singer, not that that even mattered. Even if I had been, my stage fright was so terrible that I wanted to vomit just thinking about getting up there. Of course, I was sure Kevin would let me off the hook, certain that he would never say another word about it if I chickened out. But for some reason even I didn't really understand, I didn't want to let him down.

  "Another?" he asked, noticing my second empty glass.

  It was tempting to delay the inevitable, but with a small smile, I shook my head. "I guess I'll go face the music."

  "Cara, listen, if—"

  "No, don't try to talk me out of it!" I giggled uneasily. "I'm already nervous enough as it is!"

  He leaned across the table and grabbed my hand, giving it a squeeze that helped loosen my shoulders just the slightest bit. "Listen to me; you don't have to go up there. But I think you're someone who could use a boost of self-confidence, and if facing your fear could do that, then it's worth it, right?" he said.

  I tilted my head to the side as I pondered his words. It was funny—I'd always considered myself a shy person, not necessarily an insecure one, but Kevin seemed able to strip away all the parts of me I would keep secret, and look straight into the core. It was a frightening thing, being that vulnerable in front of someone, but comforting too; knowing that he liked me despite all of the rough edges he'd seen. "Yes, I guess you're right."

  "We can always come back another night, if you'd rather."

  I smiled at the way he'd said 'we', not 'you', and wondered when I, too, had begun to think of us as a 'we'. We'd known each other for such a short time, yet already my relationship with him felt deeper and more genuine than any I'd ever had before. "No, that's okay. I think I'm ready," I said.

  "Are you sure? I wasn't trying to pressure you into anything."

  His words made me think of the other thing I'd been worried about being pressured into tonight, and I couldn't help but smile. "No, I'm sure." I let go of his hand and rose to my feet, casting another anxious glance at the stage.

  Kevin surprised me by standing too, but before I could question him he'd stepped toward me, cupped my face gently in his hands, and kissed me in a soft, tender way that left my heart pounding hard in my chest and my cheeks glowing. "Good luck," he murmured.

  I found I was too tongue-tied to speak and offered a slow, contented smile instead. Though I wasn't certain it had been his intent, the kiss had relaxed me, and I walked toward the stage with a light heart. Only when I began to climb the stairs did I feel a bit of apprehension start to creep in, but all I had to do was glance back at Kevin, who was standing with his thumbs in his pockets as he watched me. When he caught me looking his way, he gave me a thumbs up that had me bouncing up the rest of the way.

  The stage had been empty for at least three songs now, so as I walked on I could feel the gaze of the crowd begin to shift my way; some curious, perhaps, others indifferent. It didn't matter—the only eyes I could feel were Kevin's, and I knew that he would be beaming at me when I was done no matter what.

  I'd never been the type of girl who had any interest in being in front of others. I'd almost chickened out of my own high school graduation for that same reason. By the time nursing school came around, I'd been too tired to care. But now, knowing that Kevin was watching and rooting for me, I found that I had a confidence I hadn't known I'd possessed before.

  "What song, sweetheart?" the beefy, middle-aged man by the karaoke machine asked.

  "Do you have 'Strawberry Wine'?" I asked automatically. Though I'd grown up singing it in the shower, it wasn't a particularly sentimental song for me—but it was the only one I was sure I knew all the words to. I was afraid I'd lose my nerve if I had to keep glancing at the karaoke machine screen.

  "Sure, hon," he replied, chuckling softly to himself.

  I closed my eyes tightly, trying to pretend I was back at home with a blow-dryer in my hand rather than a microphone. I tried to imagine that I was all alone, with no one there save Kevin, and that he wouldn't care how awful I sounded. When the first soft strains of the music began to float through the air, I tensed, but when I opened my eyes and saw him still standing there, looking right at me, everything else really did melt away. I began to sing; off-key in the beginning, but I didn't care.

  The song had always been a favorite of my mama's, about a girl experiencing her first romance. As I sang, looking at Kevin as my only audience, I felt a fluttering sensation that started in my stomach and traveled all the way down to my pulsing sex. Was it possible that I was in love? Was it possible that he felt the same way about me? It seemed too soon to make such declarations—though not, according to Julie, too soon to hop under the sheets and fuck like rabbits—but I knew in a way that touched me to the core that it was true.

  When the song ended, I smiled at the polite applause and put the microphone back. I felt as though I was floating on a cloud as I walked back to my date, the earlier bout of nerves forgotten. It wasn't every day that you realized you were in love, and now that I had done just that, I was going to savor every moment with him.

  "That was really, really good," he enthused, pulling me into his arms for a hug when I got closer.

  "No, it wasn't," I protested with a laugh. "You're just tone-deaf."

  "Hey, now," he scolded as he gave me a squeeze. "I know good singing when I hear it."

  Deciding that I'd rather enjoy the warmth of his embrace than argue, I let the matter drop. He held on to me for a moment longer before letting me go. "Another drink?"

  "Actually… I was thinking we could go back to my place." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, but I wouldn't have taken them back for anything.

  Kevin arched a dark brow and raised a hand, running it through his brown hair. "Are you sure about that?"

  I dropped my eyes, hearing the question in his voice and knowing that he understood me perfectly well. "Well, if you wanted to…"

  "Do you want to?"

  I flushed even hotter at his question, certain that every customer in the bar knew what we were talking about just by glancing at me. "Well, just, a friend of mine… she said that… that, you know, you'd expect…"

  "Let's get out of here."

  My heart leapt into my throat and began to pound with excitement, bu
t when my eyes went to his face he wasn't smiling as I'd expected. In fact, he looked downright stern. Before I could assess his expression further, he took my hand and led me to the bar to pay our tab. Neither of us said a word as we walked out together and went to his car. He opened the door to let me in, and other than a soft, "Thank you," which he acknowledged with a nod, I kept quiet.

  With each passing moment I became more and more uncertain. Had I said something wrong? I kept sneaking glances at him, but Kevin kept his eyes firmly on the road.

  "Is that the kind of guy you think I am?" he asked at last.

  It took a moment for his question to register, and I didn't look at him as I answered. "I'm sorry. I don't understand."

  "Okay, go ahead and enlighten me on exactly what your friend said."

  "Um…" Suddenly, it occurred to me that it probably hadn't been such a good idea to mention Julie at all. "Ah, well, she just said, with it being the third date and all…"

  "That it was time to hop into the sack?"

  The wryness in his voice made me risk a glance at him, but he still wasn't looking at me. The ironic smile at the curve of his lips made me swallow hard. This wasn't going the way I'd expected at all.

  "Is that it, Cara?" he went on.

  "Well… not exactly."

  "Cara?" he prompted, his voice growing stern.

  "Yes—sir," I added, for some reason feeling like it was the right thing to do.

  "I see. And what did I ever do to make you think I'm that kind of guy?"

  "I, um…"

  "I like you a lot, Cara, but right now I'm struggling to think of what I could have said or done to make you think I have so little respect for you."

  I didn't know what to say to that, so I simply squirmed in the seat, looking out the window and hoping we'd get to my house soon so I could lock myself in my bedroom and have a good cry.

  Kevin seemed content to leave me to my thoughts, and neither of us spoke again until we reached my apartment. I was morose by the time we got there, and having a hard time swallowing the lump in my throat. It looked like I'd ruined everything by my inability to keep my mouth shut. I couldn't help but wonder how differently things would have worked out if I'd just put my hand on his thigh and whispered, "My place," in his ear without mentioning my coworker. Chances were that we'd be rushing into the house right now, unable to keep our hands off each other.

  That image just made his current reaction harder to take, so I pushed it away. Kevin got out of the car and walked around to my side to let me out. I tried to smile at him, but it fell flat.

  "Well, thanks for tonight. I-I had a good time," I stammered.

  "I'll walk you in."

  I was surprised by the offer, but didn't want to say anything to spoil it, so I simply nodded. My hands were shaking as I unlocked the door and I silently cursed myself and hoped that he hadn't noticed. I didn't imagine he'd stay long, and then I could drown my sorrows with a chick flick and a tub of ice cream, just like every other girl who'd gotten dumped because she'd put her foot in her mouth. It really sucked, too, because I was sure he was the perfect guy. Or, at least, perfect for me. Now I'd ruined it, and there wasn't much I could do about it but feel sorry for myself, which I intended to start doing the moment he left.

  "Can we talk?" he said.

  "Oh, um… sure." I answered without much enthusiasm. I gestured toward the couch and we both began to move toward it. I let him sit first so I could choose the other end, sitting as far away from him as possible. I'd thought I was safe, but Kevin simply moved, closing the distance between us. I didn't know how much longer I could take being this close to him—able to feel the heat of his body and smell the spicy, seductive scent of his cologne—without crying.

  "I just want you to tell me what I've done wrong," he said gently.

  "You haven't done anything wrong," I protested, my heart wrenching in my chest.

  "That's clearly not true. I've tried to show you that I intend to be a gentleman; that I care about you and respect you, but obviously you need something else from me, so just tell me what it is."

  "Kevin," I groaned, his name a plea on my lips. "Please, can't we just forget this whole thing? I thought you might want to… I mean, I want… I'd like…" I took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. "Please, just forget I said anything. It was stupid."

  He looked at me with those chocolate brown eyes of his and for a moment I felt as though he could see down into the very depths of my soul. "I wouldn't be able to forget it if I tried," he said. "I think you are probably the most beautiful person I've ever met, inside and out. Now why don't you see yourself that way?"

  I could only offer a limp shrug.

  "No, I mean it. You're so sweet and kind and fun to be around. I know I'm not the only person to ever tell you this."

  "The only one in a long time," I answered softly, my eyes downcast.

  He paused only for an instant. "Okay, well let me tell you what else I see: you also seem to have this vulnerable side to you that doesn't seem altogether healthy. I only wish I knew what to do to help you with it."

  My eyes leapt to his face as he got up from the couch. "You're leaving?"

  "I've said what I came to say, yes. Now, I'm going to let myself out and give you some time to think."

  "But I don't want you to leave!" The words were out of my mouth before I had a chance to assess how desperate and needy they sounded.

  "I really need to get going, Cara," he said.

  "I don't understand. Why?" I sounded more pitiful every time I opened my mouth, but I could forgive myself that if only he would stay.

  "Because if I stay I'm not going to be able to keep myself from spanking you."

  My mouth literally dropped open. A million things whirled in my head, one right after the other, none of them worth saying.

  "Is every mirror in your house broken?" he asked in exasperation, not seeming to notice the effect his statement had had on me. "Come on. Let's go find out."

  When he offered me his hand, I should have shaken my head. I should have protested, or said nothing at all. After all, he'd just threatened to spank me, so it wasn't like I could be surprised by what happened next.

  Still, I hardly paused for a beat before putting my hand in his. With a gentle tug, he had me on my feet. "Where's the bathroom?" he asked.

  "We don't really have to—"

  "We do," he insisted, giving my hand a little squeeze.

  With a laugh that was partly nervous and partly thinking how ridiculous this was, I pointed him down the hallway. He tugged on my hand as we walked the short distance to my bathroom. Then he turned on the light and pulled me inside, still holding on to my hand.

  "Perfect," he pronounced, and I knew he must have spotted the full-length mirror propped up beside the bath tub. "It looks like it works to me, but let's be sure."

  Then, to my surprise, he shut the door behind us and positioned me so I could see my reflection perfectly. I stared up at the ceiling, feeling my face heat with embarrassment. Does he really think I'm just going to stand here and stare at myself? I found that I was immediately distracted from my embarrassment—albeit temporarily—when I felt him begin to pull my jeans down. "What are you—" The words died on my lips when I realized he'd told me already. But the thought that he was actually going to do it… my stomach was in knots. How was it possible that it seemed so embarrassing and so erotic all at once? Yet I couldn't deny that it was; I could feel my panties dampening with each gentle tug that worked my jeans further down my hips, and in a matter of moments he would be able to see it, too.

  Why should I be embarrassed about it, though? I'd been prepared to have him see everything there was to see mere minutes ago—albeit for a far more alluring reason. Once the jeans were down past my hips, he hooked his thumbs into my panties and slowly began to peel them down as well. I'd never felt so much patience and tenderness in a man's touch before, and even though I closed my eyes as I leaned against him, I was sure the mirror
would reveal that my expression was one of pure ecstasy.

  "Now, now," he tsked in my ear. "The whole point of this was to keep your eyes open."

  As soon as my lids lazily fluttered open, I felt his hard palm connect with my naked backside, making me gasp and jump. "Kevin! That hurts!"

  "That's the idea, honey," he told me, brushing a lock of my blonde hair away from my face and tucking it behind my ear. "It's supposed to hurt… to teach you a lesson."

  "What kind of lesson?" I demanded, a bit petulantly.

  "That you're beautiful and intelligent and sweet, and need to stop selling yourself so short." His husky whisper in my ear was a sharp contrast to the stinging ache his hand imparted when it slapped my bottom a second and then a third time.

  "And this is supposed to show me that?"

  "Well, if nothing else, it shows you how I feel about your being so hard on yourself." His hand came crashing down again and again, as if to illustrate his words.

  My eyes widened with each and every smack. I bit my lip to keep from crying out until my flesh turned tender beneath my teeth. It was one thing to see myself—the way I hopped just a little every time his hand spanked my tender orbs, the way my cheeks flushed from the effort of not making a sound—but it would be quite another to hear it.

  However, as the barrage of spanks continued, his hand impacting my flesh time after time, it became impossible to stay silent. Finally, all I could do was give into the quivers and the moans of pain. I'd hoped that, once I was crying, he would stop—but if anything the intensity seemed to go up a notch. Watching Kevin in the mirror as he pulled his hand back to land a hard spank on my bottom was terrifying. I could see it coming, and yet I felt powerless to stop it. Not because he was a jerk who wouldn't stop if I asked him to—in fact I was perfectly confident that he would—but because this spanking held some sort of fascination for me, I couldn't bring myself to tell him to stop.

  It was strange: my poor blistered butt ached from the unfamiliar attention, and yet the flush in my cheeks and the vibrancy in my eyes weren't purely from the tears rolling down my face, either. I could feel the heat pulsing between my legs, the throbbing in my pussy that told me it had gone too long, far too long, without attention. I wanted Kevin to be the one to fulfill that need more than I'd ever wanted anything.