Quick Study - By Gretchen Galway Page 0,2

know about him through his sister. He wasn’t really a stranger. Mary was one of those supermothers, always volunteering at the school, getting to know everyone in her children’s lives and sharing everything about her own.

They stood in the middle of the drab little room scattered with plastic trucks and Matchbox cars, staring at each other.

He unzipped his jacket. “Do you know my sister, Mary? Elijah’s mom?”

Her head shook a quick, short no. Then she took a deep breath, hooked her fingers over the bottom of her t-shirt, the only thing she was wearing, and pulled it up over her head.

Chapter 2

All the blood left Paul’s brain. He must have closed the door behind him because he could feel the knob stabbing him in the small of his back.

She was biting her full bottom lip, looking at the floor, until her gaze crept up to his face. His body began to burn, admiring her. She had brown eyes with thick lashes, creamy cheeks around that hot, pink mouth, a dimpled chin, and soft-looking skin down her neck and collarbones that disappeared into a skimpy black bra that presented overflowing, round breasts to him like scoops of Häagen-Dazs.

“Bonnie,” she said. “My name is Bonnie.”

He strode over to her and ran the tips of his fingers across one creamy breast while his other hand slid around the curve of her spine to pull her firmly against him. He was hard. His jeans felt like a tourniquet.

“Take off my pants,” he said, just because he couldn’t think clearly enough to be romantic, and not expecting her to do it.

Her eyes widened, her head tilted to the side, then her smooth fingers slipped under the waistband of his jeans and wriggled down to tickle the base of his cock.

He was going to come in his pants.

She yanked his jeans open. “What about the coffee?” she whispered.

“Uh,” he said.

She flattened her palms against his bare skin, slid them around his waist and cupped his ass in her hands, her breasts still in the bra pressing against his chest as she ground herself against him. He groaned and gazed down at the bare tops of her breasts swelling over his black leather jacket, then gripped her shoulders to push her away to arms length before he embarrassed himself and wasted a truly heaven-sent opportunity.

“Maybe we should slow down,” he said, trying to smile but panting instead.

She gave him a coy grin and pulled away completely. “I’ll get the coffee started.” She walked away before he could catch her and apologize.

Slow down? Was he insane?

The room felt cold without her. He took a deep breath and looked around. It really was cold, even in his jacket, which he was still wearing, with his jeans half open and his dick straining through his boxers. He tore off his jacket and readjusted his pants.

The whine of the coffee grinder split the silence and he draped his jacket over a sad-looking IKEA recliner near the wall furnace. He read the thermostat and frowned. It was fifty-seven degrees, the paint-spattered old heater cold and silent. Not sure he should interfere but unwilling to be distracted by his ass freezing off, he knelt down to check the pilot under the plate near the floor. He popped open the ancient cover, peered through the cobwebs, and confirmed the pilot was out.

“Oh, my,” she said.

He jerked around to face her from his position on the floor. On his hands and knees with his butt in the air.

She stood there watching, eyes wide, lovely and half-naked.

He cleared his throat. “Your pilot is out. Mind if I light it?”

The amusement in her eyes faded and the temperature in the room fell another few degrees. “I’m sorry. It’s freezing in here, isn’t it?”

Regretting the distraction he’d initiated, Paul shrugged and smiled. “It’s fine. I just thought you might need some help lighting it.” He got to his feet and didn’t say out loud what he suspected was the truth, that she couldn’t afford the PG&E bill.

“I just never got around to it, I guess.” She didn’t meet his eyes.

He didn’t say any more about it, just got to his feet to get closer to her. He traced his index finger along her jaw, then bent down to brush his lips along the peachy fuzz at her temple. Her dark curls were soft and springy and smelled really, really good. More flowers. Sweet, warm.

The kettle whistled and she pulled away. “Just a sec.”

He frowned after her, confused by