Quick Study - By Gretchen Galway Page 0,3

the mixed messages he was getting. Hot, shy, fast, slow. He still didn’t know her full name and was struggling to think clearly without any blood in his brain. For the first time since he’d been struck by the sight of her at the preschool, he wondered if he should get his head out of his pants and fix the code the guys in Sunnyvale were after him to finish. He had a mortgage now. Couldn’t just slack off because he worked from home. And the toys around the apartment reminded him what kind of fire he was messing with.

But before he could follow that thought to a respectable conclusion, she was back with two mismatched coffee mugs and heading for a sagging futon under the window. She sat down and smiled at him, balancing one mug on each knee until he joined her, no coffee table in sight, which made him wonder if they were actually going to have to drink the damn coffee before getting back to business.

“Thanks.” He brought the mug to his lips, prepared to scald his throat rather than risk too many minutes to get sensible.

She stared at him, then leaned down to set her untouched mug right on the carpet, never looking away. He raised his eyebrows, lowered the mug away from his mouth and handed it to her. She set it next to hers.

He was finding it difficult to breathe, gazing at all the naked woman flesh pinched by a black bra that was blissfully inadequate for such great breasts. They were heaving up and down under her own fast breathing, and any other thoughts about code, sisters, rugrats, or fathers disappeared when he dipped his head to lick the shadow of her nipple right through the fabric. The lace was scratchy under his tongue. He nibbled and sucked until she was sinking softly onto her back beneath him.

“Oh,” she gasped. “That’s nice.”

“I like being nice.” He dipped his head and took the next nipple in his mouth. It got hard under the lace, and he savored it, his heart pounding in his ears through the sound of wet sucking and the little groaning sounds in her throat.

Her fingers tunneled through his hair and gripped his skull, pulling him closer. He couldn’t remember ever being so turned on, so fast. Soon, he’d be inside her, so soon—

The phone rang. Just a brief distraction they both ignored. A distant chirp. He ran his hand over her belly and squeezed, kneaded the swell of her hip, dipped his fingertips under the waistband of her jeans and shoved his hand between her legs until his finger dipped into wet, hot girl.

Then the machine picked up, a child’s voice on the recording, young and serious and unintelligible. Paul froze, his index finger sliding deeper, his teeth around the tip of her left nipple.

“Hey sweetheart,” a man’s voice crackled over the line. “You there? Jakey, little buddy? Dang it, I wanted to tell you in person. I’m coming home! Daddy’s coming home! They’re talking about adjusting to post-deployment, for real this time, can you believe. . .”

Paul had begun to pull away as soon as he realized who was talking, and by the time the man was crowing into the phone with obvious love and joy, Paul was on his feet and buttoning his jeans with shaking hands.

“Are you there?” the man went on. “Babe, I miss you so much—”

She was married. With a kid. And the dad was coming home, from war or whatever, he was a hero, a decent guy who didn’t deserve this.

What kind of woman was she, to keep looking at him like she didn’t want to stop?

Through an ashamed, resentful, angry panic he remembered his jacket and stumbled over to it, forcing himself to look at Bonnie again.

She didn’t look ashamed so much as embarrassed. “It’s not what you think,” she said, but didn’t get up to stop him. She crossed her arms over her chest.

By then he was already backing up into the hall. “Sorry. I can’t do this,” he said. “Thanks—” But that was lame, so he shut up, gave her a pathetic wave, and shut the door between them. His chest was heaving. His stomach wanted to.

Holy fuck. That was horrible. What had he almost done? Some poor guy was out serving their country and Paul the overcompensated computer geek had almost slept with his wife, whose full name he didn’t even know, with their little boy’s toy cars all