Chapter 4: Never More Than Friends

Laura clutched the cup of freshly brewed coffee in her hands and waited for the whistle on the tea kettle to blow. She'd watched through a corner of her eye as Remington had quietly made his way to the bathroom, closing himself off behind the door much as she had done not long before. She supposed she should have been crestfallen at his obvious avoidance. But, in truth, she was relieved that she'd have the opportunity to get some caffeine coursing her through her blood stream before any polite 'morning after' chatter would be required of her.

Morning after chatter. She snorted a quiet, dismissive laugh. If there was anything she could think of that could possibly be worse than their dismal attempt at going to bed together the night before, it was the very idea of discussing the disastrous encounter. And it had been exactly that: disastrous.

Even worse, it had been all that she'd ever feared it could be. She'd been unable to rise to his expectations. How could she with her limited black book? She had neither his experience, nor the experience of the women that he normally canoodled with.

At the tea kettle's whistle, she turned and poured the boiling water over the Earl Grey tea bag waiting in a mug next to the stove, then took a seat at the counter before she returned to her thoughts.

From the first moment their teeth had clashed when they'd kissed, she'd been unable to relax, her tension only increasing proportionate to the frustration she saw on his face, in his eyes. She'd finally decided to put them both out of their mutual misery, using the touch of her hands and mouth to bring him to climax. When he'd been left shuddering in her arms, breathing her name into her shoulder, her only thought had been 'Thank God.' He hadn't even had a chance to remove the condom, before she'd rolled to her side, feigning the need for sleep.

Sleep. Ha! That certainly had been neither quick to arrive nor long to stay, for she'd have gotten down on her knees and praised its blessed reprieve. She'd dozed in fits and starts throughout the night, tension filling her body each time she awakened, fully expecting him to find She'd been awkward, inept, and undoubtedly the biggest disappointment of his extensive dalliances. In truth, she might have to lean to except they'd never be more than close friends, as she was fairly certain any attraction he felt for he previously had been easily laid to rest, quite permanently, the night before.

The only question was, how would he excuse himself from their personal involvement, for she didn't-

She was startled from her thoughts when a pair of firm hands landed on her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze, before Remington's lips brushed her cheek.

"There's a cup of tea steeping for you on the counter," she told him, by way of greeting, then smothered a groan when she noted his attire: Chinos and a polo shirt. Clearly, he was intent on following through on their plans for a round of golf. "If you have something else you'd rather do this morning, our plans aren't exactly written in stone…" Plastering a smile on his face, he turned to face her.

"Why ever would I wish to change our plans?" Her eyes narrowed on him, and seeing the challenge in his own eyes that they confront the matter at hand, her eyes skittered away.

"Alright. Then I'll just go get ready, so we don't miss our tee time."

Over the rim of his cup, he watched her back as she retreated to her bedroom. He'd acknowledged three simple facts while he'd showered: First, until last night was made right, Laura would run the first chance she got. Second, once she started running this time, it would take the hounds of hell in her path to make her turn around again. And, third, they'd both succumbed to the pressures of a command performance last evening. They'd had far too much time to dwell on their fears, the possibilities. It was a recipe for disaster from the start. What they'd needed was a slow seduction.

And he intended to see to it they got precisely that.

(TBC)