“Well, at least you know enough to call me by my nickname. I hate my real name.”
“Actually, I really like your name. I ‘ve always been a huge Warren Zevon fan.”
He laughed, practically choking on his wine.
“Never heard THAT line before.”
“It’s not a line, I think your name is sexy.”
I had to admit to myself that his name was not the only thing I was finding sexy about him at the moment. Laughter softened his usually serious mien, making him even more appealing than usual. I scooted closer to him on the couch, and to my surprise he didn’t move away.
“I don’t really know that much about you either, Jen,” he said. “Heh, how ’bout that, our names rhyme, Ren and Jen.”
“Sounds like a bad buddy comedy,” I quipped.
“Well, buddies should know more about each other,” he said, then proceeded to ask me about my classes, and my roommate, and before I knew it we were sharing confidences as though we really were old buddies. An hour and a bottle of wine later I felt as though I had known Warren forever.
“Should I open another bottle of wine,” he asked, when the first was empty.
“Nah, I should try waking Doug up again.”
“Oh, don’t do that just yet,” he said, moving closer to me. “Not before I’ve had a chance to do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.”
“What’s that,” I said, like an idiot.
“This,” he said, as he leaned in to brush his lips across mine.
I remember thinking, ‘It must be the wine’. Surely that was the only reason I was letting my boyfriend’s best friend kiss me. Then I was done thinking altogether.
As his lips touched my mouth an electric jolt went through me and I leaned in to twine my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He responded by deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding smoothly into my warm and willing mouth. His arms went around me and we fell back on the sofa, our tongues twisting and writhing together.
He slid his hands along my back, nudging my T-shirt up, and pressing his palms against my bare skin. His hands were strong, and warm, and the mere touch of them had me wanting more. He pushed my shirt up around my armpits, then could go no further without breaking our kiss.
He sat up and looked me, asking with his eyes if I wanted to continue. I knew we should stop, but I couldn’t help myself. I pulled my T-shirt up over my head and tossed it to the floor.
“That’s not fair,” I said, sitting up as well.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Now I’m half naked, and you’re still dressed. Let’s fix that.”
Now it was my turn to press him back against the sofa pillows as I slowly unbuttoned his gray shirt. I peeled it back and trailed my fingers across the broad planes of his muscled chest. My hands slipped down to his waistband and unfastened that as well.
I barely brushed my hand across the bulge growing in his pants, and he moaned with desire. I slid my hands back up to his shoulders and pushed his shirt off. He slid his arms out, and it wound up next to my shirt on the floor.
Once again he pulled me into the circle of his arms, nibbling and licking along my neck, which soon had me panting and moaning. One hand brushed against my bare leg and then crept higher. He slid his hand underneath my skirt, his fingers brushing against the now-damp cotton of my panties.