She named a few more female friends, but didn’t know them well. “Mom got together with them when we were in school,” she said with a shrug. “But she’d talk about them. You know.”
“What about your father?”
“He’s friends with one of the philosophy professors at Wakefield. I think Dad still has dinner at his house sometimes. Jong Lee. Dad emails regularly with a bunch of people in his field, too.”
“Anybody else to add?”
“Nobody I can think of right now. I can ask Matt and Emily, if you’d like.”
He hesitated over that but couldn’t think of any drawback. “Sure, that would be good.”
“I might have forgotten someone. I don’t think any of their friends had kids close to my age, so my interest in them was pretty limited.”
Tony smiled at that. “I wish I could say the same about my parents’ friends.”
Her laugh was a light ripple he could almost, but not quite, call a giggle. “If they all had eight kids, it stands to reason most of them would have one close to your age.”
He sighed. “Fortunately, they didn’t all. This generation, we all have friends—and a couple of my sisters have husbands—who aren’t Latino or even Catholic. I can’t say that about my parents.”
She nodded. “The times are changing.”
Tony held up the notebook, then tossed it on the coffee table. “This will give me a good start. Now will you come over here?” He lifted an arm invitingly.
She said “Sure,” but looked a little shy, which had him speculating about her sexual experience.
He for damn sure wanted his sisters to remain virgins at least until they were in serious relationships and in their twenties, which undoubtedly made him a hypocrite. And, okay, he did judge women who hopped in and out of bed with too many men. It was hard to shake your upbringing. Otherwise, he assumed a woman Beth’s age would have had relationships. He surely had. If she’d had many, or they had been very successful, he’d expect her to be more self-confident, though.
Since they hadn’t reached a stage where he could ask, however, he let his curiosity go. And she wasn’t too shy to scoot across two cushions and slip into the circle of his arm. She even leaned against him with gratifying trust, her head settling against his shoulder.
He tucked her closer and bent to rub his chin on top of her head and breathe in her scent. He wanted to kiss her, but felt surprisingly content just holding her, warm and cushiony.
“I can hear your heartbeat,” Beth murmured.
“Will it put you to sleep?”
She lifted her head to look at him. “I’m definitely not sleepy.”
“No.” He had to clear his throat. “Me either.” He nuzzled her cheek, found his way to her earlobe, where he lingered to nibble, then moved to the tender skin at her temple. He paused to look at her, eyes closed, lashes fanned on her cheeks, her lips parted and cheeks pink. His heart gave something closer to a clunk than a beat. He took in the dusting of freckles that helped give her an innocent, girl-next-door beauty belied by her sinfully sexy body.
After an inarticulate sound, he kissed her. She let him in immediately, her tongue meeting his eagerly. His body surged. Desperate for more contact, he half lifted her to straddle his thighs. For a moment, Beth looked startled, but when he squeezed her waist with one hand while slipping the other around the back of her neck and drawing her down, she smiled. The curve of her lips had his curving, too, even as he deepened this kiss, taking, demanding.
She strained against him, her urgency the equal of his. She made little sounds—gasps and whimpers—that drove him crazy. His free hand dipped under the hem of her knit shirt and flattened on the smoothest skin he’d ever felt. Muscles in her belly tightened as he stroked upward until he reached his goal and was able to cup her breast through a bra that felt like satin. Damn, he wanted to tear it off, but even with his brain fogged with desire, he knew he didn’t dare. Still, he kneaded her and rubbed his palm over the tight nubbin in the center.
Her hips rocked, until she was riding his erection. Tony shifted his attention to her other breast, not wanting to neglect it. Fingernails bit into his neck, an erotic sensation. She moaned.