by Tawna Fenske
“Not so much?”
She shakes her head, dark hair rippling on the pillow. “Not even close.”
“Well.” I ease the tip inside her, suppressing a smile as she gasps. “Should we get some other parts in on the action?”
Smiling, she drags her hands to my ass and pulls me deeper inside. “Yes, please.”
I groan as I sink fully into her heat. She’s slick and tight and all mine as I drive into her and draw back. I move slowly, wanting to savor this. Wanting to do this forever, or at least eight or nine hours.
But Mari cries out beneath me, and I know neither of us will last that long. We’re too lost in each other, too wild with heat and friction. She arches up, lashes soft on her cheeks as she closes her eyes.
“Look at me, Mari.”
She does, locking our gazes as she glides her hands up my back and gasps again. “Griffin. You feel so good. I—I didn’t know it could be like this.”
She’s not talking about sex. I don’t need her to elaborate to tell me that, and I also don’t need the ego stroke to tell me we’re magic together. The way she moves beneath me, like she’s anticipating every flex of muscle, every firelight flicker of nerves. Her breasts pillow against my chest, but the softness in Mari is what gets me.
There’s a vulnerability in her eyes, a look of wonder that erases all doubt we’re on the same plane. The pleasure is one thing, but the connection between us…it’s next-level stuff.
“Griff.” She tips her head back, throat curving up to meet my lips. I kiss my way to her mouth, fusing us together as I drive in again.
“So good,” I breathe against her cheek. “We’re so fucking good together.”
“I know.” She groans and closes her eyes again. I don’t fight it this time. I feel her tight walls gripping me, and I know she’s close.
I’m almost there, too. “That’s it,” I murmur, hoping it doesn’t sound like a pep talk. “I’m right there with you. Let go, baby.”
The endearment slips out before I can second-guess if “baby” is an okay thing to call a woman with a doctorate. She opens her eyes, and fear slices through me that I’ve lost her.
“Oh, God!” She screams my name, dragging her nails down my back. The pulse of her sex knocks me over the edge, and I topple in after her, chasing the roar of her pleasure with my own.
“Mari, Jesus.” We come together in great, gulping waves, slamming into each other as we expand and contract and shatter in a thousand pieces while putting each other back together.
When the storm subsides, I don’t roll off. I know I should. I need to ditch the condom and give her a chance to clean up. But I can’t stop kissing her, murmuring words that come out in a jumble of syllables even I can’t understand. She’s reduced me to speaking in tongues. That’s how far gone I am.
She opens her eyes and smiles at me. “Well. That was something else.”
I laugh because it’s classic Mari. “Something good, something bad—”
“Something so slap-me-on-the-ass, kick-me-in-the-crotch unbelievably outstanding that I can’t even find the words to describe how amazing it was.”
I laugh because that’s definitely not classic Mari. “Yeah.” I kiss her long and deep before breaking away. “I’ll be right back.”
I’m in the bathroom less than a minute, but I spend the whole time missing her heat. And deciding how many layers of TP to use for wrapping the condom because it’s been fifteen years since I had to think about stuff like this.
When I come back to bed, I see she’s peeled back the covers and crawled underneath. I’m not sure if her professional walls are back up, so I’m thrilled when she pulls back a corner of the comforter. “Wanna snuggle?”
“Hell, yes.” I dive in after her, pulling her against me. I nuzzle her hair, breathing in citrus and the heat of our mingled bodies. “Seriously, Mar—I loved that. I’m so glad you let me in.”
“Same.” She tips her head back to kiss my throat, then settles with her cheek on my chest. One palm circles the spot above my heart, and I could die a happy man right now.
Squawk!
From the next room, Leonard calls out. “So fucking good together!”
I glance down at Mari. “Uh…do you play any musical instruments?”
“What?” She blinks. “No, why?”
“I thought maybe if you played the harmonica and I played the guitar, we could convince guests we’ve just been jamming together.”
She laughs and curls her fingers over my breastbone. “You play guitar?”
“Nope.” I dot a kiss on her forehead as she bursts out laughing. “But I could learn if you thought it would help your cover.”
Her smile turns thoughtful as she traces my nipple with a fingertip. “I’ll admit I haven’t said much to my family about us. I mean, I think they might have guessed. Lauren and Lana, anyway.”
“Hey, no pressure. If you want to keep things quiet, I understand.” Lord knows I’m not ready to tell Soph I’m scheduling sleepovers with Mari any chance I get.
Mari moves to the other nipple, drawing soft concentric circles with the pad of her finger. “I think I’m just not used to them seeing me that way. As someone vulnerable. As someone who lets herself fall for the last guy in the world she meant to get involved with.”
“Harsh.” I’m not sure how to take that. “Is there a particular reason I’d be last on your list?”
There’s a flicker of worry in her eyes. She starts to move, and I release her shoulder, not wanting to hold her here if she needs space.
But she surprises me by sticking around, turning so her arm rests on my chest and her chin sits on top. “I just…your divorce. And you’ve mentioned the role your wife’s therapist played…”
“Hey.” I plant a kiss behind her ear, understanding where this is going. “I don’t hold anything against Gabby’s shrink. Not now.” Another kiss, this one dotted over her fluttering pulse. “But even if the whole thing was the shrink’s fault—if the guy flat-out told her to ditch me—that wouldn’t be a bad thing.”
Her throat moves under my lips. “A good therapist wouldn’t do that,” she murmurs. “Make decisions for a patient. Convince her to do something she wasn’t already intending to do.”
“Okay.” We’re getting off-track here. “My point is that the marriage needed to end. For a variety of reasons, but one of them is you.”
“Me?” Her voice is practically a squeak.
“If Gabby and I had stayed together,” I say. “If we’d kept limping along in that marriage, I never would have learned what it felt like to be happy. To be with someone who feels like a partner instead of an adversary.”
It’s the closest I’ve come to saying the L-word. To putting it all out there that I’m in love with her.
Because let’s face it, I am. I don’t know when it happened, but I know I can’t go blurting it out right now. That’s too scary, too out-there for Mari to handle this soon.
“I love you.”
Her voice hits like a warm splash of water. “What did you say?”
Vulnerability flashes in her eyes, but she tips up her chin. “I said I love you,” she repeats. “And I don’t care if it’s too soon to say that. I’m in love with you, Griffin Walsh, and you don’t have to say it back, but I needed to tell you. To hear myself say it out loud.”
I grin so big my jaw creaks. “I love you, Mari. So much.”
Her smile is like the sun coming out. “It’s such a small thing, but I needed to say it first,” she says. “I hope that’s okay.”
“More than okay.” Holy shit, I’m on cloud nine.
“I tried to fight it,” she says. “I tried pretending I wasn’t hot for you. That I didn’t think about you every day and every night. I thought I was pulling it off.”
I laugh and kiss the edge of her jaw. “Your hard-ass shrink shell is tough to crack, but you’re not that good an actress.” I skim my lips over her temple to feel her shiver. “I’ve wanted you, too. S
o much.”
“I’m so glad.”
This time when I kiss her, she twines her fingers in my hair and pulls me on top of her again. We’re evenly matched and so lost in each other that I almost don’t hear the squawk from the next room.
“I love you!” Leonard shouts. “Let go, baby.”
“Oh, Christ.” I flop back against the pillow and look at Mari. “Now what?”
She’s smiling like a sunbeam, and I don’t know if it’s Leonard or the words we just exchanged. “Maybe we could redirect him.”
“Redirect?”
“Teach him some new phrases,” she says. “Things he can safely repeat in mixed company.”
I comb my brain to think of appropriate phrases for a psychologist’s parrot. “You’re good enough,” I begin, channeling memories from Stewart Smalley’s character on Saturday Night Live. “And smart enough. And doggone it, people like you.”
Mari laughs and rests a hand on my chest. “When people tell you who they are, believe them,” she shouts.
I crane my neck to kiss the tips of her fingers. “I know that’s a common shrink saying, but I have no idea what it means.”
“It’s good advice for people who get into relationships looking to change the other person,” she says. “Like if you really want to date someone who says they’re not ready for a relationship, a healthy person takes that information and moves on. A fixer will try to persuade the person to enter a relationship anyway.”
I consider that, remembering all the rom-com movies I’ve watched with Soph where the whole plot revolves around a guy convincing a girl to give him a chance. “What made you give me a chance?”
She burrows against my chest, palm circling the space over my heart. “I was always attracted to you,” she says. “I just needed time to figure out if it was worth dealing with all the baggage.”
“My baggage?” The thought of Soph as a piece of luggage has me bristling, but Mari shakes her head.
“No, mine. It’s—complicated.” She lifts her head, and when she meets my eyes, I’m sure she’s poised to say something important.
Squawk.
“You feel so good,” Leonard shouts. “Didn’t know it could be like this.”
Mari closes her eyes and winces. “This could be a problem.”
I laugh, recognizing the awkwardness of the situation even though my ego kinda loves it. “Maybe he’d latch on to beer terminology instead.”
“It’s worth a try.”
“Hey, Leonard,” I shout. There’s no response, but I continue anyway. “Cool your wort as quickly as possible to increase the fallout of proteins and tannins that are bad for beer. Got that?”
Leonard squawks his response. “Guys poised to penetrate you.”
“Oh, God.” I look down at Mari. “He could have at least gotten the whole phrase.”
“I’ll go get him.” She leaps out of bed in all her warm, naked glory. I’m kinda hoping she’ll stay like that, but she cinches a wine-colored robe around her waist. “Maybe he’ll stop imitating if he can see us.”
Moments later, she’s dragging the wheeled perch into the bedroom. Leonard looks mighty pleased with himself. As Mari’s robe parts, I see him eyeing her nipple.
“Don’t try it, bird boy,” I warn him. “My recipe for cast iron roast chicken would work just fine for a parrot.”
He cocks his head and stares at me. “Such a small thing.”
“Oof.” I place a hand over my junk beneath the covers. “Your parrot just insulted my manhood.”
Mari laughs and crawls back into bed. “You’re anthropomorphizing,” she says. “He’s just repeating what I said about saying ‘I love you’ first.”
Hearing those words again sends pulses of joy blasting through me. “If you say so.” I pull her down to me, peeling the robe back like gift wrap as I kiss her.
Squawk!
“You’re not that good!” Leonard shouts the words with disturbing glee, and I look up to see he’s dancing on his perch. “Not that good.”
Mari laughs and presses a palm to my chest. “For the record, you’re echelons above good.” She slips her hand down, stroking me under the covers while holding eye contact. “And this is most definitely not a small thing.”
“Not with you touching it like that, it isn’t.” I’m surprised to feel myself thickening again, though I shouldn’t be. Mari affects me like no woman ever has.
I roll her onto her back, cupping her hip as I look into her eyes. “Should we send the bird out of the room so we don’t give him an eyeful?”
She glances over my shoulder. “What do you think, Leonard? Should you be banished for sexytimes?”
He squawks and flaps his wings. “Sexytimes! Sexytimes!”
Mari laughs, breasts skimming my chest as she pulls me down to brush my lips with hers. “Close your eyes, Leonard,” she says between kisses. “And don’t repeat anything you hear.”
An hour later, I crawl out of bed and tug on my jeans.
“Where are you going?” Mari’s curls are tousled, and she looks like a woman who’s been thoroughly ravished.
I contemplate crawling back in bed, but I’ve got stronger urges at play. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Those puny bites at the event were just glorified appetizers.”
She laughs and rolls over with the sheets clutched to her chest. One corner slips down, revealing the top of her breast, and I rethink my culinary plans. “Sounds fantastic,” she says. “How can I help?”
“You can keep the bed warm.” I hunt for my T-shirt, then decide to skip it. “This will be a naked meal in bed, so be ready.”
“Yes, sir!” She throws me a mock salute as I force myself to trudge out the door and down the hall to the kitchen.
Perusing the contents of her fridge, I consider what to make. The options are sparse, and I find myself wondering if she eats all her meals at the café or one of the food carts. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
But homecooked meals are my jam, so I get busy chopping slices of ham I find in her cold cut drawer. There are eggs and a little nugget of cheddar, so I set out to make omelets. I’d kill for some green onions or tomato, but beggars can’t be choosers.
I’m just about finished when a phone rings in the bedroom. Sound carries in these cabins, so I hear Mari fumbling to answer.
“Hello?”
A long pause.
Then a gasp. “Oh. Oh my. Can you hang on a minute?”
There’s a scrambling of footfalls, and I picture her bounding out of bed. A chill runs down my arms, and I lower the heat under the omelets. “Mari?”
Moving down the hall, I slip into the bedroom and find the bathroom door shut tight. Her voice echoes from the other side. “It is actually an emergency.”
I touch a hand to the door, wondering how long this might take. It’s none of my business, and I swear I’m not eavesdropping. I just need to know if I should keep the food warm.
But as my hand bumps the door, it swings open to reveal Mari huddled on the edge of the tub. She’s got the sheet clutched around her, and her eyes go wide when she sees me.
“God, I’m so sorry.” I step back in horror. “The door just opened and—”
“It doesn’t always latch.” She scrambles to her feet, looking frantic. “I’m sorry, it’s a private call.”
“No problem, I’ll just—keep the food warm.” I back toward the bedroom door, conscious of how wild-eyed she looks. “Everything okay?”
It’s a stupid question, since everything is clearly not okay. Just a guess, but shrinks probably deal with all kinds of secret stuff. I’m backing out the door as she shakes her head, then nods, her head moving in no pattern I can interpret.
“Everything’s okay.” She grips the sheet and moves toward me. “Wow, um—these walls are so thin. Will you excuse me?”
Before I can react, she bolts past me and runs into the hall. I’m not sure where to go, so I scan the floor for her discarded robe. I can
at least hand it to her before getting the hell out of her space.
But Mari’s running for the back door. “No!” She shouts into the phone. “Please hang on. There’s something urgent we need to discuss.”
She darts outside like an animal evading capture. As she slams the door, I stare at it for a few beats.
What the fuck just happened?
I shouldn’t go after her; I know that. And it’s a warm spring night, so at least she’s not freezing out there. I hope.
Leonard’s watching me, curious what’s happening. That makes two of us. I step toward his perch, wondering what goes through that bird brain.
“Is it a bad sign when the woman you’ve just slept with runs outside naked afterward?”
I don’t expect a response, but Leonard cocks his head. “Bad sign!” he shouts. “Bad sign!”
“Thanks. That’s…helpful.”
He shuffles sideways on his perch and squawks again. “Bad sign!”
A shiver snakes down my spine, but the smell of food jerks me out of it. That’s why I can’t leave. I race to the kitchen to find the omelets done, so I turn off the heat and keep them both covered. Now what?
From the kitchen window, I see her standing at the edge of the back deck. The outside walls of these cabins are well insulated, a necessity with high desert temperatures. I can’t hear her voice, but I see worry lines etched in her forehead.
I glance down at the omelets and feel my appetite wane. I could slip out the front door. She clearly needs privacy, and it’s better to leave her to her cabin. But leaving requires me to walk right past her, and won’t she think I’m spying?
Dragging my eyes off the food, I glance out the window again. I’m surprised to feel a chill ripple through me and remember I’m not wearing a shirt.
And then I remember the reason for that. Something tells me we won’t be getting naked again. Not for a while, anyway.
I watch Mari, studying the creases in her forehead. Her hand clenched tight around the knotted sheet between her breasts. Another shiver seizes me.
All is well. I will survive. Each experience helps me grow.
The ridiculous words float through my brain, the ghost of a memory. Where did I learn that?