by Peggy Bird
Trying to take a breath, to slow down the pace at which she was turning to warm, sweet honey in his arms, she put her head back. But it didn’t help. Now with access to her throat, he started along her jaw line and kissed his way to the rapidly beating pulse there. Then he nibbled at her neck and back up to her ear. She was drowning in wanting him.
She didn’t feel him undo it but suddenly her jacket was slithering off her shoulders and down her hips to the floor. His hands caressed her through the thin silk camisole, circling her nipples, making her gasp with pleasure. Her breasts ached to feel his bare hands. She wanted to touch his skin. She pushed his jacket over his shoulders and he shrugged it off while she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, her fingers having trouble with the simple task of pushing a small white button through a buttonhole.
“Should we … ?” he started.
“ … go in there,” she finished. She wasn’t sure she could actually walk to take him to her bed.
He solved the problem. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” he said, picking her up as though she were a tiny thing, carrying her into the bedroom, setting her gently down on the bed.
In the shadow-dimmed room, he unzipped her skirt and helped her shimmy out of it. She pulled the camisole over her head and he unhooked her bra with one flick of his fingers, sliding the straps off her shoulders, adding it to the skirt on the floor.
He stood up to finish the job she’d started of unbuttoning his shirt. Scooting over into the middle of the bed, she settled back onto a pillow, her head resting on one arm.
On a sharp intake of breath, he said, “God, you’re beautiful.”
Embarrassed, she began to pull on the hem of the sheet the maid had turned down.
“Don’t do that, sugar, please. Let me look at you, at all of you.”
Reluctantly, she dropped the sheet, leaving most of her body exposed. The intensity of his gaze made her self-conscious at first. Then she got lost in watching him undress, lit from the light coming in from the living room.
His handsome face was soft with desire; the sculpted muscles in his arms and shoulders, the flat stomach he was gradually uncovering were like the cover of a romance novel or a really, really good fantasy. She’d seen him in cutoffs and bathing trunks and knew he had a magnificent body, but she’d always wondered where that line of hair led that started in the dark hair dusting his chest. Now she knew. It ended in a nest of dark curls from the middle of which sprung the impressive erection she’d felt against her. The erection that would soon be pressed against her again, would soon be inside her. Her fingers curled into the palms of her hand, wanting to touch the soft hair, his rock-hard penis. At just the thought, her breathing became faster, more ragged.
Before he joined her, he took condoms out of the back pocket of his trousers and flipped one onto the bed next to her. Once beside her, he began to slowly explore her body with his hands and his mouth, moving from her face down her throat on his way to her breasts. “I’ve never forgotten what you tasted like right here,” he licked and nipped softly at the base of her throat, “that summer after a day in the sun.” He kissed between her breasts. “You tasted like the ocean.”
With his tongue, he circled the nipple of one breast, raking his teeth across the sensitive skin, contracting it into a small, hard point. When she moaned and her body pushed toward him, he moved to the other breast and gave it similar attention. Her breasts felt full, heavy, aching for more of his mouth, his hands.
“I wanted to do this that summer but I didn’t think you’d let me. I thought about it every time we were together.”
“I’d never have … ” She moaned again and she arched her back to get more of her breast closer to his mouth. “If you’d … I couldn’t have … I was afraid.” The confession came out on a ragged breath.
“But not tonight?”
“Tonight, I want you to do everything, anything.”
With his hands — oh, God, his hands — he trailed heat from her breasts back to her face and then to her belly. Every place he touched was on fire. He took his time with each move, giving her a chance to say no. Not that she did. She never would. Not when it felt like this, when the kisses that followed each new touch soothed what he’d inflamed. Not when she loved the taste of his mouth, the pressure of his hands.
When he came back to her lips, he hesitated, caressing her mouth with his thumbs, her eyebrows and cheekbones with his fingers, as if creating a tactile memory in his hands. “You’re so beautiful. These mysterious blue eyes,” he kissed each eyelid. “This cute nose,” he dropped a kiss on the tip of it. “A mouth I can’t stay away from.” A mouth he took possession of in a way that left her wanting more when he ended it, more of his mouth, more of his hands, more of his body. She wanted to tell him he was beautiful, too, but she couldn’t make her mouth form words.
All she could do was explore his body as he was exploring hers, feeling the soft hair on his chest, the pebbly texture of his nipples, the firm muscles that lay under the smooth skin on his shoulders and upper arms, his flat abs, the soft tip of his steely shaft with a drop of moisture on it. His heart pounded against her; her heartbeat answered.
He shifted her to her back, then eased his fingers under the edge of her bikini panties, feeling his way to the delta of curls between her thighs. She helped him push the panties over her hips and down off her legs, tangling in the sheets as she did. She impatiently kicked at them.
“It’s okay. I want this too but we don’t need to hurry,” he murmured.
Then he touched her, just touched her, in the place between her thighs where all the heat from his caresses had pooled and the sheets didn’t matter anymore. She saw stars. When his soft caress became more urgent, her hips bucked toward him as he slipped one finger, then two, inside her, moving in and out as his thumb circled her clitoris.
“Come for me, sugar. Don’t hold back,” he whispered.
She couldn’t even if she wanted. And she didn’t want to. Wave after wave of bliss carried her over the edge, her body clamping hard on his fingers. “Oh, Tony, I … ” The rest was lost as the world around dissolved, leaving only the two of them and the intense feeling that washed over her.
“That’s my girl,” he said, his voice raspy with desire. “My sweet, sweet, sugar.” He quickly covered himself, insinuated one of his legs between hers and pressed himself against her thigh as she rocked her hips against him. She buried her fingers in his hair and pulled his mouth to hers. He entered her slowly, stretching her to accommodate him. She wrapped one leg around his waist and tilted her hips against him.
“Please, Tony, I want all of you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. You feel so tight.” On a groan, he said, “You feel so good.” He pulled her other leg around him, controlling both of them until he was totally and completely inside her. Then he matched the rhythm of his tongue with the rhythm of his hips, moving with her, letting her set the pace as she ground her hips against him, rubbing her clitoris against his pelvis. She felt herself begin to climax again and as her insides clamped around him, he thrust into her hard and fast, taking her with him, moving them up the steep curve of passion as they climbed together over the edge of the cliff they’d been walking along for days.
Afterwards, they lay facing each other as she traced around his eyes and mouth with languid fingers and he nibbled at her hand. The expression on his face was one she’d never seen, in spite of all the years she’d known him. It was tender, affectionate, maybe … maybe what? It couldn’t be anything more than being caught up in the moment. Could it? She wanted to know. “Tony, what … ?”
There must have been something in her voice that gave her away; his expression changed as if she’d used a remote to flip the channel. In place of the expression she didn’t recognize was the seductive smile of the Tony she’d known all her life. She wondered if what she thought she saw was only a trick of light.
He gently kissed her forehead and whispered, “So, the girl-next-door i
s not only beautiful and smart but very, very sexy.”
She paused for a beat or two, trying to understand what was going on, finally deciding to follow him in playing it lightly. “And the boy-next-door is as good at everything else as he is at kissing.” When she moved to cuddle into him, she felt something crinkle under her. She rummaged around and brought out the empty condom wrapper, presenting it to him like it was Exhibit A. “And he’s always prepared, apparently.”
He laughed. “I’ll take care of it,” and headed for the bathroom.
When he got back in bed, he pulled her close against him, his expression still inscrutable.
“If I’d known how the week was going to end I might not have dreaded the trip so much,” she said.
“Surely after Mary Ellen’s wedding you could see this coming, pardon the pun. Aren’t you the girl who’s smarter than the teachers?”
“Terrible pun and what do you mean, ‘smarter than the teachers’?”
He turned her onto her back and began kissing his way from her temple down her jaw line over her cheek to her mouth. “Isn’t that what the yearbook said about you?”
She pushed him back so she could see his face. “You’re joking. You looked up what was in the yearbook about me?”
“I couldn’t let you get away with that embarrassing speech in front of my mother’s house, could I? Took me forever to find the damn thing.”
He kissed the pulse in her throat. “Smarter than most of the teachers.” He returned to her mouth. “Likely to succeed at whatever she does.” His hand began moving down her thigh. ‘Would argue with the devil himself.’ I’d say that description still works.”
She grabbed his hand and held it still. “I don’t argue with everyone.”
“Yes, you do.” His mouth found one breast. “You always have.” He went to the other breast.
“No,” she said, pulling back from him. “I don’t.”
“Is there any way I can get you to stop arguing about arguing?”
She let go of his hand and he figured it out.
• • •
About two A.M., he kissed her and said, “I better go.”
“Can’t you stay?”
“Not a good idea. You have friends around, people you work with … Greer.”
“I thought we agreed I didn’t need someone to protect my reputation anymore.”
“No, we agreed you didn’t need anyone looking out for your virtue. Your reputation is something else.”
While he got dressed, she went into the bathroom, emerging in a hotel terry cloth robe. “Will I see you tomorrow — today — later — at the Convention Center?” she asked as she walked him to the door.
“How about breakfast at seven-thirty? I’m going to one morning session, then back to work.” After she nodded agreement, he took her face in his hands, said, “I’ll see you then. Sleep well, sugar,” kissed her and was gone.
She slumped against the door after he’d closed it behind him and slowly slid down until she was sitting on the floor, her back to the door, her arms wrapped around her bent knees. Her lips were swollen from his kisses; her breasts tender from his mouth. She could feel his arms holding her, his body loving her. Could see the way he looked at her. How could this be? Making love with Tony? It wasn’t possible. But it happened.
It took every bit of her willpower to stay on the floor when what she wanted to do was run after him and beg him to stay. She wanted him to curl around her while she slept, wanted to wake up to him the next morning.
Oh, God, what was she thinking? Obviously she needed some distance, a chance to think about this. Figure it out. She needed a good night’s sleep to clear her head.
Like that was going to happen tonight.
• • •
He walked out onto Broad Street into the warm summer night. He hadn’t reached the first corner when he turned and started back to the hotel. He didn’t care about anyone seeing him; he wanted to spend the night with her. He stopped. No, that was a very bad idea. He couldn’t do that to her. He turned toward his apartment. Then he stopped again. He could be careful; no one would see him. He took two steps toward the Bellevue. Stopped again. Jesus, anyone who saw him would think he was drunk. He shook his head and some last vestige of common sense clicked into place. He couldn’t go back to the hotel. Period. He strode down Broad Street in the direction of home.
At least he made one good decision tonight. He wasn’t so sure about some of the others. What the hell had happened back in that hotel room? Sweet Jesus, Mother of God, he’d never been blindsided like that before. He was always the one in control of what went on with the women in his life. At least since the Nicole debacle. How could this have happened?
And with Margo. He’d known her all his life, loved her like a sister — okay, that wasn’t accurate. He’d never looked at her like a sister, not since they were kids. So he cared for her, liked her a lot, they were friends, more than friends, although less than lovers. Until now. Sure, they’d dated a little, made out a lot. He’d always like kissing her, wondered what it would be like to take it further but she’d never seemed interested and that had been okay. It was complicated with all the history between their families and the three thousand miles between them.
Then at Mary Ellen’s wedding, when they’d been alone in that small dark room, would have gone back to his apartment if his nephew and her mother hadn’t interrupted, it seemed to change. He thought maybe she wanted it, too. So he set it up.
But what happened tonight wasn’t what he’d bargained for. It blew his mind, scraped raw his emotions and opened his eyes to something he never expected to see.
So now what?
Chapter 7
“Are you by yourself? Can I join you?” Danny Hartmann asked. Margo was standing in front of the breakfast buffet, scanning the room, when the tall, blonde Portland detective found her.
“Well, I thought I might be joining a friend but it looks like I’m not. It would be nice to have company. I’d love to have breakfast with you.”
Danny picked up a plate. “Were you looking for that gorgeous guy you were with last night? Who is he?”
“If you’d come to our presentation, you’d know who he is.”
“I can hear you any time I want in Portland. I went to the panel on dealing with gangs.”
“Any new ideas?”
“No one’s having any better luck at it than we are, it sounds like.” Danny loaded her plate with eggs and bacon. “But tell me about the guy. You looked too cozy in the bar last night to just be colleagues.”
“We were celebrating. Got great reviews on our talk. And we’re old friends.”
“Friends with benefits?”
“That one over there okay with you?” Margo indicated a nearby table with her plate of bagel, cream cheese and lox before setting it down to pour coffee for herself.
“Did you hear what I asked, Margo?”
“Yes, but I don’t think there’s much more to get out of this line of conversation.” She took a bite of her bagel. “You going to the DNA session this morning?”
Hartmann seemed to be considering whether it was worth it to pursue the subject of the gorgeous guy. She apparently decided it wasn’t and answered, “Yeah, you?”
“Uh-huh, then I’m not sure what else I want to hear.”
“There’re a couple more that look interesting. I haven’t decided. You have plans for dinner tonight?”
Margo was about to say she did when it occurred to her that Tony had never said anything more about dinner. “Not really. Want to get out of the hotel and try someplace else?”
“Always glad to get a restaurant recommendation from a native.”
“About seven in the lobby, then.”
The two sessions she attended that morning dragged. She couldn’t concentrate on the speakers, constantly checking her phone for a text message or a voice mail. Her mother left the latter and Kiki the former, but neither was the person she wanted to hear from.
With no appetite for lunch, she left the convention center for a walk and found even the summer sun couldn’t burn away the memory of the night before. She sighed. What was it he said last night — she was smart and sexy? She wasn’t sure about the sexy part but she hoped she was smart enough not to read too much into what happened. Last night was about getting caught up in the mood, celebrating their good day, maybe too much to drink, which was probably what the wedding reception had been. That dance at the reunion, too. Maybe those religions that banned dancing were right. It gave you dangerous ideas.
He was her friend, like she told Beth and Danny. She was a boring lawyer who’d had her nose in one book or another all her life. He was the all-star athlete and handsomest man who’d ever walked the face of the earth. Women like her didn’t get guys like Tony except maybe on occasional loan. Like from the library, when you get a copy of a best seller that you could only have for a short time because someone like Greer is waiting for it. Not only that, she has an in with the librarian and could keep renewing it until she was finished with it.
No, she had to stop thinking he’d call and want anything more than what they’d had. She’d go out to dinner with Danny and figure out later how she was going to face him over his mother’s dinner table the next time she was in Philly.
When she looked up she saw that her wandering had brought her back to the Bellevue. She took that as a sign she should ditch the last afternoon of the conference and headed for her room. She’d soak in the tub. Maybe have a massage. Read a book. But before she could do any of those things she had to see why the light on her phone was flashing. The desk clerk told her she had a hand-delivered message waiting for her.
It was from Tony apologizing for missing breakfast. He’d gotten called out and by the time he’d had a chance to let her know he wouldn’t make it, it was too late to leave a message at the hotel and he didn’t have her cell phone number. He asked her to call to confirm seven that night for the dinner he’d promised.