“Milla!” Tish called from downstairs. “Come help me with your kid! She isn’t listening!”
“Be right there!” I called back. I told Mathias, “See you after work.”
Curt and Marie Utley pulled up in their station wagon that evening but to my amazement, who should come up the snowy sidewalk but Noah, holding his mother Marie’s elbow as she walked carefully, bundled in her puffy red parka, hood up. I felt a splash of complete nausea; what would I say to my daughter? I didn’t know if she saw Noah when she visited her grandparents (and it happened to coincide with him being home from Madison). I hadn’t ever asked and Millie had never mentioned a thing. To my knowledge, he hadn’t actually seen her since she was four months old.
Grandma was behind me then, leaving Ruthie, Tish and Matthew in the kitchen, where the girls were talking and laughing about something, and she observed, “Noah’s with? Oh, Camille…”
Millie came running too then, crowing, “Gramma Marie!”
“Better answer the door,” Grandma said, and I put on my best game face, which is what my dad would have said.
“Camille! Hi, dear,” Marie said warmly, as though there was nothing unusual or long overdue concerning her son accompanying her to see his child. I’d learned long ago that Noah, as her youngest, seemed to be excused for a great deal of wrongdoing.
Noah studied me with unreadable eyes, but he offered politely, “Hi, Camille. Hi, Joan.”
Millie peeked around my legs and cried, “Hi, Gramma!”
I opened the door enough to allow them to enter, as Marie bent to scoop Millie Jo close, kissing her cheek. She told my daughter, “I have some Christmas presents for you! Grandpa and me were in Kansas at your great-aunt Iris’s for Christmas.”
“I know!” Millie reminded her. “’Member, Gramma, you called me on the phone?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Marie said. She rose and gave me a hug, and then said to Grandma, “Joan, Happy New Year!”
Grandma said, “Good to see you,” and her eyes flickered to Noah to include him in the pleasantry. I looked up at him, then away; he was studying Millie with somber eyes.
“Hi, Noah!” Millie said then. So I wouldn’t actually have to introduce the bastard to his daughter.
“Hi, Millie,” he said, and it sounded like there was something lodged in his throat.
Grandma took control of the situation, affecting her parent voice and telling Millie, “Honey, grab your coat and your boots now.” Millie galloped to the closet. To Marie, she added, “I have a loaf of that banana bread that you said Curt likes so well, with the coconut flakes.”
“Bless you, Joan,” Marie said, removing her hood. She was a small, plump woman with the same cleft chin as her son. To my further stun, she asked me suddenly, “Camille, would you like to join us, hon? Ben and the kids are over too, and…”
“Thank you, Marie,” I stumbled, interrupting her. “But I have plans this evening.”
Marie nodded and said, “Next time, maybe.”
Noah was all but shuffling his feet with discomfort. I moved to help Millie zip her jacket and secured her hat and mittens in place. I hugged her close and told her, “Gramma Marie can call me if you want to come home, all right, baby? But you have fun.”
“I will!” she said gaily.
Grandma returned from the kitchen with a bread pan wrapped in aluminum foil, which she passed to Noah. Behind Grandma, I caught sight of my sisters crowding in the archway leading back to the kitchen, anxious to see what was happening out here.
“We’ll have her home by ten or so,” Marie promised.
I hugged Millie and then watched out the window as she held Marie’s hand on the return trip to the car. I watched as Marie helped settle her into a car seat and Noah climbed in the driver’s side. Grandma put her hand on my back and patted me twice.
***
Mathias came over an hour later and entertained all of us with stories of his day spent with Skid, removing snow and sanding parking lots. My sisters adored Mathias, I could tell, and Grandma and Aunt Ellen did too, mostly, as they confided to me, because he made me so happy. I had told them all about the cabin and Mathias’s plans for it (conveniently leaving out the part about how he was building it for us, as I felt certain they were not ready to accept this fact). Grandma may just lock me into my room.
“You’ve only known him a few weeks,” she’d protest.
It was hard to explain to her that I’d known him for much longer than that. Grandma was pretty darn open-minded, but I didn’t want to try her patience too much.
“So, you guys see who can fart the worst in the plow truck? Since you’re trapped in there?” Tish was asking, her mouth full, laughing at the same time.
I smiled and rolled my eyes at this male ridiculousness; Mathias was flushing, even as he nodded affirmation. He said, “It’s great if you’ve just eaten a burrito, one of those huge gas station ones, since then—”
“Yuck!” Ruthie yelped, giggling.
Little Matthew, in his high chair near Aunt Ellen, banged his fists on his messy tray and grinned angelically at us. He was so dang cute that we all looked over at him. His pink-cheeked face was round as a full moon, his head covered in golden curls. Mathias grinned and said, “Little guy, you agree with me, right?”
“He does not!” Tish protested. “And that’s just gross! Aren’t you a college graduate?”
Mathias tipped back in his chair, laughing. He managed, “That’s a good point.”
After supper we helped Grandma put away the food and the girls asked if we wanted to watch a movie. Mathias tipped his head at me, asking without words, What do you think?
I said back, silently, I’d rather be alone with you.
He swallowed and I told my sisters, saying the first thing that came into my head, “We’re stopping out at White Oaks for awhile.”
Minutes later, bundled and in his truck, Mathias asked softly, “You want to go to White Oaks?”
I could tell he was trying to leave this decision to me, to be patient, and it was all I could do to say calmly, “Not just now. How about…I thought we could maybe…”
He said, “We could go to our cabin, but Dad and Sam and those guys are snowmobiling and if they saw a fire in there, they might stop in…”
“Is Skid home at your place?” I asked, as a trembling moved downwards from my belly. I was glad it was dark enough that maybe he didn’t notice.
Mathias said quietly, “No, he’s over in Bemidji at his kind-of girlfriend’s place.”
I looked over at him and his eyes held mine, completely serious, no trace of a smile. My heart just about came through my ribs, but again I kept my voice calm as I decided, “Let’s go there.”
We drove in complete, heated silence. Once there, I waited as Mathias hurried around the hood of the truck to open the door for me. He cranked it open and our eyes held steady. I could feel my pulse like a springtime river, my nipples as firm as cherries beneath my nursing bra; I hadn’t a sexier one to wear tonight, to my dismay. He reached and lifted me down slowly, his gloved hands warm on my waist; once on the ground, he caught my hand in his and led the way up one flight of stairs to his apartment. He fumbled a little unlocking the door and I felt a swell of tenderness, replacing a little of the fiery nerves coursing through me at the moment.
“I’m so nervous,” Mathias admitted once we were inside. I stood in the entryway as he clicked on the kitchen light, not even moving to unwind my scarf or pull off my mittens, I was so terribly nervous too. Mathias tossed his coat onto the kitchen table and then moved towards the living room and began collecting couch pillows and what appeared to be laundry piled on the living room floor. I watched him try to tidy up the space and felt a fraction of the tension in my belly ease, replaced with affection, a wide, warm rush of it. I crossed the space, tossing my mittens aside so that I could touch him with my bare hands and put both on his back, stilling his frenetic movement. He was bent forward as I did so and I caressed him, s
preading my fingers against his sweatshirt, my heart saturating me with hot blood.
He straightened slowly and turned, and his eyes made my heart fire so hard that I made a sound in my throat. My hands moved up to cup his jaws and he caught me around the waist and pulled my hips firmly against him.
“I’m so glad we came here,” he whispered. “Camille. You’re still in your coat. And I’m shaking like a teenager.”
He was and it thrilled me. I was trembling too, weak-kneed. I pressed my thumbs gently to his bottom lip, stroking it, and he shuddered and closed his eyes, his arms tightening around me at once.
“I want this so much,” I whispered back. He opened his eyes and studied me, our hearts matching rhythms against each other, faster and faster. Mathias brought his lips to within a breath of mine and spread his hands over my back. He reached with one hand and slipped the band from my ponytail, letting my hair loose. He curled his fingers into it and I could smell his breath, sweet with mint from the candy cane he had eaten earlier, and his own scent, which sent longing all through me.
He asked softly, “Can I take this coat off of you?”
I smiled back at him with all my heart.
“Yes,” I told him, and in response he lifted me into his arms and carried me through the living room, my hands resting on his shoulders. He brought us down a short hallway and into the bedroom on the right. Once there, he set me gently to the carpet and then clicked on a bedside lamp. I turned in a circle and observed his space; despite having been in the apartment numerous times, we had dutifully stuck to the couch to cuddle. The walls were painted a neutral cream, his closet overflowing with his outdoor gear, a tall bureau with t-shirts and underwear crammed into too-small drawers. And his bed, made up with a dark-blue and forest-green quilt that I recognized from helping him move, three pillows sprawled haphazardly. My heart was beating so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
He caught my hands into both of his and brought them to his lips, kissing the back of each. Then he unzipped my coat and set it carefully aside. I could hardly breathe just watching his eyes, so serious beneath his straight black brows as he studied me intently, lifting the scarf I was wearing over my head, placing it on my coat. And then he took my shoulders into his hands.
“Camille,” he said softly and intensely. “Do you know how much I love you?”
Tears sparked into my eyes and my throat choked up even as my heart glowed, a million fireflies springing to instant and delighted life. Though it was the first time he’d spoken the words, I whispered truthfully, “I know it. I do, Mathias.”
He thumbed away the tears that fell over my cheeks. He said, “I love you so much my heart feels like it might burst apart with it. I fall asleep thinking of you, Camille, and wake up with you on my mind. Right here,” and he indicated his bed with a tilt of his head. He kept my eyes captive in his gaze and whispered, “And I know you’ve been hurt before but you have to know that I would never hurt you, not ever.”
“Mathias,” I whispered, just to say his name. I touched his face, caressing him. He turned his lips to my right palm and kissed it. I told him, “I love putting my hands on you. Oh God, I dream about this all the time.” And I was crying, trembling in his arms, but I had to tell him. “I love you, oh God, I’m so in love with you. And I’ve been hurt but I trust you, Mathias, I trust you with all my heart.”
“Camille,” he said, and I knew I would never tire of hearing my name on his lips. Tears were in his eyes too and then he kissed me, so sweetly. Against my lips he whispered, “I have never known exactly where I was going until I found you. Since I was a kid I’ve been waiting to find you, I swear.” He brushed hair back from my face, tipping to kiss my neck with warm, lingering kisses. I held his head to me and felt those kisses all through my body, along every last nerve ending to the center of me. He whispered, “You taste so good,” and then his lips were upon mine, his special brand of deep, lush kissing. I pulled him to the bed, where he braced over me on his forearms, our hips aligning perfectly. Both of us were breathing hard and his cheekbones were flushed in the golden lamplight, his eyes as hotly blue as the bottom of a candle flame. He told me, “I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, but I realized it when you slipped my ring on your hand that night.”
I stroked my fingers through his hair and pressed myself against him. We were still fully clothed, but I could feel how hard he was. I whispered back, “I knew it then too, I just wouldn’t admit it to myself.” I touched his eyebrows, tracing them, allowing myself the pleasure of caressing his face. He smiled at me and my heart convulsed against him. I whispered, “It’s so good to touch you.”
“Touch me,” he said then, the heat in his eyes leaping into mine. There was a catch in his throat as he whispered intently, “And let me touch you. Will you let me make love to you? I know you haven’t been on the pill long enough, but I bought a box of condoms the day after you told me, I have them right here…”
I felt feverish, a flame burning through me as he kissed me again, deeply, only breaking the contact of our mouths to yank the sweatshirt over his head, and I moaned at the sight of his bare chest, which I hadn’t yet seen, his strong, hairy chest, wide shoulders that rippled with muscle, creating solid ridges on either side to his neck. He was so gorgeous that I could hardly breathe.
“Now you,” he whispered then, taking my hands into his when I caught the bottom hem of my sweater. He said, “Let me. I’ve imagined this so many times, let me.”
With deliberate movements he bared my belly, pressing his lips there, as I wound my fingers into the dark curls on his neck. He moved slowly up my body, easing the sweater over my breasts, still harnessed into my nursing bra.
“Mathias…” I tensed a little and he immediately stilled his hands, lifting his head from between my breasts, where he had been kissing my skin. My heart was throbbing desperately. I whispered, “I might…”
He traced my cheek and asked softly, “Might what?”
“My…breasts…” I felt heat seeping over my face. I closed my eyes and said in a rush, “I might leak milk on you.”
“You thought I would mind that?” he whispered, teasing me a little. I opened my eyes to his tender smile and my heart beat even more crazily against him. I felt a rush of urgency, desire and love for him swirling into an insistent elixir. I spread my thighs beneath his hips as my arms went around his neck.
“Come here,” I begged and the smile fell from his lips, replaced by the same fervor that was rioting through my blood. He kissed me again, his tongue delving deeply as I arched against him and he unhooked my bra with skillful fingers. I shifted my arms free of it and he tossed it from the bed, a sound escaping his throat, a low groan, as he bent to open his lips over my right nipple. And just like that I felt a prickling rush and he got a mouthful of breast milk. My left nipple began trickling warm liquid at the same instant.
I squeaked and he swallowed convulsively and then laughed, making me laugh in the next instant as he licked the inside curve of my left breast.
“It tastes good, really sweet,” he gasped out, still laughing hard. “This is so erotic…is that terrible of me to say?”
I was laughing too hard to answer. I thought it was erotic too, even though it was probably wrong to think that. But I didn’t care; nothing felt wrong with Mathias. I giggled and writhed as his tongue traced the milk trails over my breasts before he pressed his lips between my breasts and breathed deeply. He whispered, “You don’t even know how beautiful you are, do you?” He moved above me, bracing over me and studying my face, caressing my cheekbones.
“Thank you,” I whispered, winding my arms around his neck, possessively. I told him, “You make me feel beautiful.”
“I want your love, I’m totally selfish for it,” he said in response, kissing my cheeks, one after the other. He traced my jaw with gentle fingertips. “My heart is all yours.”
“And mine is yours, oh Mathias, you don’t even know,” I told him, tears welling aga
in. I giggled a little, even though my throat had closed off too, emotions storming through me. I said, “I’m getting you all wet…”
His eyelids lowered seductively and he kissed away my tears before saying, “That’s supposed to be my job.”
Another rush of need raced through me and I heard myself beg, “Get these off…” and lifted my hips in case he didn’t realize I meant my jeans.
He had me out of them in one second, his own in the next. He placed a strong hand flat against my belly. I shivered and clung to his shoulders. He kissed me softly and then whispered, “Have you ever had an orgasm before?”
I’d given myself a few over the past few years, but I shook my head, trembling and feverish all over again. He ran his hand between my legs over the top of my panties, not yet touching my skin, and pressed gently against me. I moaned and a throbbing heat overtook my senses. His kisses swept away everything but my longing for him.
He said, “Because I intend to give you a few.”
I couldn’t respond in words, shivering as he slipped his hand beneath, stroking me gently as tiny intense explosions flowed along in the wake of his fingers. He kissed me, his tongue stroking my mouth in a similar rhythm.
“I love you with my whole heart, Camille,” he whispered between kisses. “And I want to bring you pleasure, I want it so much.”
“Yes,” I begged him, hardly able to think beyond his touches. I moaned, “Mathias, yes, please yes…”
I gripped his shoulders and then bit the top ridge of muscle on his right one as I shuddered beneath him. Sweat trickled over his temples as we kissed and he continued caressing me, deeply and firmly. He bent to my breasts and I caught his head in my hands, arching into his mouth.
He was breathing hard enough that I almost didn’t understand him when he said, “I won’t…I promise I won’t…get you pregnant. Not until…you’re my wife.”
His wife.
“Let me see you,” I begged him, shifting to roll him over. I leaned across him, running my hands down his neck, letting my loose, heavy hair stroke all along his chest and belly, before I caught the hard length of him into my hand and held it as his head fell back and he shuddered with harsh breaths.
Winter at the White Oaks Lodge Page 22