Barefoot in the Sun

by Roxanne St Claire

  “A long time ago.”

  He reached around, unsnapped her bra, and slipped her out of it. “Be specific.”

  “A very long time ago.”

  Laughing, he took a few seconds to enjoy the sight of her breasts, pink and round and tipped by perfect nipples, before dipping his head to suckle her sweet, salty skin.

  “Have you ever told anyone you loved them?” he asked.

  “I tried. I wanted to.” She gripped his head and lifted it to look at him. “I almost did. …”

  “But you couldn’t.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know why.”

  Without answering, he kissed his way over her belly to her skirt, tonguing her belly button while he unsnapped, unzipped, and undressed her.

  Once she was gloriously naked, he straddled her, his shirt hanging open and his pants tented with an erection. She reached for his belt buckle, but he seized her wrists and gripped her, shaking his head.

  “I’m still asking questions. Do you think these words you can’t say?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Do you whisper them to yourself?”

  Biting her lip, she nodded again.

  “When?”

  She looked down at his trousers again, which made him harder. “When…I…when…you…”

  “When you’re with Wild Bill the vibrator?”

  Fighting a smile, she looked up at him. “Yeah.”

  “So you can say you love me when I’m not there, but now you can’t?”

  “Pretty screwed up, isn’t it?”

  He grazed one pointed nipple, earning a shudder in response. “I can fix this.”

  “Of course you can,” she said with a laugh, but quieted when he placed another hot kiss on her stomach and worked his way down, kissing her hipbones and stroking her skin with his tongue, suckling her enough to pull a groan of need from her chest.

  He lifted his head and gave her a sly smile. “Part of the problem is down here.”

  “What seems to be the problem?”

  “It’s hot. And wet.”

  “And right now, it aches like hell.”

  “Definitely something I can fix.” With one slow stroke of his tongue over her swollen flesh, her legs instinctively widened. He licked again and again, lost in the sweet and unexpected flavors of Zoe, feeling her body vibrate under his hand and mouth, on the very edge of an orgasm that damn near dragged him to one himself.

  Seconds before she lost it, he kissed his way back up her body, lingering over every precious inch.

  “Now let me work on this…” He returned to her breasts and placed his mouth right over her heart. “Up here.”

  He turned his head and pressed his ear to her chest. “This heart sounds perfect to me now.”

  “Beating fast enough,” she agreed.

  “Then our problem must be…” He crawled up her body and put his hands on her face again, tapping her temples with his index fingers. “Right here.”

  Which was what they both knew anyway.

  Closing her eyes, she pumped her hips once. “Can’t you just fix me with…” Another pump. “That.”

  Not good enough. He wanted to hear the words, wanted to watch her mouth as she admitted what he had long ago realized. “Just say the words to me, Zoe. Say the words you think in your head and whisper when you’re alone. Tell me.”

  “Oliver, why do three overused words matter so much to you?”

  Didn’t she get it? “The words don’t matter, Zoe. I don’t want this to be…meaningless.” That’s what mattered to him. “For so long I’ve gone through the motions and felt nothing but a natural release. But with you, Zoe, I feel…everything. I want you to feel it, too.”

  “I do.”

  “Then…” He lifted both brows.

  “I…love…” The word choked her. “I…love…” She shook her head, her eyes full of pain. “Oh, God, Oliver. I don’t know what love is. I’ve never seen it, I’ve never known it, I’ve never lived it. How do I know for sure if what I feel for you is lust or love? How do I know?”

  “You? The girl who gets in a basket, turns a knob, and trusts it to fly? You know it will work, like you know you love me. You’ve always loved me.” He cupped her face, holding her still. “Zoe, you love like you breathe. You don’t need to have seen it or lived it before. You love without trying.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I know you. And because, Zoe, I love you.” He gave her a teasing smile before coming in for another kiss. “See how easy?”

  It wasn’t easy. It was hard. Everything was hard. Oliver’s arms. His kiss. And, oh God…that was hard.

  He intensified the kiss but somehow kept it so tender that it almost hurt for the sweetness. Easing himself over her, he held her close and let that kiss go on and on until the room spun a little and each breath became an effort. Until blood started to thrum fiery through every vein, and every carefully placed brick in the wall around her heart just tumbled and crashed and turned to dust.

  “How does that feel?” he asked, whispering the words into her ear, flicking his tongue over her lobe.

  Like her whole world was spinning into magic. “Really…” Amazing. “In need of help.”

  “Guess what?”

  “You can fix that?”

  “It’s my specialty.” He rolled over and grabbed a condom he must have had in his wallet, sheathing himself before positioning himself over her.

  “You like fixing things,” she said, watching every move. “That’s what turns you on.”

  “You turn me on,” he murmured. “And you’re talking too much.”

  “You better fix that.”

  He did, kissing her mouth as he entered her body, stealing all her breath and doing a damn good job of shutting her up. And of making her forget how to speak, actually, because right then, all she could do was…feel.

  And it scared her. Why?

  She closed her eyes, tears stinging. All she could feel was pressure…on her head, over her ears. Darkness, heat, the smell of musty cotton and the muffled sound of…

  Suffocation. “Oliver!”

  He shot up from the kiss, blinking at her. “What?”

  “Suffocation.” She barely mouthed the word but it hit her in the gut like a cannonball. “That’s what I’m scared of.”

  The trapped feeling of a pillow over her head and the desperate, burning, panic because she needed to escape. The dark nights in that foster home when there was no way out. When that voice started demanding and demanding the same thing. Three different words, so different than the three Oliver wanted and needed to hear.

  Run, Zoe, run.

  As long as she could run, she could survive. But if she didn’t run this time, if she could stay right here with Oliver, no matter what, then she could beat the memories of that house and that man and even that voice.

  “What are you scared of, Zoe?”

  “Him. The foster father who Pasha saved me from. I can’t breathe when I think about…him. About how much I needed to escape him.” The sob trapped in her throat nearly strangled her. “I would put that pillow over my head and try to suffocate myself. It was my only escape.” Until Pasha was her real escape.

  Oliver held her, kissing her forehead, her eyes, her mouth.

  “He’s gone, Zoe. Long, long gone. You’re not going to suffocate if you stay.” He reached up and grabbed the pillow, holding it in the air. “You’re safe. With me, you will always, always be safe. You don’t have to escape. You don’t have to suffocate yourself just to hide.”

  He tossed the pillow on the floor, where it landed with a soft thud.

  For a long, quiet moment, she searched his face, memorizing every line, every lash, every cell. This man who was completely inside her head, heart, and body. This man who had so much patience and tenderness and ability.

  This man she absolutely, positively… “Oliver,” she whispered, touching his face.

  “Yes?”

  “I l
ove you.”

  He smiled. “I know.”

  “Then why all the work to make me say it?”

  “So you know.” Very slowly, he began to move in and out of her again, deeper with each thrust, farther and closer and longer. They broke the kiss, their cheeks smashed together as the intensity sharpened every time he plunged into her.

  All the feelings of suffocation were gone. He’d done that for her! Zoe could breathe. She could hold him and cry out his name and say those three words and breathe.

  Was this what it was like to love? To be free?

  A shimmer of sparks showered low and deep inside her, forcing her to rise up and meet each thrust and cling to his arms like she might fall off the edge of the world.

  “I have to…” She struggled with the words, her throat weirdly closed and tight. “I have to…”

  He slowed his movements, then stopped, and her eyes popped open in disbelief. “I have to,” she insisted.

  Still, he didn’t move, holding her shoulders and his position inside her.

  “Aren’t you going to fix that, doc? I need to come.”

  “You need to love.”

  She frowned, biting her lip, rocking into his immobile hips. “I…can’t…”

  “You can.” He started to move again, taking her with him.

  “I do, Oliver. I love you. I do.” Every muscle spasmed at the same time, twisting and turning with exquisite pleasure, fluttering first, then thundering to a complete release.

  Oliver lost it, too, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as he gave in and pounded deeper and harder into her, finally lifting her shoulders off the bed with unexpected might and grinding into her as he came.

  They fell on the bed, hearts hammering, neither one really able to get a deep breath.

  She finally turned her head to look at him and enjoy the way that made her heart swell. “You think that’s all it takes to fix me?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “No?”

  “You need this prescription regularly. Maybe every day. Maybe forever.”

  “Forever?” She waited for the grip of terror, but none came.

  “Don’t leave me, Zoe. No matter what, please stay with me. Promise me, Zoe.” He stroked her cheek. “Promise me.”

  “ ’Kay.”

  “ ’Kay? ” He let out a dry laugh. “What kind of promise is that?”

  “That’s my kind of—”

  On the floor the phone beeped, and not a soft ding of a call, but a high-pitched alarm that pierced her brain.

  “Fuck.” He shot off the bed and grabbed the phone, stabbing the screen and angling it to read. Even in the darkness she could see the blood drain from his face and she knew exactly what that meant.

  “Pasha?” She sat up, gathering sheets frantically.

  “She’s had a heart attack.” He was already in motion, getting clothes, making a call, barking orders, but Zoe sat stone still in shock.

  She’d just learned to love. Would she have to learn how to lose?

  Chapter Twenty-six

  For once, Zoe sat very, very still. Not that she could actually bounce off the walls of the waiting room, since Jocelyn held one hand, Tessa had the other, and Lacey stood behind the three of them with her hands on Zoe’s shoulders.

  It was like they were, literally and symbolically, holding her in place. Was that what it took to keep Zoe still?

  Or had Pasha’s heart attack paralyzed Zoe with fear?

  “She’s going to be fine,” Lacey whispered.

  “She’s too tough to die,” Jocelyn added.

  “She’s in the best possible hands.” Tessa gave Zoe a little nudge. “You know that.”

  A nod was the most she could muster. Closing her eyes, she imagined Oliver’s hands—not how they’d just been all over her, but healing with that competence and authority. Please, Oliver, heal her.

  He’d been stunned by the news of a heart attack. This wasn’t a side effect of the treatment; there was no connection to her heart, and the pretreatment tests showed her heart to be strong and her arteries healthy.

  Yet she’d suffered a massive myocardial infarction, with no warning or reason, and her life hung in the balance down the hall.

  Across the room Evan stirred under a blanket a nurse had supplied.

  “He can’t be comfortable,” Tessa said, eyeing the child. “Maybe I should see if they’d give us a pillow.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Lacey warned. When all three of them turned to give her a look of disbelief, she didn’t flinch. “Sorry, but you never move a sleeping child. That’s a law of nature.”

  Zoe studied Evan’s profile and felt a totally unfamiliar flutter in her chest. Was falling for this kid a law of nature, too? Because she was, and fast.

  “What?” Jocelyn asked, concern in her voice.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Zoe replied.

  “You groaned.”

  “Of course she groaned,” Tessa jumped in, squeezing her hand. “We’re holding vigil in a hospital. She’s terrified.”

  “A vigil?” Zoe choked on the word. “Isn’t that when you wait for someone to die?”

  “It’s when you wait for someone, period,” Tessa said.

  “Exactly.” Jocelyn added pressure to Zoe’s other hand. “We’re waiting for Oliver to walk through those doors with good news. We have to hold that positive thought.”

  Zoe opened her mouth to say something about Jocelyn’s platitudes but closed it again. Sarcasm had no place in this waiting room, with these friends who had left a warm bed, a dear husband, a hot lover, or a newborn baby to sit with her.

  The impact of that sacrifice exploded inside her. “God, I love you guys,” she said, the admission coming out on something embarrassingly close to a sob.

  Well, that was easy to say.

  “We love you, too,” Lacey assured her.

  “And I kind of love him,” Zoe added, her gaze still on Evan. It was like Oliver had unlocked the dams and love was pouring out everywhere. “He didn’t even complain when I pulled him out of bed. All he cared about was Pasha.” Affection twisted through her, wrapping around her throat and making it tight.

  “He’s a great kid,” Tessa agreed. “So smart and sweet. He’s insane about getting that dog—”

  “The dog!” Zoe slapped a hand over her mouth and sat bolt upright. “If we don’t get that dog today, he might be given away to someone else.”

  “I can take him to the pound,” Tessa assured her, but then added, “ ’Cept I’ll probably pick one up myself.”

  “You should,” Jocelyn said. “It would be good for you to have a dog.”

  They were all quiet for a moment, the obvious, unspoken, and uncomfortable truth hanging over them: A dog was no substitute for that baby Tessa wanted so much.

  “I’m getting coffee,” Lacey said quickly. “There’s no sleep in my near future.”

  Zoe dropped her head back and looked up at her friend. “And by near future, you mean the next seventeen years.”

  “At least.” Lacey gave Tessa a tap. “Wanna come with me? I’m sure we can scare up some organic tea.”

  “Sure.” She stood slowly. “What do you guys want?”

  “Coffee for me,” Jocelyn said.

  “Hot chocolate,” Zoe added.

  Tessa screwed up her face. “Seriously?”

  Zoe jutted her chin toward Evan. “For him. I don’t want anything, but he’s going to wake up soon.”

  Jocelyn and Tessa shared a look and Lacey sort of tilted her head and smiled.

  “What?” Zoe said. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

  “You got it bad,” Jocelyn said.

  “The mommy bug bit,” Tessa agreed.

  “Mommy bug?” Zoe almost choked. “Because I feel bad that I yanked the kid out of bed and threw him on a hospital waiting room sofa and want to give him some hot chocolate? This is now a cry for motherhood?”

  “Yeah,” Tessa said.


  Zoe pointed at her. “You’re projecting. Isn’t she projecting, Joss? You were the psych major.”

  Tessa shook her head and walked off with Lacey, no doubt to gossip about Zoe’s detonating ovaries.

  “Jeez,” Zoe mumbled, crossing and uncrossing her ankles. “She can piss me off faster than anyone else.”

  “You’re tired, Zoe,” Jocelyn said.

  “And scared. And miserable. And lonely. And…” She closed her eyes. “Doesn’t matter. She can piss me off after a good night’s sleep and multiple orgasms. Which…” She slid a look to Jocelyn. “I was about to have before Oliver got the call.”

  “That’s the least of your problems.”

  “No kidding.” Zoe sighed for what seemed like the three millionth time since they’d arrived at the hospital in North Naples. “How do you do this, Joss?” she asked, referring to the many trips she and Will had made to doctors for Jocelyn’s father, who suffered from Alzheimer’s.

  “We haven’t had an ER or ICU incident…yet.”

  “But…”

  Jocelyn nodded. “We will, of course. There’s no way to avoid the inevitable of his disease.”

  “How do you deal?” Zoe asked. “How do you keep from imagining life without him?”

  Jocelyn snorted softly. “You may remember that not so long ago I preferred life without him. But now…”

  “Now you don’t, so it’s got to hurt to worry about him.”

  “It does, but it helps to have Will.” She gave an easy smile that lit her eyes. “It changes everything to have Will.”

  “Because he shares the worry?”

  “Like everything else in life.”

  “Wow, that sounds good,” Zoe admitted.

  “Something you want?”

  As much as her next breath. “I don’t…yeah. Sure. Who doesn’t? But that’s not the question.”

  “What is?”

  “I don’t know if I can give that kind of unconditional love back,” she admitted. “I don’t know if I’m capable of it. I’ve spent my whole life avoiding it. But I think Oliver wants it. He wants everything from me—my heart and soul and trust.”

  “So what’s stopping you?”

  “I’ve been stopping me.” Zoe turned away, the confession too raw and way too honest for this particular moment.