Bright Eyes

by Catherine Anderson

  When she reached his driveway, she stopped to fluff her hair, which she’d let down before leaving the house. Then she smoothed her dress. Her stomach squeezed and butterflies fluttered at the base of her throat. All of a sudden, she no longer felt certain this was a good idea. Maybe she should just go home, call him on the phone, and tell him she’d changed her mind.

  “What’s that you’re carrying?”

  His deep voice came unexpectedly from the inky shadows and made her jump a foot.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. She heard his boots crunching on the gravel, the sounds growing louder as he approached. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Her heart hopped around in her chest like a frog on hot cement. “What’re you doing out here?”

  “Waiting for you.” He emerged from the shadows into the moonlight, taller than she remembered and broader across the shoulders. His dark hair looked frosted in the silvery moonbeams, and his eyes gleamed like polished pewter. “Do you have any idea how long a minute seems when you’ve got to wait two hours for someone?”

  Some of the tension eased from her body. “Sorry. I got here as soon as I could.”

  “You were in the house for fifteen minutes. I was starting to worry that you’d changed your mind.”

  She ran her fingers through her hair. “Last-minute touch-ups. I didn’t want to look shopworn.”

  “You worry too much.”

  Her sister had told her exactly the same thing last night, giving Natalie cause to wonder if they both weren’t right. She did worry a lot, especially about her appearance. Maybe it came from being onstage five nights a week, with people staring at her from all angles.

  “I’ll happily take you any way I can get you.” He stepped so close that she could feel the heat coming off his body. “What’s that you have in your hand?”

  She glanced down at the drugstore sack. Then she smiled as she handed it over. “A gift for you.”

  “A gift?” He opened the bag, tipped it toward the light, and squinted to see the contents. Then he threw back his dark head and barked with laughter. “A whole carton?”

  “Just so you’ll have plenty on hand.”

  He gave her one of those heart-stopping grins. “That’s two.”

  “Two what?”

  “Cartons. I went to town, too.”

  It was Natalie’s turn to laugh. He slipped a strong arm around her waist and led her to the kitchen steps. “No more repeats of last night. We’re well equipped now.” He bent his head to nibble the side of her neck and then her shoulder. “I remember this dress, by the way.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.” He kept a firm hold on her as they ascended the steps, then leaned across in front of her to throw open the door. “You had it on the first time I ever saw you. You were so beautiful, I damned near swallowed my tongue, and then, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember why the hell I’d gone over there.”

  “Huh-uh.”

  “God’s truth, I swear. All that saved me was seeing tomato pulp on the toe of my boot. You weren’t what I was expecting to find when I rounded the corner of the house. I wanted to touch you”—he dipped his head to kiss her cleavage—“right there.”

  Liquid heat pooled in her belly. Her legs went a little wobbly as she stepped ahead of him into the kitchen. He tossed the sack onto the table, caught her by the elbow, and swung her back around into his arms, his mouth hot and hungry on hers before she could even gasp in surprise.

  She’d expected to feel tense the first few minutes after she arrived, imagined that they’d make stilted conversation and ease their way into this. Not. His arm was like a band of steel around her, his large hand splayed over her back to press her firmly against him. No preliminaries. No opportunity to feel nervous. He just took control.

  He kissed her as if he never meant to stop. Searing heat. His hands skimmed her dress, setting her nerve endings afire. His tongue teased her lips, making her quiver clear to her toes. As he tightened his embrace and molded her body to his, she felt as if she were going to melt right on the spot. He delved deeply into her mouth with his tongue, his body quivering, desire evident in every hard line of his torso.

  He drew away with such suddenness that Natalie was startled. Taking her face between his hands, he trailed his lips over her cheek, then kissed her eyelids closed. “You’re so beautiful.” His voice had gone husky with need. He ran his hands into her hair and bent his dark head to feather his lips down the column of her neck to the V of her collarbone, then lower to the swells of her breasts just above the bodice of her dress. “So damned beautiful.”

  His breathing had become more rapid, shuddering from his chest, warm and steamy against her skin. He hooked an arm under her bottom, lifted her as if she weighed no more than a child, pulled her against him, pelvis to pelvis, and went at her mouth so feverishly that she thought he was going to take her right there.

  And she was ready. More than ready. She’d never ached like this in her life. Her desire for him went beyond feverish. It was a primal need deep within her. She ran her hands through his hair, pulled his head down so she could more thoroughly take his mouth with hers, and absorbed the heat of him, pulsating into her like shock waves.

  He drew his lips from hers. In a dizzying rush, she felt him move with her. The next thing she knew, she was sitting on the kitchen counter, Zeke standing between her parted legs. Breathing rapidly and whispering nonsensically, he rained kisses over her hair and face, his hands lightly caressing her bare thighs, his body held slightly apart from hers. Natalie blinked back to awareness and realized that he was trying to slow things down.

  She became lost in his fabulous blue eyes. Zeke. He was her everything in that moment. She needed him, yes. But she loved him even more for wanting to slow the pace and make this special for her. Following his example, she cupped his dark face between her hands and trailed light kisses over his lean cheeks, soothing him, pulling him back.

  “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you right now,” he whispered raggedly. “But I want this to be perfect, something that you’ll remember.”

  He couldn’t have said anything that meant more to her. She was accustomed to a man who thought only of his own pleasure. She could feel the yearning that coursed through his large frame, sense that he rode a dangerous edge. That told her more than he could know.

  “How about a drink?” he asked out of the blue.

  “Sure,” she managed to push out through kiss-swollen lips.

  She no sooner spoke than he slipped an arm under her knees, caught her around the back, and swept her up against his chest. She wished that he’d carry her straight to his bed, but instead, he carried her to the family room, carefully deposited her on a stool, and asked, “What’s your pleasure?”

  Her imagination ran away with her. Sex on top of the bar sounded fantastic at that moment.

  “Surprise me,” she said, using the husky, come-hither voice she’d perfected for the club.

  He gave her a long, thoughtful look and mixed her a sloe gin tonic. “Why did you choose sloe gin?” she couldn’t resist asking.

  He flashed a lazy grin. “It’s supposed to get you in the mood.”

  She squirmed on the bar stool, crossed her legs, and then quickly uncrossed them because the pressure at certain points was more than she could handle. “If this is supposed to get me in the mood, what was that in the kitchen?”

  “Just the icebreaker, sweetie. The main course is yet to come.”

  What ice? She’d never wanted anyone the way she wanted him—right now. She curled her hand around the tumbler that he slid across the bar, shifted on the bar stool, set her feet on the floor, and gave him her most seductive smile. Switching into performance mode, she walked toward the archway to the hall, swinging her hips as seductively as she knew how. When she reached her destination, she turned, lifted her glass, and flashed him a smile that she hoped would send an unmistakable message.

  “I’m ready for the main
course now, Zeke.”

  As she turned to lead the way, he made it across the room with Olympic speed. “I wanted to make this romantic for you.”

  Any more romantic, and she was going to rape him. She reached up, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and led him down the hall to the bedroom, both of their drinks sloshing over the edges of their glasses. Natalie didn’t care. It wasn’t her carpet. And at the moment, she wouldn’t have cared if it had been.

  She pulled him over to the bed, set her glass on the floor where his blasted nightstand should have been, turned, relieved him of his tumbler and placed it beside hers. With tense fingers, she began unbuttoning his shirt and unfastening his belt buckle. When she had him satisfactorily undone, she placed her hands against his broad chest and shoved with all her might. He landed on the mattress with a harrumph that made her grin. She hiked her up her skirt and followed him down, bracketing his hips with her thighs.

  “What about foreplay?” he asked raggedly.

  “That was last night.” She bent down and began planting kisses on his face and bare chest. “I want you. Now. I haven’t had sex in three years, and it was lousy even then.”

  Zeke lay there for a moment, enjoying the feel of her warm, moist lips trailing over his skin. Her hair tickled his chest—light, silken curls still warm from her body that sent electrical zings coursing through him. Her fingertips danced over his shoulders, pushing back his shirt, igniting him with needs he couldn’t deny or resist. Without conscious thought, he whipped up from the bed, caught her around the waist, and rolled with her to get on top. As he paused to look into her brown eyes, which shimmered in the moonlight coming through the window, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was the love of his life.

  He gently reached up and took hold of the straps of her dress, slipping them down over her slender shoulders. Natalie arched her back and reached behind to pull down the zipper, her gaze fixed on his. He smiled, tugged the dress down to below her hips, and bent to kiss the upper swells of her breasts. She trembled when he nibbled lightly at the lace cups of her bra.

  Natalie wished that her nipples were bare.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  Looking into his eyes now, she believed he meant it. He made her feel as if she were the center of his universe, more important, even, than breathing. She’d never imagined a man looking at her this way, never even thought it was possible.

  “Oh, Zeke.”

  “I love you,” he professed again, his voice husky with emotion. “I don’t know how it happened. I only know it did.”

  She understood. Loving him had crept up on her, too. She wasn’t sure exactly when. That first day, when he’d stood in her yard, boots spread and arms akimbo, his eyes flashing with anger? Or later when they’d stood in his driveway, nose to nose? Or maybe it had been when Chad had come to her, holding her grandma Westfield’s earrings on his palm, his eyes beaming with pride because he’d been able to buy them back for her, compliments of Zeke Coulter.

  “Oh, Zeke, I love you, too. I love you so much.”

  He slid his hands up her rib cage and unfastened her bra with a masterful flick of his fingertips. Natalie felt her fullness exposed, the elastic and lace springing away, only to be replaced by Zeke’s warm, hard hands. He caught her nipples gently between his thumbs and fingers. One roll, and she gasped, arching up off the bed, totally lost to the sensation. He was there like a wall above her, his hardness encased in denim, his chest like white-hot fire against her bare skin, the coarseness of his chest hair abrading her nerve endings.

  “Zeke!” she moaned breathlessly. “Kiss me there. Please.”

  Zeke didn’t want this to be over before it started. He wanted to make her reach heights that she’d never experienced. Instead of taking her breasts into his mouth, he trailed kisses around her aureoles, glorying in the fact that her nipples went rock hard. As she moved beneath him, feverish for what he wouldn’t give her, he lightly flicked their throbbing tips with his tongue and shifted his weight to lie beside her. Using one hand, he trailed his fingertips in a featherlight path from her navel to her pelvis.

  Hooking his thumb under the elastic of her panties, he jerked them and her dress down to below her knees with one motion. She lifted her hips to accommodate him, and with a swish, most of her clothing fell to the floor. Only her bra remained, still caught beneath her, the trailing ends winging out like parenthetic marks, drawing his gaze back to her generous breasts.

  He couldn’t resist those dark, erect nipples, which pleaded so sweetly for attention. He curled his tongue around one and gently teased the other with his fingers, glorying as she moaned in delight and jerked at every sensation. She began rotating her hips in unmistakable invitation. He met her thrusts with his hand, dipping a finger into the wet, slick heat of her. She gasped and froze, her lips parted in breathless anticipation. He laved her with moisture and lightly stroked her, watching her face as she climaxed.

  Afterward she grasped his neck with a quivering arm and tugged him toward her. “I want you inside of me.”

  He was beyond resisting her any longer. He sprang from the bed, shed his clothes as fast as was humanly possible, and went to the bathroom where he’d left the condoms he’d bought. After taking care of matters, he returned to the bed. Bracing his arms to catch himself, he fell back over her and situated himself between her thighs.

  As he pushed slowly into her, he almost lost it. She was so wet and warm and ready. Dear God. She felt good. A sudden tightness knotted his lower abdomen, and pain radiated out from there, snapping his whole body taut. He wanted to hold back, to make this last, but it was pure hell. Being sheathed in her hot, moist softness, feeling her muscles convulsing around him, he couldn’t control the urges of his body any longer.

  With rapid thrusts of his hips, he drove into her. She quickly learned his rhythm and met him, thrust for thrust, her legs locked around his thighs. Faster and deeper. He felt her body jerk slightly, and then her inner walls started to spasm. He went into overdrive, his groin exploding with sensation. She sobbed and held on to him, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. They peaked together, a frenzied, desperate completion that left them both drained.

  Afterward, he collapsed against her, trying to support his weight to keep from crushing her.

  “Oh, Zeke,” she said tremulously.

  He rolled to one side and gathered her into his arms, kissing her hair, lightly stroking her damp skin.

  “That was lovely,” she whispered.

  He tucked in his chin to narrow an eye at her. “Lovely, hell. That was fabulous, sweetheart.”

  She giggled weakly and placed a small hand over his pounding heart. Zeke turned his cheek against her hair, feeling sated and absolutely content. “Give me five, and we’ll go again.”

  “Five minutes?” she asked incredulously.

  “You got a problem with that?”

  She nipped the underside of his jaw and turned to lie facing him, her breasts like firebrands where they touched his chest. Cupping a hand over his jaw, she smiled beatifically. “I’m so happy, Zeke. I never want this moment to end.”

  He kissed the tip of her elegant nose. “The moment will pass, but the feeling never will.”

  They rested then, limbs intertwined, heartbeats slowing to a more normal pace. He heard her stomach growl and opened one eye. “Sweetheart, are you hungry?”

  “I usually have some yogurt when I get home. I passed tonight.”

  “Did you eat dinner at the club?”

  “Good grief, no. I’d get fat if I did that every night.”

  He slapped her bottom. “Up.”

  “I thought we were going to make love again.”

  “Nourishment first, fun later. You worked your little tail off all day and put in a full shift tonight. I don’t want you getting sick.”

  Zeke lent her a shirt, then led her to the kitchen. When she offered to help as he collected the ingredients for an omelet from the fridge, he handed h
er a wooden spoon, bent to kiss her, and said, “Sing to me.”

  “That wouldn’t be a help.”

  “I don’t want my teeth to bounce off these eggs.”

  She sighed in exasperation. “I’m not that bad a cook. Gramps was only teasing when he said that.”

  Zeke doubted it. “Sing me ‘Forever and for Always,’ ” he coaxed.

  She tapped her chin with the spoon and dimpled a cheek. “I’d feel silly.”

  Zeke began singing the words himself. That got her started, and once she got into the song, nature took over. She did what she’d been born to do while he manned the stove.

  She looked so adorable, wearing nothing but his shirt, with her hair going every which way and her lips swollen from lovemaking, that he almost turned off the burner to carry her back to bed. He resisted the urge, wanting to get some food into her first.

  Later, after she ate her omelet, they returned to the bedroom. The second time was even better than the first, in Zeke’s estimation. He was able to go more slowly, savoring every sweet inch of her and bringing her to climax several times before he reached completion himself.

  Afterward they slept for a while, clasped in each other’s arms. Then he slipped from bed, threw on his clothes, gently nudged her awake, helped her to dress, and walked her home. Once at her back door, he kissed her good night, a long, lingering kiss filled with promise.

  “Oh, Zeke, I don’t want to go in.”

  One arm locked around her, he cupped his other hand over her bottom and swayed with her. “I know,” he whispered. “I don’t want to let you. But it’ll be daylight soon. We don’t want the kids to see you sneaking home.”

  She clung to his neck. “It’s silly, I guess. But I feel like we’ll only get this one night, that something will happen to ruin this for me.”