by Cindi Myers
Her nipples rose to attention at his touch, pressing against the lace of the gown. Her breasts were heavy and aching. He squeezed her lightly in his hands, then brought his thumbs up to stroke her nipples. She closed her eyes and leaned toward him, her groin pulsing with each movement of his hands.
When he released her, she cried out and opened her eyes, but already his fingers were working new magic. He slipped his hands beneath her gown and stroked her stomach, then moved on to her hips, down her thighs then up again. He stroked the outside of her thighs and then the inside. She could almost feel her nerves vibrating at his touch.
He brought his palm to rest flat against her groin. She felt her own dampness against the heat of his hand and arched toward him, grinding against him, seeking relief.
Still, he didn’t look at her face or speak. He focused on his hand, watching as he shifted to the side and slipped one finger beneath her panties. He pulled the slender band of fabric aside to expose her to the cool air.
She grunted with impatience. How much more of this slow torture could she stand? He smiled. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “I love watching you.”
He moved up to lie alongside her. “I love watching you come.” With these words, he slipped one finger inside her and then another.
She gasped and felt herself tighten around her. He bent his head to suckle her breast through the lace of her gown and her head fell back against the pillow.
Tremors rocked through her, days of pent-up desire seeking release. She clutched at the sheets, fighting the building tension, wanting this to last.
His mouth left her breast and moved down, across her belly, to that aching center. His fingers still in her, he began to stroke her with his tongue, hot and wet and insistent.
She lost all control, crying out and bucking against him. Almost immediately, he was reaching for a condom from the nightstand, tearing it open with his teeth as he stripped out of his boxers.
She struggled free of her negligee and panties, anxious to feel all of him, flesh to flesh. When he knelt once more between her legs, she reached for him, taking him in.
Objectively she knew that when it came to sex, the human body could accommodate a variety of sizes and shapes. But it seemed to her that no man had ever fit her as well as Dylan. Surely no one had ever satisfied her so completely or made her feel so capable of satisfying him.
She kept her eyes open, meeting his gaze, telling herself no matter what happened, she would remember every moment of this night, forever. Maybe that was what Dylan had meant when he said they should enjoy the moment. The moment was all you ever had, really. The past was gone and couldn’t be lived over, no matter how hard you tried.
And the future…who knew what the future held?
He reached down between them to fondle her, at the same time driving deeper within her, increasing the pace of their rhythm. She recognized the familiar building tension and this time surrendered completely, rising up to meet each thrust, letting him take her over the edge along with him.
They collapsed together and lay very still for a long time, their breaths coming in gasps. She stared at the flickering shadows on the ceiling, gradually becoming aware of the dampness of the sweat on his back, the scrape of his beard against her cheek, the crushing weight of his body atop her own.
Gently she pushed him away. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and slid off of her. “Didn’t mean to smother you.”
“It’s all right.” She snuggled alongside him and rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder. She felt completely drained, physically and emotionally exhausted.
What had just happened here? More than sex, surely. They’d had sex before and it had been wonderful. But this…this had been something else. Something more. Something moving and wonderful…and a little scary. What did it mean when you could lose track of yourself like that with another person?
What did it mean when you wanted to feel that way over and over again?
Her eyes drifted shut and, lulled by Dylan’s own regular breathing, she fell asleep, the sound of his heartbeat, strong and steady, reassuring in her ear.
SHE AWOKE HOURS LATER, disoriented at first. Sometime in the night, she and Dylan had moved apart. She lay on her back in the unfamiliar bed and stared up at the ceiling. The candles had gone out, but light from a crack between the curtains showed the gold and lace bridal suite.
With a start, she realized this was the first time she and Dylan had ever slept together. Really slept together, instead of leaving one another after sex to go home to their own beds.
In fact, this was the first time they’d made love in a bed. Careful not to disturb him, she pushed herself into a sitting position and turned to look at him.
He lay on his side, facing her, one hand beneath his cheek, the other reaching out toward her. A lump rose in her throat at the sight and she covered her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out.
In that moment she knew she loved Dylan. Maybe she’d always loved him. Maybe she always would. They came from different backgrounds, they wanted different things, they had very different plans for the future, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d stolen her heart. Or maybe she’d surrendered it willingly.
So, what were they going to do now? On shaking legs, she stood and made her way to the bathroom. She used the toilet and washed her face and studied her reflection in the mirror over the sink.
Dylan was running for school board. This was his home. He wasn’t about to leave Cedar Creek to come with her to Oxford. She’d made a stab at town life and knew it wasn’t for her. She’d tried, but she’d always be an outsider here. She couldn’t go through life that way. Not even for Dylan.
Fighting angry tears, she reached for her clothes and dressed. She’d leave a note for Dylan and call a cab from the lobby. If she stayed until he woke, she was liable to say something, or do something, they’d both live to regret.
15
SOMETIME LATER that morning, the telephone woke Taylor from a restless sleep. She swam out from under the layers of sheets and down comforter and groped for the phone on the bedside table. “Hello?”
“Good afternoon. Don’t tell me I woke you?” Mindy’s voice was entirely too cheerful.
Taylor squinted at the clock. Was it really almost noon? She shoved her hair out of her eyes and struggled into a sitting position. “I got in late.”
“Then I take it you had a good night?”
A good night. She frowned. “It was wonderful, but…”
“But what?”
She looked around the bedroom, searching for any excuse to get off the phone. It was too early to go into this, wasn’t it? “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But you’re going to. Because you need to and I’m your friend.”
“With a minor in psychology. How could I forget?” She sighed and plucked at the bedcovers, trying to get more comfortable. But she knew the tightness in her jaw and the churning in her stomach had nothing to do with lack of sleep or an uncomfortable bed. “I just think…things might be getting a little too…intense with me and Dylan. I only meant for this to be fun.”
“Uh-huh. What happened last night?”
“He took me to the Valley Grand Hotel. To the Bridal Suite.”
“Oh, Taylor!” Mindy’s voice was a breathy sigh. “That’s so romantic.”
“It was, but…” She shook her head. How could she explain this to Mindy when she wasn’t even sure she understood it herself? “Our relationship…what Dylan and I are doing…it wasn’t supposed to be about romance. Just sex and fun.”
“And you don’t think those two things can lead to romance? Especially considering how long the two of you have known each other?”
“We hadn’t seen each other in ten years before the reunion. And we never really had a relationship back in school. We were just kids.”
“But you felt something for each other even back then, didn’t you?”
Had she? What did a seventeen-year-old girl k
now about real, lasting love? “It was only a schoolgirl crush,” she said.
“Don’t be so sure.”
“It doesn’t matter what I felt back then.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, bunching the covers around her. “I never intended for this to be anything more than a fun fling. I thought it would be good to get Dylan out of my system and move on.”
“And now your plan has backfired.” Mindy’s voice lacked any sympathy. “What makes you think you can control someone else’s feelings? Or your own, for that matter?”
“There’s no point in going any further with this. I’m leaving. He’s staying.”
“Do you love him?”
The question stopped her heart and she struggled to breathe. The knowledge that she did love Dylan was like a big, hairy monster that had been standing behind her for weeks. As long as she didn’t turn around to look, she could pretend it wasn’t there, even as she felt its hot breath on the back of her neck. “It doesn’t matter if I do or not.” She swallowed. “That doesn’t change the fact that we’re leading two different lives.”
“Stop right there. I don’t want to hear any more excuses. Who was it who told me if I wanted something I should go for it and not worry about the consequences?”
Taylor’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe I’m finding out it’s easier to say than do.”
“You don’t have to do anything right now. You don’t leave for Oxford until the end of December. That’s almost two months away.”
“I guess you’re right but—”
“But nothing. Now, what time should I pick you up tonight?”
“What?” She blinked at the sudden shift in the conversation.
“We promised to help with Dylan’s campaign, remember?”
She put a hand over her eyes. The envelope-stuffing party! The last thing she wanted to do was to see Dylan, after the cowardly way she’d sneaked out on him this morning. But she knew Mindy wouldn’t let her out of this. She’d tie her up and make her go if she had to and probably crow about how it was all in the name of love! “What time are we supposed to be there?”
“Six o’clock.”
She glanced at the clock once more. Maybe in the next five hours she could find some small store of courage. “Then pick me up at a quarter til.”
She started to hang up the phone, but Mindy’s voice stopped her. “Taylor?”
“Yes?”
“Relax, okay? Stop worrying about what you think is going to happen and just…let things happen.”
She nodded. Good advice. Again, not so easily followed. “I take it that’s working for you?”
She heard the smile in her friend’s voice. “Let’s just say you weren’t the only one who didn’t leave the dance alone last night.”
“WE MUST BE CRAZY to think we can get this all done tonight.” Dylan looked around at the stacks of flyers, envelopes and labels to be assembled in time for Monday morning’s mail. Reams of computer printouts jockeyed for space with bumper stickers, placards and T-shirts on folding tables arranged around the room. Already, volunteers, including some of the kids from school, were busy stuffing envelopes and assembling information packets. By next weekend, he’d be surprised if there was a single person in the Cedar Creek School District who didn’t know about Dylan’s campaign for the school board.
“What is this?” He reached into a box and pulled out a handful of six-inch flat rubber discs, each printed with the slogan “Dylan Gets It Done.”
“Jar openers.” Troy grabbed up one of the discs. “Every household needs one. I got them cheap at the print shop.”
“So people are supposed to think of me when they’re opening a stuck jar of pickles? Don’t you think that’s overkill?”
“There’s no such thing as overkill in a political campaign.” Troy clapped him on the back. “Relax. What’s got you so jumpy this evening? Everything will be fine.”
What had him so jumpy picked that moment to walk in the door. Though he hadn’t seen Taylor since they’d fallen asleep last night, she hadn’t been out of his mind all day and the sight of her now did nothing to cool the fever she’d left him in. He stared as she walked past the folding tables to the far end of the room, her head tilted to listen to something her friend Mindy was saying.
Dressed in simple jeans and a sweater, her hair loose around her shoulders, she looked better than any woman had a right to, especially when he was still pissed off at her for running out on him the way she had. The note she’d left had been brief and unrevealing.
Thanks for a wonderful time. I have to go now.
Fists clenched at his sides, he made a beeline for her, reaching her as she rounded the last table, trapping her in the corner. Mindy gave him a sympathetic smile and backed away, ignoring Taylor’s silent plea for help. “Why did you leave this morning?”
She studied her manicure. The distracting image of those pink-tipped nails against his chest made his mouth go dry. “I—I had things to do. I—”
He put his hand on her shoulder, unable to keep from touching her any longer. “We never have lied to each other. Don’t start now.”
She nodded and raised her eyes to meet his. The sadness he saw in those chocolate-brown depths shook him. She wet her lips and it took all the strength he had not to lean down to kiss her. “Then the truth is…” She hesitated, cleared her throat, then went on. “I left because I was afraid.”
He frowned. “Afraid of what?” Surely she didn’t think he’d ever harm her?
Her eyes darted away from him, then back again. “Afraid that we’re taking this too far. This was supposed to be a fun fantasy. Re-creating the past, having a great time. But now…” She spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “It’s something more.”
He looked at her a long time, trying to read the message in her eyes. This had been about more than fun for him from the first. He’d started out wanting to correct old mistakes and quickly moved on to wanting to keep Taylor with him forever. Even though she’d make it clear that wasn’t an option.
He took a deep breath. He’d said they shouldn’t lie to each other, so he wouldn’t. It was time he came clean about his feelings for her. No obligations, but she deserved to know how he felt. She deserved to know that he loved her.
“I know what you mean,” he began. “It is something more, for me at least. Taylor I—”
“Sorry to interrupt, Romeo, but I need you over here for a minute.”
Dylan frowned at Troy, who had come rushing up. “Wait a minute—”
“Sorry, this really can’t wait.” He nodded at Taylor and took Dylan by the arm. “I need you right now. We’ve got a little problem.”
“What’s going on?” Dylan asked, still annoyed at being pulled away from Taylor.
Troy nodded toward the door. One of the volunteers was attempting to keep three teenagers out of the room. “You can’t keep us out! We were invited!” The biggest boy pushed into the room and headed for the pizza boxes set out on a table. “We came to join the party!”
“Do you know them?” Troy asked.
Dylan shook his head and hurried over to the group. Once he was close, it was obvious they’d been drinking. Their faces were flushed, eyes reddened, their voices slightly slurred. “You’ll have to leave,” he said firmly. “Now.”
“Hey, we just got here.” A kid with close-cropped red hair piled a paper plate high with pizza slices. “If they get to stay, we do, too.” He jerked his head toward Berk and Dale, who had come to stand behind Dylan and Troy.
Dylan glanced at Berk. “Do you know these guys?” he asked.
Berk frowned. “They’re troublemakers. You don’t want them here.”
“Who invited you?” Troy asked.
The biggest boy shrugged. “A friend. I don’t have to tell you who.”
“You can’t stay.” Dylan grabbed the big kid by the arm and shoved him toward the door. The kid was strong, but Dylan was stronger and had the advantage of being sober. “You’ve been drin
king and you’re underage. If you don’t leave now, I’ll call the police.”
The boys glanced at each other, doubt edging out bravado. “Lemme go.” The ringleader jerked out of Dylan’s grasp. “We didn’t want to hang out with a bunch of losers like y’all, anyway.”
Dylan watched them swagger toward the door. They grinned at each other, as if they were getting away with something. “Wait!” he called, taking a few steps toward them.
The redhead turned toward him. “What?”
“Who put you up to this?”
The boy laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He turned and led the way out of the room, the boy’s harsh laughter echoing behind them. Troy came to stand beside Dylan. “You think someone sent them here to cause trouble?”
Dylan nodded. “But I don’t know who. Or why.” He pulled his cell phone from his jacket.
“Who are you calling?” Troy asked.
“The police. If those boys are driving, they don’t need to be out on the street. And maybe the cops can find out who gave them their beer and sent them here.”
A dispatcher took his report and said they’d send someone out to look for the boys. Dylan slipped the phone back into his jacket and turned to look for Taylor. She was seated at one of the tables, stuffing envelopes and talking with Mindy, avoiding looking at him.
“Trouble in paradise?” Troy nodded toward Taylor.
Dylan looked away. “Why would you think that?”
“Maybe because you look like a hound dog that just lost his best friend.”
He shook his head, but said nothing.
“Is it the election? Does she have a problem with politicians?” Troy shook his head. “Not that some people don’t, but you don’t have a criminal record—yet.”
Dylan turned his back to Taylor, disappointment gnawing at him. How could she ignore him so easily when he’d been about to bare his soul for her? “I don’t think that matters to her. She’s going away to Oxford in January.”