“How’s that thinking going?” he asked, bracing his hands against the roof on either side of her and leaning in toward her. “Anything changed?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, watching. Waiting. Wanting.
A long second dragged by. Then another.
“Mmm.” He stepped back and brought out his keys. “Anyway.” He cleared his throat. “Well, the division of labor has worked pretty well and that was how we were planning it this time, too. But things went off the rails last Saturday, as I think you kind of figured out. Now his wife’s on bedrest.”
“The one pregnant with the twins?”
“Bingo.” He opened the door for her and helped her in. “The only way we could do the theater was for me to take it on.”
It was only a light touch on her arm. It still raised goose bumps. Now it was her turn to clear her throat. “So Michael got his way?”
Brady shrugged. “I kind of volunteered. I figured it was about time. He needed the help, I wanted the theater.”
Thea reached for the door handle. “How’s it working out? Interesting, I think you said? Is that like the old curse, ‘May you live in interesting times’?”
“Yeah, well, every day should be full of new surprises.” He shut the door and came around to the driver’s side.
“Leaves less time for kayaking,” Thea observed.
“Yeah, but the place is going to be great. We’ll maybe have twenty-five, thirty rooms, plus the restaurant and bars. It’s got box seats up on the side walls. We’re building rooms outside of them so that if you’re staying there, the box seats are your balcony.”
“Nice. I hope you’ve got good soundproofing.”
“The best. Now if I could decide on the rooms.”
“Aren’t you the idea man?”
“I am.”
“Maybe you need to drink more beer.”
“Maybe,” he said thoughtfully. “The problem is, we’re using the same decorator as we have at the other properties, but this time out of the gate I don’t think she gets it. She wants to go with something really stagy—props, backdrops, klieg lights, all that.”
“I suppose some of that could work,” Thea said doubtfully. “It could be over the top, though. Which is not necessarily a bad thing—”
“Except when it is.”
She laughed. “Well, what about going the other way? Do them like dressing rooms. Maybe even move the real dressing rooms somewhere else so that you can make the original dressing rooms into premium suites. You know, stars on the door, the mirrored vanity, the whole nine yards.” She laid one hand dramatically against her chest. “‘I’m ready for my close-up, now, Mr. DeMille.’”
Brady watched her, considering. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. Putting rooms so close to the stage, though, it won’t be easy.”
“Isn’t that what you idea men are all about, challenges?”
“We idea men are about creating challenges for other people.”
“Look at it as an opportunity for personal growth. Anyway, it’s a thought. So what’s your question?”
He started the engine. “I’ll show you when we get there.”
SHE HADN’T THOUGHT it would be dark. Spacious? Sure. Ornate? Absolutely. She’d expected it to echo, perhaps. She hadn’t reckoned with the tomblike blackness.
Brady cursed. “I thought Hal would leave some lights on down front.”
“Hal?”
“The contractor. I guess he doesn’t trust the wiring. Wait here. I’ll get a flashlight.”
It was black anodized steel, the size of a small cannon. “You could murder someone with that thing,” she pointed out.
“It’s safer than a squash. Come on.”
Even with the powerful flashlight, the edges of the lobby receded into dimness. “The electricians are rewiring the whole thing. There are still some live outlets down by the stage. You want me to go in and switch them on while you wait?”
“No,” she responded immediately. It was silly to send him there as if she was some helpless female who was afraid of the dark. She had on flats, she’d be safe enough.
“Let’s go, then,” he said. “It’s not that far and Hal keeps a good, clean site. Stick with me and you’ll be fine.”
It was the sticking with him part that worried her.
Brady stretched one arm before her to shine the flashlight. He kept the other lightly touching her back as a guide. “It wasn’t too bad when I was in here earlier today, but things can change.”
They already had, she realized. Maybe it was the cave-like darkness or maybe it was the quiet that drew the cloak of intimacy around them. They’d become a circle of two. She should have been watching where she was going; instead, she focused on the sound of his breath, the heat from his fingertips against her spine.
“You’ve got to see this place,” he continued. “You’re going to love it.” His voice sent a little hum through her like a subsonic vibration. And somewhere deep inside her, a low, distant drumbeat of desire began to thud in response.
“Talk to me about the theater,” she said somewhat desperately.
“Watch out.” He caught her against him. For a moment, all she could feel was the heat of his body. “You almost walked into that pile of two-by-fours.”
He released her and her heart, after a pause, started beating again.
“The theater? It’s pretty incredible. Built in the thirties, when they really knew how to do it. For burlesque, at first, then movies. It went downhill in the sixties and seventies, though. Turned into a porn theater by the end.”
She thought of Paige’s stories of the burlesque museum, the costumes, the sexuality. That was it, she thought feverishly. It was the leftover vibe of all those decades. It was the heat and immediacy of walking so close together. It was her years of deprivation. It sure as hell was something because all the good reasons in the world had become meaningless.
She wanted him and she couldn’t stop.
“The back half will be a raised bar and restaurant, but the front will still have those red velvet seats that look like they belong in a brothel. And we’ll have you, dancing tango onstage. I’m thinking they’ll come,” he added. “They’ll definitely come.”
They’ll come.
They were closer to the stage, now. She had an impression of a shadowy bulk, then saw the raised platform appear in the beam. She swallowed. “So what was your question?”
“It’s about the stage surface. The contractor thinks it might be too rough. I want your opinion.”
“Let’s get up there, then.”
They stopped before the stage. “The steps are blocked right now, sorry,” he said. “We have other ways, though.” He set the flashlight up on end, so that it threw a cone of light that faded off into the darkness above. The glow spread over their faces and faintly lit the stage for a few feet.
When he put his hands on her waist, he caught her by surprise. She gave a yelp and clutched his shoulders out of reflex. His eyes were shadowed in the dimness, his teeth gleamed.
“Relax. I’m going to boost you up.” And he did it, as easily as he’d hefted the flashlight. She found herself sitting on the edge of the stage, looking down at him, her eyes an inch or two above the top of his head.
“Thanks.” Her voice sounded unnaturally loud in the dimness.
But he didn’t move away.
Thea’s pulse quickened. Brady reached out to rest his hands above her knees, where her short skirt ended. Slowly, deliberately, he shifted closer, stepping between her parted thighs. Shadows cloaked his face, leaving only his voice.
“When are we going to work this out, Thea?”
The words were soft, very nearly a whisper. To hear them at all, she found herself pressing her forehead to his, so that for a moment they stood touching. And her breath shuddered out.
It was inevitable, that was all there was to it. She couldn’t think why it was that she’d wanted to keep him at bay. The rest of the world, the rest of
her life didn’t seem real. The only thing that mattered was here, this moment, this cone of light, enclosing the two of them. What she wanted was him, what she wanted was this.
And she was taking it.
Thea laid her hands over Brady’s, slid them up his arms, over his shoulders to meet behind his neck. Her answer wasn’t in words but in the language of heat, desire, surrender.
Triumph.
HE’D KNOWN HUNGER, Brady thought feverishly. He’d wanted throughout the endless days, woken up in the night, dry-mouthed with need for her. He’d lived with the ache like sharp rocks in his belly.
None of it was even close to what he felt now.
Her mouth, that wide, full, impossibly soft mouth was open against his, demanding even as she gave, luring him in with taste and touch. She nipped at his lips, skimmed her own along his jaw, down his throat even as her fingers reached for the buttons of his shirt.
He’d thought she’d been open that first night together but it had been nothing compared to this. Perhaps it was that his memory paled in comparison to the fire and flash of the now. Perhaps it was that having finally made the decision to be with him, knowing him, she was throwing herself into it utterly in a way that hadn’t been possible before.
The noise she made deep in her throat held equal parts exhilaration and abandon, and threatened his control. The way she wrapped her legs around his waist as though to pull him closer nearly overmastered him. And then she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and he knew he had to move or go past the point of no return.
“Slide closer,” Brady murmured. The words echoed in the silence of the theater and Thea raised her head.
“What?”
“Slide closer.” His hands slipped around her hips to pull her toward him and she went. Then again, in that instant, she’d have responded the same way to anything he asked of her.
The heat of his bare torso against her legs made her take a breath. As though the dimness made him want to learn her by touch, he ran his hands up her body, over her hips, along her waist, feeling her through the fabric. Then his fingers worked up beneath her skirt and he began pulling down the satiny wisp of fabric beneath.
“What are you—”
“Shhh. Working space,” he said and bent closer to her. And with a sort of incredulous delight, she felt him drape her legs over his shoulders. “Playing doctor,” he murmured. “Just lie back and tell me where it hurts.”
“It’s a little stiff there doctor,” she said, sliding her fingers down to the tops of her thighs.
He gave a short laugh. “Trust me, it’s stiff in lots of places. Let me get in there and take a closer look, shall we?”
“But doctor, it’s dark.”
“Then I’ll go by feel.” He curved his hands over the tops of her thighs.
In the dimness, lying back, Thea couldn’t see, she could only wait to feel. Anticipation made her nerve endings hyperacute. His cheeks brushed against her inner thighs and she sucked in a breath. When his breath heated those tender lips below the curls of hair, she shivered.
Then the tip of his tongue touched her and she jolted and cried out.
“Clearly you’re in some distress,” he said. “I’d better examine you further.”
With his tongue, he traced a furrow between her inner lips. In all the years she’d been pleasuring herself, she’d never realized how sensitive that fragile flesh could be, but she discovered it now as he drew first one side then the other into his mouth, tonguing the delicate skin, moving his head to draw his lips over them. She moaned helplessly.
But he wasn’t finished. He licked again, going deeper, working closer and closer to what he sought, to the pearl in the oyster, the engorged bead of her clitoris. And when he found it, the bolt of sensation shot through her with the suddenness of an electrical shock. This time the moan was a strangled cry, the sound amplified in the empty auditorium. And then he pressed his mouth against her fully, hot and questing.
And relentless.
Thea twisted, her hands flying down to clutch his shouders. His tongue was doing devilish things, delicious things, wonderful things, fluttering against her clit. He traced swirling patterns, bringing her closer and closer to some nameless destination, filling her with that invisible, magical, glorious pleasure until she didn’t think she could bear any more. Yet she managed more, and more, and more before she exploded with it, crying out and shuddering against him.
“I want to be in you now,” Brady said raggedly.
“The stage?”
“Too high.”
“Standing?”
He glanced around and got a wicked look on his face. “I’ve got a better idea.” He drew her down from the stage, walked her across to an upright chair that had been discarded along with some other furniture. “Props,” he said.
“Over the top,” Thea said.
“Not nearly enough. Just wait.”
He kissed her without hands. Then she heard the sound of foil ripping and she understood that he’d been going for his wallet. His shirt was long gone. His belt was cool against her fingers, his zipper cooler. She could feel how hard he was. When she would have drawn him out, he stilled her hands. When she would have dropped to her knees, he caught at her arms. “Later,” he said, and easing his jeans down, sat.
Thea stepped forward and leaned over him to fuse her mouth to his, hands gripping the knobs at the top of the chair. For a moment, the kiss was her universe, the heat, the drive, the want. And then she wanted more, needed him in her with an ache that went bone deep. Stepping forward, she straddled him. She felt the brush of the tip of his cock, impossibly soft, impossibly hard as he rubbed it through the slick cleft between her legs, getting himself wet, finding the opening that led to the core of her.
And then she sank down on him and he shoved himself up into her to the hilt.
It tore a moan from her throat, a moan that merged with his muffled groan. Thea wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. He filled her. Every fiber of them was brought together in a way that was entirely pleasurable and entirely new. For a moment, it was enough. And then she began to move.
Shock, jubilance and absolute, utter ecstasy.
Never before. She’d never felt it like this, never, never, never. Orgasm had always been something that came from the hand, the mouth. Intercourse, as much as she loved it, was about a different mix of sensations. It couldn’t push her up that slope of rising tension until she came.
But now, oh, now something in the way they were positioned pressed her clit right against the shaft of his cock. With every rise and fall, Thea felt the stroke of him against that sensitive bud of nerves, like he was touching her or licking her only better. Longer. Slicker. Hotter.
Harder.
Every stroke dragged her closer and closer to orgasm. With every stroke, her arousal deepened. She felt him inside, she felt him outside, around her, in her, on her. She was crying out, half sobbing her pleasure and she couldn’t help it. Feeling him hard and thick inside her, feeling that stroke, that rub, that touch, it was going to send her over, even as he was inside her, so deep inside, filling her until there was nothing more to be felt. His mouth was on her breast, sucking the nipple, nipping it with his teeth as she moved up and down feverishly, trying to hold on to every instant of that incredible sensation. Then as though she were physically flung, she went over without warning, shuddering and clutching at him as she contracted around him, as the hot pleasure washed through her, exploded out to her fingertips.
BRADY FELT HER contracting around his cock, heard her cries and knew what had happened, knew it. The proof of her pleasure, the powerful pressure around him, the slick slide and helpless shaking dragged him over the edge. He pulled her down on himself hard, spilling himself in her as she still shuddered with her own release.
He couldn’t move, Brady thought. Every muscle had been drained in the orgasm and Thea lay draped against him.
“Where’s a bed when you need one,” s
he asked.
“Forget about beds,” Brady said. “I want this chair. I’m thinking of having it bronzed. And a little plaque added to the back—‘Never Say Never.’”
“Truer words,” Thea said. “Truer words.” She shifted slightly. “Now, about who gets to keep this chair…”
10
MORNING LIGHT SHONE red through her closed eyelids. Consciousness was not far behind. And after consciousness, memory.
Hell.
Or déjà vu. Except when Thea opened her eyes this time, she saw not an unknown male space, but the familiar soft green walls of Robyn’s guest room. The usual botanical prints hung by the window, the blue and white pressed-tin sign still advertised Little Fairy soap.
And behind her, with his arms wrapped around her, lay Brady.
Thea sighed. Bringing him back to the house the night before had seemed like a good idea. That was the problem with morning, she thought, glaring at the light that filtered through the half-open blinds.
Holding her breath, she eased away from him experimentally. Brady inhaled and rolled onto his back, throwing one arm over his eyes. In a moment, his breathing became deep and regular. Asleep, she decided in relief and shifted again.
His hand whipped out and caught her wrist. He said something—at least she thought they were words, but they were pretty much unintelligible.
“What?”
“Are you one of those morning people?”
“I wake up early.”
“You’re sick.”
“Then you won’t want me around,” she replied, tugging her wrist away.
Only to find it held fast. “You’re not by any chance thinking of trying your disappearing act again, are you?” One green eye opened to study her. “Because I’ll sic Darlene on you if I have to.”
“Oh hell, Darlene,” she said, sitting upright.
“You don’t get to bolt twice.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. If Darlene doesn’t get out, I’m going to be hunting down a rug-cleaning service.”
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