Dear God, how did she know to move just like that, he thought as he took pains to control his strokes in and out of her.
"It's so good … so good, soooo good, …"
. . .
Kylie woke up with her hand between her legs, drenched in sweat. She'd heard about erotic dreams like this, but had never experienced one herself.
She was slightly embarrassed, even though she was alone in her bed.
Sweet Jesus I don’t think I've ever craved a man as much as I do this one, she thought to herself as she toweled off after a quick shower a few minutes later.
Knowing she was going to have a hard time falling back asleep, Kylie fixed a cup of chamomile tea, using two bags to ensure she wasn't awake for the rest of the night.
Tea finished and back in bed, she picked up her book, The Mastery of Love — one of her favorites which was always by her bedside — to read until sleep kicked in.
. . .
"It's about time," Katrina said, when Kylie told her about her erotic dream the night before. "I can't believe you're 29 years old and never had one."
"Well I'm glad I hadn't. Talk about being sexually frustrated. It's easy not to think about sex when you're not getting any on a regular basis, but when you're not getting any and then you have dreams about getting it — and having it be amazing by the way — well that's just torture," Kylie responded.
"Well he asked you out. So it looks like you're about to come out of a drought my friend," Katrina threw back at her.
"No ugh," Kylie said. "I really like him Katrina. I don’t want to sleep with him too soon and fog up my judgment," she said to her friend seriously.
"Then put on your big girl panties …" Katrina said.
"I know, I know, put on my big girl panties and deal with it. … Can't you be a little sympathetic you man eater," Kylie turned on her. "Not all of us can take'em and leave'm like you do," she said, frustrated with her friend.
"Calm down, Kylie. I didn't mean that," her friend said, encasing one of her hands in hers.
"What I meant was to literally put on big girl panties — as in, unattractive granny draws —when you go out with him. That's what I do when I go out with a guy I really like that I'm tempted to sleep with right away. I put on the ugliest, biggest pair of panties I have. I keep a few pair just for those occasions."
"It works. I'd be mortified to let any body see me in them, and not to mention what a mood killer it'd probably be for them. Although, most men will overlook anything if they think they're about to get some."
Laughing, Kylie said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you Katrina. I think I'm just nervous about going out with Gatlin."
"It's ok. I'm living vicariously through you with this one. It's nice to see love blossom right before your very eyes."
"I don't know about love, but lust is definitely in season!" Kylie instinctively hugged her friend. "You're the best," she said.
"Now I'd better knock out this story or my love life will be the least of my worries!" she said, going back to her cubicle.
Chapter 4: It's a Love Thang
Kylie bent over, shook her riotous curls and whipped her head up and back. It was a trick she often used to get her hair to fall 'just right.'
Popping a mint into her mouth, she took one last look at her face in the mirror in her living room and grabbed her purse to meet Gatlin downstairs.
Ah, first date jitters. Romantic soul that she was, she didn't abhor them like most women. The butterflies in the stomach feeling, the nervous anticipation of the first kiss, the first grab of the hand across the dinner table, the first touch of the shoulder in a movie theatre — Kylie lived for all of this.
She'd seen what true love was every day of her life growing up. Her parents had been married for 38 years, and to this day, they looked at each other like they were still teenagers.
Kylie had known how blessed she was to have parents like hers since she was in grade school. Many of her friends didn't have a mommy and a daddy at home.
"But why doesn't your daddy live at home with you and your mommy?" she'd asked her friend in first grade. The little girl had started crying.
Years later in middle and high school, she'd fully grasped the concepts of divorce, two-parent homes, child custody and visitation. So the fact that her parents were still together was somewhat of an anomaly. The fact that they still actually liked each other and were very much in love — which was on display for everyone to see — was rare indeed.
As she grew into adulthood and had her first serious relationship in her early twenties, she really understood what a gift they'd given her and her older brother. She knew what real loved looked liked, acted liked and felt like — and she could never settle for less.
As she descended the three flights of stairs and saw the handsome reflection of Gatlin standing on the stoop of her brownstone in midtown Manhattan, the butterflies in her stomach fluttered wildly. Kylie felt she was on the verge of something special with Gatlin. She hadn't experienced this many butterflies since she'd been home last spring and spent time gardening with her mother.
All Gatlin could do was stare as Kylie opened the door to greet him. That radiant smile lit up her face as bright as the Christmas tree did Rockefeller Center every year. The voluminous curls framing her dewy, heart-shaped face took his breath away.
"Ready?" he said, and thought how insipid that sounded. Of course she's ready silly, she's standing right in front of you. "I selected a restaurant a couple of blocks from here so we could walk. I hope that's ok."
"Great!" Kylie said, feeling like she was sixteen and on her first date ever all over again. "I didn't have time to eat lunch today, so I'm famished."
Kylie had worked straight through lunch to get her story filed in plenty of time just in case there were revisions her editor wanted. It didn't happen often, but she didn't want Murphy's Law kicking in — not tonight. She'd wanted plenty of time to get ready for her date.
Even though she and Gatlin had been in each other's company at least a dozen times over the last few weeks working on the hot celebrity death case, tonight felt different. All of a sudden, she was shy. She sensed the same shift in his behavior.
Yep, this was definitely a turn in their relationship — a happy one.
. . .
"The lady will have the Chicken Marsala with a glass of your house Beaujolais. I'll have the rib-eye steak, rare, with spinach. And give me a glass of that Beaujolais as well," Gatlin said to the waiter.
"Red wine with chicken. I never would've figured you to be a culinary rule breaker," Gatlin remarked as the waiter left with their order.
"Pshaw! I love red wine and I love chicken. Who says the two can't be enjoyed together? Besides, something about the vibrant fruitiness of this particular red just makes Chicken Marsala better. I think it's the way it mixes with the Marsala wine the chicken is prepared with. Anyhow, I don't question, I just enjoy."
"Now there's a life philosophy. You should put that on a t-shirt."
The waiter set their wine before them, along with water and warm rolls and butter. Kylie heard her stomach growl … and apparently Gatlin did too.
"You weren't kidding when you said you were hungry, were you?" he laughed.
Mortified, Kylie responded. "Nope … and I can't believe how I seem to embarrass myself every time we eat out." The light sheen of nervous perspiration on her forehead only added more to the dewy appearance of her face. Highlighted by the candlelight of the low-lit restaurant, she literally glowed.
"You are a very beautiful woman Kylie Andrews."
"And you are a very handsome man Gatlin Matthews," she added almost shyly.
"Salud," he said, as they clinked glasses.
. . .
By the end of that first date, Kylie knew she was in love with Gatlin — hopelessly, irrevocably in love.
They'd discussed everything from politics to economics to travel, literally closing down the restaurant — they were the last couple to lea
ve.
. . .
Successive dates had been equally stimulating. The more time Kylie spent with Gatlin, the more things she found to love about him.
His work ethic was out of this world, as was his intellect. A voracious reader, he inspired her to make more time to get back into it. As a child, she'd read at least a book a week. She was the only child she knew who got into trouble for reading.
Her mother would actually be calling her to complete some chore or other, and she'd have her head buried so deep in a book that she wouldn't hear her.
His compassion was genuine. He always showed the human side of the crime victims he wrote about, ensuring that readers connected to them as fellow human beings — not a person in society no one was was supposed to care about because of what they might have done or how they lived.
He had goals and ambitions, and an active plan to reach them, which really impressed her. Gatlin Matthews was a doer. If he said he was going to do something, you could bet that it'd get done. This was the trait Kylie admired most about him.
. . .
"So, did you finish editing the book yet?" Kylie asked.
Back on their first date a couple of months ago, Gatlin had told her that his dream was to be a crime novelist. His first book was already in the works. He had a friend who was a screenwriter, and had introduced him to an agent. He'd pitched it, the agent had liked it and sold it on its first submission.
"The grittiness of it just jumps off the page. You could be the next Mickey Spillane," the agent had said.
Gatlin was shocked when the novel had sold so quickly. When he thought of all the trips to the morgue; the ride along in police cars; and the mangled, disfigured bodies he'd seen over the last 15 years or so, he knew it hadn't been in vain.
Kylie was the only other person he'd told about his book deal, other than the friend who'd introduced him to the screenwriter, who'd introduced him to his eventual agent.
"But why haven't you told anybody?" she'd said to him. "It's so exciting!"
"Because it keeps the pressure down. I don’t want every body asking, 'how's the book going; when's it coming out; are you gonna quit your job; etc., etc., etc. … By keeping it to myself, I get to just focus on the writing, ya know. And that's the real fun — and torture — for me."
When he'd said that, Kylie had thought, talented and humble … and smart!
Coming back to the present, Gatlin responded to her question about finishing the editing, saying, "Yeah, I managed to get through the last chapter early, early this morning. I have to go through it a couple of more times, of course. … Anyway, that's kinda why I'm calling."
"Kylie, would you mind giving the book a read before I turn it in? Somehow, I'd feel better knowing a second pair of eyes I trust has been through it before I hand it off to the publisher, who's going to do goodness knows what with it," he said nervously.
"Oh Gatlin, I'd be honored to. Truly, truly honored."
As a reporter, Kylie knew that writers didn't share their personal works with just anyone. She hadn't asked him to read his book, although she was dying to. She figured if he wanted her to, he'd come to her. … And now he had.
Gatlin was a naturally guarded person. It's was one of the things that made him a great crime reporter. He'd developed trusted sources over the years, because everyone from cops to drug dealers to prostitutes knew that he knew how to keep his mouth shut.
Kylie instinctively knew that this emotional wall he'd built had something to do with his childhood. They'd shared a lot over the last eight weeks or so since they started dating, but Gatlin never discussed his childhood. It was as if everything that happened before he went off to college was off limits when they talked about their lives.
This bothered Kylie, but he was so fascinating and open in every other way — and she was crazy in love with him — that she just thought she'd give him time, figuring he'd open up to her when he was ready.
But what if he never is? her subconscious would whisper. She ignored it — for now. It was way too early in their relationship to even think about what this might mean.
Chapter 5: It's Written in the Stars
"Well, I'm getting my cocktail dresses ready for the inevitable parties, dinners and social invites to come," Kylie said as she held the manuscript in her lap. "You're going to be the next literary star in the crime world," she said to Gatlin as he sat down next to her on the sofa in her living room.
"Kylie you don't have to say …"
"Be quiet you handsome, talented, brilliant writer," she said, pressing her fingers to his lips. "Because I knew you wouldn't accept mere praise — even though it's well-deserved I might add — I made some notes throughout. Take them or leave them. I just jotted down my thoughts as I read along. It's a excellent book Gatlin. It really is," she said, making a point to look him straight in the eye so he could see her sincerity.
"Thank you," he said. He exhaled. He hadn't realized how much her opinion of it meant to him.
Gatlin picked up the manuscript off her lap and read through a couple of her insights. "It's funny you should say that," he said, pointing to the second note he ran across, "I was thinking the same thing, but I didn't change it. Now, I'm definitely going to."
Kylie was moved. He trusted her — enough to take her advice on his first novel, with no ego attached. This man has it right on so many levels, she thought. She fell a little bit more in love with him as she sat beside him silently as he read through her notes.
Kylie got up, went to the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. Going back into the living room, she wordlessly set a glass in front of him, kissed him on the forehead and went to her bedroom.
A few minutes later, Gatlin stood in the door, watching her remove the earrings from her ears.
Kylie saw him in the mirror on her dresser as he moved silently across the room, grabbed her from behind and hugged her.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"For what?"
"For coming in and so rudely and immediately focusing on the book. I really did come over here to see you, not just discuss my book," he said.
"I know," she said, turning around in his arms, "But I don't mind at all. I was just going to take a long shower, then take my time getting dressed so we could go. That would give you time to run through my notes if you want."
Lowering his head to nuzzle her neck, he said, "How about if we ordered in this evening?"
Kylie knew exactly what he was asking.
"I thought you'd never ask," she said, reaching up to press her lips to his.
. . .
"Yes," Kylie panted as Gatlin's warm lips closed over her right breast. Needing something to hold on to to keep from spiraling out of control, she sinuously slipped her fingers through his rich, dark hair.
Gatlin sucked on her right nipple, bringing it to a wet stiff peak, then continued his onslaught on the left one. His tongue was lovingly persistent. His mouth was endlessly pleasure-giving.
The blood drummed in her ears, racing throughout her body to her chest, legs, feet and waist area.
He moved one hand to the center of her, prodding her clenched thighs apart to slide his finger up and down her womanly slope. The slow, lazy motion drove her crazy as his mouth continued their assault on her fully erect breasts.
"That's it Kylie. Open up to me baby. Give me all of you," he coaxed, his voice low and full of passion.
At this, Kylie's legs slowly opened, allowing him full access to the most precious part of her.
"Oh Gatlin, I want you so much. I need you so much," she said, eyes closed as she gave in to the spasms of pleasure spreading from the center of her body to every corner she possessed. Her back arched off the bed as she spread her legs wide, convulsing and calling out his name.
"Gatlin, oh Gatlin. Gatlin," she cried over and over.
Kylie grabbed his head with one hand and plunged her velvety tongue into his mouth in a deep kiss. Her other hand sought the ultimate prize, his manhood.
As she slid her tongue in and out of his warm, willing mouth, she guided his shaft to her opening and raised her hips up, practically begging him to take her.
Gatlin needed no further urging. There wasn't an inch of her he didn't taste, touch or reach. She tangled her fingers in his hair as she arched her hips over and over again, meeting his hard strokes time after time with her own fierce need.
As their bodies moved together in this age-old dance, he was shaken to his very soul at how intensely he felt inside this woman. He'd never had any one match his desire stroke for lustful stroke. He'd never had a woman match his soul — emotion for powerful emotion.
This was different. He knew it as he moved insider her, touching her core over and over and over again.
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