by Rachel Lee
Need. Was there anything else?
She felt herself carried upward on a tsunami of irresistible force, turning pleasure into pain and then back to pleasure again. She approached the culmination, half terrified, half desperate, because she knew this time it would be so powerful it hurt.
She could never have imagined such a thing, but as she teetered precariously on the tip of the peak, she feared the fall to come. Then she tumbled, crying out in both pain and delight, feeling as if the sensation rocketed through her entire body like a powerful explosion.
Pinwheels whirled inside her as she collapsed, breathless and replete, as minor explosions of delight still rocked her.
Then Gil joined her, with one mighty thrust that seemed to claim her all the way to her soul. He froze, rigid, then slowly, with a moan and shudder, relaxed.
Then his arms surrounded her and she drifted away into a new universe.
Chapter Eight
They lay together on their backs under a heap of covers, hands entwined. Bodies had long since cooled off; breathing had resumed a normal rhythm.
But that did nothing to erase the magic, Miri thought. She felt as if she had touched the stars and taken a flight to the farthest reaches of reality. She didn’t want anything to interfere, to shatter her charmed state of bliss and wonder.
It couldn’t last, but she could cling to it for every possible moment. She wanted this night never to end, though she knew it must.
Beneath her hands, granite had become malleable, but no less powerful. He’d bent until they were one, and made a comfortable place for her in his arms. He’d shared himself in the most intimate way imaginable, yet she felt as if a part of him was unreachable. That part had been there from the moment she’d met him, and Miri suspected it would be there until the end of his days.
But she’d come to accept it. It was as irrevocably part of him as the gray color of his eyes. It no longer made her curious or uncomfortable.
Everyone, she thought mistily, had private places within themselves, including her. Places that needn’t be shared or couldn’t be shared. In her case it was the death of her parents. The grief that had seared her and clawed at her, then had been put away into some subbasement of her heart.
She sighed, realizing the treasured moments were beginning to slip away much as she tried to cling. Whether they’d ever be able to recover that magic she didn’t know. Nor did she know if she’d ever have the chance.
“You okay?” Gil asked, hearing her sigh.
“I think I’m landing. I really don’t want to.”
“Me, neither.” His hand squeezed hers.
Silence returned, except for the sound of the hostile wind outside. In here, next to Gil, she had found sanctuary from the storms, however brief.
Something was happening deep inside her, but she wasn’t sure what. She’d dated like any woman her age; she’d even had longer a relationship that had approached the stage of living together. But she’d never, ever, felt like this, and she feared this was going to leave with Gil.
He’d been here only a couple days. How could she have reached this point so fast? She smothered another sigh so as not to disturb him, and decided there were just no answers for something.
It wasn’t as if he’d been a total stranger when he arrived. Al had spoken of him frequently. They’d been exchanging brief emails since the funeral. And then he’d come here and revealed he was nowhere near the stony man he’d appeared to be at the funeral.
A man like any other, carrying a boatload of pain and probably a whole lot of bad memories he couldn’t share but had to live with. Yet he still remained caring and even kind, with her, anyway.
And a helluva lover.
A giggle escaped her then, and she rolled over, laying her hand on his powerful chest.
“What?” he asked.
“I was just thinking that you’re a helluva lover.”
A snort of laughter escaped him. “Wait till my hip gets fixed. I have tricks I haven’t showed you.”
She liked the sound of that and rested her head on his shoulder, liking the feel of his skin, of his warmth, and the sound of his beating heart. She tried not to take his words as a promise of any kind of future. He’d go back, get fixed up as much as they could, and then he’d have the rest of his life to deal with. Maybe he’d keep his career, maybe he’d have to find something else, but she didn’t see how she could be any part of that.
Small-town schoolteacher, with roots as deep around here as any. Wanderlust had never captivated her.
Stop thinking of these things, she advised herself. Just enjoy the now however long it lasts.
He covered her hand on his chest with his much bigger one, and she could feel how hard his palms were, hardened from tough use. Not a musician’s hands, or a teacher’s.
“Do you rock climb?” she asked.
“I can when necessary.”
She bet he could do a lot of things when it was necessary. “I thought about it, but got talked out of it. I need my hands for my music. Of course, I need other parts of me, as well.”
Another quiet laugh escaped him. “Very nice parts, I might point out. I’d hate for you to lose any of them.”
She smiled against his shoulder. “Would you ever rock climb for fun?”
“Conquering El Capitan isn’t necessary to prove my manhood.”
That caught her attention. An interesting way to put it. Had he left all those things behind? But what would he have left to prove, given all that he must have done? A man without insecurities, at least about his masculinity. She liked that. Some men got past all that, but she had often sensed that in the right situation many guys still thought they needed to prove how tough they were.
How nice to be free of that, although she probably didn’t want to know the price he’d paid to get there.
“What else have you avoided because of your music?”
“Not much, I don’t think. It’s just that at an early age my tutor impressed on me how important it was to take care of my hands. Since then a handful of people have reminded me.”
“They’re very nice hands,” he remarked, stroking the back of the one that rested on his chest. His fingertips caressed her lightly, sending delighted shivers through her all over again. “They charm me when they touch me.”
His thoughts ran so close to her earlier ones that she was a bit surprised. Had they developed some kind of psychic link?
“You’re gonna hate me,” he said, humor in his tone.
“Why?” Her heart skipped an uncomfortable beat.
“I’m hungry again.”
She had to laugh. “I think I am, too.” Reluctantly, she eased away from him. “Want to eat in bed?”
“Not really. I’ve got better plans for this bed, and crumbs could be a problem.”
* * *
He hated to pull on any clothes, but the house felt full of chilly, snaking drafts. It must be cold enough outside to set up a differential, because this place didn’t appear to be leaking like a sieve. Frankly, getting dressed was a pain these days, so he settled on shorts, boxers and a heavy flannel shirt that had been buried in his suitcase. Then he followed her to the kitchen.
She was wearing her terry cloth robe again, appearing cuddly, and looking through cabinets and her freezer.
“I’m eating everything, aren’t I?” he asked.
“Not really. I just didn’t know what you’d like to eat, and it didn’t occur to me that I wouldn’t be able to get to the store.”
“Toast will do, if you have bread. Or peanut butter sandwiches.”
She didn’t answer immediately. He settled on a chair, propping his cane against the wall, and watched her lean back a little from her open fridge while she chewed her lower lip.
He had to fight not to just scoop her into his lap and get them both i
nto some more trouble, but he was the guy who’d opened his yap about being hungry. Which was kind of ridiculous because he’d gone hungry for long periods. That particular gnawing in his stomach was just background.
Or had been until after the hospital. Maybe his body just kept demanding fuel for repairs. He guessed that wouldn’t be surprising. Whatever, his appetite had mushroomed.
“When the weather clears tomorrow, I’ll go out and buy something. I guess I’ve been eating you out of house and home.”
“Hardly,” she answered, glancing over her shoulder. “So you’re not leaving as soon as the weather clears?”
“Not unless I get an invitation to.”
She smiled before returning her attention to the contents of her refrigerator. “You won’t get it from me.”
Somehow he hadn’t thought he would, although he seriously needed to think about what he was doing here. He didn’t want to hurt this woman. He knew he was going to have to leave, for surgery, for rehab, maybe to return to the service. If he had a future, he didn’t think it was here, although she made it very tempting. But no way was he going to depend on a woman, so he had to make himself independent.
He just didn’t want to hurt her in the process.
But maybe it was already too late. He didn’t think of himself as extraordinarily stupid, but maybe he had been this weekend. Where had his self-control gone? He’d depended on it his entire adult life.
Poof. Not cool.
She pulled a loaf of bread out of the freezer and tossed it on the counter. “For tomorrow,” she said.
“It doesn’t sound much calmer out there.”
“No, it doesn’t. I was sure it would be dying out tonight.” The microwave clock said it was two in the morning. Already. This night was passing too fast, but emotionally, it felt like a lifetime. He’d experienced so much, felt so much in these hours with Miri. The only thing he could compare it to was the intensity of combat, and he didn’t want to do that. He’d just enjoyed the most beautiful hours of his life. No comparisons there.
She closed the fridge. “If you can hang on a little while, I can make some muffins. Box mix.”
“I don’t want you going to so much trouble at this hour—”
She shook her head, silencing him. “I’m hungry, too, and nobody sleeps well hungry.”
“We’re going to sleep?” He loved the way she cracked up at that. He’d like to make her laugh like that all the time, but didn’t seem the type of guy to cause much of that kind of laughter. Too sober and serious, at least until he had a few beers in him? Maybe.
God knew he laughed enough with his buddies when they were home and could hit a bar or have a barbecue in someone’s yard. Knitted together in a way few would ever understand.
But since Al’s death...well, he’d stopped laughing as much. Yeah, he’d lost men he cared about before, but Al had been unique. They’d gone through so much together over the years, shared so much experience, good and bad. He’d heard plenty of troops say they didn’t bother to get to know the new guys because they wouldn’t last long. Well, he and Al had never had that option. They’d been welded in training. While people had naturally come and gone over the years, he and Al had remained.
He suspected Al wouldn’t like knowing he found it hard to laugh anymore. His friend wouldn’t appreciate that at all.
Lost in memories, Gil was surprised when he realized that Miri was already popping a pan of muffins into the oven. Well, she’d said it would be easy, but it was impolite of him to have drifted away and left her alone while she did it.
But she didn’t seem to mind. She came to the table and sat with her chin in her hand, looking drowsy. “Twenty minutes.”
“Are you sure you don’t just want to go to bed? I can take the muffins out of the oven, and you look ready to doze off.”
“I’m feeling really good,” she said, a sleepy smile on her face. “So relaxed. I don’t want to snooze it away.”
In the end, however, as soon as the muffins came out of the oven, without eating any, they went straight to bed. Sleep demanded its due, so curled together, they let it take them.
* * *
Morning came well before the sun, with an insistent ringing of Miri’s phone. She lifted it off the cradle beside her bed, and without even opening her eyes, listened to the recorded message telling her that school was closed for the day.
Big surprise.
Gil, who had managed to roll onto his uninjured side and wrap an arm around her waist, mumbled, “It’s too early, Teach.”
“No kidding.” She placed the receiver back into the cradle and, glancing at the clock, saw that it wasn’t quite six yet. The sun wouldn’t be up for a while, and since she had nowhere to go, she had no special desire to get up.
She sighed, loving the way Gil held her, enjoying his strength and warmth. Then, between one instant and the next, she fell into a sound sleep.
When she woke again, the sun still hadn’t risen, but habit made her feel as if she were late. She was usually out her door and on her way to school at this time of year, when the sky was just beginning to lighten. She loved the experience of watching the day begin, then as spring drew closer, watching the sun rise earlier and earlier until it beat her to school.
She started to stir and heard Gil say, “Must you?”
“I must.” The relaxation that had earlier filled her was beginning to transmute to anxiety. The storm would be over soon. Gil would be talking about moving on. Somehow, some way, she needed to put this night into a box for admiring but not touching.
She had to admit she felt weird as she rose, pulled on her robe and headed to the bathroom for her morning ablutions. Washing her face, brushing her teeth, debating whether the house was still too chilly to try to take another shower—these were ordinary things that didn’t feel at all ordinary this morning.
She tossed Gil a smile as she emerged from the bathroom. He was sitting up against pillows, looking sharp-eyed now, watching her.
“I’ll make some coffee.” She headed down the hall to the kitchen, trying to pretend it was like any other morning in her life, making coffee, having a muffin for breakfast.
But it was not at all like any other night in her life, and she knew it. She felt it all the way to her bones. Her world had been rocked and she didn’t know if it would ever be able to settle into its familiar paths again.
Get over it, she told herself sternly. Sheesh, she’d been with the man for only three days. Everything before that had been secondhand from Al, or unrevealing from their emails. Gil couldn’t have possibly made himself indelible so quickly, and she couldn’t possibly be foolish enough at her age to turn all sappy over what was surely a one-night stand.
She had herself pretty well convinced by the time she heard Gil’s uneven steps in the hallway. She’d be fine and could let him go.
The coffee started brewing, and she drew back the café curtain over the sink. “Oh, man,” she said.
“What?” Gil asked from just behind her.
“There are two cars in my driveway. I know the sun isn’t going to rise for a few more minutes, but right now all I can see are pink snowdrifts when the wind stops blowing.”
She felt him come up behind her, instantly causing her every sense to grow sharp. She could smell him, a delightful scent of man mixed with lovemaking. She could feel his heat radiating from his body when he was still a short distance away. The sound of his uneven steps had become totally familiar, and now she couldn’t imagine not hearing them.
She tried to pay attention to the cars, because they really were a sight. Then Gil, with the simple act of slipping an arm around her waist and leaning into her back, dropping a kiss on her neck, blew all resolutions to smithereens.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he said, “That’s a lot of shoveling. I don’t know how much I can help.”
> “You don’t need to. There’s a youngster down the street who likes to make a little pocket money by shoveling for me. If school weren’t closed today, he’d probably have been here about the time I was getting the call.”
The wind, though far less threatening than yesterday, still hadn’t calmed completely. Zephyrs blew gently, but were strong enough to make the snow scatter like glitter in the brightening red light of dawn. Some larger flakes continued falling, but nothing like yesterday’s whirlwind. The storm had nearly reached its end.
She felt him lean to one side before he spoke. “The roads look about the same. Buried. I thought I heard a plow in the wee hours.”
“You might have. The wind defeats all comers. The snow we get here is usually pretty dry, and it blows and drifts forever. As bad as it was, if they were plowing it was for the sake of emergency vehicles.”
She heard the hiss from the coffeepot, indicating it had finished. “Want some coffee and a muffin?”
“I’d like to stand right here like this with you forever, but I guess that’s not possible.”
She closed her eyes as his arm slipped away, feeling the loss of his touch as if skin were being ripped away. No, it wasn’t possible. None of it was possible and she’d better wrap her head and heart around that. He’d never spoken a word to suggest that this hadn’t been just a little friendly sex on a cold and miserable night when they both were probably feeling a bit lonely.
He got the mugs and small plates for the muffins. She brought the pot and the food to the table. As smoothly as if they’d been doing this for years.
But then there was no escaping it. Two people, virtual strangers, had just passed the most amazing night, as if a wedge had been cut out of time and set aside for their enjoyment, but then time flowed on as if it had never happened.
But it had happened and she wondered how she was going to deal with it all when he left. She wouldn’t be able to slice out the memories.
He finished two muffins and was on his second cup of coffee when he at first said something innocuous. “Box mix or not, those were great blueberry muffins.”