The Wedding Gift

by Sandra Steffen

  She’d expected his arousal, and yet the feel of it against her belly through their clothes made her go momentarily still. Sensing her nerves, he held her more gently, surprising her with how attuned he was to what she was feeling. And she knew she had nothing to fear from him.

  In the absence of fear, need took over, a man’s need for a woman, and a woman’s need for a man. When it seemed he would never stop kissing her mouth, his lips trailed down her neck, nuzzling the sensitive skin at the base of her throat. He unbuttoned her sweater and dragged it down her arms, turning it inside out in his haste, letting it fall where it may. And then his eyes were on the swells of her breasts in her lacy bra. She reached behind her back, her fingers on the closure, but he stilled her fingertips with his own.

  “Easy,” he said. “We’re going to take this one step at a time.”

  His voice was husky, his brown eyes heavy-lidded and filled with everything it was going to cost him to do things that way. The zipper down the back of her skirt rasped as he lowered it. With a gentle sway of her hips, the skirt fell to the floor and swished around her feet. She stepped over it, back into his arms.

  One moment they were standing, her bare thighs against his jean-clad knees, and the next he was slowly lowering her to the bed, and the mattress was shifting at her back and he was easing down next to her. She turned onto her side, facing him, soft where he was hard, smooth where he wasn’t.

  He ran his hand along the length of her body, massaging her neck, kneading her shoulder, gliding along her waist, her hip, her thigh. As he discovered the things she liked, and the things she loved, he nuzzled her neck with his lips, pressed a kiss along the edge of her jaw, and finally on her mouth once again.

  His fingers worked through her hair, slowly gliding along the outside of her neck, spreading wide at the base of her throat, his palm resting for a moment over her heart. She’d had no idea a simple touch could cause her heart to speed up so, sending desire pulsing through her. Coherent thoughts were replaced with sensations, the flutter of awareness, the thrill of desire and the yearning to know him as she’d never known another man, to feel his weight on her, his breath blending with her breath, their hearts beating as one.

  She rolled onto her back, reveling in the large mattress beneath her and the tall man straddling her. She may have been a virgin, but she wasn’t completely naive. She reached between their bodies, and covered him with her hand. His jeans came off as if she’d said, “Abracadabra.” Her bra and panties soon followed.

  When Madeline was finally naked, Riley’s breath caught. Why had he thought he preferred chesty women? Her breasts were firm and round and perfect, the centers pale brown, puckered and wet from his kiss. Her belly was flat, her naval a slight indentation he wanted to explore further. Her thighs were supple, her legs long and smooth.

  In another part of the house, a CD ended and another began. Here in his bedroom there was the slight creak of the mattress shifting beneath them and the deep breaths they took. Trying desperately to slow this down, he traded places with her, him on his back, her sprawled on top of him. He wanted to be careful. He intended to be careful. She let him know what she thought of his best intentions, moving against him, skimming her hands over his heated skin, seeking, touching.

  Everything he thought he knew about virgins was refuted by the way she kissed him, both giving and demanding. He reached between their bodies, and finally touched the part of her no man had taken. She rose against his hand and cried out.

  The blinds were drawn against the night, so the light Riley saw had to be coming from another source of energy. It was the energy they were creating together, a kind of dawnlike aura that heated him from the inside. Crushing her to him, he pressed his mouth to hers. He forgot to breathe, but it didn’t matter. His body didn’t seem to require oxygen. He needed something far more vital than air.

  He was holding on by a thread. He reached out to the nightstand and opened the foil packet with his teeth.

  Levering his weight on one elbow, he held her gaze as he eased her legs a little farther apart. He’d never realized what a gift a woman could be. It was no wonder some cultures believed virgins were the ultimate reward, the pie in the sky, the promised pot of gold at the end of the rainbow waiting in the afterlife for the faithful.

  “Now, Riley,” she whispered, her lips wet against his ear.

  He did what she’d asked and what he couldn’t have kept from doing if trumpets were blaring and the end of the world were imminent. He pressed deeper, watching her eyes as she accepted him an inch at a time. As he felt that last barrier give way, he began to move.

  He lost track of time, but felt her shudder, gloried in it. He could no longer hold back. He willed himself to be gentle, but he couldn’t contain his urgency. She cried out lustily, suddenly as insatiable as he was. The pleasure he felt in that moment was pure and wild. She cried out his name again. And everything exploded in a whirl of sensation. And after his own powerful release overtook him, he knew that one virgin was heaven enough for him.

  Madeline was on her back in Riley’s king-size bed, the sheet pulled all the way up to her neck. She could hear water running. Riley was in the adjoining bathroom, drawing her a bath. It was poignantly thoughtful of him, and brought fresh tears to her eyes. She hadn’t expected to be so emotional after, well, afterward, for there had been weeping. And blood.

  She wanted to burrow under the covers and hide until morning. For heaven’s sakes, she’d just shared her body with him in the most intimate manner imaginable. Why this sudden bout of shyness?

  Back from the bathroom, he lowered to the edge of the bed and smiled at her. “You okay?”

  She nodded and did her best to appear calm and collected.

  “Your bath is ready whenever you are,” he said.

  She could see the marks her fingernails had made on his back. She’d had no idea she would be such a wild woman in bed, or so noisy or responsive.

  Where was a hidey hole when she needed one? Since asking him to turn his back would be embarrassing in itself, she decided to make do with speed and agility. She slid naked out of bed and slipped into the bathroom as quickly as she could.

  He followed without an ounce of pretense, as naked as she. Wetting a washcloth with warm water, he handed it to her and kissed her gently before leaving the room, granting her the privacy she sought.

  When she was ready, she looked at her surroundings. What a bathroom! The lights were dimmed, the stone tiles beautiful, the floor warm beneath her feet. Through the skylight over the oval tub she saw the light of one tiny star.

  She couldn’t find any bubble bath, so she drizzled shampoo beneath the waterspout. With steam rising and bubbles forming, she lowered into the large tub, the warm water working wonders on her most tender places. Settling back, she looked up at that lone star. She stretched her legs, pointed her toes, and closed her eyes for a moment.

  The water was still running and steam was still rising when Riley’s knock sounded on the door. He had two bottles of water in one hand and a small plate in the other. Being careful to stay under the bubbles, she held out her hand, accepting one of the bottles he offered.

  While she took small sips, he tipped his bottle back, draining the entire contents. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he said, “I brought cheese, too, but I couldn’t find any crackers.”

  “This is fine,” she said, her gaze traveling from his washboard stomach to his bony feet. She wondered if he often walked around completely naked.

  “You’re sure you don’t want anything else?” he asked.

  Meeting his gaze once more, she said, “I’d like to do that again.”

  He joined her in the bathtub so fast water sloshed over the side. Pulling her onto his lap, he said, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  She caught her lower lip between her teeth to keep from smiling and said, “I could tell.”

  He chuckled, his hands already gliding over her soap-slick skin. His laugh trailed
away, replaced by other sounds, sensual sounds she was learning by heart.

  By the time they climbed out of the bathtub, the water was no longer steaming and the bubbles were all gone. Madeline’s shyness had dissolved with them.

  Riley’s hand tingled; his arm was asleep, but he wasn’t about to move it. He liked Madeline right where she was.

  It was late, and the lights were low. She was curled on her side, her head on his shoulder, her knee nuzzling his thigh as she drew figure-eight patterns on his chest.

  After their swim in his bathtub, he’d pulled on his jeans and she’d slipped into his shirt for a raid on his refrigerator. He’d made them an egg-and-cheese omelet, without nearly burning the house down this time. When they’d left the kitchen, they’d intended to take their hot midnight snack to bed. On the way through the living room she’d turned to him. They didn’t make it back to the bedroom for a long time, ending up on that orange-and-green sofa in the living room. Eventually they’d picked up their plates again, and had devoured the lukewarm omelets and cold toast in the middle of the bed.

  Their empty plates were on the nightstand now, their clothes on the floor again, and Madeline was snuggled up against him. “I’ll never be able to look at a bathtub like yours without remembering that second time,” she said sleepily. It was the closest either of them had come to alluding to the fact that their time together was temporary.

  “Want to hear something ironic?” he asked. “That green-and-orange sofa is growing on me.”

  She smiled drowsily. “They say the third time’s the charm. What do they say about the fourth time?”

  His arms tightened around her, and hers wound around his neck, the soft contours of her body gliding across the harder surfaces of his. They moved over the bed, arms and legs entwined, lips clinging, hands seeking, giving pleasure and receiving it. She was crushed under him one moment, sprawled on top of him the next. But it wasn’t enough. Touching, kissing, straining toward one another was only the beginning. What followed was a breathtaking roller coaster ride straight to the top. The finale was a free-fall bursting of sensation that blew every thought he’d ever had about lovemaking to smithereens.

  His new heart was getting a hell of a workout.

  Every so often, Madeline’s eyes drifted closed. So this was sex, she thought, her head on Riley’s shoulder again, her hair fanned out on the pillow beside her. This was passion.

  She and Aaron had had several close calls over the years, but waiting had become a way of life. It was only until they finished high school, they’d promised, only until after college. Once they were engaged, it was only for a little longer. He died a month before they were to have said, “I do.”

  Since that horrible day, she’d imagined she would become one of those old women who kept a cat and wore lace collars and joined groups that made blankets for the needy. She’d imagined she would grow to enjoy her quiet existence. Now that she’d experienced passion, she didn’t know how she was going to live without it for the rest of her life. Telling herself not to think about that now, she kissed Riley’s shoulder then ran her fingertip down the scar. Finally she rested her palm over the center of his chest and sighed contentedly.

  “What does it feel like?” he asked.

  “Steady and strong,” she said, planting a kiss at the edge of his scar. Something about the question made her rise up on one elbow and look at him. “Why did you ask?” When he said nothing, she said, “Riley, why?”

  He shrugged. “I was just wondering.”

  For once she didn’t let her mouth go slack. She sensed she was getting to the bottom of something important and couldn’t let this go. “Why would you have to wonder?”

  “Forget it.”

  “Are you saying you can’t feel your heart?” she asked.

  She could tell he wished he hadn’t brought it up, but he finally nodded. Outside the wind crooned. Inside there was only her gasp of dismay.

  She eased a little farther away from him so she could see his face more clearly. His eyes were only half-open, his jaw covered with the shadow of a dark beard. Beneath her hand, his heart rate quickened.

  Questions raced through her mind. Why could she feel it if he couldn’t? What could have caused this condition? What was being done for it, for him? In the end, she asked, “Do the doctors know why?”

  “Not really.” He punched his pillows and settled back, the sheet around his waist, his hands behind his head. By now she knew him well enough to know that if she waited, he would continue.

  He glanced at the ceiling, and then into her eyes. “The transplant went off like clockwork, my recovery one for the record books. According to the specialists, I’m a resounding success. The pills I swallow every day keep my body from attacking the new heart. There’s only one little problem. I can’t feel it beating. Did you know that a viable heart only lasts six hours? There’s never enough time to do a cross match, and yet this heart settled into my chest as if it belonged there. Hell, it’s as if it wants to be here. At first I wondered if it’s so damned perfect, why couldn’t I feel it? Now I don’t think about it much.”

  Madeline’s own heart beat ominously.

  He laid his hand over hers on his chest. “I can feel it on my palm. I can even feel it through your hand. But I can’t feel it inside my chest, not when I run, not even that second time in the bathtub.”

  “What do your doctors say?” she asked quietly.

  “They hooked me up to a machine and blasted the heartbeat over loudspeakers. It sounded like a wild mustang galloping on solid ground. The specialists ruled out nerve damage and side effects to my medication. There’s no physical explanation for the fact that I can’t feel it.”

  She shivered suddenly, for she’d read of rare instances in which people who’d witnessed horrors on the battlefield or a grotesque crime stopped seeing the color red. She’d never heard of anyone unable to feel his own beating heart.

  “What about a psychological explanation?” she whispered.

  He drew the spread up around her shoulders and made a sound that told her what he thought of the psychological evaluation. “The panel of psychiatrists I saw were keenly interested in how I feel about my mother, my father, my brothers and stepmothers, even the family dogs. I told them all the same thing. I have no idea why my chest feels like a cold slab of concrete, but I’m damn sure it doesn’t have anything to do with my meddling mother, my dead father or the family Pekingeses. The profession as a whole needs to get new material.”

  This past year and a half Madeline had been so haunted by her loss she hadn’t considered the possibility that Riley was going through his own kind of hell. How small-minded people became when they were in pain. Now she realized she wasn’t the only one who’d suffered. Riley didn’t tell her how sick he’d been prior to the transplant, but surely he’d have been dangerously close to death himself to have been put at the top of the transplant list at such a young age. While she and Aaron’s parents had been keeping vigil in his hospital room that agonizing day, Riley and his family had been keeping another kind of vigil.

  She wanted to ask what had happened, how he’d gotten so ill, and if he’d been afraid of dying. Since she couldn’t voice any of those questions, she pressed her hand to his chest. Her heart brimming with tenderness, she said, “I’m so sorry you can’t feel this.”

  “Try lower.”

  He could still surprise her. And she could still blush, but she glided her hand down his rib cage. “You are so wicked,” she whispered.

  She spread her fingers wide across his washboard stomach, eased past his naval, a little wicked herself. When she found him, he let out a sound of pleasure.

  The next thing she knew, they were rolling across his bed, and he was kissing a trail of his own. He got a little sidetracked with her breasts. She loved it when he kissed her there, when he suckled, laving each in turn with his tongue, for it sent sensations to places in her body physically unconnected.

  Every time they made
love she learned something new, about him, and about herself. Every time she thought sex couldn’t get any better. And every time she was wrong.

  As the sky outside the window was just beginning to lighten, she thought about all she’d discovered since meeting Riley. She’d recalled things about her own personality she’d buried. Throughout the process of remembering, some of those traits and characteristics had slowly begun to emerge once again.

  Completely on her own for the first time in her life here in Gale, she’d taken risks. She’d broken a few rules, maybe more than a few, had a few drinks and discovered that she could still laugh. She’d made a few wonderful new friends and shed new tears. She’d found a part of herself she’d forgotten and discovered a part she hadn’t known existed until now. And in the process, she’d fallen in love again, with the last person she was ever supposed to have met.

  She’d come to Gale to prove to herself that Riley Merrick was alive and well. And she was the one coming back to life.

  Chapter Eight

  It was morning. And it was Monday. That was the extent of Madeline’s cognitive skills, at least until she managed to pry her eyes open. That wasn’t entirely true, she thought, smiling to herself. It was a wonderful Monday morning. She knew that with her eyes closed.

  Squinting against the bright sunlight slanting through the narrow slats in the blinds, she sat up. The other side of the bed was empty. Unfamiliar with the protocol for mornings after, she padded to the bathroom where she splashed her face with warm water and finger-combed her impossibly mussed hair. She wished she’d have thought to bring a toothbrush, but made do with a dab of toothpaste on the end of her finger. After donning her clothes and straightening them as best she could, she went looking for Riley.

  She found him on the phone in the dining room. His back to her, he leaned over blueprints spread across the table. He was fully dressed in dark chinos and a blue knit shirt.