Thrill Me

by Isabel Sharpe

“Much better idea.” He took hold of the zipper at the base of her neck and inched it down, peeled the straps off her shoulders and watched the dress drop into a heap at her feet.

  She stepped out of it, kicked off her flat shoes and stood quietly, feeling vulnerable and nervous, while his eyes made a leisurely exploration of her body in the white lace bra and matching panties.

  “You are so beautiful.” He moved close, lifted her breasts reverently in his palms. “A fantasy come to life.”

  She cringed. She didn’t want to be a fantasy. She wanted—

  “Stop that.” His voice was the same sexy murmur; his hands warmed her skin on their way behind her; he undid her bra and slid it off.

  “Stop what?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper; he was stroking her breasts, his hands warm in the cool breeze flowing through the room.

  “Calling you a fantasy was a compliment. You’re more real to me than any woman I’ve known.”

  She nodded, unable to speak. He stroked lower on her sides, hooked his thumbs in the soft cotton of her panties and took them down. Greedily, she unbuttoned his shirt and drew it off him, helped undo his pants and got him as naked as she was.

  And oh, my gosh, talk about a fantasy come to life. His body was perfect, hard and male, not overlean or oversculpted. She could get used to seeing that every day, no question. Not to mention the man who came with it.

  Could she move here?

  He put his hands on her waist and slow-danced her over to his bed; she lay back on it, expecting him to join her, surprised when he didn’t.

  Instead, he stood at the foot, watching her. “You have no idea how amazing you look, naked on my bed.”

  May frowned. “Like a scene in your book?”

  He grinned, the dimple deep in his cheek, prowled toward her across the mattress on his hands and knees like a stalking tiger and pounced, keeping his body off her with the strength in his arms. “Not from my book. This is all about us.”

  “Thank you.” She stroked up the muscled columns of his arms; he whispered her name and looked down at her. Somehow she understood and opened her legs to him. All about us. He felt what she did.

  He lowered himself slowly, controlling his descent, until he lay on top of her, his erection hot on her sex and abdomen.

  Nothing in the world would ever feel as good as Beck Desmond naked against the length of her. She hooked her legs around his calves and her arms around his strong back and held on, savoring his warmth.

  Could she move here?

  How could she not?

  He lifted slightly and began to move his penis across her clitoris; she slid her hands down to cup the muscles of his buttocks, to feel them bunch and lengthen, tense and release. She wanted to explore every part of him, enjoy the leisure they hadn’t had until now.

  He lifted farther, found her clitoris with his fingers. May stopped him. She didn’t want foreplay, didn’t care if she came or not, that wasn’t what this was about, at least not for her. “I just want you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Her mouth spread into a smile, then widened into a grin. “Oh, yes. I’m sure.”

  He kissed her lingeringly, retrieved a condom from the drawer in his nightstand, pulled it on and moved over her again. She spread for him eagerly, wanting so badly to give him the pleasure he was obviously ready and hungry for.

  Instead, he waited, rubbed his cheek against hers, and looked into her eyes with so much warmth she felt as if she’d start glowing from happiness.

  “May.”

  “Yes.” Her voice came out as low and husky as his.

  “If you leave tomorrow you’ll be taking part of me with you.”

  Then he slid inside her, and she lost herself to him, drawing him tight to her, answering his thrusts.

  Time stopped; it was such a cliché, but she had no idea how long they lay there, joined, making love, her heart so full she couldn’t imagine this crazy infatuation could turn into anything but love.

  He whispered her name and changed his rhythm, making circular motions with his hips, then back to the slow in-and-out, then changing again.

  And out of the lovely peaceful glow of desire, a slow steady spark of excitement started to burn brighter. Urgency began to feed her movements; she struggled against his slow circles, her clitoris responding to the extra stimulation. Beck caught her mood and she sensed his own arousal climbing. His thrusts became harder, pulling out to the hilt, powerful surges back home, then slow, grinding circles again until the feverish high pitch of her excitement changed into certainty that she was going to come. The wave roared through her, twice as intense for what she carried in her heart.

  And then the beauty of what they’d shared became too much, and she knew if she didn’t act now, in another second she’d cry and tell him something May-ish like that she loved him, when this had all happened way too fast to be sure.

  “Beck.” She cried out in a hoarse voice, still coming down, clutching his shoulders. “Do it…harder. More.”

  He exhaled harshly and obeyed. She pulled her knees up; he pushed himself onto his arms and gave it to her, using the force of his lower body to drive his erection home, over and over until he suddenly tensed, his eyes closed, and she heard him breathe out a long thrilling “oh” of ecstasy.

  Then his thrusts slowed, winding down though the last contractions, and he let himself relax gently on top of her.

  One breath, two, three, and he lifted his head. Instead of a triumphant smile, he wore a serious, intense, almost anxious expression, mirroring exactly what she felt.

  “May.” He whispered her name, then paused, as if whatever he wanted to say was going to be difficult. “Nothing…I’ve experienced has come close to what has happened between us this week. And what just happened between us here.”

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  He pulled carefully out of her, rolled to the side and drew her against him so her head fit comfortably under his chin and she could press her face against his skin. “You’ve said a few times that you’re different with me. I’m different with you, too. I’m more thoughtful, considerate. I care deeply what you feel and think.” He stopped for a full breath, and cleared his throat. “I guess I was a self-absorbed jerk before, God knows all my girlfriends tried to tell me. And probably my family, too.”

  She could say nothing. His voice rumbled through his chest and throat next to her ear, and his words were the most wonderful things she’d ever heard. This had to be love growing between them.

  “I don’t know how this happened. Especially to an old cold bastard like me, it’s totally unexpected.” He squeezed her close and kissed her hair. “And I’ll tell you something else, May.”

  “Mmm?” She tipped her head back to see his eyes, which were light and earnest against his skin, and so beautiful it was almost painful.

  “You’re the first woman I’ve ever…”

  I’ve ever loved. Loved. She waited, watching his struggle, trying to be patient, wanting to hear the word more than she wanted to go on living. Just that one, and she’d have what she needed to move here.

  He kissed her, a slow, lingering sweet kiss that made her traitorous hopes soar like a let-go helium balloon.

  “You’re the first woman I’ve ever wanted this much.”

  MAY WOKE UP to the delicious sensation of warm, strong arms around her, and a warm, strong body at her back. Mmm. She’d love to wake up like this every day, in a glorious Beck cocoon.

  Of course she could, the choice was still hers. But she’d been up during the night tossing and turning the problems and possible solutions over in her mind—and gotten nowhere.

  After the power of what had happened between them last night, she knew she’d be a love-goner soon, if she wasn’t already. But Beck? He wanted her, he’d shown it and said as much in many wonderful ways. Said she made him a better person, too—but so could a teacher or a parent or a good friend.

  The truth was, moving halfway across the country afte
r knowing someone four days—okay five now—was sheer insanity. If she and Beck didn’t work out—and he sounded like in the past he’d changed women like he changed underwear—she’d have uprooted herself for nothing. And then what? Move back home with her tail between her legs? Take up her old life again? Somehow she had the feeling she wouldn’t be able to go back. Not to Oshkosh, not if she’d been living in New York. Milwaukee, maybe, or Boston, or Denver. Or stay in New York without Beck and have a new life on her own. Which sounded lonely and frightening and not something May could handle.

  On the other hand, maybe they would work out. Maybe the intensity of her emotions right now, this soon into the relationship was significant. Maybe she’d be happier with Beck than anyone she’d ever met or would ever meet. Didn’t she owe it to herself to try?

  She didn’t know. And so her thoughts went round and round and up and down on the carousel of indecision, and please someone stop this crazy thing.

  “Good morning.” The warm cocoon at her back stirred, and a warm hand traveled down her bare arm, and over her hip, and to the front of her body where that hand did a few things that very quickly erased her need to angst over her future and replaced it with another one.

  “Good morning to you.” She wiggled onto her back, reached between them and found she was not dealing with that need all on her own. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Pretty well.” His very talented hand did other things that made it hard to concentrate on pleasuring him back. “You?”

  “Pretty well.”

  “I was up for a few hours writing.”

  “Mmm, I remember the fun when you came back to bed. More revisions?”

  “Yes, ma’am. But they’re swimming along.”

  “Good.”

  She wanted to ask him if he’d discovered how to get Mack to fall in love. But that would be leading him to water and trying to force him to drink, and there was no way she’d do that to him.

  Instead, she gave an exaggerated sigh and sped the rhythm of her hand on his erection. “I’m research again, huh.”

  “The best kind.” He leaned over and kissed her neck, making tiny lazy circles with his tongue.

  “Do you need to write more today?”

  “Yes. But I’d rather spend the day in bed with you.”

  Her grip tightened on his penis. “Do you want to work right now?”

  “Hmm.” He thrust up into her hand. “Not, um…not really right now.”

  She giggled and sat up, straddled him and rubbed her sex back and forth over his erection. “Are you sure?”

  He grabbed her hips, settled her more firmly and rocked against her. “I’m quite, quite sure.”

  “Because I’m happy to leave now, and let you work.”

  “No.” He fumbled for another condom from his nightstand. “No, seriously, you’re not bothering me.”

  “I’m not?” She leaned forward and scraped her teeth over his nipple, followed it with a long, slow exploration using her tongue.

  “No.” He breathed the word out, eyes blissfully closed and May felt a sudden and glorious burst of female power and tenderness.

  Could she go home to Oshkosh and risk never feeling this way again? Risk not finding out if this could turn into love for both of them? Risk on both sides of the equation. May didn’t have a lot of experience with risk.

  She took the condom from his hand and tore open the packet. Rolled the latex over his erection and slowly lowered herself onto him. Rode him using her hips, the strength in her thighs and in her arms to keep herself braced and in motion.

  He moaned, closed his eyes; his lips parted in something close to a snarl; he looked so fierce, so wild, so carried away by the pleasure she was giving him, she had an absurd desire to stop right there, and sketch him. So she could carry the picture of him with her always. A picture of what they were together, of what he was to her and what he’d made her into. A picture of freedom, power, indulgent sexuality. And love? Maybe even love.

  Her thighs worked harder, up and down; he moved his hand from her hip to between her legs, to stimulate her clitoris while she rode him. She moaned and moved faster, caught by arousal and sent to a higher place of passion where nothing mattered but their joining, their connection; her desire to pleasure him, as strong as her own need to climax.

  She hit her peak seconds before his, felt it tearing into her, through her, then subsiding gently into total and un-apologetic bliss.

  How could she ever bring herself to leave him?

  She melted down onto his chest, felt his arms come around her and squeeze tightly before relaxing into a comfortable hold. They lay together in silence. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? Why didn’t she feel bold enough to ask?

  Because in spite of what had just passed between them, she couldn’t quite quell the fear that instead of “I love you, don’t leave me,” he was thinking of how to portray Mack. Or what he was going to have for breakfast. Or how his fourteen other girlfriends must be getting impatient for his call.

  His chest expanded under her cheek, then contracted in a long sigh.

  “Now do you have to work?” She lifted her head and smiled at the resigned look on his face. “Yes. You do.”

  “I’m sorry. I have to turn this in today before my agent leaves on—”

  “Shh.” She put her finger to his lips. “It’s fine. You need to write.”

  “And you need to get back to Hush and pack.”

  Her face fell, she couldn’t help it. “Right.”

  “So you can move your stuff here until you find a place to live.” He pushed her hair back from her face, grinning wickedly. She laughed and moved off him, hating to break the connection, wishing she could just say yes and be done with it.

  Was this the last time they’d make love or the first of many? Would she go back to her room, pack, check out and head for the airport? Or go back to her room, pack, check out and head directly back here, or to stay with Clarissa?

  She didn’t know, couldn’t decide, this was so unlike her. Usually she knew instinctively what to do, which path she wanted to take. The problem this time was that May from Oshkosh was having an all-out war with Veronica of New York, and neither seemed able either to conquer or surrender.

  “What’s keeping you from deciding, May?”

  “Multiple personality disorder.” She lay next to him. “Me in Oshkosh versus me in New York.”

  He laughed deep in his chest and pulled her to him. “Okay. What is there back in Oshkosh that you can’t leave?”

  Good question. Was it just the security of sameness? “A job.”

  “As much fun as Clarissa’s here?”

  She made a face and shook her head. “And family.”

  “That’s what airplanes are for.” His smile faded and disappeared. “What about this guy you were seeing? Is he part of the hesitation?”

  A picture of Dan rose in her mind. Laughing, swaggering, tender, serious. She loved Dan. In a quiet, sure and steady way. Nothing like the wild, passionate feelings she had for Beck.

  So which feelings were more real?

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Which is stupid, since he broke up with me.”

  “Will you stop beating yourself up?” He grabbed her hand and mimed her pummeling herself. “Emotions are too seldom rational. But I can say, regardless of my personal stake, that if he made you feel anything less than dazzling and exciting and amazing, you shouldn’t go back to him.”

  She nodded, while part of her registered that no one could be dazzling and exciting and amazing forever. “You may be right.”

  “So you’ll stay?” He looked so eager she laughed.

  “Maybe I should go home for a while, for a cooling-off period and see how far we cool.”

  “Cool?” He looked at her as if she had suggested ritual sacrifice. “You were in bed with me all night long and think there’s a chance of that?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I guess not.”

  “We wouldn’t cool
. If anything we’d heat further.”

  He was right. Her idea had been a gray attempt at a black-and-white solution. Either she went home and made peace with that decision, or she moved here and took the risk. She couldn’t have it both ways, and the guarantee she so desperately wanted, that she and Beck would work out forever, wasn’t going to magically materialize in the next few hours.

  So.

  “I need to make the final decision out of your arousing and magnetic presence, Mr. Desmond.” She sat up and swung her legs off the bed. “And you need to work anyway.”

  “True.” He sighed regretfully and drew a warm hand down the length of her spine. “I’ll call down to Mark, our morning doorman, and ask him to get you a cab. What time is this flight you’re not taking?”

  She laughed. “Five-thirty.”

  “I’ll come meet you at the hotel for lunch. Will you let me take you to the airport if you decide to go?”

  “I’d love that.” She stood up and found her clothes, put them on, feeling rumpled and sad and complicated, looking forward to a shower, or maybe a nice long soak in the whirlpool tub when she got back to her room.

  Her last shoe had just slipped on when Mark called up that her cab was waiting.

  The end of the adventure or the beginning? She kissed Beck at his apartment door, insisted she could find her way and let herself out into the early-morning sunshine and rapidly warming July air.

  Would she be back here? Maybe soon? Take the risk and plunge into a totally new life?

  She hauled her cell out of her purse and dialed.

  “Ginny, it’s May.”

  “May, it’s early, what is up? You don’t sound happy.”

  “I am and I’m not.”

  She brought her friend up to date, Beck, Clarissa, Beck, dinner out, Beck, Beck’s family, Beck, Beck, Beck…

  “So now I don’t know what to do.”

  “Yes you do.”

  “I do?” Her voice cracked hopefully.

  “Hello? You’re in love with him, May. And he’s madly in love with you.”

  “But Angie—”

  “Screw Angie, she’s just bitter. Now listen, because I know what I’m talking about. This is the real thing, honey. You go to lunch with him today, you tell him you’ll stay in New York and move in with him, or Aunty Ginny will come down there and kick your ass.”