by Megan Hart
She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and ran her fingers along the broad plane of his chest. His muscles jumped and twitched under her touch as she circled his taut male nipples with her fingertips. Driven by an urge she didn't understand and didn't want to think about, Laila dipped her head to put her tongue on the places her fingers had just caressed.
Hal's groan was inspiration enough for her to continue. He caught his fingers in her hair as she lavished kisses along his chest and down further, following the line of crisp, crinkly hair to where it disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. Laila paused there, for just one moment, thinking that if she wanted to turn back, now would be the time.
She didn't want to turn back. She found the button and unhooked it, slid the zipper down and opened his jeans. Hal wore purple briefs, a sight so surprising Laila sat back.
"Purple?" She asked.
He looked down. "I like purple."
"I like purple, too," Laila said. "But I'd prefer to see them on the floor."
Her bold words shocked herself into a chuckle. Being with Hal made her feel bubbly, giddy. Lighthearted, she realized. Like she was having fun.
She helped him push off his cumbersome jeans and socks, but stopped before helping him remove his last piece of clothing. Laila had never been shy about lovemaking. She was confident with her body and how it reacted, and she was assured enough to know she could please a man. But something about this last step made her pause.
Hal didn't give her time to think. He pulled her close for another kiss, wrapping his arms around her. He caressed her back, still slick with oil. Every slide of his fingers against her skin electrified her.
She opened her mouth and their tongues met. Hal didn't stab her with his tongue. He didn't force her mouth wide. His every movement was gentle and exactly what she needed and wanted, just when she wanted it.
Slowly, Hal pushed her back onto the mound of pillows, but he didn't lie on top of her. They lay on their sides, facing each other, and he slid his leg between hers. The feeling of his thigh against her made her gasp. She was on fire.
She ran her hands along his smooth, strong back, letting her fingers learn every sensitive part of him. All the while, their mouths danced together in kisses so exactly perfect she had to wonder if she was just dreaming all of this.
When her hands encountered the waistband of his briefs, she knew this was real. No dream would come with persistent purple underpants. Laila hooked her fingers inside the waistband, easing them over his lean hips and down his sturdy thighs. They never stopped kissing, not even when she used her foot to finally push the bulky briefs all the way off.
Laila was glad she'd left the lamp on. Seeing Hal naked was worth it. His body was lovely, perfectly formed and golden brown in the dim lamplight. The hair around his rising erection was darker than on his head, a springy tuft that crinkled softly against her belly.
He groaned softly as she pulled their bodies apart to look at him. "Laila--"
"Shhh," she said. "I want to see you."
He shivered in response, and he bent his head to the hollow of her shoulder. Now it was her turn to gasp as his tongue found her skin. They rolled together again, Hal's leg slipping further between hers. He ran his hand down her back to cup her buttocks, pressing her more firmly onto his thigh.
The pressure was delightful, incredible. Erotic. Laila rocked against him and was rewarded when his mouth slanted across hers again. Hal's kisses became more urgent, more focused as she let her own hand slide down to caress the firm bulge of his rear end.
Laila hooked her leg over his calf, locking them together. Hal's erection rose hotly against her stomach. Suddenly she wanted to touch it. Laila pushed their bodies apart again so she could slip her fingers around his arousal.
"Oh, Hal," she whispered when he jerked beneath her touch. "You're so lovely."
Ian would have scolded her for using such a feminine adjective to describe the part he held in highest esteem. Hal didn't say anything. His only answer a short moan. It pleased Laila to think she'd caused him to become incapable of speech.
She ran her fingers lightly up and down along his length. With a sigh, Hal rolled onto his back and crossed his arms up high, over his eyes. He was even more magnificent in full view. Laila marveled that a man who seemed so unassuming, so unpretentious, could be built so perfectly and not boast about it.
She knew he was tall, but seeing him stretched out on the bed made his legs seem impossibly long. His flat stomach tapered to lean hips, with bones that jutted just enough to make her want to lick them. Laila did just that, bending to run her tongue along the curved surface of bone. His hair tickled her nose.
It gave her pleasure to watch the way his mouth tightened when she brushed her fingers along the inside of his thigh. His penis stiffened further as she watched. She encircled him with her fingers, soaking in the sight and smells of his body.
"Enough," Hal said hoarsely. He sat up, taking her hand gently away from where it had been playing. "I need to slow down."
Laila nodded, feeling the same way. She throbbed with a need so intense it was almost frightening. And all from touching him. What was she going to do when he began to touch her?
She soon found out. Hal pushed her back onto the pillows again. He kissed her once, lightly, on the mouth, then moved lower. He didn't stop at her throat this time, but pressed his mouth to the first curves of her breasts, one at a time. Laila felt her nipples peak under the torturous gentleness of his breath against them. Then the hot weight of his tongue, swirling first around one, then the other. He suckled gently, bringing forth a startled gasp from her.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, concerned.
"Good Lord, no!" Laila cried.
Hal dropped more kisses onto her breasts, then moved down along the soft curve of her belly. He kissed her thighs, her knees, down her calves to the tops of her feet, her ankles. Even her toes got his full attention, as he kissed them until she laughed out loud at the tickling that also sent shock waves of pleasure directly to her swollen center.
He moved again to her thighs, parting them with gentle pressure. Laila waited, breathless, uncertain if she should move. Uncertain if she could stop herself from moving. She felt his hot breath against her. He dropped a kiss onto the nest of her hair. He stopped. She waited. He kissed her again as though waiting to judge her reaction.
Laila sighed, opening herself to him. He kissed her, darting his tongue out like a butterfly tasting a flower. Laila gave herself up to the sensations rocketing through her. It has been so long, so long!
It seemed like hours but was only minutes that Hal made love to her with his mouth. Laila tossed on a sea of feeling that rose and fell. When he pulled away from her, she felt helpless to speak in protest, such was her daze. The bed was cold without him on it, and she heard the crinkling of foil again. No handwarmers this time, she had time to think before Hal returned.
He slid up the length of her, pressing his body to hers. His heat slipped inside her, stretching her to delicious tautness. He moved, slowly, and she urged him on by clutching her hands to his buttocks. Her mouth found his chest as he rocked inside her and she tongued his nipples again, relishing the way he shuddered at her every touch.
"Laila," he whispered in a voice so thick with passion she scarcely recognized it.
Yet still she couldn't answer him, even though his name was throbbing on the tip of her tongue, begging to be set free. She moaned instead, tilting her head to allow his kisses access to her throat. Laila moved her hips in time with Hal's thrusts, letting him set the pace, but meeting him equally.
She let her hands explore the firm muscles of his forearms, then up to his shoulders and down his sides. Sweat covered him, oiling her fingers and making their bodies slippery against each other.
She was close, so close. Her thighs fluttered as every thrust sent her closer and closer to the edge she'd denied herself for so long. Her orgasm hit her like glass shattering, sending shards of
exquisite sensation rippling through her entire body and at last forcing a word from her lips.
"Hal!" Laila cried then sank her teeth into his shoulder.
Hal hissed in pain and she backed off, the sharp and clear blasts of pleasure still rocketing through her. He murmured her name over and over, and this time she answered him. He mumbled words of love and she replied, knowing in some small part of her mind that neither of them could possible mean what they said. Not now, not with sex shooting through their veins like bullets from a gun.
Hal let out one last, hoarse moan and his entire body rippled. He sank down onto her, and Laila expected him to be heavy. Instead, just like everything else about tonight, she discovered he was a perfect fit.
Hal awoke to the sound of Laila singing in the bathroom. He heard water running the tub. It turned off. More singing, slightly off tune and a completely wacky choice of song, and then some splashing.
If he hadn't had the voice of a male elk during mating season, Hal would have chosen Oh, What A Beautiful Morning from the show Oklahoma to describe his mood. Oddly enough, Laila was singing The Time Warp.
Maybe that jump to the left was what made all that splashing, Hal thought, and decided to check it out. He didn't bother knocking. Two people who got naked and sweaty together didn't have much to hide from each other.
"'Morning," he said, heading straight for the toilet. He commenced to relieve himself of the world's fullest bladder, sighing in relief. "Whew. I thought I was going to float away."
Laila wasn't singing anymore. Hal finished his business, making sure to put the seat back down, and turned toward the tub. She'd sunk into the water and covered her eyes.
"Laila?" he asked, concerned.
"You--you're--" She spluttered. "Couldn't you wait to do that?"
"Truthfully? No," Hal said, washing his hands at the sink. "I was about to burst."
"Are you done?" she demanded, peeking through her fingers.
"Sure." Hal stuck his fingers in the water and splashed her playfully. "Room in here for one more?"
"No!" Laila kicked her foot out at him. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd give me some privacy!"
Hal gave himself a mental kick. Apparently he'd overstepped the bounds of male/female morning-after etiquette. He left the bathroom without even brushing his teeth.
Her reaction surprised him. Last night, Laila had been all over him, initiating sex in the way required by LoveMatch rules. But Hal hadn't made love to Laila out of a sense of duty. He'd wanted to taste her, feel her, bring her pleasure.
He slipped into a pair of old sweatpants and a T-shirt, wishing he'd had a chance in the bath. Laila appeared in the doorway, entirely covered by the robe and a towel wrapped around her hair. It might have been a pleasant reminder of the way she'd been dressed last night, except for her distant look and thinned lips.
"It's all yours," she said, indicating the bathroom, but Hal didn't go in.
He had to try one more thing, something that would be a sign Laila had come to him out of her desire for him...Hal. Not just as the man she'd hired to scratch an itch.
He reached out and snagged her arm as she tried to squeeze by him, then pulled her into his arms. Kissing her was like kissing a stick of wood. She stood stiffly in his embrace, not fighting or pulling away, but not responding.
Hal had his answer. "All right," he said with as much dignity as he could. "I'll be out in a few minutes."
He didn't have to run the cold water in the tub this morning. Laila's cool demeanor and lack of response had cooled him down more than enough. He scrubbed his skin harshly, wishing he could wash away the memory of her hands on him. It didn't work.
He brushed his teeth so fiercely he spat pink-tinged toothpaste into the bowl. He rinsed and spat again, trying to rinse away the taste of humiliation coating his tongue. That didn't work either.
LoveMatch training included specialized courses in how to respond to a client who requested sexual favors. Escorts could always turn down a client wanting more from them than just a kiss on the doorstep. Most of the guys, like Rick, considered sex a bonus above and beyond the monetary. Hal had always considered himself lucky if his date didn't slap him by the end of the night.
None of the men Hal worked with ever talked about wanting to make love to the women who hired them. For them, it was just a job, another skill they learned like how to order the right wine or tie a French cravat. Consequently, none of the LoveMatch locker room bragging had ever been about what it was like to realize the woman they'd just spent the night falling in love with thought of them as nothing more than hired help.
It was just that he'd thought from what she'd said up front that Laila's motives for employing him were straightforward. Play the ignoramus for her family, then break up with her so they'd leave her alone about starting to date again. It wasn't supposed to include hearing her moan his name in passion.
Hal ran wet hands through his hair until it looked almost as dark as his mood. He didn't like being used. Cassie had used him. John had used him. Because of them, he hadn't let himself get close enough to anyone who might use him again. Until Laila.
No more. Hal shook his head, spraying water everywhere. Laila hired him to treat her badly. He had a job to do, and he would do it. With enthusiasm.
Laila waited for Hal to take her hand as they headed for breakfast. He didn't. He didn't wait for her either, and his much longer legs kept her scurrying to keep up.
Since coming out of the bathroom this morning, he'd said nothing. If he looked at her, his gaze traveled smoothly across her face and slipped away without meeting her eyes. Laila didn't know how to breach the seemingly impossible distance between them.
Last night had been a mistake of monumental proportions. She saw that now. Foolishly, she'd believed that making love with Hal would finally put the past behind her, help her erase her guilt about Ian. How could she have been so foolish?
It wasn't until seeing him so casually sharing the bathroom with her this morning that she'd balked. Sharing a bed was one thing. Sharing something as intimate and personal as a bathroom seemed quite another. She'd panicked, totally overreacting.
Laila wasn't ready to share herself with a man. Not with the memories of Ian only beginning to fade. He'd taken so much of her that, even after his death, it had taken her three years just to find herself again. She wasn't ready to give that up now.
Hal deserved better than a woman who opened her body to him, but not her heart. He'd told her how badly his ex-wife's betrayal hurt him. How could Laila have ignored that in favor of pursuing her own desires?
"You go ahead," Hal told her. His voice was so different from the one moaning her name last night that Laila wanted to cry. "I've got some things I need to do."
She didn't ask him to explain, and couldn't find her voice to reply. Laila just nodded, then watched him walk away toward the registration desk. Hal walked in the stiff-legged manner of a man who's just been whacked between the legs with a stick. In a way, she thought miserably, that's just what I've done.
"Bubbeleh, you're going to miss breakfast." Bubbe popped out of the ladies' room door, patting her gray bouffant. "And it's French toast today! Your favorite! Remember when I used to make you kids the faces with the French toast and the fruit slices?"
Bubbe's voice trailed off when she noticed Laila wasn't answering. "So, you're going to tell your Bubbe why the long face, or what?"
"It's nothing," Laila lied. She forced a smile. "C'mon. I'm starving."
Bubbe wagged her finger. "It's that nogoodnick David, isn't it? Mr. Big Shot Doctor? What's he done to you this time?"
She had done it to him. "Nothing, Bubbe. Come on."
Bubbe sighed, then put her arm around Laila's shoulders. With a start, Laila realized that the woman who'd loomed so large in her childhood memories had grown impossibly tiny. Bubbe nearly had to stand on tiptoe to reach Laila.
"Laila, you can't hide anything from your Bubbe. You know that. From your mother--oy!
For her, you can paint the smile and pretend your tears are only dry contact lenses, but Bubbe knows all the tricks."
Despite her misery, Laila had to laugh. "We had a fight. That's all."
Bubbe huffed. "About what?"
"Nothing," Laila said. "You know how it is."
"Your Zayde Saul, God love him, he's never argued with me. Not once in sixty years. Can you believe that?"
"No," Laila replied.
Bubbe laughed and pinched her cheek. "Of course we argue. Mostly about nothing. It's when the nothing becomes everything that you have to worry."
Laila sighed, thinking of Ian. "I know."
"We just want you to be happy," Bubbe said, squeezing Laila's shoulders again. "It's been a long time since we lost poor Ian, may he rest in peace. It's time you moved on with your life. But we want you to be happy."
"I know you do, Bubbe," Laila said. She gave her grandmother a grateful squeeze.
Bubbe pulled her gently toward a pair of the large overstuffed chairs in front of the fireplace. "Sit, Laila. Talk to your Bubbe. It'll make you feel better."
Talking to Bubbe always did make her feel better, but this time Laila knew she couldn't open up to her grandmother. Not without spilling the whole awful tower of lies she'd built. Laila's guilt grew in monstrous proportion as she looked into Bubbe's concerned eyes. She'd lied to her family, and why? To make them stop bugging her about leaving behind a relationship she had left behind before it ended.
"Laila?" Bubbe was waiting for her to answer.
"I don't have much to say, Bubbe. We had a fight. That's all. It's nothing I really want to talk about," Laila said.
Bubbe leaned forward to put her hand on Laila's. "Are you sure there isn't something you need to tell me? Your mother's concerned. Eli told her--"
"Eli told her what?" Laila asked suspiciously.