“I’m positive Chip sliced my tire.” Sam shook his head. “I never saw this coming. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I was a fool.” Tears welled up in Claire’s eyes. “Go home, you two. Get some rest. I’ll be okay—now that I’m here and he’s in jail.”
In the elevator, as Levisa reached to press the button for the ground floor, Sam turned her around and pulled her close to him. The sound of his heart thumped in her ear as she pressed her face into his chest.
“This will sound selfish—but I’m so glad he didn’t hurt you.” His voice hitched. “I would never have forgiven myself.”
She tilted her head up to speak and his soft mouth was on hers, taking her breath away. Lips parted, she responded with equal ardor, tasting him, dizzy with wanting him, and forgetting her vow not to allow romance to get in the way of her work.
“Sorry—”
“I’m not,” she said. “Kiss me again, and don’t stop until morning.” She held him tighter, closed her eyes, and for the first time in her life, felt herself relax into the free fall of her emotions. As his tongue explored her mouth, she arched her back and felt overheated—then as if from far away, she heard a soft whooshing sound. The elevator doors? Eyes open, she jumped away from Sam, and turned around to see a little old lady standing in the entryway.
“Well, well, well!” She smiled, and then joined them in the elevator. “You two should get a room!”
Levisa and Sam looked at each other and giggled. His face looked as flushed as hers felt. He grabbed her hand and nodded vehemently. “Yes, ma’am. You’re absolutely right.”
~*~
Levisa opened her apartment door. “Come in. I’ll make us a snack. We never did get dinner.”
“Mrrp? Mrrowp?” A large black-and-white cat with a half-black, half-white mustache demanded her attention.
“Oh, so sorry, Colonel Pickering.” She threw her coat on the back of a flowered sofa and picked up the purring cat. “Your dinner first, then ours.”
Jacket off, Sam stood in the middle of the small living room, slowly turning in a circle, staring at the posters. “So, how long have you been obsessed with Audrey Hepburn?”
Levisa laughed. “Not just her—the most amazing story of all time—My Fair Lady.”
“And that’s how you became interested in studying speech?”
She straightened up from placing a can of food in the Colonel’s dish. “Well, that started in high school when I read George Bernard Shaw’s play, Pygmalion. The movie sealed the deal.”
Sam nodded, looked thoughtful and said, “The only thing I ever really liked in school was arithmetic. I’ve always been good at it. Surprised the heck out of everyone, especially my teachers. They thought I’d just be another loser.”
“You? Never. You’re one of the hardest-working students I’ve ever had.” His eyes snagged hers, and she felt her stomach begin to drop—but now the sensation rivaled what she had felt on her one terrifying ride on Space Mountain.
Just as she began to wonder if she was doing the right thing by having him in her apartment, he reached over and took her cold hand in his warm one. His gentle touch extinguished her doubts. Instinctively, she knew this man would never hurt her.
“You’re the best, the most beautiful teacher I’ve ever had.” He wrapped his long, muscular arms around her shoulders, pulled her close, and stroked her head. “I love your hair. So soft.” He nuzzled her neck and nibbled on her ear, his spicy aftershave tickling her nose, reminding her of his kindness when she fell. “I’ve wanted you ever since we met.”
“I thought you hated me when we met,” she murmured, her arms around his waist, lips brushing his.
“No. Just angry that you hit on the very thing I wanted: to be an executive in an accounting firm.” His fingers traced her spine, lightly caressing the small of her back, then pulling her snug against his growing hardness.
She rubbed against him, and her legs felt weak. “I’ve been struggling to keep my hands off you for four months,” she whispered,
“We’ve waited this long, this is going to be special—for both of us.” He nibbled at her shoulder, and began kissing his way down to the base of her neck. “Time to take this off.” Her turtleneck sweater slid up over her long curls, exposing her black camisole. “Next.” He peeled the spaghetti straps down, removed the silk lingerie, then her bra. His lips hovered over her breasts, his breath warming her, thrilling her nipples.
Levisa moaned and shuddered with anticipation. She cupped her hands under her breasts, offering them up to him with abandon. She had never been this free with a man before. She’d always felt like an observer, not really involved, when she’d made love. But this time, this man, this aching need was different.
Oh my God, I’m so in love with him!
In a nearly hypnotic state, she watched him lightly lick her left nipple and then take it into his mouth, sucking and pulling. She groaned and grabbed his firm butt, pressing hard against the outline of his erection.
“Now?”
“Not yet.” He took her nipple between his teeth, tugging lightly. Levisa gasped as his hands slid up her skirt, between her legs, and stroked her thigh a torturous inch below her silk thong. She pulled at his waistband and unzipped his pants, barely recognizing her own voice thick with lust, “My turn to drive you wild.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Get over here,” she ordered. Slowly, intent on teasing him, she eased his jeans down. As he stepped out of the pant legs, she tiptoed her fingers down his back, beneath the waistband of his underwear, and grabbed his butt. “Did I tell you, you have a perfect ass?”
A look of surprise flickered across Sam’s handsome face; then in a in a flash, still watching his expression, she yanked his briefs down to his ankles. His beautiful penis stood at attention, long and hard, waiting to be of service.
“Oh my,” she whispered in awe. “I admire a man who’s happy to see me. Now we get in the shower.”
Walking backward, giggling and kissing, she led him into the bathroom, turned on the water, and adjusted the temperature. “Do you have protection?”
He smiled. “Always.” As if by magic, a metal streamer of condoms appeared in his hand.
She laughed. “Expecting a busy night?” She stepped into the shower and crooked her finger at him. “Well, I’m going to put you to work.” She handed him her coconut-scented shampoo. “Use your imagination.”
Levisa closed her eyes as Sam poured a drizzle of shampoo on her hair, the tropical scent mixing with his spicy aftershave and male musk in a heady blend. As Sam massaged her scalp with slow, firm strokes, she relaxed, practically melting under his tender touch. While the warm water sprayed over her, his fingers traced soap bubbles down her neck to the base of her throat, and rubbed lazy circles around her nipples. He increased the speed and intensity of his touch, finally leaning down to take her eraser-hard nipples in his mouth. She moaned, grateful that the running water covered the sounds of their lovemaking.
She returned his caresses with increasingly firm strokes on his back, then his buttocks, between his legs, soap bubbles rising up and bursting under her watchful attention. He groaned as she fondled his penis, lightly running her thumb across the opening, soaping up. Then down. Up and down again, the size and thickness of his shaft mesmerizing her. He stilled her moving hand and pulled her in for a long hard kiss.
Then, he turned her around and placed her hands against the wall, saying, “Don’t move.” Foil crinkled. His fingers explored her, and then he pressed his erection between her now exquisitely sensitive thighs. She squirmed, trying to rub her clitoris along his shaft. His voice was firmer. “Don’t move.” His right hand pulled at her wet nipple, while the fingers of his other hand probed the folds of her vagina and found her clitoris. At last, he slid his enormous shaft deep inside her.
She gasped and he stopped moving.
“What’s wrong?” She panted and wriggled against him, wanting more.
“Nothing, I want to enjoy the moment.”
It felt like all the air was sucked out of the steamy shower. He stayed still, holding onto her until she couldn’t take it any longer.
She wriggled against him, begging, “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop!”
At last, he resumed his long, slow lovemaking, each stroke, each touch, driving her further up the spiral of passion until she climaxed and shuddered to a halt. Weak-kneed, she fell against the shower wall and gasped for air. “I can’t move.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you to bed and finish ravishing you there.” He hugged her with a towel, lifted her off her feet, and placed her gently on the bed. He opened the terrycloth wrap and gazed down at her, and licked his lips as if she were a tasty morsel.
“You’re beautiful all over. Every inch of you.” He kissed her breasts and continued kissing his way down to her belly-button and the silky red triangle below.
She grabbed his thick black hair, opened her quivering thighs, and pressed his face between her legs. He licked her tender skin, teasing his way upward, making slow circuits, tantalizing her, until she pushed his head down, and whispered hoarsely, “If you don’t take care of me right now, I’m going to scream my lungs out.”
After hours of lovemaking, Levisa fell asleep in Sam’s arms and did not awaken until the bright morning sun pushed its way around the window shade. She looked up and saw her cat leap onto the bed, then stroll over to Sam.
“Mewrp?” Colonel Pickering stood on Sam’s chest, looking at him with intense green eyes.
Sam blinked and laughed. “Well, good morning, Mr. Kitty Breath.”
Levisa glanced at the clock. “Is it really eight in the morning? I’m going to be late.”
“No.” Sam chuckled, taking her in his arms. “You’re going to be very late.”
~*~
The following week, on the day of Sam’s interview, Mrs. Pierce dragged Levisa out of a speech lesson with a lisping child and thrust the phone in her hand. “It’s him!” Mrs. Pierce smiled and gave Levisa a thumbs-up sign. Claire and the receptionist looked on with barely suppressed excitement as Levisa sat down and took the call.
“Sam?”
“I got the job of my dreams!” He voice shook with excitement. “My parents are going to flip!”
“That’s wonderful news!” She high-fived the receptionist and mouthed to Claire, “I won!”.
“It is. But they’re sending me to Europe to finish my project—effective immediately.”
“What about—?” She stopped herself. She almost said us. Had she misinterpreted? She’d thought they had more than just great sex.
“I’ll see you at Commencement.” The phone clicked and he was gone.
“He has to leave town,” Levisa said, a hollow feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. “Said he’d see me at graduation.”
Mrs. Pierce looked concerned. “It seems so abrupt.”
“That’s it? He blew you off? After all you’ve done for him? What a jerk!” Even under layers of makeup Claire’s face looked the worse for wear, but her cocky attitude hadn’t been damaged.
“Maybe he got a better offer.” Levisa knew she was grasping at straws. He got a great job, and she got her heart broken.
“Like what? Vice President of Ernst and Young?” Claire’s voice rose. “The least the bum could have done is send you flowers!”
Levisa sat down and covered her face with her hands. She’d thought they had something special. Unlike any other man, he had gotten through her intellectual armor, as Claire called it, and she had fallen in love with him. Damn the man! She never should have let him get under her skin.
The door to the clinic opened, and cool air whooshed in.
“May I help you?” Mrs. Pierce asked.
“Is Levisa Harris here?” A uniformed delivery man held a large vase of red roses.
She sniffed and wiped her nose. “That’s me.”
“These are for you. Have a nice day.”
She looked for the little white card and was surprised to find a larger envelope instead. The front of the card showed Rex Harrison in a top hat with Audrey Hepburn on his arm in a scene from My Fair Lady. Inside, in small, careful letters was a note:
“I saw this and thought of you.
You’ve been Henry Higgins to my Liza Doolittle. I hope our story has a happy ending, too. Please wait for me. Hugs and Kisses, Sam.”
Levisa started to cry and laugh at the same time.
~*~
Every day, for four weeks, Sam sent her emails telling her how much he looked forward to seeing her. But he had something very important to finish first.
Her advisor and the department finally approved her research project, and with the May commencement close at hand, Levisa wandered through the BMU bookstore, marveling that her journey to her Master’s degree was almost complete. Shelves overflowed with black caps and gowns, invitations, diplomas, rings, and memorabilia of idyllic times at the university.
“May I help you?” A silver-haired woman peered over her glasses at Levisa.
“Yes. I’m here to pick up my cap, gown, and Master’s hood.”
“Your name, Hon?”
Levisa almost giggled. Hon. How she missed hearing Sam say that to her. “Harris. Levisa Harris.”
“Let me see. Harris, Harris, Harris. There a lot of people with that last name.”
Levisa watched the woman flip through the pages, then gasped. “Stop! Please, wait a minute.”
“Something wrong?”
“Sam Parker—is he really getting a doctorate? Am I reading that right?”
“Shhh. I’m not supposed to share this information, but yes. He’s the youngest PhD in accounting we’ve ever had. Just passed the CPA exam with a perfect score, too. And, he’s one of the student speakers this year.”
Levisa flushed and her legs felt like rubber. She clutched the edge of the glass counter to keep from swaying. What had he said? I’m really good at numbers. That’s what matters in bidness. The little sneak. All the times they’d been together, she had yakked about her research, and not once had he told her he was working on a PhD. The only thing he had spoken about was getting the job of his dreams. What else hadn’t he told her?
~*~
With six tickets for graduation, Levisa had been limited to bringing her parents, brother, sister, and grandparents. But that was plenty. The first person in her family to graduate with a Master’s degree, Levisa basked in the glow of their love and pride.
“When will we get to meet your young man?” her grandmother asked for the fiftieth time.
“Soon, I promise. Dad, could you stop with the photos? I have to get in line.” She craned her neck, looking around for Sam. He had to be here, but in this mob of black caps and gowns, everyone looked alike.
“We’re buying the DVD, too,” her mother called across the crowd. “We’re getting everything about your graduation!”
Colorful medieval banners designated colleges, and an array of flags from every country represented in the student population lined the back of the stage. The president, provost, deans, and faculty entered to the BMU orchestra’s rendition of Pomp and Circumstance while undergraduates jostled and called out to one another and their professors.
When she reached her seat and looked up, she saw Sam on the stage in the front row, sitting next to the provost. She found herself taking quick, shallow breaths and had to tell herself to breathe more slowly. How had she not known? She had assumed that he was an undergraduate in the five-year program for the CPA. She’d never bothered to ask him about his studies, or his life outside the clinic and his speech lessons. She really didn’t know him. So why did her throat constrict, her legs shake while a bevy of ballroom-dancing butterflies did the quick step in her stomach when she saw him?
The president welcomed the graduating class, the parents of the graduates, the grandparents, the brothers, sisters, family and friends of the graduates, asking each group to stan
d up and be recognized, all to wild applause. The provost spoke about outstanding professors and star students, then introduced this year’s ‘most amazing young man’, a role model for all, Dr. Sam Parker.”
“Thank you, Provost Charles. Every student who graduates from BMU has a story. My story is about a man who began in Pigtown, Bawlamer, land of dem O’s and Hons.”
Laughter greeted his words, and Levisa clutched her clammy hands in her lap, fearing she would clap too soon.
“My parents worked hard, so I could come to BMU, and I worked hard. I was able to get scholarships, grants and part-time jobs. It was a dream come true. I was so afraid to fail that I didn’t tell many people that I was working on a doctorate. After all, I was just a poor guy from Pigtown.”
The crowd laughed and a spattering of applause burst out from the parents’ front row.
“Thanks, Mom and Dad!”
More laughter.
“I thought I had it made, until I was told by a young woman, and I quote: ‘What company wants a CEO who sounds like a hick?’”
Levisa covered her face with her hands, flushed with shame. Coming from his mouth, her words sounded cruel. Had she been that harsh?
“I was really angry at her for saying this—until I went to an interview at the Career Center here and was told to get rid of my accent, or I wouldn’t land a job with a Big Eight firm.”
She lowered her hands from her face, and looked at this amazing man, this honest man, who spoke from his heart to the full arena. The crowd was quiet. Even the undergraduates paid attention.
“I’m here to tell you that I now have a job with Ernst and Young. They hired me as their Vice President for Research. I know that I wouldn’t have gotten that job without the resources of this university and without the hard work and honest feedback from a great teacher.”
He paused and Levisa realized she was crying, her chest tight. She was so proud of him. He had exceeded her wildest dreams, and she’d helped him get there.
“I’d like to ask my speech coach to come up on the stage with me. I know you’re here, Levisa.”
Killer Kisses Page 7