The warm, wet inside of her lips slid over him so slowly his hips rose. Just as slowly, she reversed the process, only to manage to draw him in again, almost to the hilt.
Sebastian played with her swollen breasts. "I think we'd better
move on," he told her. "I want to be inside you before this is over."
Her mouth left him aching. "Here?" she said. "Or the bed?"
He'd get used to her matter-of-fact approach. He already liked it. "I think I'd like that comfortable chair of yours."
She frowned, but followed where he led, to the chair, to sit astride his hips. He flipped the end of his penis through damp, dark red curls and the folds they hid.
Bliss shuddered, mightily this time. He tilted her over him to press a nipple into his mouth while he fondled the other breast. He nudged at the entrance to her passage, eased just inside and felt her clamp tightly around him.
He inched a little farther.
"Sebastian?"
"My turn to tease," he said. And she'd never know how much it was costing him.
"You've forgotten something."
The next restrained thrust took him deeper. The sensation was electric, through his testicles, up into his belly.
Bliss used her toes against the floor to make his task more difficult. She lifted away from him.
He laughed and started to pull her down on him.
"You've forgotten something, Sebastian."
The trembling under his skin, became a shudder. He couldn't keep this up. "What, sweetheart? I haven't forgotten anything."
"The condom."
The condom? He clasped her waist. "Condom?"
"I think it's wonderful you're so responsible."
"What the hell? . . . Oh, wow. Bliss, honey, I didn't even think. What's wrong with me?"
"Passion," she said, her brow furrowing. "The throes of passion made you forget."
He hadn't forgotten. It didn't matter, not with Bliss. He wanted them to have a child. "I want—" God, what was he thinking about. "Oxymoron," he muttered. How far ahead of himself could one man get?
"Oxymoron?"
"Me, and thinking. At the moment, anyway. Oh, forget it." He sat her on the end of his knees. "Bliss, you must think I'm a dolt."
"No. It's okay. Your wallet's in your jeans, isn't it?"
Wallet? He wetted his dry lips. "Yes. Why?"
"Well." She shrugged and lowered her eyes. "You're prepared. Shall I get it for you?"
He couldn't imagine what she was talking about.
"It was stupid of me. But that's why I ran away earlier. I saw the condom in your wallet and I kind of lost it." She peeked at him. "Stupid, right. Obviously a man like you is prepared for . . . Well, for certain things."
Sebastian narrowed his eyes. "What things."
She blushed. "You know. Making love."
"The condom in my wallet."
"I saw it. The shape of it. I'm not a complete ninny. I know what I'm seeing when a man has a condom in his wallet."
"I see." He lifted her to stand on the floor and swept up his jeans. Still sitting down—the safest place for the moment—he produced his wallet and studied it. "Ah. Yes, I see what you mean. I should be more careful."
"No," she said anxiously. "No, not at all. I'm very impressed when people show responsibility. There isn't enough of it in this world."
Sebastian fingered the fine, soft black leather. "Not particularly flattering." He deliberately bared his private parts—still very much on parade and ready to march. "But they say perception is everything."
"I don't understand."
He flipped open his wallet and removed the packet he always carried there. This he put into Bliss's palm. "I carry it for good luck."
Her expression went from cautious curiosity to pink embarrassment, to pale anxiety. "Oh, Sebastian."
"Oh, Sebastian is right." An abrupt urge to laugh began to
lessen his need for other things. "See what I mean by not being very flattering?"
She opened the packet and took out a gold ring.
"Never could bear to be parted from it," he told her. "I always hoped I'd finally get to put that wedding ring on your finger one day."
"Oh, Sebastian."
Finally he'd robbed her of original words. "And you thought it was a condom. Size-four-and-a-half and it was still loose on that skinny finger of yours."
Nine
Bliss pushed up onto her elbows. She tucked the top sheet firmly around her body and leaned forward to peer across the room. With the footrest of her threadbare old recliner up, and the back stretched as flat as possible, Sebastian slept.
Clamping the sheet under her arms, she crawled to the bottom of the bed and retrieved her glasses from the cedar chest.
The night before she'd closed the thin white draperies she kept drawn back from the French doors during the day. Gray-blue dawn pierced the light fabric to dust the room with shades of shadow. She didn't check the clock, but sensed it couldn't be much later than five in the morning.
Bliss pushed at her hair and sat on her heels.
Sebastian's chin rested on his shoulder. He wore his jeans— unsnapped at the waist—but no shirt or shoes.
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and settled more comfortably to watch him.
The ring in its plastic pouch had been replaced in his wallet. Even while fresh tears of emotion prickled her eyes, she felt again the deep embarrassment of the previous night. He'd always carried the ring—to remind him of her. Or so he said. And she'd looked at the outline of that very small ring and thought... She set her lips in a straight line. So she wasn't a woman of vast sexual experience. So what? It had been a simple mistake.
"Oh, yeah. A very simple little mistake," Sebastian had said, while he settled himself in the chair. "Something tells me there s
an educational gap here. We need to do some talking just so I know what I'm up against."
And he'd insisted she go to bed while he slept in the chair, "Because I'll feel better if I know you 're safe. If I went home, Id only be calling you all night to make sure."
But he'd resisted sharing the bed. "That really wouldn't be a good idea. Don't worry about it, love. We 11 get around to making sure you're ready for me." Surely not the words of a man capable of rape? Yet she'd accused him of raping Crystal and he'd retaliated with anger rather than a denial.
Last night he'd absolutely refused to enter into any further discussion about making love with her. And he'd gone to sleep in minutes—seconds. And she'd been awake for hours. As soon as he woke up they'd be discussing a lot of things. She knew what she wanted now and she knew he wanted it too. Sex didn't have to mean anything but that—sex. They were both grown-ups. Why shouldn't they enjoy each other with no strings attached?
Because he probably didn't want to, that's why. Either he was keeping tabs on her to make sure she didn't interfere with his business, or . . . Could he really have been longing for her all these years?
Bliss studied the way his thick, dark lashes shifted a little. His lean face carried its dramatic lines into sleep. The slightest parting of his wide, clearcut mouth showed a hint of white teeth. A day and a night's growth of very dark beard accentuated his sharply defined jaw and the vertical lines beneath his cheekbones. She hadn't asked him about that scar on his mouth.
He stirred and laced his hands on top of his flat belly. The hair on his chest—and elsewhere—was black, too.
Bliss registered the sound of a car engine in the lane leading to the gate. Vic Taylor, the artist who'd been a Hole Point resident since Bliss opened the colony, often spent nights away and returned early in the morning.
Vic and his potter model, Liberty Lovejoy, were Polly's least favorite tenants but, as Bliss often pointed out, they paid their rent most of the time.
Sebastian had to be uncomfortable, or he would be when he woke up. Bliss climbed from the bed and pulled on her blue terry-cloth robe. Moving quickly and quietly, she gathered the clothing she'd di
scarded the night before and stowed it out of sight.
"Sebastian?" She bent over him. "Sebastian, I want you to go to bed properly for a few hours."
He smiled in his sleep and rolled his face away.
She walked to the other side of the chair. "Sebastian." Gently, she stroked his cheek. "Come on. Let me get you into bed."
"Sounds good," he said, so clearly she jumped. He trapped her hand against his face. "Mmm. Just a minute."
Bliss kissed his lips.
Sebastian's arm snaked around her shoulders and he almost jerked her off her feet. "Stop it!" she said. Giggling, she scrambled to retain her balance. "I want you to stretch out on my bed. If you don't, your back won't be worth anything."
"You come with me," he mumbled, his eyes barely opening as she applied a foot to the chair and brought him sharply to a sitting position. "C'mon, love. We gotta do that again."
"I don't think we did it in the first place," Bliss muttered.
"Mmm." With an arm draped around her shoulders, he got to his feet and crossed meekly to fall onto the bed—and drag her down on top of him. "Mmm." He slipped a hand inside the robe to fondle her breasts.
Instant thrill became instant arousal. "I thought we had to talk," she said into his ear.
With his palm, he made circles on a nipple. His eyes were tightly shut again, but his grin grew wider. He deserted her breasts long enough to ease one of her hands down inside his jeans.
Hard and heavy and hot. Bliss dug deeper and filled her fingers. He was already performing a sleepy inventory of her breasts again, then dipping down between her legs and drawing all those tiny, electric muscles to tingling alert.
"Take your clothes off," he said.
Bliss ignored him and set about kissing any of the many spots of bare skin she could find. He was the only true addiction she'd ever known.
"Time for our chat." Sebastian sounded wide awake now.
Lifting her head, she looked down into his narrowed green eyes and felt her stomach drop away, and other places inside her grow tight with tension.
In the distance she heard a rapping on the front door.
"Who's that?" Sebastian said, lifting her to sit on his belly with a knee either side of him. "Does that feel good?" He pushed a hand between his naked belly and her naked bottom.
Bliss bit her lip and gasped.
He nodded. "I'll take that as a yes. Why, oh why did it have to take so long for me to get back to you?"
The knocking downstairs became louder and more insistent.
"Go away!" Sebastian shouted.
She pressed a hand over his mouth. "Hush. It's probably Vic come to talk about the latest row. He'll go away."
"Vic, huh?" Her robe parted company with her shoulders and Sebastian contrived to rise up and kiss her breasts. "Beautiful," he muttered. "You're getting wet, love. Nope. You are wet. We'd better have that talk."
Nervousness flittered in her stomach.
Battering more closely described the assault on the front door now. "If I don't go down, he'll think something's going on in here."
"It is," Sebastian said. "Who's Vic?" He tipped her flat on top of him and kissed her deeply.
Being drunk must feel like this. Bliss fought free and leaped to the floor. "Don't!" she warned when he would have come after her. "You stay right there while I go down and deal with this."
"No way." He swung his feet to the rug beside the bed. "The only man who looks at you like that is me."
Bliss scooped up his ankles and hauled them back on top of the mattress. She didn't point out that all this possessiveness was
very newly found. "Stay put. I mean it. I've been managing my life for a long time." Very firmly, she pulled the robe back on and belted it. "Vic isn't interested in me as anything but a landlady and occasional confessor. I'll let you know when the coast's clear."
Without giving him a chance to argue, Bliss left the room and ran downstairs. "Coming," she called, opening the door and shielding her eyes from the rush of early morning light into the dim great room.
"Oh, look at you!" Kitten Winters marched into the lodge. "For goodness' sake, close the door before anyone sees you. You're an absolute fright."
Bliss bowed her head and took several deep breaths while she gently closed the front door. "Good morning, Mother. Nice of you to drop by." Please, please let her say whatever unpleasant things were on her mind and leave—quickly.
"I'm not dropping by. I never drop by unannounced."
"Really?"
Bliss trailed past her mother and continued on into the kitchen where she plugged in the coffee maker.
Kitten Winters wore a lightweight pink knit suit with a double row of buttons down the jacket that pronounced it a Chanel creation. Her quilted pink leather purse and shoes made the same statement. At—Bliss glanced at the blue and white Delft clock over the stove—at five-fifteen in the morning, Kitten's bleached hair curved from hairline to nape with not a hair out of place. Her pink velvet headband scarcely made a dent in the careful teasing job.
"You're looking yummy, Mother."
"Why is it that what would be a compliment from anyone else, sounds like an insult from you?"
"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Please say no.
"I should think so. Because of you I hardly got a wink of sleep last night. You can thank me that it isn't your father who's here. He wouldn't be as calm and kind as I am."
Bliss got out two mugs and set them on the counter. "It cer-
tainly is early," she said. "Much too early for you to come here shouting and insulting me."
"Ooh, Bliss," Kitten said, folding into a chair like a rag doll and cupping her face in a tragic pose that made sure her perfect makeup suffered no damage. "How can you talk to me the way you do? After all I've done for you. You take, and take, and give nothing in return."
"Mother—"
"All that education. All the opportunities we've given you. And what have we asked in return? A little consideration, that's all. You know your father's planning to run for the presidency. These are very important times for him, dear. You and I have to be selfless. We've got to put his good before our own."
"You mean the good of the nation before our own, don't you?" Bliss asked mildly.
Kitten's hands became fists on her knees. "This nation will get a great man if it gets your father, a better man than any nation deserves."
"As you say."
"Sebastian Plato. That's why I'm here. There's no point in tiptoeing around. We're horrified at what's being suggested. My God, Bliss. Your father was at the Hunt Club last night and Walter DeFunk asked if you were still having an affair with that Plato fella. Can you imagine your father's embarrassment?"
Bliss barely stopped herself from dropping a glass mug. "Still having an affair?"
"Oh, I knew it." Kitten leaped up. "I just knew it. You did become involved with him at that horrible school you insisted upon attending."
Resisting the urge to throw the mug, Bliss set it down on the nearest counter. "You and Daddy chose the schools I went to for your own purposes."
"How can you?—"
"I can because it's true. You both decided it would look good to Daddy's constituents if his daughter went to public schools. It gave him a chance to be president of the booster club and
embarrass me with his big gifts and speeches. And you played lady of the manor with the PTA."
Kitten tapped a pump on the floor. "You are so ungrateful."
"Let's stop this now," Bliss said. "What I do with my life is absolutely none of your business. Do you still want coffee?"
Kitten flapped a hand. "I don't care anymore. The idea. A daughter of mine being sexually active in high school."
"I wasn't sexually active in high school. And I'm the only daughter you have—as far as I know."
The pink purse hit the table and slid. Bliss stopped it from falling off.
"You are the biggest disappointment of our lives."
"I know,
Mother."
"You've wasted all that education you insisted on." She gestured vaguely. "This excuse for some sort of good work. Den mother to any so-called artist who can't earn a living. You're doing it to embarrass Morris and me. And now I find out you were involved with some dreadful boy behind our backs."
Bliss wasn't going to lie.
"Weren't you?" Kitten pushed.
"Sebastian Plato was my friend when we were in school. He was a very dear friend. I suppose you do know who he is now, don't you, Mother?"
"Certainly I know. He's a man involved in practices your dear father opposes. Bliss, your father's presidential platform will pivot on his fight against the corruption of our young people."
"Mother, this is all completely uncalled for. You have no idea what you're talking about and neither, apparently, does Daddy."
"How dare you question your father!"
As usual, there could never be any hope of a sane discussion with Kitten Winters if her husband's views were an issue. "I'm sorry," Bliss said. "Forgive me if I've done anything to disturb either you or Daddy. You have nothing to fear from me. Please tell him that."
"Give me that coffee." From the choke in Mother's voice, tears were imminent. "Why do you always have to hurt us?"
Bliss poured coffee and set it on the table. "1 would never intentionally hurt you."
"But you sought out this boy, this person who was of an entirely different . . . Well, his background isn't the same as ours."
"Mother—"
"Do you deny you're having an affair with him now?"
"Yes!" She felt her color rise and turned away to pour coffee for herself. She hadn't lied. They weren't having an affair—yet. "Would you like cream?"
"You know I don't take cream. And neither should you. Even if you don't worry about your arteries, you should certainly keep an eye on those hips."
Bliss smiled into her mug.
"Did I say something humorous?"
"Not really. How is Daddy?"
Kitten sniffed. She retrieved her purse and produced a tissue. "Morris is a wonder. The things he's had to endure would break most men."
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