Woke Up Dead

by Tina Wainscott

  Her eyes were huge and full of some emotion he wasn’t even familiar with. With his hands on her hips, he pulled her flush against him. He could feel his arousal pushing against her stomach. Her fingers slipped around his belt loops as if to keep him from escaping. No chance of that.

  Maxine had never felt so many tumultuous feelings in one small space of time. Being lost in the music, then finding Sam standing there watching her…She could have died. Until she saw the fire in his eyes and realized he must have made the song play again. Now she was on the edge of teetering into an emotional minefield. As his hands slid over her body as though she were something precious and irreplaceable, she knew she would shatter if he stopped.

  “Sam,” she said on a rushed whisper. “Please don’t do this if you’re going to stop before…before…”

  His hands slipped back through her hair as he pulled her close for a kiss that seared her soul and left her hungry for more. He didn’t tease her to get her mouth open, he just plunged right in and nearly knocked her off-balance. She let go of his belt loops and found the more solid anchor of his hips.

  Even through the silk of her bra, she could feel his skin, making her ache for more of him. How could a body ache like this, when it felt so good? Her entire lower region pulsed where he rubbed against her pelvis, washing her in a warmth she’d never felt before. Thoughts of pretending she knew how to do all this, and Gabby’s advice, flew from her mind. He swayed, taking her with him in the slow rhythm of the music. She didn’t need to worry about what to do. All she had to do was go with it, just as she had when she’d heard the song the first time and let the music lead her. Now she would let Sam lead her.

  He took one of her hands in his, holding it between them; the other hand held her close as they moved slowly over the floor. His eyes were closed, his forehead pressed against hers.

  “You wanted to dance,” he said in a low, hoarse voice.

  “What?”

  “The day you came to my office. You wanted to dance.”

  She smiled, pulling him closer yet. “Yes, I did.” She had dreamed of doing this for years, but she never imagined it would have felt so right, and so good. She’d guessed close, but not quite. They moved in and out of the shards of sunlight, and she watched it play over his hair and skin.

  He flattened the hand between them, and she followed suit, feeling so connected to him with that one simple act. After a moment, that hand slid down and unclasped her bra. She let it fall to the floor, feeling a little self-conscious. He cupped her shoulders first, sliding down her arms before gently running his hands beneath the lower curve of her breasts. Again she caught her breath, amazed at how his touch there could stir through her entire body. His thumbs ran over her sensitive nubs, making them tighten beneath his touch.

  She wanted more, more. She wanted everything.

  When she thought she would burst from some explosive force inside her, she leaned against him, her lips to his chest. She kissed across his skin, which felt warm and soft beneath her lips. To touch him, oh, how she’d dreamed of doing that. Just simple touches, like running her hands over his shoulders and into his silky hair. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, and making him react filled her with more passion than the music had.

  He leaned down and nibbled her neck and ears, making all kinds of interesting noises that sent erotic whispers through her veins. Noises. She was supposed to make sounds when it felt good. And, oh, it felt good. She felt the bubble rise within her, and she let it out with a long sigh. He responded by leaving a wet trail across her jaw as he plundered her mouth again.

  Then he went lower, weaving damp lines down her throat and over and around and covering every inch of her chest. Her fingers found his hair, and she rocked back and clutched at the strands while he drove her crazy. He tugged at her jean snaps and pulled them and her panties down in one fell swoop. After planting a kiss on her springy hair, he lifted her up. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his hips, and he walked into the bedroom where she’d spent those nights enveloped in his scent and her longings. He laid her down on the bed and took off his jeans.

  She couldn’t help staring. He was about to slip onto the bed with her, but she said, “Sam, stop.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She smiled, to let him know nothing was wrong at all. Leaning back on her elbows, she said, “I want to look at you.”

  “I haven’t changed that much,” he said, lifting his arms as her gaze swept him from head to toe and back up to his midsection.

  She took a deep breath to balance herself, spreading her fingers on the bed to help. He was breathtaking, every inch of him. She couldn’t avoid that most mysterious part of the male anatomy, though she tried not to gawk. He looked perfect, even that part. When she looked at his face, she realized he was doing the same thing to her, looking and appraising.

  Without waiting for her word, he slid up along her body, stopping on the way to kiss and nibble. He took a long time over her stomach and chest, making her toes curl as the sensations rocked her. While she was busy going crazy at that, he captured her mouth in a kiss that was filled with both passion and restrain. As he knelt lower over her, she could feel his hair mingling with her own, and above that, his own maleness pressing between them.

  After a few minutes, he slid halfway off her and ran his fingers lightly over her skin. He seemed to drink her in as he watched his hand move over her stomach and graze her inner thighs before slipping into her most private area. She inhaled sharply, wondering if that counted as a sound. He merely smiled as he continued his ministrations.

  “Sam, my gosh, Sam, what are you doing?” she said in a breathy voice.

  “Just wait and see.”

  If she thought the sensations already pulsing at her were too much, what he was doing now was absolutely too much to bear. This was what she’d been missing, what Sam couldn’t have given her if she’d still been Jennie. She curled her fists and arched her body, feeling close to breaking into a million pieces. And then she did. A warm rush filled her, and the pulsing became a pinpoint that commanded her attention.

  Through the haze she felt him slide back over her, covering every inch of her with his hot skin and solid strength. He ran his thumbs over her cheeks, then leaned down and rubbed his lips over hers before slipping his tongue inside.

  She was still spiraling upward when she felt him glide inside her and start a delicious rhythm that began that building feeling all over again. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders as she closed her eyes and lost herself in the realization that Sam was making love to her at last. She hooked her legs over his buttocks and let all the sounds that wanted to escape out as he lifted her higher and higher until her body shuddered. He kept the rhythm going until she relaxed slightly. Then in one swift stroke he buried himself in her and exploded, pulling her in a tight embrace as his body clenched.

  They remained there, closer than one, for a long time. She wanted to capture the feeling of being completely one with Sam to hold forever. There would be more of this, more to cherish.

  After a moment, he lowered his forehead against her chest. She could feel his heavy breathing against her skin, could almost see the waves of heat emanating from him. She ran her fingers up into his hair, wondering when the ringing in her ears would stop. His hands were holding her arms, and she felt his fingers tighten. But he remained there for the longest time, so long that she wondered if he’d fallen asleep.

  “Sam?” she finally said.

  He slowly raised himself, but his head was still lowered so she couldn’t see his face. Suddenly, she needed to see his face very badly.

  “Sam?” she repeated. “Look at me.”

  His face was damp, and his eyes were squeezed shut. Was this normal? Did men go through…something when they finished? She lifted his chin, and he slowly opened his eyes and met hers. The pain in his eyes shot right through her, making every muscle seize in panic.

  “What’s wrong?”

 
; He shook his head, pulling himself free of her and staggering to the doorway. He grabbed his jeans but remained there for a moment with his hand covering his face.

  She grabbed the sheet and covered herself as she sat up. “My gosh, did I hurt you?”

  The sound that came out of him clutched at her heart. It sounded too much like a muffled sob. This could not be a normal reaction. He turned to her at last, that same pain lancing his expression.

  “I’m sorry,” he said in a broken voice. “So sorry.” Then he walked away. She heard the bathroom door close and realized the water had been on the entire time. It had to be cold by now, and yet she heard him moving beneath it. For some of the longest minutes she could ever remember, she sat and waited for him to come out.

  Without him gazing down at her, she felt very naked and not altogether attractive. She tried to ignore the trembling in her fingers as she pulled on her jeans and her sweater. Pacing outside the bathroom door didn’t help, and neither did going over everything to find out what had happened. What was he sorry about? Making love with her in the first place? It was wonderful. It wasn’t like she’d looked regretful. For lack of nothing better to do, and to warm the chill building inside her, she started a pot of coffee and watched it brew.

  When the door opened at last, she wasn’t sure what to expect. He’d put his jeans back on, but he hadn’t combed his still-damp hair. She sat at the counter where earlier she’d rubbed her lips over his. Now his head was lowered as he ran his fingers through his hair. Trails of water dripped down his back, and she fought the urge to get a towel and dry him properly. Instead she wrapped her arms around herself and pulled her knees up.

  He knew she was there, but he hadn’t looked over at her yet. She waited, watching his body tense.

  “Sam, you’re scaring me,” she said at last, hating the tremble in her voice.

  He opened his mouth to say something, exhaled nothing more verbal than air, then said, “I’m sorry.”

  She tried, but failed, to force a laugh into her voice. “Listen, if it was that bad, just tell me. I can take it.”

  “It’s not that,” he said in a voice that was so low, she had to lean toward him to hear it.

  Sam walked over to the windows, where the warmth had receded to leave a bleak, dying sky. He stretched his hands up against the glass and pressed his forehead against it. His body heat created a fog aura in front of him. Maxine got up slowly and walked over beside him. She pressed her hand against the glass, which was ice cold. In fact, the whole room was colder now that the sun had gone down and the insulated curtains were all open. She couldn’t close them while he was leaning against the glass.

  Finally, she gripped his arm and pulled him away from the window. The pain was more deadened now, but she still saw it there as he met her gaze. She tried to keep her lower lip from quivering as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Sam, what is going on? Please tell me.”

  He rubbed his hand down his face, then matched her stance with his arms. “I have been so stupid,” he said, looking out the window and shaking his head.

  “I’m an inch from either strangling you or throwing myself out the window. Either way, someone’s going to have a death on their conscience.”

  When he looked at her again, he was even further from her. Little by little, he was shutting her away. Just when she felt the despair at that, he reached out and touched her cheek. She reached up and wrapped her fingers around his, still pressing his hand against her.

  “Maxine, I didn’t expect this.”

  “Is this about birth control? Protection?” She refused to believe their union could bring anything tragic, although having Sam’s baby wouldn’t be half bad.

  “I haven’t even started thrashing myself about that yet.”

  He was thrashing himself. Well, wasn’t that obvious?

  “I never meant for—I mean, making love with you was great.” His fingers squeezed hers. “Better than it ever was.”

  That gave her some hope, but she could feel the ‘but’ coming on. “I’m glad,” she said carefully. “Do you always act this way after having a great time in bed?”

  The edge of a smile formed at his mouth. “No, not usually. I’m an ass, Maxine. But it just happened.”

  “What just happened?”

  His voice lowered, and all traces of that bittersweet smile disappeared. He would have pulled his hand away, but she wouldn’t let him.

  “When I made love to you, I saw…Jennie’s face.”

  He may as well have pushed her right through that window. As it was, her knees weakened, and he caught her elbows to support her. Every trace of blood fled her face.

  “J-jennie?” she whispered.

  “I know. It was like it was there all along, and I never saw it. Not until we made love.”

  “Saw what?” she forced out.

  He looked out into the grayness beyond the window. “That I was in love with her.”

  Then she dropped.

  Sam caught her just as her bottom reached the hardwood floor. She gained her balance, saying, “I’m all right, I’m all right.” Then she remembered the last time she’d said that without quite meaning it. This didn’t feel much different than nearly being run over by a car.

  He led her to the corner of the couch, where she sat down on the overstuffed arm. Then he walked the few feet back to the window, holding onto the ledge and leaning his back against the glass. She saw him glance at the picture of Jennie, then look down at the floor, or maybe his bare feet. Despite the cushion beneath her, she still felt on the edge of a precipice. This could not be happening to her, she decided. She was merely dreaming this. Except she’d thought that one other time, too, when she awoke in another woman’s body.

  He was in love with Jennie. Jennie! Feelings of elation battled with shock and heartbreak. Mostly the heartbreak was winning.

  She found her voice, though cringed at how desperate and thin it sounded. “Through how much of it were you picturing her?”

  His voice was far away. “I don’t know. It happened so subtly, like you just blended in with her. The way you were dancing, the way you reacted when I touched you, was so innocent and fresh, so honest. Suddenly I was making love with Jennie, and realizing I’d made love with her before.”

  The fist in her gut was twisting, grinding. “What do you mean you made love with her before?”

  “In my mind.” At last he lifted his gaze to hers, and still that pain was visible. “I knew I cared about her. When she died, I was so consumed with guilt I didn’t realize how empty I felt without her. Until you came barging into my life. Sometimes the way you smile, the way you laugh and pull your bottom lip between your teeth, reminds me of her.

  “Every time I thought about her, I felt an ache that was worse than the emptiness. I kept ignoring it…until we made love. My eyes were closed and I slipped into this, I don’t know, this place between reality and my subconscious. That’s where Jennie was.” He ran his fingers down his face, pressing them into his closed eyes for a moment. “When I opened my eyes, it was a shock to see you there. That’s when I realized what had happened. How I felt.” He leaned back against the glass again, tilting his head upward.

  Sam had been in love with her. It stunned her.

  “Do you think she felt the same way about you?” she asked.

  He pressed his palms against the window, spreading his fingers out. “Jennie needed a lot more than I could give her.”

  If he heard her swift intake of air, he didn’t let on. “What are you talking about?”

  “She was strong, but delicate at the same time. She needed a man who was stable, who could give her a good life. Not in the way you wanted, because she wasn’t like that. She deserved a guy who would be home for dinner every night, who could give her a nice home.”

  “Oh, Sam,” she said in a voice that rang with regret and irony.

  Enough so that he looked at her. “You’re not mad?”

  Her finger
s tightened on the leather. “How can I be mad at you? God, Sam, if you only knew…”

  “Knew what?”

  More than anything she wanted to tell him the truth, but it was too late for that now. “How much I understand.”

  He walked closer, sliding his finger from her throat to beneath her chin. “I don’t deserve that. I never meant to hurt you, know that. I have never thought of another woman while making love to you before.”

  “I know.” Somehow, she knew that.

  His finger remained there, his gaze on her. He closed his eyes. “I’m lost,” he whispered, and those two words melted through her skin and into her very soul.

  She lifted her hand toward him. “Let me help you find your way home.”

  He ducked his head and moved away. “Maxine, I need some time alone. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  She nodded, wishing she could take away both of their aches. He would come around, she knew he would.

  He walked like a man with a heavy load on his shoulders and no strength to bear it anymore. Her eyes prickled, but she blinked back the tears threatening to rain down on her. He opened the door, then looked up at her. She turned to him, hoping that he would close the door and walk back into her arms.

  “Put the chain on the door,” he said, then pulled it closed behind him.

  She watched that door for a long time, waiting for some miracle that never occurred. Her gaze drifted to the picture of Jennie. Why hadn’t she seen it? Before her death or afterward? Afterward was easy: she didn’t want to see that he was in love with someone else, that he ached for Jennie’s loss. Looking back, it was so obvious, she felt foolish for not seeing it.