Heat of the Moment

by Lori Herter

  Was Peter’s withdrawal due to something else? She’d noticed he wouldn’t let her touch him anymore. If she laid her hand on his shoulder, he’d simply move away. He’d told her he’d wait for her to come to him and say she wanted to make love. Was he being cool because she was keeping him waiting? Maybe touching and kissing were just too frustrating for him if she kept refusing to go further. Frustration was a problem she could fix—if she had the wherewithal to finally conquer her fear and go to him.

  Whatever the reason for his indifference, Josie had to do something. She feared that her chance to learn to enjoy sex with the one man who could make that happen might pass her by. She decided she must tell him she was willing to give herself to him totally.

  As she hurried through the rain to the main house, she began to plan how to go about it.

  “‘Morning,” she said as she came into the kitchen.

  He nodded at her but didn’t smile.

  “Did the weatherman predict rain?” She sat down at the breakfast nook in front of the bowl he’d set out for her.

  “I didn’t listen to the forecast last night.” His monotone hurt her inside. He was still the same. Nothing had changed.

  She took the box of cereal he handed her and poured some into her bowl. Smiling, she said, “You know, I’ve been working for you for exactly one month today.”

  He looked up. “Have you?”

  “Yes. How about if we have a nice dinner to mark the occasion?”

  “I don’t like restaurants. Too much hassle in a wheelchair.”

  “No, I meant I’ll make dinner, here. Maybe we could eat at the dining room table instead of in the kitchen. That will make it seem a little more special. Do you have a favorite meal?”

  Clouds darker than the ones outside seemed to pass through his eyes. “You don’t have to go to all that trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble. I’ll put you to work chopping veggies.”

  He smiled slightly. “Whatever you want.”

  Josie hesitated, but, emboldened by his hint of a smile, decided to be straightforward. “You’ve seemed kind of down the last several days. Is it because you still have doubts about me and my friendship with Ronnie?”

  He paused before answering. “I have doubts about everything lately.”

  She didn’t know what he meant by his reply, how she should take it. “It upsets me to even think you may mistrust me, Peter. If you do, then why haven’t you asked me to leave?”

  He studied her a long moment, then looked down. “Actions speak for themselves. I must trust you, or you wouldn’t still be here.”

  Josie would have been jubilant at his reply if his tone of voice hadn’t been so devoid of emotion. But if that was his answer, then the only thing she could do was believe him. Maybe he was indeed still keeping his emotional distance from her because he was afraid he’d pressure her for sex before she was ready. Well, that issue would soon be taken care of—she hoped.

  “Then let’s celebrate our one-month anniversary working together. Do you like salmon? I’m pretty good at cooking that.”

  “Sure.”

  They worked that morning, and after a quiet lunch together she went shopping. She came back with salmon, the ingredients for risotto, a salad, bread and a couple of bottles of chardonnay. And a condom in her pants pocket. She’d also stopped at the drugstore.

  His dining-room table was in an alcove off of the living room, near the kitchen. That evening as the food was cooking, she set the table. In a kitchen cupboard she found thick white candles that she suspected he kept in case of a power outage. She set two on the table on saucers and lit them while he stayed in the kitchen where she’d set him to work preparing the salad.

  When everything was ready, she brought the food to the table. After setting the salad down, she got behind his wheelchair to push him at a playful speed to his place at the table. “There!”

  He was smiling. “Are we in a hurry?” There was a trace of his old humor back in his voice.

  “Don’t want the food to get cold.” She sat down at her place and began serving the salmon. She also poured the wine.

  He watched as she filled his glass. “Wine, too? Trying to get me drunk?”

  Whatever worked, she thought to herself mischievously. But she knew she probably needed the wine more than he did.

  “Should we have a toast?” she asked. “I don’t know any.”

  He held up his glass. “Cheers.”

  “Isn’t there an Irish toast you can make?”

  “I know an Irish blessing. May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall soft upon your fields. And until we meet again, may the Lord hold you in the palm of His hand.”

  The warmth had come back into his eyes, and Josie found herself almost ready to weep with happiness. She swallowed her emotion, touched her glass to his and said, “That’s beautiful.”

  “It’s my mother’s favorite. She made us recite it as kids, and she’s got it all over her house, written on plates, tea towels, framed in Celtic lettering. Stuff she’s brought back from all her trips to Ireland.” He chuckled. “She was patient this year when my dad insisted they go on a Caribbean cruise for a change.”

  “I’d like to go to Ireland someday. They say it’s so green and pretty.” She served him some risotto. “By the way, have you learned any more about that Irish song you like to hum?”

  All at once, for no reason she knew of, Peter’s expression changed. Suddenly on his guard again, he kept his eyes averted. “No. Not much,” he replied in that devoid-of-feeling tone he’d been using lately.

  Obviously she’d said the wrong thing. To move past the awkward moment, she began to jabber about how she’d gotten the risotto recipe from her mother, who had gotten it from a friend in Italy. She kept up the conversation with talk about travel, cooking, restaurants—all the safe, neutral subjects she could think of. Josie felt like a nervous chatterbox, but it seemed to work. She kept his wineglass filled, too, and gradually he seemed to let go of his barriers again. By the time she served dessert—a coconut cake from her favorite bakery—Peter was almost like his old self. But as they finished eating, she began to feel a little scared. Dinner was easy compared to what she’d planned next. But it was exactly that old fear that she meant to conquer.

  “There’s still almost a full bottle of wine left. Should we have some more in the living room?”

  “Okay.”

  “Leave the dishes. I’ll get them later. Let’s just sit for a while.” She walked into the living room, carrying the bottle of wine and their glasses. Peter followed and stopped his wheelchair in front of the leather couch, where she’d sat the first time she’d come to his house. She set the wine and glasses on the end table where a lamp stood. It was getting dark, so she turned on the lamp, then tried to make herself comfortable on the couch facing him. Her heartbeat was picking up speed and she was growing apprehensive. How should she go about letting him know she was ready?

  “This is how we sat when you asked me to work for you, remember?”

  Peter nodded. “A lot has happened since then.”

  Josie swallowed. “Yes, but…there’s still something that hasn’t happened.”

  His eyebrows drew together. “What?”

  “We haven’t made love.”

  His eyes widened and he leaned back in his chair, apparently speechless.

  Josie plunged on. “Y-you said you’d wait for me to come to you. Well… I think I’m ready for…to…make love with you.”

  He glanced away, across the room, his eyes moving back and forth. “You’re sure? This is a little abrupt.”

  “Abrupt?” She smiled, feeling awkward and self-conscious. “I’ve wined and dined you by candlelight. I thought that was how…how things like this were done.”

  His eyes sped to hers. “Things like what? Seduction?”

  Josie felt disconcerted by his reaction. “You were the one who ke
pt saying you wanted to make love. I was the one holding back. Just because I’ve finally decided to agree…” She felt a tug of panic building inside. Seven years ago she’d agreed to what Max had asked for, too. And the result had been awful. She’d imagined Peter being playful and warm, but instead he seemed wary. Max had seemed pleasant enough, too, until she got into bed with him.

  Was she making a major mistake again? She wasn’t any good at reading or understanding men. They seemed so unpredictable. All of a sudden she wondered if she’d misread Peter entirely. She no longer felt as comfortable with him as she had days ago, in the spa.

  He was coolly studying her face. “Why have you agreed now?”

  “I thought maybe…” She swallowed and began again. “You’ve been so withdrawn lately. If it’s not because you don’t trust me, then I thought maybe it was because I’ve been keeping you waiting, that you’ve been frustrated holding yourself back.” She might as well just tell him the truth. What else was there to do? She wasn’t any good at being coy, playing games. And this was too important not to be totally truthful. She gazed at his face, watching, waiting for his reaction.

  His remote expression seemed to soften, and yet he looked uncertain. Impulsively, she got up and sat in his lap, hoping to reassure him. His eyes widened as she slid her arm around his shoulders. They were physically close again, and Josie felt the joy of being near him once more, of looking into those rich green eyes. But some sort of emotion stormed in their depths, as though he were experiencing great tumult inside.

  “I’ve missed being near you these last few days.” Her voice was soft and shaky. “I want to make love.” She kissed him on the mouth, getting more high from the feel of his lips than she’d gotten from the wine. “I want to make love with you.”

  He responded tentatively at first, but he kissed her back, his arms gathering her to him, his kiss growing more and more ardent. The fact that he was responding made tears sting her eyes. She touched his face tenderly, and ran her fingers along his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of his beard. Their kiss grew heated, increasingly urgent. His fingers dug into her thick hair and he slid his mouth to her chin and down her throat. His hand found her breast, squeezing its softness through her sweater. Wanting to feel his hands on her skin, she drew back to pull off the sweater, revealing her naked breasts.

  A fiery yearning filled his eyes as he gazed at her. Gently he took hold of her soft flesh, and caressed her with his long fingers. His thumb found her nipple, and teased it into a hard nub, then his mouth took over, suckling her. Electric shock waves coursed through her body and limbs, and she felt the aching sensation between her legs that told her she was ready to keep going, to experience everything without holding back.

  She began to unbutton his shirt, tugging it apart to reveal his chest. Slipping her hand beneath, she slid her fingers over his thick pectoral muscles and his nipples. He winced with pleasure and hotly kissed her mouth, deepening the kiss as his hands went to work on the waistband of her pants. When he’d undone the button and zipper, he slid his fingers down her stomach, beneath her panties. She gasped as he deftly found the quick of her. He kept on nudging her in just the right way until she began writhing with each new sensation his fingers coaxed from her.

  “You’re ready, Josie.” His voice was husky, yet tender. His breathing had become labored. “You’re wet. Do you really want to—?”

  Her heart was pounding. She did want to. But she felt petrified. What if it all went wrong again? What if her inexperience made everything awkward, disappointing him? But there was no turning back now. She had to see this through, whatever happened, good or bad. She had to do this!

  “Yes, Peter. What should I do? How do we—?”

  “Take off your clothes.” Reluctantly he let go, as if he didn’t want to, even for a few moments. She got up and removed her pants and panties—not without some major self-consciousness, but she made herself overlook that. She wanted this to happen, and nothing—no amount of embarrassment or fear—was going to stop her.

  She set her discarded clothes on the leather couch, then approached him, totally naked. He’d taken off his shirt. Just as she remembered the condom she’d bought, he pulled a small packet out of a pocket at the back of his wheelchair. She realized he must have placed it there in anticipation of their lovemaking. He did still want her; he’d planned for their consummation.

  He looked up at her. “I’ll move to the couch. It’ll be more comfortable.”

  She held the wheelchair steady as he transferred himself from the chair to the leather couch. She was surprised at how easily he swung his legs over the seat to lie on his back. He used her discarded clothes as a pillow. When he unzipped his jeans and pushed them down, the strength of his arousal was evident. He slid the condom over himself and looked up at her.

  “Come here.” His voice was soft, but urgent flames lit his eyes.

  “How…do we…?”

  “Sit astride me. Take me inside you.”

  She did as he asked, climbing over him. Then he slid his hands around her hips, pulling her toward him. With a knee on either side of him sinking into the leather beneath him, she sat on his upper thighs, his firm arousal between her legs. And then she grew short of breath. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply to avert the panic attack that threatened to spoil the moment.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Scared?”

  She opened her eyes, gulped hard, and nodded. “S-sorry.”

  His brows drew together and his expression became so tender, it made her heart leap for joy. She hadn’t seen him look at her that way for days.

  He took her hands in his and smiled, his eyes shining. “Don’t be afraid. I think you’ll like it. Touch me.”

  She took hold of his arousal with a shaking hand, feeling its thickness and rigidity beneath the condom.

  “See, nothing to be afraid of. I’m here on my back, Josie, and you’re in control.” A roguish look crept into his eyes. “Have your way with me.”

  Josie smiled, feeling reassured. Her momentary fear was fading, but now she was worried about simple mechanics. “How do I…?”

  “Rise up a little on your knees and take me inside.”

  She did as he described, using her hands to guide him in. As she felt the thick shaft enter her, her heart began to pound uncomfortably against her ribs. She closed her eyes to shut old memories out of her mind. This was going to be different. A different man, a different situation. She was in control. Nothing to fear, she told herself. Nothing to fear.

  But he felt so big and hard sliding slowly into her, she mentally centered herself to overcome the fright that threatened to get hold of her again.

  “You okay?” he asked, his breathing unsteady.

  Josie nodded, but couldn’t speak.

  “You feel so good,” he whispered, stroking her thighs. “You look so beautiful.”

  When the length of him was inside her, he slid his hands up to her waist. “Josie, I’ve wanted you so much. I’ve needed you so much.”

  Josie felt a bit dazed by the fullness of him inside her body—and the fact that she was actually here having intercourse with Peter, and she felt okay about it. She wasn’t afraid anymore. And he was being so tender with her. She wanted to kiss him. Experimenting, she began to lean over him, her long hair falling toward him, bracing herself with her arms on either side of him. He stretched up a bit when he realized what she wanted.

  His hands dug softly into her hair, pulling her face closer to his. Her mouth met his and she settled over him, her breasts melting into his chest. Their lips intermingled, sweetly at first, then with increasing heat. As they kissed, he slid his hands through her hair and downward along her back.

  He began tilting his pelvis upward in a gentle thrusting motion. Immediately sweetly hypnotic sensations coursed through her and her heart began to pound again, but this time with anticipation. Instinctively, she rose up on her hands, her breasts pendulous over his chest, and began to
undulate her hips in a rhythmic movement to match his. She could feel his flesh moving back and forth inside her, causing a delicious friction.

  “Am I doing it right?” she asked, breathless.

  “Exquisitely.”

  He seemed to be watching her breasts bouncing beneath the ends of her long hair as she moved. He brought his hands around from her back and slid them over her soft chest, one hand on each breast, fondling her with his fingertips. He lifted his head and she leaned forward more so that he could take her nipple in his mouth. She gasped at the liquid electricity that coursed through her as he suckled her.

  He began to thrust harder with his pelvis, which profoundly increased the savage pleasure response in her body. She breathed in ragged gasps, her heart thudding. He lay back again and she sat up straighter, her neck arching, her hair falling back over her shoulders. Something was about to happen. She could feel her body instinctively preparing. “Peter…” she whispered.

  And all at once a sensation like a sweet, hot chill took hold of her. Closing her eyes, she breathed in, and suddenly an overwhelming wave of convulsions racked her body. She cried out his name as he reached for her waist. He held her as her climax subsided.

  Tears filled her eyes, and she threw herself onto Peter’s chest, kissing his cheek, his neck. His body was still taut, and all at once a deep sound came from his throat as he squeezed his arms around her tightly. New tears sprang into her eyes as she felt him pulsing inside her, knowing it meant she had satisfied his desire.

  His arms relaxed their tight hold, and as she continued to lay against him in blissful exhaustion, he kept her warmly enfolded in his embrace.

  “That was beautiful,” she whispered in his ear. “I wish I’d met you years ago.”

  “So do I.”

  Peter shifted his head a bit, turning to look at her. His eyes were filled with adoration, and it took her breath away. He smiled and pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. She sensed his contentment and happiness. She felt the same way, as though nothing else mattered, only the sublime intimacy they’d just shared. Her heart was full of emotion for this man who had so tenderly helped her conquer her fear and turned her into a fully realized woman. She needed to tell him.