Dream Me Off My Feet (Sex, Love, And Rock & Roll)

by Kisner, Stevie

  As her wet skin met with his dry body, they stuck together. Their feet, meanwhile, kept trying to pass in the close confines and got hopelessly tangled. Neither one ever admitted to being the first to stumble, nor to grabbing the shower curtain to keep from falling. Not that who did it really mattered.

  Down came the shower curtain, pulling the rod with it. One end snagged the fern that Kori had just hung from the bathroom ceiling. The plant swept sideways and the macramé hanger hopped out of the ceiling hook.

  On its way down, the plant pot swung back one last time and collided with the towel bar on the wall, tearing it out and leaving huge holes. The pot flipped over and dumped mud and fern all over the new rugs on the floor. The towels that were hanging on the bar flopped onto the mucky mess.

  The other end of the curtain rod smacked the shower head, aiming it at the brand new holes in the wall.

  Korina was too shocked to even turn off the water. She just stood, naked and staring, as the water sprayed all over the bathroom floor. She looked at Mark, then at the holes in the wall, and finally at the muddy pile, and started to laugh.

  Mark thought she had gone crazy. Here were the new rugs, new towels, new shower curtain and new plant, and they were all ruined. There were holes in the wall. As he glared at the mess, with all thoughts of a romantic moment gone, understanding bloomed. Laughing or crying wouldn’t affect the muck on the floor; neither would getting angry. How he dealt with it was the only thing that could make any difference.

  As the shower flooded the floor, they laughed until, gasping and choking, Mark shut off the water, then turned to his new wife. She had tears streaming down her cheeks and her arms wrapped around her stomach, trying to catch her breath. He pulled her into his arms and the peals of laughter started all over again.

  “Yeah, okay, that could have been bad.” She eyed the ceiling. “There’s no fern in here, though.” She giggled again.

  It warmed his heart. Not telling her he didn’t get in because he didn’t want to see the stress and pain on her face was the first lie he’d ever gotten away with telling her, and it had been worth the risk.

  Either the shower or the laughing managed to kill the headache, but unfortunately not the swollen eyes and the tension. She held a cold washcloth to her face in a vain attempt to reduce the puffiness. When her lids no longer felt like they were sanding her eyes, she dropped the damp cloth into the bathroom sink and emerged from the bedroom.

  Zach looked up from his video game. “Hi, Mommy.”

  “Hi, yourself, sweetie.” She immediately headed for her cigarette case, craving nicotine to calm her jumbled nerves.

  Mark eyed her shaking hands as she pulled a cigarette from the slim metal case. “I hate to ask you this, since we’ve hardly seen you in weeks, but is there someplace you can smoke that besides in here? My stomach’s in knots, and you know how much I hate the smell of smoke.”

  She sighed and nodded, considering her options. At home, she smoked in either the sunroom at the back of the house or outside, if the weather was warm. Zach didn’t need to breathe it, and Mark hated the odor, although he’d never badgered her to quit. She’d gotten rather used to lighting up wherever and whenever she chose these last few weeks. “I guess I could go out into the hall. There isn’t supposed to be any smoking there, but since we have the entire floor, who’s gonna know?”

  She picked up the case and her lighter and opened the door. She glanced down the hall and shook her head. “There’s too many smoke detectors out here. I’ll see if JT will let me borrow his room instead. He’s right next door.”

  “Okay, honey. If he’s not there, we won’t mind if you go downstairs to the bar. We’ll manage without you for ten minutes or so, won’t we, Sport?”

  “Uh-huh,” Zach said absently, eyes glued to the fast action on the TV screen.

  “Are you sure? I mean, I could wait until we go for dinner,” she offered halfheartedly. “You look like you need it. Go chill and come back happy, okay?”

  She smiled and closed the door. JT didn’t answer when she knocked. Her hand itched to try the knob. He gets his privacy, too, Kori.

  She decided to go down to the bar, sip on a diet soda, and have her nicotine fix. Maybe two, just to make the trip downstairs worthwhile. She walked to the bank of elevators, then remembered the going-alone rule. She’d been warned that it applied to her, too, now. She went to the freight lift, and drummed her fingers on the wall after pressing the call button. As if summoned by her impatience, the elevator doors shushed open. Oh, shit…

  Fourteen

  Unable to relax after reading the steamy bit of fiction he liked so well, JT headed down to the hotel bar for a beer and some conversation. Anything to get his mind off the sounds he heard filtering through the wall his room shared with hers.

  Finding few patrons there this late in the afternoon, and tiring of meaningless conversation with the bartender, JT decided to leave after two beers so cold they made his sinuses throb.

  He considered going out somewhere, then thought better of it. What I should be doing is trying to catch up on some sleep. He walked back to the service elevator for the trip back upstairs. The clanking motor seemed even louder than during his ride down.

  The car slowed as it approached his floor, but he stayed leaning against the back wall, eyes cast down to the dingy floor. No hurry to leave this lift, there certainly wouldn’t be a crush of people waiting to get on….

  As the doors slid open, his eyes automatically glanced to verify that the floor of the elevator lined up with the floor of the hall; he’d trusted the freight lifts one too many times, and tripped over the edge once when the floors didn’t quite meet. He saw an even floor and a familiar pair of tennis shoes…Bloody hell…

  ****

  His eyes looked a question at her. “I was going downstairs to have a cigarette in the bar. Mark’s bothered by the smoke,” she explained nervously.

  JT swallowed over a thick lump in his throat, regretting reading the elevator scene right before he went downstairs. Fuuuuck….

  “I was just there, but it was empty and boring. I’ll go back and keep you company,” he offered, not entirely unselfishly.

  “Okay,” was all she replied, then stepped on board, averting her eyes.

  Her characters flashed through his mind as he watched her lean into the corner of the elevator nearest the buttons. She kept her head low, eyes trained to the scuffed tile floor. Talk about life imitating art. She hunched her shoulders deeper into the corner and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. Aw, fuck me on a popsicle stick… He knew he shouldn’t do what he was about to, but felt entirely helpless to stop.

  “Kori?” he asked softly.

  He almost didn’t hear her reply, so low it was all but lost in the hum of the elevator. “Yeah, JT?”

  He took a step closer. Only to hear her above the noisy motor. “Did you talk to him?” Another step closer.

  She gave a noncommittal shrug, her shoulders slumping further. Her chin dipped a little nearer her chest so he couldn’t see her eyes.

  “Tell me about it,” he coaxed softly. “C’mon, love.”

  She shook her head. Exactly what she was negating, he wasn’t sure: his nearness? telling him Mark’s prognosis? playing out the heated elevator scene she’d written?

  “If you can’t talk to me, then at least look at me. You tell me so much with those eyes, love.” His voice was calming, soothing, and sending rivers of goose bumps up her spine. Again, she shook her head.

  Don’t do it, don’t, you know you shouldn’t…but of their own accord, his arms moved to her and he reached out to gently pull her hands from her pockets, holding them loosely in his own. “Please? You trust me, don’t you, Kori?” But can I trust myself? His thumbs gently soothed the backs of her hands.

  Electricity rippled through her skin as he enclosed both of her hands in one of his, raising his free hand to lift her chin with the tips of his fingers. She didn’t fight it. She closed
her eyes briefly, then slowly opened them to meet his.

  The full force of the emotions she had struggled to keep hidden suckerpunched him in the solar plexus. Sorrow, longing, fear, love, and the dark heat he rekindled so easily. He couldn’t breathe for the long moment he stayed lost in her depths of sea blue. She’s been crying, that’s the precise shade her eyes turn. My heart aches for you, love…

  Without thought, he brushed his thumb lightly over her lower lip, tightening his hold on her hands, not wanting her to push him away, holding her strongly enough that she couldn’t even try. Her eyes drifted closed, her lips parted under the pressure of his thumb. She leaned her face deeper into the hand still cupping her chin. A tiny sound escaped her throat, and he lost more of the grip on his control.

  His body longed to feel more of her; he shifted closer. A voice inside scolded, don’t…stop now, it’s not too late…oh fuck it all. Don’t stop, now. He raised her arms over her head easily, still holding her wrists in his one large hand. Again she didn’t resist. Their bodies touched from knees to chest; he pressed against her harder, as if to imprint her on his skin, mold his form to echo every curve. He dragged his thumb slowly over her lip again, his mouth aching to touch hers.

  She opened her eyes and tumbled heartfirst into his stare. “JT, I —” she began breathlessly.

  “Hush, love.” He quieted her with another sweeping brush of his thumbtip. “Just let me look at you. I need something of you to hold in my heart.” He pressed her deeper into the corner. Her gaze flickered down to his lips. That was all it took to unravel what little restraint he had left. With a groan, he lowered his mouth to hers.

  Her lips parted under his gently probing tongue, welcoming it to dance alongside hers. His hand fell away from her face and fumbled with the elevator controls, at last finding and pressing the raised STOP button. The elevator ground to a halt.

  His hand returned to touching her, dragging a slow, tantalizing path down the soft underside of one upraised arm. She shivered and tried to tug her hands free.

  His grip remained implacable. Oh, no, sweetheart. You’ve tortured me with thoughts of that elevator, and what might have happened had you thought to make him stop the car, for far too long. I want to live that fantasy for a little while.

  He continued to move his mouth over hers, slow and lingering, driving himself frantic alongside her. Delicate and easy, he wanted to taste her, tease her, make her forget they were in a dingy elevator. He might not be able to keep from touching her when they were alone, but he had exquisite restraint once he started.

  His lips slid to her cheek, her chin, the line of her jaw, inching downward with languid ease. He bit gently at the soft skin of her neck, making her gasp. He increased the pressure and she moaned, once again struggling to pull her hands free. He held her steadfast and nuzzled in deeper.

  Her head fell to one side, allowing him better access to the sensitive curve of her shoulder. Her long hair shifted; a stray curl fell across his face as he pulled in a breath, fighting for continued self-control. He smelled her favorite perfume, and the clean smells of soap and shampoo, but a trace of something else still lingered in her curls. He breathed her in again, losing himself in the heady aroma as he lightly bit and sucked at her skin. What is that other scent?

  Sex.

  And not with me. I can still smell it in her hair. A flash of jealousy bit through his brain, although he knew he had no right to it. His teeth closed a little harder on her skin, unconsciously wanting to cover that scent with his own, leave a mark on her somehow, and make her his again. How can I be jealous of her husband, for chrissake? Or, maybe that’s it…he’s got that little piece of paper and I don’t. All I can have right now is a piece of her heart.

  She whimpered as the bite on her neck danced the razors-edge of pleasure and pain. JT slacked his jaw and soothed her with tender swirls of his tongue, shocked to feel indentations in her skin from his teeth. Bloody hell…I knew staying away would be hard, but I never imagined I’d be jealous. Maybe it’s best if I’m not alone with her at all anymore. I don’t want to stop, but I have to…He released her hands as he pulled back and searched her face. Blue eyes glazed dark with passion stared back at him.

  She had a passing thought, with surprisingly little guilt, that she should not be doing this. She didn’t care. Falling in love with her husband had never been this intoxicating, was never this addictive. JT was her drug, and she couldn’t seem to stop, could never get enough.

  “No, love, I — ahhh!” he abruptly stopped as one of her now-free hands dove into the front of his jeans while the other one fumbled with the button and zipper.

  “I need you, JT…here….right now.” Her fleeting thoughts of whoredom were evicted as she settled into getting her JT-fix.

  “Kori, I don’t think — ohhhhhshhit…” She’d managed the zipper; her hand moved easily over him, now unfettered by tight denim.

  —Ah good CHRIST woman….oh God your hands….

  He thrust himself deeper into her palm. Her fingers tightened and pulled him even closer; he crushed her against the wall. “Please, JT,” she whispered, “love me.” She rocked her hips against him.

  —Fuck it….fuck it all….I want you….desperately…and I’ll have you…

  No longer content to be easy and slow, he deftly opened the catch of her pants and pushed them down, snagging the straps of her lacy thong with his thumbs along the way. She heeled off her shoes and kicked out of her jeans, leaving them in an inside-out heap on the dirty floor.

  JT cupped the backs of her thighs in his hands and lifted her from the floor, bracing her spine against the wall, then plunged into her precious warmth as she wrapped her legs around his waist. “My God, you feel so good,” he groaned into her skin.

  —So right….you feel so right….like you were made just for me to love…

  She rolled her hips to meet every powerful thrust, wanting it to last, knowing it couldn’t. His breathing was coming hard and fast, the eyes locked onto hers grew to the dark green of a stormy sea as his passion spiraled.

  —Too fast…I didn’t want yet…not so soon…but what you do to me love….

  He reached down to touch where their bodies were joined, finding her clit with the pad of his thumb. Her hips bucked at his first caress, driving him deeper inside. She moaned his name as the sensations drove her to pulse powerfully around him.

  Overwhelmed, he shuddered against her with one final thrust. “I love you, baby,” he whispered with a groan, sliding his hands up her back to pull her closer to his chest.

  “Wrong or right, I love you even more, JT. I don’t know where I’d be without you now.”

  He smiled wistfully, feeling an ever-growing contentment.

  —Home. I’ve finally figured it out. I don’t need anything else. She carries my heart around in her pocket and wherever she is, that’s my home.

  ****

  Mark paced the suite, his stomach a queasy pit of worry. She’d been gone half an hour. How many cigarettes was she smoking next door? He wasn’t one to mistrust, but dammit! He missed her, he’d been missing her for weeks. Phone calls and e-mails couldn’t take the place of her fingertips, her arms, the warmth of her lying next to him in bed.

  He couldn’t help the nerves. Ever since his debilitating crash, the night he almost didn’t ever come home again, he understood, hell, they both understood, that bad things can happen to anyone. Horrible, life-altering, without-warning things don’t happen only to those who deserve them; sometimes life just comes up and whacks you over the head. That crash really did kill me that night. It just took eleven years for me to die.

  She always was remarking that JT was long-winded. Maybe they were just talking and lost track of the time. He decided to go to JT’s room, tell her Zach was hungry and reclaim her.

  He stepped into the hall and knocked on the closest door; she said JT was in the next room over and Mark hoped he picked the right one. No one answered and the room seemed quiet. Wishing he�
��d brought his cane (his long-ago injured leg was aching like a mother from all the pacing), he made his way to the door on the other side of theirs and knocked again. He heard a quiet shuffling and the sound of a television playing.

  A sleepy-looking bass player opened the door. “Hey, Mark,” he said in his quiet voice. “What’s up?”

  Mark felt stupid, but he had say something. “Hi, Rafe. I was looking for Korina, and thought maybe this was JT’s room.”

  Rafe’s raised eyebrows and surprised look prompted Mark to explain further. “She wanted a cigarette and the odor gets to me, so she was going to see if JT would mind her smoking in his room.”

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded. He smokes like a power plant. His room’s on the other side of yours.”

  “I knocked on that door but there was no answer. She was going to the bar downstairs if he wasn’t there. I guess that’s where she went.”

  “Last I heard from him, JT was going down for a beer. Maybe they’re both in the bar, and you know how JT can talk.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably it.” Mark looked dejected. “Well, she should be back shortly. I hope. Zach was getting hungry,” he lied, knowing he had to give some sort of reason he was looking for his wife. He didn’t think Rafe would understand his almost-irrational worry when she was so very late.

  “If she’s with JT, it may not be all that soon,” Rafe added. “I don’t think she’s quite got the hang of saying ‘Just shut up, JT.’ It’s a learned skill,” he chuckled.

  “Well, thanks, anyway, Rafe.” Mark turned and limped slowly back to his own door, feeling somewhat reassured. If she was with JT, she would be fine; he’d mother-henned all three of them from the start.

  He stepped into his room, but still couldn’t quite relax enough to sit down. He resumed his slow, awkward-gaited pacing and waited.

  ****

  “JT,” she said as she bent down to tie her shoes, “I hate to have to say this, but, uh, stay the hell away from me.”

  He glanced at her and popped a brow, unable to tell whether she was joking. A long curtain of hair obscured her face, but her tone sounded serious enough.