If You Could Read My Mind

by Jeanie London

  Was Michael thinking similar thoughts? Did he find the thrill of the moment as enticing? As tempting? As forbidden?

  A vision of climbing into a police cruiser popped into her head, along with having to make explanations about why a respectable doctor and his wife had been caught exposing themselves in public.

  Michael clearly wasn’t daunted by similar worries. His crotch swelled against her backside, a precursor to an erection. He curled his hands over her breasts, not quite touching, but more of a tantalizing promise to convince her to take a chance and follow where he led.

  Her breasts grew tight and heavy. And as if he could sense her response, Michael’s hands lingered, testing, waiting to see if she’d pull away or encourage him to further exploration.

  Jillian debated. She felt so warm and languid, hovering on the edge of arousal, tantalized by the bold promise in his touch, yet still cautious.

  Did she dare?

  The promise of pleasure was fast melting away her propriety, a promise that heightened her daring.

  Fantasy or reality?

  She knew which Michael wanted. He’d set out to create a fantasy tonight, so much more than handcuffs. He wanted to explore the past and break through boundaries and the familiar routine of their present. The problems.

  She only had to let him.

  No rules. No compromises.

  Arching her back, an oh, so slight move that changed the dynamics completely, Jillian pressed her breasts into his palms in sexy invitation.

  With a throaty chuckle, Michael dragged his hands over her, a firm touch that made her breath hitch and her body tingle. He thumbed her through the filmy tunic, a steady motion that gathered her nipples into tight peaks that strained against soft silk, creating a friction she could feel everywhere.

  Letting her eyes drift closed again, she rebelliously blocked out anything but the feel of his hands on her.

  No questions. No worries. No fear.

  She gave herself over to the moment as he touched and stroked and kneaded. Arousal awakened. Pleasure mounted until she found it hard to sit still. Desire pooled between her thighs, a warm and achy sensation, an insistent ache that made her crotch grow warm and moist in her panties, made her grateful her clothing kept the situation under control.

  So she thought.

  Suddenly Michael popped the buttons on her tunic, allowing the fabric to gape open and expose her bra. She inhaled sharply and swallowed back an instinctive protest. Surely Michael wouldn’t dare…

  He popped the fastener of her bra.

  Her breasts spilled out in a tumble of pale skin. Her nipples puckered against the sudden coolness, a greedy gathering that contrasted the growing warmth between her legs.

  Jillian shivered.

  He caught her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and gave a good squeeze, proving that he did indeed dare.

  The gasp that escaped from between her lips echoed in the muted quiet of the theater and earned a low chuckle from her fantasy man, who bent his head low until they were practically cheek to cheek.

  “Shh,” he whispered, a sound that gusted warmly against her ear, filtered lazily through her. “You don’t want to get us caught, do you?”

  He pulled her nipples again, hard enough to jolt more heat through her.

  She bit her lip to hold back another gasp.

  Exactly how was she supposed to shh when he started plucking her nipples and fondling her breasts until she was practically melting?

  Her only consolation was that she wasn’t the only one so affected. Michael rocked against her, nudged his crotch against her backside to ride his own ache, assuring her he was with her in enjoying the challenge of the fantasy, the dare.

  She barely recognized this Michael, this man who remembered love notes from the past and had shown up in leather. But if he wanted to push the limits between them then she would follow where he led.

  She wouldn’t dwell on how she would look if a theater employee showed up with a flashlight, or how she would feel about facing charges for indecent exposure.

  Jillian would let reality fade beneath the delicious feeling of the forbidden, and savor the fantasy as her own.

  So when Michael plucked and tugged and teased until she could no longer sit still, she rocked against him, savored the feel of his growing erection against her backside, the knowledge that she was tempting him as much as he tempted her.

  And when he popped the remaining buttons on her tunic, one by one, he dared her to protest….

  With her eyes pressed tightly shut, Jillian just held her breath, determined not to give in to worry or fear. She reminded herself that Michael had his eyes wide open. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

  This moment was all about pleasure.

  But the breath skittered in her throat when he parted the tunic and slid his hand down her bare stomach….

  Beneath the waistband of her pants.

  She’d dressed in this tunic ensemble for the sheer anonymity of an outfit that would make her feel dressed for the uncertainties of the night ahead. It had proved to be a good choice because the elastic waistband gave Michael easy access.

  And access he did.

  Sliding his hand over her abdomen and spearing his warm fingers right between her thighs.

  Jillian almost came up out of the seat.

  “Shh. There’s a couple a few rows ahead that keeps turning around to check us out. I think they can hear you breathing. You sound excited.”

  She was excited.

  Jillian glanced around the audience but couldn’t see anyone turned toward them. It didn’t matter anyway because Michael curled his fingers over her sex, honing in on that tiny bundle of nerves that vanquished worry beneath a wave of sensation so intense she sighed aloud.

  He laughed against her ear, his warm breath making her shiver.

  Jillian let her eyes drift shut again, uncaring about anything except the feel of his hands on her.

  Ten points for familiarity.

  This man knew her body. He knew just where to touch her for maximum effect. Sure, they might sacrifice some of that wild passion of youth, but she’d take the trade-off any day.

  And, besides, the man touching her right now wasn’t the same Michael she lived with day in and day out.

  That Michael had seemed quite content living in the reality of their busy days. He’d never worn black leather, or ridden a big black chopper, or been so bold as to pleasure her in a public theater.

  This Michael seemed turned on by the possibility of exposure and the threat of potential consequences. He ground his erection against her in a rhythm that proved he was.

  And when he eased a finger between her thighs, Michael convinced her once and for all that her charming and a bit-too-complacent husband had truly turned over a new leaf. He tightened his grip, still toying with a tender nipple, as he dragged his fingers through the wet folds of her desire.

  Jillian’s breath came in tiny gasps as her sex spasmed, suddenly greedy for his attention. He eased his fingertips inside, just enough to tempt and tease, to make her rock her hips to indulge such a lovely sensation.

  Slipping her hand over his, she added pressure, just enough to press his finger in a little more. That felt so nice….

  Massaging her sex knowingly, Michael lowered his head until his face fit into her the curve of her neck and he could rain sexy kisses along her throat. He plucked at her nipple, earning another shiver, and Jillian melted into a dreamy haze of sensation, a place where fantasy and pleasure collided.

  She didn’t know another thing except the mounting of the oncoming orgasm until a sound ripped through the quiet and Michael stiffened against her as if startled.

  She opened her eyes to find the film frozen on screen. When it dissolved into snow, someone groaned loudly. Someone else let a curse fly toward the projection room. A couple stood and informed everyone they’d report the trouble to management, which earned mutters of thanks. The remaining moviegoers erupted in
to chatter, taking advantage of the unexpected intermission.

  Jillian forced herself up from the warmth of Michael’s embrace, intent upon righting her clothing in case the house lights came on, but Michael wouldn’t let her go.

  Instead, he slid his finger inside her.

  “Michael,” Jillian gasped out on a breath, finding her strength pitted against his when he tightened his grip more.

  “Shh, or someone will hear you.”

  No doubt. Only the sounds of chatter filled the darkness. The other moviegoers seemed so near, a part of this new little world of boldness and daring. Another couple stood and headed out of the theater, maybe frustrated with the interruption, maybe to use the break for a concession run.

  Jillian sat on the brink of a decision. She knew Michael would let her go if she insisted. She also knew that he’d made his stand—he wanted to pleasure her. She only had to decide.

  Fantasy or reality?

  Tipping her head back, she gazed into his face, recognized the challenge in his expression, the hungrily bold look in his eyes. He dared her to continue, emphasized his point by kneading his palm against that sensitive place until she squirmed.

  Jillian tried not to dwell on what she must look like with her breasts exposed and Michael’s hand buried between her thighs. She just gave over to the mounting pleasure and rode his hand toward one of those oh, so sweet orgasms that always left her weak and gasping.

  9

  MICHAEL LEFT THE chopper idling in the driveway as he helped Jillian off. The warm spring sunset had cooled into a brisk night. Darkness had fallen so completely that the streetlamps barely threw enough light to see the straps of her helmet. But he couldn’t miss her nipples straining against her silk blouse.

  “You’re cold.” He pulled her jacket closed. “You need to get inside and warm up.”

  She glanced at him, surprised. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Inviting me inside after one date?”

  She nodded.

  Of course I am, you silly man. I want another of those yummy orgasms…or two. And I’ll make it well worth your while, I promise.

  No damn doubt.

  Especially when she did her best temptress impression. Swaying in a full-bodied move, she pressed against him, and the feel of her curves, warm and yielding, kicked his seriously tested libido into overdrive.

  She gazed into his face, looking all dreamy and sated. “Are you saying you don’t want to make love?”

  He didn’t bother with a denial. Not when proof of where he stood on the issue currently rose between them and grew even harder with each passing second.

  Michael wanted nothing more than to curl up in their warm bed and finish what he’d started. His temptress was an accommodating wife on a normal day. No doubt she’d make magic happen tonight.

  But the whole point of this fantasy date was to reignite the passion in their marriage. He’d done his research and knew one night wasn’t going to do the trick. Not by a long shot. He wanted lasting results. Widow Serafine had given him the home-team advantage, and he intended to use it.

  Even if it killed him.

  Michael thought it might. Jillian snuggled against him with a vengeance, still turned on and seemingly determined to take him with her. She rocked her hips back and forth in a sultry motion and was blowing his careful restraint straight to hell.

  “Think of this as our first date, Jilly. We’re going to get to know each other better.”

  Rearing back, she gazed up at him. “Really?”

  Get to know each other better? Has the man lost his mind? I know exactly what foods give him gas. What more could I possibly need to know?

  Ouch. And just how had he missed this streak of brutal pragmatism after seven years of marriage?

  Michael didn’t know and didn’t ask, but there were definite moments when he waxed poetic about the days before he had possessed his superpower. This was one of them. Whoever said “ignorance is bliss” had hit the nail on the head.

  Brushing errant waves from Jillian’s neck, he skimmed his fingers over the pulse that beat low in her throat, a rapid-fire rhythm that did a lot to restore his confidence. Gassy foods aside, he still knew how to arouse his wife.

  “I’m not talking about the real stuff,” he explained. “I’m talking about fantasy. I want to learn about what’s going on inside your head, about what turns you on. I want your help bringing the romance back into our lives. I want to explore the deepest, darkest secrets about what turns you on.”

  “My deepest, darkest secrets? What about yours?”

  “Mine, too.”

  “You’re not planning to show up at the office in leather, are you?”

  He eyed her narrowly. “And here I thought you were the straight man in this relationship? No, I’m not planning to show up at the office in leather.”

  “Whew. You’d scare off half your patients, and we would have to start letting the staff go.”

  He tilted her face toward his, caressed the delicate line of her jaw. “This is between you and me. What the rest of the world doesn’t know won’t hurt them.”

  “You sound very serious.”

  “I am. I don’t like how we’ve gotten lost inside our lives, so I’ve come up with a plan to fix the problem. Are you in?”

  She nodded.

  “Then the first thing you have to do is trust me. So no making love on the first date. We need to build the tension.”

  “Wow. A sexy game.”

  Slipping an arm around her waist, he pulled her close and absorbed the feel of her—the only satisfaction he would get tonight. “A game with rules—like no pleasuring yourself.”

  “Those are fighting words.”

  Oh, yeah. “Who do you think will give in first?”

  There’s even a question in your mind, silly man?

  “I don’t know, Michael,” she said aloud. “Guess it’ll be fun to see.”

  He smiled. “Exciting, too.”

  “Yeah.”

  And it just so happens that I’m in the mood to see you on your knees. This isn’t going to be a one-way ride, Michael, not by a long stretch.

  He was counting on it.

  “Then let the games begin.” He couldn’t resist sealing the deal with a kiss, and she melted against him, mouth parting in a soul-deep kiss.

  A very promising start.

  When they finally broke apart, they were laughing and breathless and a little awed by the thrill between them.

  “We’re going to have fun, Jilly my love. You have my word.”

  She gazed up at him with such promise in her eyes.

  Oh, Michael, after all this time…could you possibly have any idea how much I love you?

  Yes.

  SERAFINE WAITED on the porch as Dr. Michael drove off into the night. She’d greeted him when he’d roared down the lane on Raphael’s motorbike, but didn’t ask how his night had gone. Had Mrs. Jillian been surprised? Serafine had wanted to know, but didn’t want to be too obvious. Dr. Michael had looked pleased enough, and she decided that was a good sign.

  As she watched the red brake lights wink and fade in the distance, she heard the screen door creak open behind her.

  “You’re torturing that man, Widow. He wants to know what you’ve done to him. You should put him out of his misery.”

  “Why are you up so late?” Ah, on second thought that question wasn’t too hard to figure. “Couldn’t sleep without knowing your motorbike came home safe and sound, could you?”

  He only inclined his head.

  “You’ll make a good father one day, Raphael. You mark my words as truth.”

  “Suppose I’ve had enough practice.”

  “Lucky for your kin. They’ll appreciate you proper one day. Mark that as truth, too. And I didn’t tell Dr. Michael because the time’s not right. He’s still got work to do. A lot of work. I don’t think he realizes it yet, but he will. I have faith.”

  Raphael bit back a reply and frowned, a look that was
all her baby sister, brimming with piss and garlic. What was it about knowing that had always rubbed Virginie the wrong way?

  “Dr. Michael asked us to clear out next weekend.”

  “You mean leave? All of us?”

  Serafine nodded. “He’s going to bring Mrs. Jillian up for the holiday.”

  “But why do we have to leave? This place is plenty big enough for all of us. I wanted to pull down that shower stall in Doll House. The wood’s rotted. The door will probably fall off when someone’s showering if I don’t get it rebuilt before the campers come. Then we’ll have a bunch of screaming girls.”

  “The Landrys can’t relive their young memories if they’re worried about running into one of us, now can they?”

  “Got a lot of work to do around here. I think the Landrys should be more interested in seeing this place to rights in time for summer than reminiscing.”

  “I think we can help them manage both, don’t you? Not as if they’ve been breathing down our necks to make sure our jobs are done proper. They’re trusting us to do them right. The least we can do is give them a little space when they ask. We want this couple to work things out. Did you ever think about what would happen to this camp if the Landrys divorced?”

  That won a scowl. “Well, I still say we got a lot of work to do and not all that much time left to do it in.”

  “Then get the stall tore out this weekend. It’s only Friday.”

  “Ike wanted help rebuilding the pylons on the dock this weekend. He’s afraid it won’t hold up when the campers start pounding over it for the water-skiing classes. Doesn’t want anyone getting hurt.”

  “Speaking of Ike, we need to invite him home for the big party. No one celebrates Memorial Day like the Baptistes, and that man spends too much time alone if you ask me.”

  “No one asked you, Widow, but if you ask me, I think you’re sweet on the old coot. Don’t think we all haven’t noticed the way you keep showing up at the barn with your lunches and sending one of us down to his cabin with supper every night.”