by Laura Leone
He shook his head. "No."
She kissed him.
He said, "No, I cause you so much—"
"Shhh. You don't even know how good you are for me, do you?"
"I know how good I want to be for you." His hands moved from her hair to her shoulders, then down to her breasts, which he stroked and cupped. "I know how good I want to be to you."
Sara's breath rushed out of her lungs as he lowered his head to be very, very good to her. His lips toyed, his teeth teased, and his tongue tickled and massaged.
"Oh!" She quivered in startled response when his hand slid between her legs to tease, tickle, and massage there, too.
She made desperate, guttural noises as he took his time with her, being so good to her she thought she might dissolve into putty if he didn't stop tormenting her. Before this, she had imagined that even with Ryan, whom she loved, she would feel awkward the first time they were naked together. Now, however, she was just eager and relieved when he finally stripped off her trousers, shed his jeans, and pulled her against him, their naked bodies straining together as they kissed and clung. She couldn't imagine how she had endured the barrier of clothes between them for so long.
He took both her hands and backed away from her, pulling her into his bedroom, his eyes glowing with pleasure as he studied her body in the dying light coming through the window. As she came into his arms again, he sank back onto the bed, sprawling across it with her. They laughed in surprise as his cat, startled out of her nap, leaped off the bed and left the room. And then the two of them were all over each other again, ravenous and tender and greedy. They rolled over and over on his bed, drowning in the taste and feel of each other, exploring, discovering, and lingering on their discoveries while the last of the sunlight faded and the room gradually turned dark.
Eventually, Ryan reached over to turn on a bedside lamp. "I want to see you."
She was breathing so hard she could barely speak. "I want to see you, too."
"Just a minute," he whispered, pulling away from her.
She held onto him. "What are you doing?"
"Wait," he panted, "wait." He dragged himself out of her arms.
"Where are you going?"
He grinned at her tone and slid off the bed, pointing mutely at the dresser while the sound of his breath gusted through the room.
"What?"
He opened the top drawer, reached inside, and pulled out a handful of condoms.
"Oh!"
He smiled again and came back to the bed, still breathing like he'd just run all the way up their stairs. He tossed all but one of the packets onto the nightstand, then seized her by the shoulders and drew her up for a hard kiss.
The room spun dizzily when he pushed her onto her back and fell into the rumpled covers with her. She felt his hand between her legs, moving with familiarity now that they had spent time exploring each other so thoroughly. Then she felt something new exploring there—
"Oh."
—and closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensation of Ryan pushing gently into her body. She spread her legs wider and tilted her hips, welcoming him. He put his hand on her knee and nudged, and she shifted in response to his silent urging. Then she felt his arms on either side of her, bracing himself to thrust harder, and she stroked her palms along his torso, her whole body hot and tingling and yearning for him.
The world fell away as he started moving. Sara knew she wouldn't notice if the building collapsed on top of them. All she could feel was the way they fit so perfectly, the way their bodies danced in such hungry harmony, the way she kept soaring and plunging with him as his deep groans shivered through her and his hips ground desperately into hers.
His skin gleamed with sweat and his muscles strained under her seeking hands. He pressed his forehead against hers and said in a tight, breathless voice, "You wanted... to feel me... inside you... and wrapped... all around you?"
She couldn't answer, couldn't speak, and couldn't control the rhythmic moans tearing through her. She bucked against him and focused on his sweetly murmuring voice as hot, glorious spasms washed through her, shaking her with delicious violence and forcing the surrender which she had been begging to give.
As she lay beneath him in a mindless, sated daze, she felt him kissing her face, her shoulder, her neck. She opened her eyes to meet his glittering gaze and raised a trembling hand to touch his flushed face.
"Hold me while I come," he whispered.
She moaned softly with a different kind of pleasure and wrapped her arms and legs around him.
Her contented body accepted every hard, deep thrust with stirring interest, warming to his dance again when his back arched, his hips jerked, and he plunged desperately into her with a soul-deep groan as his eyes squeezed shut and his body shook with powerful tremors.
After he collapsed on top of her, he rubbed his cheek against her breast and murmured, "I promise I'll move in a minute."
"Don't move." She tightened her arms and legs around him.
"I must be heavy."
"Don't move." She kissed his tousled hair. "Ryan?"
"Hmmm?"
"Happy birthday."
She felt his puff of laughter against her breast. "And many happy returns." He tugged on one of her arms until she stopped hugging him with it and instead let him hold her hand. "I love you."
She kissed his hair again and lay with him in limp, contented silence for a while.
After some of her energy returned, she asked, "Why do you keep the condoms all the way over there?"
"I've never needed them by the bed before," he answered. "You're the only one besides me who's ever been in this bed." He paused, then added, "Well, except for the people sitting on it during your party. Who are the princes in the tower?"
Sara started laughing. "No way are we spoiling this moment by talking about a five hundred year old murder mystery."
"A real one?"
"Yes."
"No kidding? Tell me about it."
"That does it. I'm going home."
He laughed and wrestled her as she tried to get up. "Okay, okay. No questions about dead princes. Just lots of sex. I promise."
"You'd better mean that."
#
After so much sex that Sara felt as if her bones had melted, she lay on her side in satisfied exhaustion, drowsing under the covers. Ryan lay snuggled up against her back, his arm draped over her waist.
She murmured, "I thought I'd be more nervous. I mean, you know, shy."
He nudged her with his knee. "About what?"
"My body."
"Your body?" He started moving his hand over it, as if seeking the source of her shyness. "I love your body."
"Well..." She closed her eyes as he lazily touched and caressed her. "You're younger, you work out, and your body is in great shape. I'm older. I'd actually rather clean house than go to a health club—and you know how I feel about cleaning house."
"Yes, I do."
"And gravity has been taking its toll for years."
"Hey, you don't get to say mean things about this body." He wrapped his arm around her waist and squeezed. "This is my girlfriend's body, so I have to throw down with you if you disrespect it."
"Wow, I guess I'll be quiet, then."
He moved his hand to cup her breast and kissed her shoulder. "Sara, looking at you and touching you turns me on. Like nothing else. I love what this body does for me."
She reached back to touch him. "Then we're even."
"So I'm glad you aren't shy."
"I always have been before. Just not with you."
He shifted so he could kiss her mouth. Then he lay his head back down on the pillow and made a contented sound as he snuggled more comfortably against her.
Sara's thoughts drifted pleasantly for a while, until she noticed the remaining packets on the nightstand. Half a dozen of them. She smiled. "That's so ostentatious, Ryan. Putting that big pile right next to the bed."
He lifted his head and looke
d over her shoulder. "I just don't want to make multiple trips across the room. Especially now that my legs are so wobbly."
"We don't need all those tonight."
He slid his hand over her hip. "Oh, yes, we do."
"No, I can tell. You're fading fast."
He gave her bottom a light slap. "Only because I haven't eaten all day."
"All day? You must be starving by now." She started to sit up, but he tightened his hold on her, stopping her.
"I'll bet you're impressed with my stamina."
"Ah, but if I don't feed you, how much longer will it last?" She nudged him to make room, then rolled onto her back so she could look at him. "A girl's got to plan ahead."
"Hmmm. Good point." He brushed a kiss across her lips, then propped his head on his hand. "Want to go get something to eat?"
"It's late." She stroked his calf with her foot. "The café might still be open, but we should go right away. It's probably closing soon."
Sara turned her head when she heard Macy's footsteps in the doorway. The dog came to the side of the bed, looked at the two of them as they lay snuggled together, and burped.
"He wants his walk," Ryan said.
"You know this because he burped at us?"
Ryan kissed her, sat up, and threw the covers aside. "I know this because he's awake and on his feet." He rose and went to the dresser to find some clothes. "But you're so demanding, I don't have any strength left to carry him up those stairs."
"Demanding?" Sara sat up. "Look who's talking."
Grinning at her, Ryan pulled on a pair of briefs. "Let's go out first, and I'll walk him after we get back. I can probably manage the stairs after I've had something to eat. And then..." He nodded at the pile of condoms on the bedside table. "We can work our way through those."
Chapter Sixteen
Whenever he had been weak enough to let himself imagine what it would be like, it had been just like this: Sitting close together in their neighborhood café, talking, laughing, and holding hands. Sharing a meal after hours of satisfying sex. Winding down companionably as fatigue caught up with them, and looking forward to sleeping together in the same bed.
They'd been too excited by each other to sleep earlier. He hadn't been able to get enough of her. Now he felt pleasantly tired, his belly was full, and he looked forward to curling up with her in his arms when they got home.
They walked back to their building arm-in-arm, their heads close together while she finished telling him about the princes in the Tower of London, the young sons of Edward IV who may or may not have been murdered on the orders of their uncle, Richard III, in the fifteenth century.
Still talking, they entered his apartment. Ryan closed the front door, ignored a clearly impatient Macy, and started pushing Sara's jacket off her shoulders as he backed her towards the couch.
"Are you listening to me?" she said.
"Yeah, yeah." He dropped her jacket on the floor and went to work on her blouse. "Henry...some number."
"Henry VII." She brushed away his hands. "Pay attention."
He shifted his attention to her trousers. "They should have come up with some names..." Unbuttoning and unzipping. "...besides Richard, Edward, and Henry. It's confusing." He slid his hands under her blouse and kept herding her towards the couch. "Using the same names over and over."
She was laughing. "So Henry VII—"
"I'm tired of history," he whispered against her mouth. "Let's move on to biology." He slid his hand inside her pants.
"Hey, you're the one who insisted on talking about..." She gasped and closed her eyes. "Oh."
He smiled, enjoying the way she shuddered when he touched her just right. Then he pushed her backwards until she fell onto the couch.
"It's been at least ninety minutes." He tugged at her trousers. "I want you again."
She lifted her hips to help him, her breath coming faster now. "You said you wanted to sleep when we got home."
"Just changed my mind." He stripped off his shirt.
"You said you were too tired to do this again."
"Food revived me." He unzipped his jeans and joined her on the couch.
It was fast and hot and intense, and he could hardly move when it was over.
He was dozing with his head next to hers when something poked him. He opened his eyes to find Macy staring intently at him.
"Oh. Sorry," he mumbled to the dog. "I know. Walk."
Sara lifted her head sleepily, then gasped and went stiff all over. "Ohmigod! We did this in front of him?"
Ryan shook a little with silent laughter.
Her tone was horrified. "He's been watching?"
When he started laughing aloud, Sara poked him.
"Stop that!" she said.
"It's all right, he doesn't look shocked."
"He saw."
"Sara, he's a dog."
"I thought we were alone." She buried her face in the couch cushions. "Oh, my God. I'm so embarrassed."
Grinning, Ryan patted her bottom and then made the monumental effort of hauling himself to his feet. He went down the hall and ambled through the bedroom to the bathroom to get rid of the condom and to have his walk. Then he came back into the living room, scooped his shirt off the floor, slipped into it, and grabbed Macy's leash.
Sara was dressed again and making a futile attempt to straighten her hair. "I'm going to go have a shower."
"You're sleeping here tonight." He pulled his jacket back on, then realized he still needed to button his shirt. As Sara came over to do that for him, he said, "God, I wish he could walk himself. I'm exhausted."
She smiled and kissed him. "Don't be long."
He watched her hands moving on his buttons. "Keep your ears open. I may call for help if he won't come upstairs. I really don't think I can carry him." He nodded toward the couch. "Not after that."
She finished her task and shook her head. "I'm not helping you carry him upstairs."
He pulled her closer. "Hey, it's your fault I'm so weak now."
Macy, who saw the leash in Ryan's hand, started whining with impatience.
"You spoil him," Sara said. "He's perfectly capable of climbing those stairs without help. The vet said—"
"If you start quoting the vet to me, you won't get any more sex tonight."
"Oh, as if you could, anyhow."
He grinned and nudged her. "I'm still well under thirty, you know."
She rolled her eyes. "I don't want any more sex tonight."
"Well, you say that now..."
"I can hardly walk." She wriggled away from his roving hands. "You're going to come back to find me sound asleep."
"In my bed," he reminded her.
"Yes." She kissed him lightly. "Now go walk your dog. His whining is driving me nuts."
His cell phone rang. He stiffened as he heard its discreet jingle coming from the shelf by the door, where he usually kept it when he didn't have it on him.
Their eyes met.
All the laughter and affection faded from her face, taking his glowing happiness with it.
After a heavy moment, as the phone continued to ring, Sara said, "It's awfully late for a business call."
"Yeah. She almost never calls so late."
You knew, he wanted to say to her. It's not as if you didn't know.
"Then it must be important." Sara's tone made the final word sound like an insult.
He nodded. "I'd better take it."
Her jaw dropped. "You're going to take it?"
You knew, Sara.
He crossed the floor to pick up the ringing phone. "Hello?"
"Kevin. Did I wake you?" Catherine asked.
"No."
Sara looked at him with stunned anger for a moment, then headed for the door. Ryan didn't try to stop her.
"I apologize for calling this late, Kevin. And on your birthday, too. It's an emergency."
"Right."
Sara didn't slam his door, just closed it quietly without a backward glance. But he he
ard her door slam, across the hall. Oh, yes, he heard that, all right.
This isn't fair, he wanted to say to her. You knew.
#
He could smell Sara on his pillow, and the scent of sex lingered in the dark bedroom, haunting him. He closed his eyes and inhaled, remembering the details. Remembering her smiles, her sighs, her warm affection, and her hot passion for him. Remembering what it was like to share himself as he never did. To surrender everything. To touch a woman with total honesty, and to accept her touch with complete trust.
I trusted you, he thought. I didn't hold anything back.
In his head, he again heard her door slamming.
He rolled over and kicked irritably as the sheets tangled around him. His lover's scent rose from the rustling bedclothes and clouded his mind. For a moment, he could feel himself snugly inside her again, with her arms and legs wrapped around him, loving him, warming him all the way through. For a moment, he felt again the powerful lust that consumed him as she climaxed in his arms, as well as the shattering tenderness that shook him to the core as she gave herself up to him.
But in his head, he saw the stunned fury in her expression before she walked out on him.
How could she do this to him?
You're not being fair to me, he wanted to tell her. You knew the truth. You knew, and you came to my bed, anyhow.
After a couple of hours, he decided that lying here in the dark, silently fuming at Sara, feeling sorry for himself, smelling sex on his sheets, and wishing Macy would stop snoring was going to make him crazy before long. So he pushed his purring his cat off his head, wincing when she used her claws to cling to him, and got out of bed.
He stepped around Macy's prone body, went to the dresser, and got dressed in a T-shirt and some cotton pajama bottoms. Angry, hurt, and frustrated, he left his bedroom and stalked through the living room. He was ready for a big fight. And if his girlfriend found the late—or, rather, very early—hour for their quarrel a little inconvenient, that was too damn bad.
He went out onto the balcony, pushed open her French doors, and made his way through her darkened living room.
"Ow! Goddamn it!"