by Missy Maxim
I looked up and met his eyes. They were prairie sky blue. “What did you do?”
“The first thing that crossed my mind. Sometimes it got me in trouble, but it was still worth it.”
I propped my chin up with my hand. “What kind of trouble?”
He grinned, showing off sexy dimples. “Anything from women to getting arrested. Did some stupid shit at nineteen.”
I giggled. “Doesn’t everybody?”
He leaned closer. “I sense a story there, Ms. Donovan.”
I dropped my gaze and peeked at him through my lashes. “Well, I did the sorority thing, right? And there are dares, you know, to get in.” I shook my head. “I can’t, it’s too embarrassing.”
“Would I find pictures on the Web?” he teased.
“Oh, god, no…nothing that scandalous. Forget it…I’ve just met you! Oh, gee, that fire’s getting pretty low.” I darted around him to go get more firewood, only to be stopped when he grabbed my hand. The contact sent a jolt up my arm like an electric zap.
“I’ll share if you will,” he said.
“Share what?” My breath came out in a breathy whisper.
“Something old.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Or something new.”
Distance would be good.
Moving away any time now.
This was me, moving.
Why weren’t my feet working, dammit?
I hadn’t shared chemistry with anyone since Lee, and he’d stopped wanting me in bed months before his death. This close to Will, I couldn’t deny his looks were, well…gorgeous. I even liked the dark roots at the base of those white strands, and two-tone had always looked stupid before. What was this man doing to me?
He stood there, still holding my hand, eyes locked with mine. Was he waiting for something?
“I-I…”
A kind smile graced his face, and he let me off the hook. “You’re right, love. The fire is almost out. Do you have more wood handy?”
“I-in the snow room.”
He nodded and left to get it. My hand started to cool immediately and felt empty. He rushed back inside with a couple logs in his arms and shut the door, hopping on his toes.
“Cold!”
I laughed. “Serves you right for going out there barefoot.”
He crossed the living room to the hearth.
The movie was almost over. Had we really been talking that long?
“I should check on your clothes,” I said.
“Okay.” He kept poking the fire.
The dryer probably buzzed while he was playing. His jeans and socks were dry. I left his sweater draped flat on top of the machine.
“Here you go. Nice and warm.”
He grabbed the socks and pulled them on. “Ahhh…now that’s a beautiful thing.”
“Why do you paint your nails?”
He shrugged. “I get bored. Don’t sleep some nights, you know? So it’s infomercials and varnish.”
“Why don’t you take it off when it’s chipped that bad?”
“The chips are on purpose. Only girls have perfect manicures.” He shuddered.
“Okay, okay…”
“All meant to look lived-in, you see.”
“Ah. You care about looking like you don’t care.”
He winked. “Exactly.”
“Kinda vain, isn’t it?” I winked back to show I was teasing.
He laughed, a rich sound from his belly. “Probably!”
Still sitting on the floor, he leaned back on his elbows and stretched his legs out. I sat on the hearth rug, Indian style, and stared into the flames. This Christmas Eve wasn’t so bad so far.
I didn’t look at Will, though. That would mean seeing how his tight tee showed the definition in his torso and biceps, and the sliver of tummy revealed between his shirt and the low-riding sweatpants. It meant noticing the twinkle of his eyes, the modelesque cheekbones, and the lower lip just waiting to be bitten. Any writer would ascribe his looks to one of her heroes.
What was I thinking? I was a widow. He shouldn’t even be on my radar. My husband hadn’t been in the ground a full year.
The husband that barely acknowledged I existed before he killed himself.
But he was deeply depressed. It wasn’t his fault.
Maybe the depression wasn’t his fault, but did he try to get a job after he lost the first one?
Was it just an excuse when I found a number and a woman’s name in the pocket of his jeans?
Or how about the lipstick on his boxers after he came home stone drunk from the bar?
Or when I found condoms in the truck when I needed a flashlight?
OKAY! I get it!
Lee had been a sucky partner and wasn’t worth honoring anymore. I blocked those bad memories out the past months; afraid acknowledging my husband’s faults after his death meant I was a bad wife. I’d loved him, I knew I did, but the fairytale start to our romance gave way to a nightmarishly-real ending.
“Earth to Jennifer…”
I looked up into blue eyes. “Huh?” When did he move that close?
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“They aren’t worth the penny.”
He sat leaning toward me, his weight propped up on one arm. “I know I’m a lousy substitute for family cheer.”
I shook my head. “You’re not lousy. This is better than being alone.” A lot better.
He smiled. “Thank you. How can I entertain you?”
That was a loaded question. “You’re my guest. I should be asking you.”
“I’m just glad you didn’t let me freeze.”
Me, too. I leaned my cheek on my shoulder and smiled back. “Guess you owe me, then.” We gravitated closer, centimeter by centimeter.
“Then may I tell you that you have the most beautiful mouth I’ve ever seen?”
I blushed, but didn’t look away. “You just did.”
His gaze flicked to my lips a second before he kissed me. I had time to pull away or turn my head.
I didn’t want to.
For being the seducing stranger, his kiss was surprisingly gentle. God, I’d missed connecting. His breath still smelled like chocolate and his lips were soft. I sighed and tilted my head to deepen contact. He threaded his fingers into my hair.
When he pulled away to breathe, I whispered, “I haven’t been touched in a long time.”
He swallowed, then nodded. “I’m not trying to take advantage, Jen. Stop me when you want to.”
“I know. Just…please kiss me again.” I pushed Lee out of my mind and let myself feel. Lust, a crush, animal attraction…whatever you wanted to call it, I welcomed this moment. The months alone had felt like years. Maybe tonight had given me a way to move on.
Will moved into a kneeling position to have both hands free, one tunneling into my hair again and the other caressing my cheek. He kissed so sweet I might cry. Compared with his bad-boy appearance, it was unexpected. I shifted closer to touch him, too, wrapping my arms around his back, then crawled on his lap as the kiss gained intensity.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he said when we parted.
I grinned. “You always kiss strange women you meet in the middle of a blizzard?”
“Just the ones that save my life.”
Good answer. We made out in front of the fireplace until he tried to change position and couldn’t make his legs work. His feet fell asleep from sitting on them. I moved off his lap and turned off the TV. It’d lost signal a while ago, anyway. I sat on the sofa and watched him rub the blood back into his legs.
William stood on his feet. I noticed the prominent tent in his sweats and tried not to stare. That thing was definitely longer than— He pulled me to my feet and kissed me again. I wrapped my arms around his neck, relieved he wanted more. His lips were like a drug, creating more and more need inside me.
He gripped the hem of my sweater and pulled up. I raised my arms so he could lift it over my head, our timing perfect for onl
y parting a second. Another fierce kiss, then the tank top I wore made it to the floor, too.
He glanced down at my bra. “Candy canes?”
I shrugged. “It’s Christmas.”
He grinned. “You’re too bloody adorable.” And kissed me again.
I didn’t want to be the only one shedding clothes and reached for his tee. He shed it and tossed it aside. Oh, wowza… He was really toned, an eight-pack leading all the way down beneath those pants. I trailed my fingers over his chest. His abs twitched when I reached his belly button. Lee had been beefy and tall, heavy enough to make it uncomfortable for him to be on top of me. Will’s body type was a better match for my frame.
“See something you like, love?” Will asked between kisses on my neck.
“Uh-huh.”
Enough talking. I shut him up with my mouth.
He teased my lips with his tongue. I didn’t like French kissing before tonight, used to a man plunging his tongue far enough in to make me gag, an invasion I expected to put up with as part of foreplay. This man enticed me to dance and play, tickling the roof of my mouth then retreating to beckon me to try the same on him. It was hot.
He picked me up and carried me to the couch, gently laying me down. Kissing down the center of my chest to my belly button, he undid my jeans, then pulled them off, tossing my slippers somewhere in the process.
“Matching candy canes. I love it,” he said.
I beckoned him to me. He crawled up my body, nipping and sucking on my skin. I arched into his touch, biting back a moan.
“Beautiful…”
My cheeks flushed. “I’m okay.”
He rose up on his arms. “Who told you that you were only ‘okay’?”
“No one…I just--”
He stood up. “Come with me.”
“What?” And go where?
“Take my hand.”
I took it, bewildered about what he had in mind. He pulled me into the bathroom and turned on the light. The mirror on the wall showed our bodies to hip level. He guided me to stand in front of him, his hands on my shoulders.
“Look at you.”
“Will, this is--”
“Look, Jen.” He trailed one hand down my ribs to my hip. “Look at that curve.” The other hand graced my cheek. “Look at how alive you are. The flush of your cheeks, your lips rosy from my kisses…”
I stared at my reflection, entranced by his show. When he brushed his finger across the top of my breasts, I shivered.
“The way your lovely tits yearn to be touched…” He wrapped his arm around my waist. “Tell me you don’t look sexy as hell right now.”
I hadn’t looked at my body in a mirror in a long time, especially not naked or nearly so. He was right. I was still young, and boys thought me pretty in high school and college. Lee had chased me.
“There you’re gettin’ it,” he said, seeing the change in my expression.
He kissed my neck, keeping eye contact with me in the mirror. My breaths came faster watching him seduce me, feeling his teeth graze my skin with each touch. I got lost in it and my eyes fell shut. He unhooked my bra and slid the straps down my arms. I opened my eyes in time to see him cup my breasts in his hands.
Oh, god… Don’t stop touching me.
The calluses on his fingertips were driving me crazy. In contrast, his palms were soft, and the combination felt unbelievably good.
“You’ve got a great rack, baby.”
“Don’t need to flatter me.” I was already going to jump him.
“Ain’t flattery when it’s truth. So pretty, love. So responsive.”
I squirmed in his arms, rubbing my ass against the hard length behind me. If he kept tweaking my nipples like that, I’d come. I didn’t want to do it in my bathroom, though, and couldn’t do it yet in my bed.
Escaping his hands, I ran back into the living room. He followed eagerly and caught me around the waist. I squealed when he latched onto one of my breasts with his mouth, then moaned when he sucked on my nipple.
We couldn’t keep from kissing long and touched lips with more hunger than before. I loved how his skin felt against me, the warmth and softness. He held my body tight and rubbed my back. His hands moved about like he couldn’t get enough of me to touch at once. Feeling how much he wanted me, I grew bolder and let my hands explore, sliding them underneath his sweats to palm his ass.
Could bounce a quarter off that, too. Did the man spend half his life in the gym? Yummy.
I hooked my thumbs in the waistband and started pulling his pants down, sinking to my knees at the same time. Distracted by his erection bobbing in my face, I almost missed the tattoo curling over his hip. I traced the letters and numbers with my finger. He watched, stepping out of the material pooled at his feet.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“The opening chords of the first song I sold. Product of a bit too much celebration.”
I smiled up at him. “I like it. It means something, even if you were drunk off your ass when you did it.” I lay back on the rug and beckoned him down with my finger.
He joined me on the floor and kissed me again, fingers teasing my belly. He pulled back an inch to ask, “What do you want, Jenny?”
I met his eyes, brown to blue, and said, “You.”
He smiled, revealing those dimples again, and crawled down my body to peel my panties off. He stroked a thumb down my center.
“Will…” The sensation was intense. I hadn’t been this turned on in so long.
He stopped teasing me and poised his penis at my entrance. I cradled his hips between my legs and nodded. A year without sex meant a snug fit at first. I tensed.
“Relax, love. Gonna make you feel good.”
I took a deep breath, let it out, and he slid in all the way. He paused, then chose a slow rhythm of shallow thrusts. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and started arching my hips to meet his.
“Ohhh, yes.”
“God, you’re tight. Squeeze me, love. Like that, yeah. Look at me, Jen.”
I opened my eyes and got caught in his blue depths. He stroked my skin as well as my insides, making me feel more desirable than in years. Even if I never saw Will after tonight, I knew I was better off for the experience.
I never came just from sex with my ex, but already I could feel it building now.
“Close, aren’t you, love?” Apparently, he could feel it, too.
I nodded. He reached between us and found my clit. Sparks of ecstasy shot through my body and my stomach tensed.
“So beautiful.” He stroked faster. “Wanna see you come, baby.”
I fell apart, my whole body shuddering around him. He sped up his thrusts, his climax right behind mine and extending the fluttering in my womb.
“Wow.”
He grinned. “Ditto.” He relaxed on top of me, breathing just as heavily.
My body twitched again. He moaned and kissed me, slow and languid.
I wanted more. I wrapped my legs around his hips, crossing my ankles together.
“Oh, I like you,” he said, smiling.
He started moving his hips again and drove deeper into me this time. We were soon at a pounding pace. I was so close to popping again, then he rolled our bodies to put me on top.
“You drive, love.”
“I, um…” If it wasn’t missionary, I’d never done it before.
He gripped my hips and showed me how to move. Once I found a comfortable rhythm, I liked it. The position made his penis stroke me in a different way.
“What’s-his-name was an idiot,” Will said, fondling my breasts.
At the moment, I couldn’t disagree.
****
I lost count of how many times we had sex in front of my fireplace during the night. Or how many positions. I even woke up from a nap half way to orgasm-by-tongue. Some time before dawn, Will grabbed the afghan off the back of the sofa and covered our bodies, finally letting me sleep.
****
I stretch
ed. What time was it? I opened my eyes.
Sunlight shone through my curtains. He wasn’t next to me.
“Will?”
There was no response. I sat up, holding the afghan to my breasts, and discovered aches in muscles I didn’t know existed. A hot bath was definitely in order. I stood, gingerly, and wrapped the blanket around me. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor. I picked it up.
Jen,
Highway patrol came by this morning for the owner of my car. Sorry I can’t stay. Last night was amazing. You looked so peaceful I couldn’t bear to wake you. If you’re ever down in L.A., look me up.
Will
A phone number was written below his name. He left?
I looked around, and sure enough, his clothes and guitar were gone. He’d picked up mine and left them folded on the couch, though. I walked into the kitchen and discovered coffee has been made, too.
Sweet to the end.
With the blizzard over and the roads being cleared, my family would probably be up here today. Christmas would continue. I went to work on preparations with a smile.
****
Over the next week, I thought about my life up to now and where I wanted it to go. The contrast between Lee and Will was too great to ignore and the truth came rushing to mind.
Lee and I had moved up here because I fell in love with it. He still worked off the mountain, hung out with friends off the mountain, drove to the beach for the day while I wrote… He had looked on foreplay as a necessary chore and the main event like a race. After a while, he didn’t try to get me off anymore and I faked more than one climax just so he’d let me sleep.
When he got laid off and we couldn’t afford the gas trips up and down, he started to drink. At first, it was a couple nights a week at the bar. I didn’t mind at the time because I thought he was socializing, making friends. I was deep in a manuscript and the time alone kept my fingers on the keyboard. Only when he started drinking at home, instead, did I realize there was a problem. By the time I tried to help, it was too late.
I hadn’t written another book since.
The guilt had kept me shut away from living, from my true self. I’d been conforming to the wife I thought Lee wanted before he died—mostly without realizing it. But, looking back now, I saw the slowing of my proliferation as an author along with my attempts to make him happy. It wasn’t my fault he turned to booze, though. That was his choice, and his choice to get in that car.