by Karen Young
She was appalled. The lamp that he’d turned on earlier cast a soft glow in the room, but it seemed a thousand watts now, spotlighting her body. In the dizzying heat of arousal, she’d forgotten how she must look. She was almost forty, she’d had two babies. She had stretch marks! She wanted to move to him, to fit herself against him, and keep him from seeing that she wasn’t young anymore.
She moved to cover herself, but he stopped her, capturing her hands. “Don’t. You’re beautiful, Rachel.”
“Oh, Lord, I’m not. I’ve had two pregnancies. I’ll be forty in September!”
“And I’ll be forty-four.” He trailed a finger over the swell of one breast and gently cupped it. He sighed and gave her a wicked look while his thumb moved tantalizingly over her nipple. “So in that case, I guess we have to stop now.”
She managed to laugh…shakily. The idea of stopping was preposterous.
“Or do it in the dark,” he added.
Her body was tingling. She was breathless with wanting him, and although he still wore his jeans, she could see that he was fully and no doubt painfully aroused, too. And if they turned out the light, she wouldn’t be able to see him and she realized she had a powerful need to do just that.
“Don’t stop,” she said, and moved close to him, but not with the intention of hiding herself. Her hands went to his jeans and she popped the snap. “Leave the light. I want to see you, too.”
“Ah, that’s my girl.”
He unzipped his jeans and kicked them off, taking in a sharp breath when she slipped her hands inside his shorts and ran them over his firm, tight buttocks and then around to the front to find his hot, heavy erection. As she stroked him, he held her head with one hand spread wide, pressing her to his chest. She could hear the thunderous beat of his heart and smell the heat of his body, the hint of soap from that morning’s shower, a whisper of the Scotch he’d just drunk. She was drowning in a cascade of sensation and it was glorious.
Then, with a stifled groan, Cam lifted her and turned to lay her down in the cavernous depths of the huge chair. She’d been right about it being almost as wide as a bed, and she lifted her arms to welcome him to her, but he was busy touching her. While his hands moved everywhere, his lips skated over the swell of her breasts and her belly. He nipped at the inside of her thighs and then used his tongue as a wicked and wild thing, until she was in an agony of need. She came then and it was so intense that it stole her breath away, catapulting her into pleasure so exquisite that she thought nothing could ever be so good again. But when he entered her and they fell into perfect, pulsing accord and the two of them were together in climax, she found she was wrong. It could be as good again. Even better. Perfect.
Cam had never before truly experienced the deep satisfaction to be found in the aftermath of lovemaking. But now, with Rachel curled up beside him, her body warm, scented and soft, he knew a sense of completeness that took him by surprise. He lay for a moment, considering. What he was feeling went far beyond the pleasure and release of having sex, as good as that could be. If he was any judge, he’d finally found the woman who’d been meant for him above all others and he hadn’t even known that he was searching. It was something for which he was unprepared and he didn’t quite know what to do about it.
With his face turned into the soft curve of her throat, he inhaled the scent that had tantalized him earlier when she’d stepped out of the bathroom. He’d known in that moment that he hadn’t wanted to wait any longer to coax Rachel into bed. Somehow—he wasn’t sure how it had happened—but somehow, instead of beginning an affair that he’d hoped would be simply satisfying and enjoyable to them both, he found himself in much deeper waters. Floating now on a river of deep contentment, it came as a surprise to discover that he was in love with Rachel.
One hand rested near the curve of her breast, idly stroking the satiny smooth skin. What he’d really like now, he realized, was to persuade her to come with him upstairs to his bed, where they would make love again and possibly again, then go to sleep together. Wake up together. He hadn’t been even remotely tempted to invite a woman to his bed—to stay—in more years than he was willing to count. That it should be Rachel should have surprised him, but instead, it felt…right.
It was something that he’d told himself was not going to happen. She had a new divorce, a truckload of financial problems, she had two kids—great kids, he admitted that—who’d gotten under his skin even before he suspected their mom was just as serious a threat to his solitary lifestyle as they were. And she had a very real distrust of men after her husband’s betrayal. His job, if he went with his heart, would be to convince her to put all that behind her. After all, she’d persuaded him to take the first step that took him beyond his pain.
“What are you thinking?” she murmured.
“That I wish we were upstairs in my bed and you didn’t have to go home in a few minutes.”
He felt her smile against his temple. “That would be nice.”
He lifted his head to look into her eyes. “No regrets?”
“None. I laid a few ghosts.”
“So to speak,” he said, chuckling. Then, frankly curious, he asked, “What ghosts would that be?”
She shifted, made herself a little more comfortable. “First of all, making love isn’t something you do occasionally just because you’re married and you’re supposed to, which is what happened with Ted and me. Second, I know that I’m not missing any female parts, and that if the right things happen, I can have an orgasm. Making love is about spontaneity and feeling sexual and feminine, but how can you if your partner sees you only as the manager of the house and a sounding board for his problems, but not yours?”
“Wait, wait.” He was up on one elbow now and frowning. “What was that about an orgasm? You aren’t saying you seldom reached orgasm, are you?”
She moved and reached over on the floor to pick up her shirt. “No.”
“Good, because it’s one thing to stay in a marriage—or a relationship if you can call it that—that’s turned into an emotional wasteland even for the sake of the children, but to be deprived of good sex to boot would really be unforgivable.”
“Men seem to be able to separate the two.” On her feet now, she shoved her arms into the shirt and looked around for her panties.
She sounded a little testy and he didn’t yet have a clue what he’d said. Interrupting her as she buttoned up, he took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “That didn’t happen, did it?”
“What didn’t happen?” Her eyes slid away from his. “I need to finish getting dressed.”
He saw her panties underneath the ottoman and bent to pick them up. “Your marriage wasn’t exactly idyllic, but you did have sex occasionally—just quoting here—and it was okay, wasn’t it? Not earth-shattering, such as we just had—” he waggled his eyebrows to tease her into a smile “—but he brought you to orgasm, didn’t he?”
“No.” She snatched the panties out of his hand. Unsmiling.
“No? As in you didn’t come?”
“Is that so awful?”
“Ever?”
She sat on the edge of the big chair and took a deep breath. “It’s no big deal, Cam. I’m sorry I mentioned it. And don’t you think you should put some pants on?”
He was unconcerned with modesty, but he glanced around to find his jeans if it would make her more comfortable. Now that he knew the truth about her marriage, he could better understand her shyness when he’d undressed her and her uncertainty as she’d tried to analyze why Ted left. Occasionally? Christ.
“You know what I think, Rachel?” Not spotting his shorts, he simply put his pants on without them. “I think it’s a goddamned miracle that you didn’t find somebody to have an affair with before Ted. What just happened between us was not just good sex, sugar. It was way beyond that. It was out of this world.”
She looked at him. “Really?”
His pants were on, but nothing else. He sat down beside he
r on the ottoman and, using his forefinger, marked an X on his chest. “Cross my heart.”
She smiled and he took her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. “Now we have another major problem,” he told her.
“I know. My mother definitely will know at a glance. Nick, too, probably. I’m afraid it’ll be written all over my face. I told you I wasn’t the casual-sex type.”
“That is not our problem, sugar,” he told her patiently. “And what we just had together wasn’t casual.” He kissed her hair. “Our problem is how soon and where can we do this again? I’d take you somewhere really special for a few days, but now that we have something definite to go on about Tyson, I need to follow through on that right away. But, trust me, we’re just at the beginning of something big, you and me.”
“You’re talking about having an affair,” she said, although her eyes kept dropping to his chest and to the pattern of hair that narrowed and disappeared into his unfastened jeans. “I can’t, Cam. Think about it. If word got out at school, I’d probably be asked to resign.”
“In this day and age?” He was ready to laugh, but he saw by the look on her face that she was serious. “Come on, Rachel. Some of those kids could probably teach you a thing or two about sex. Make that definitely.”
“That’s beside the point, and if I were accused and tried that argument, Preston would be the first to tell me so.”
“Okay, how long is long enough after a marriage breakup before an affair will be considered acceptable?”
“I can’t have an affair at all.”
“What about Marta?”
“What about her? Marta isn’t having an affair.”
He dropped his chin, giving her an are-you-kidding look. “I’ll bet any amount of money that she and Pete are in the sack as we speak.”
“Besides, Marta doesn’t have any children. Think about the example it gives Nick and Kendy. I don’t want to go down the same road as Ted with Francine. Look what resulted when that happened.”
Cam stood up suddenly and pulled her to her feet. “Okay, I see we can’t settle this now, so the subject is tabled for tonight.” He had both her hands now, and he did a little number that brought her up against him, then he buried his face in her hair. “What I’m counting on is that since it was so good—” he chuckled while keeping a firm grip on her hands to stop her from hitting him “—that you’ll compromise your scruples.”
“You are so bad, you know that?”
He pressed a quick, hard kiss on her smiling mouth. “I give it about three days.”
Twenty-Two
“Okay, Mom, I know I’m grounded and I know I’ve got to sacrifice ten CDs to Kendy even though they’ll be wasted on her.” Pacing restlessly, Nick swiped an apple from the fruit bowl in passing. “But you can’t confine me to quarters, too. I’ll croak.” He bit into the apple. “It’s child abuse.”
“Sorry, but that’s what grounded means, Nick. You’re benched, all movement is restricted.” Rachel stirred an egg into the batter for banana muffins. “You’ve broken so many rules that you’ll be lucky to ever see the light of day again, except for school.”
“I said I’m sorry, Mom. I screwed up and I admit it.” He drove the fingers of one hand through his dark hair in frustration while munching his apple. “What’ll I do with myself all day? It’s only eight o’clock and I’m bored out of my skull.”
“Too bad.” Rachel carefully measured out batter into a muffin tin. “Marta mentioned coming over sometime today. You can keep us company.” She pretended not to hear the sound he made at that. “Or, here’s an idea. You can straighten up the mess you made in the garage when you and Ward mounted that new basketball hoop.”
“Mom…”
“Oh, darn! I thought I had a nice fresh cantaloupe in the fridge,” she said, rummaging around in the veggie drawer.
“I ate it last night.”
“Oh. Well, I guess I’ll just have the strawberries.” After a minute, she straightened up and looked over at Nick. “Did you eat the strawberries, too?”
“I was hungry, Mom.”
She threw up her hands. “Nick, I swear you’ve got a tapeworm or something. I wanted fruit to go with the muffins. Now I’ll have to go to Kroger’s.”
“Hey, let me go. I know, I know, I can’t use the car. I won’t even ask. But for just a couple of pieces of fruit, I’ll go on my bike.”
“Well…” She did need the fruit. And Marta was coming. Pete would probably be with her. Rachel’s gaze drifted to the window where just the corner of Cam’s house was visible. And Cam might drop in, too. If she went herself, she’d have to drop everything and get dressed. She hadn’t yet had a shower and—
“Where’s your purse?” In the scant half a minute since the possibility was mentioned, Nick had changed shirts, put on his sneakers and brushed his teeth.
She handed over five dollars. “If you aren’t back with that fruit when Marta gets here, your present punishment will seem like a walk in the park.”
He tossed the apple core and was gone before she could say anything more.
The supermarket wasn’t Nick’s primary destination, although he did dash inside and buy the cantaloupe and strawberries, as he’d promised. Then, he pedaled hell-bent for leather to Ward’s house. He hated disobeying his mom again, considering the numerous times he’d screwed up lately. Seemed like he was batting a thousand in the bad behavior department lately. He felt like shit for taking Kendy’s camera and a jackass for getting drunk. He’d been sassing his mom a lot and generally taking it out on her that his life sucked just now when it was his dad who’d dogged out on them. So, whatever his mom doled out in the way of punishment, he deserved it.
Problem was, he needed to talk to Ward in the worst way.
Yesterday, after he’d recovered enough to want to live, he’d called Ward to see how the date with Kristin went. And boy, he’d opened a door to disaster-ville with that call. Ward hadn’t sounded like a man who’d scored big with his woman. He’d seemed more like a man who’d struck out.
“So, where’d you wind up going?” he’d asked, hearing something in Ward’s tone.
“A movie. Then Pizza Hut.”
“Yeah, yeah. And then—”
“I took her home. Hey, Nick, I’m in the middle of something here. I gotta go, okay? I’ll talk to you later.”
“Wait! Ward, what—” But he’d found himself talking to a dead line. Definitely something wrong, somewhere. Ward, he’d decided, was having another of his freakin’ moody-blue days.
Standing with the phone in his hand, he’d given it three more minutes of intense thought and then dialed Kristin’s number. That had been the second puzzler. As soon as she recognized his voice, she’d been one cold and hostile lady, but he’d decided to overlook that, in the interest of solving the puzzle. “So, how was your evening with Mr. Rivers, Kristin? You gonna thank me for facilitating?”
“No, Nick, I’m going to ask instead why you and Ward thought I’d be that kind of person?”
Nick was instantly concerned. And baffled. “What happened, Kristin?”
“I was really wrong about you both, Nick. I bet your mom would be shocked.”
Not as much as he was when he finally dragged it out of her. Ward had lost control, she told him. Came on too strong. Scared her. Really made her afraid for a minute that she was going to be raped. Talk about stunned. Nick was. Big time.
Which is why he was going to see Ward. He felt responsible in a way, since he’d kinda set the two of them up, knowing how Ward really had this thing for Kristin. Now, zooming along on his bike, he knew he was under the gun, time-wise. But, as his friend, Ward deserved a chance to explain himself. And it had better be good.
He had planned to be the concerned friend, show understanding and all that until he got an explanation, but instead he dragged Ward out of his bedroom where he’d been holed up listening to country music and lit into him. “Are you crazy? Are you nuts? What did you think you were
doing, Ward? Kristin’s a nice girl.” He kicked at an old tennis ball on the grass as he paced back and forth. “Kristin’s the kind of girl that you open doors for, man. You hold her hand and maybe, just maybe, you only kiss her after about three dates. You don’t—hear me, Ward—you don’t jump her bones and try to prove your manhood, you moron.”
Ward sat on the grass with his arms draped over his bent knees. “My mom’s gonna hear you,” he said, but he sounded as if he didn’t care. No excuses. No denial.
Nick stood over him in a challenging stance. “Kristin’s a friend of mine. She thinks we made up some kind of scheme together for you to get her in the sack.”
“I don’t know where she got that idea.”
“You didn’t try to put the make on her? You didn’t try to jump her bones? You didn’t scare the bejesus out of her and make her cry?”
“I mean I don’t know where she got the idea you had anything to do with it.”
Still standing, Nick studied him hard. He’d been best friends with Ward since grade school. If he’d been told yesterday that Ward was even capable of scaring a girl, he would have defended him to his last breath. He didn’t—couldn’t—understand it.
“Help me out here, Ward. I’m trying to make some sense of this.”
“If it matters,” Ward said, looking utterly miserable, “I feel like crap.”
“You should! She’s a nice girl. The nicest.”
Ward turned his head. “I know,” he said in a thick voice.
Nick saw he was close to tears. With a sigh, he squatted down beside him. “She said you weren’t drunk, so…what, Ward? Talk to me.”
Ward wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. “Did she…uh, did I…hurt her?”
“She was more scared than hurt, I think. She didn’t let her mom see how upset she was. She knew it would freak her out.”
“She should have,” Ward said with sudden feeling. “She should have called the police. It’d serve me right.”
Totally baffled now, Nick dropped his head back and looked skyward. A bird was singing its lungs out in the tree overhead. It seemed a ludicrous thing, birdsong while they were talking about this stuff. “This is getting more nutty by the minute, Ward. First, you’re all over Kristin like a caveman, I call you on it and you act like a…like…you don’t much care. Now you’re suggesting prison might be the answer. I don’t know you anymore, Ward.”