Sealed With a Kiss

by Gwynne Forster

  Louella intervened in the long silence that followed Naomi’s weak recompense. “Use the phone, honey. Kids love to get phone calls. ’Course, you could solve that another way, but I’m not one to meddle in other people’s personal affairs.” She drained her coffee cup, patted Naomi’s shoulder, and went back to her customers.

  “Have they really been asking about me? I just left there four days ago. I didn’t think…”

  “Four days are like four years to a child that age. Don’t you know that?” He waved a hand in dismissal. “This is my problem; I created it, and I have to deal with it.” He checked the time. “Naomi, I’ve got to relieve the sitter. Her husband will be there for her by ten.” She considered letting him leave without her and decided not to test his patience or his temper. They would still have plenty of time for a leisurely talk, if he didn’t intend to trail her home.

  He parked in front of her building, and she drove into her garage. Raw nerves unsettled her as she walked into her building with the gentle guidance of his hand at her back. He was quiet and unreadable, and her nerves scattered wildly when they reached her door and he opened his hand for her key.

  “Rufus?” He took a step closer.

  “Give me your key, Naomi.” His woodsy cologne and masculine scent tantalized hers, and his heat surrounded her, weakening her and seducing her, drawing perspiration from the pores of her thighs. Dazed, she handed it to him. He unlocked the door, walked in with her already in his arms, kicked the door closed, and bent to her.

  “I need to nourish my soul. Open your mouth for me.”

  “Rufus…” She couldn’t give in to him. She wouldn’t. There was too much as stake: for her son, his children, Rufus himself. He was her world, but she had to push that aside. “Rufus, please. I don’t want this.”

  “No, you don’t. That’s why you’re holding me as if your life depends on it. Kiss me. Open your mouth and kiss me. Sweet woman, I need you.” She whimpered and gave him kiss for kiss, twirling her tongue around his. Frantic to have all of him, she took his tongue into her mouth and held it captive there, feasting on it. She protested when he stepped away, separating them. But his heated, feral gaze warned her that he’d had as much as he could take. Then, in a gesture that contradicted his untamed look, he caressed her porcelain-smooth cheek with the backs of his fingers. Lovingly. Possessively. “Is that what you want from me right now? Do you want to make love with me?”

  She nodded. “But I can’t. I promised myself that I wouldn’t go any further with you until I…until I got some things straightened out.”

  He wiped perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand, braced his back against the door, and stoked the fire in her as he stroked her shoulders and then pulled her toward him.

  “You’ve already gotten some things straightened out, I think,” he told her bluntly. “When are you planning to tell me about it?” What had to be a startled look in her eyes must have told him he had guessed correctly, and she attempted to take a step backward, but his powerful arms gently but firmly imprisoned her.

  “When?” he persisted. What did he know, and how had he known it? she wondered. She was at a loss only briefly; the stakes were too high to allow herself to be sidetracked.

  “When I have something to tell you, I will. You promised to wait patiently and I’m depending on you to keep that promise.”

  “I’ve been keeping it,” he griped, “but we didn’t discuss the duration of my patience, and believe me, it’s petering out. Of course, you could say that’s tough, but what about my boys? I know that you aren’t their mother and that you aren’t obligated to them in any way. This is what I wanted to avoid, but I didn’t, and it’s my fault, not yours, that they’re hooked on you. No woman, not even their aunt Jewel, has ever given them the love that you have. They feel it, Naomi. And I feel it.” She turned her face into his shoulder and groped for equilibrium.

  “At tonight’s board meeting, you did nothing to prevent boys’ gaining access to OLC. I was present once when you defeated it single-handedly. Why did you change your position? And another thing. In the past, you’ve apparently refused all requests for interviews either from print journalists or video reporters. Now, all of a sudden, you don’t mind. Maybe when I know the reason for these switches in concern, I’ll know everything that I need to know. Right?” The word “right” was on the tip of her tongue, but her presence of mind saved her.

  “I don’t see anything so strange about it,” she demurred. “If eleven members want boys in OLC, the one member opposed should accede. And as for that business about the interviews, I’m starting my New Year’s resolution early.”

  Rufus pushed away from the door and put his hand on the knob, signaling his departure. “When you pass a mirror, try to avoid looking at it; you might get a shock.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” She knew precisely what he had in mind, but she wanted the satisfaction of forcing him to say it.

  Rufus chuckled humorlessly. “I like your nose, Naomi; I’d hate to see it start growing. What time are you coming to my place Christmas Day? Try to make it early. My boys will be unmanageable until you get there.”

  She looked at his hand turning the doorknob and then glanced up at his deliberately expressionless face. He couldn’t leave her; in the four days since she’d seen him, her world had spun out of control. Without his presence and support, she’d had to face one of the most challenging ordeals that could confront a woman. And she’d needed him so badly that the pain of his absence had seemed physical. Need propelled her to him, and she reached up and pulled his mouth down to hers. She plowed into him, heedless of her vow to stay away, guaranteeing that it was he who was seduced. She chucked her inhibitions and made love to him as if she knew it would be the last time. Her soft hands held his face, and she kissed him until they were both breathless, until she was limp and he was strong and hard against her.

  He didn’t seek compliance; her traitorous body gave him his answer. He picked her up, carried her into her bedroom, and in a minute’s time, had her clothes off and was stripping himself. She lifted her arms to him in invitation, impatient for him to join her, to unite them. But he coaxed, teased and tantalized her until she begged him for relief.

  “Rufus, please…”

  “Don’t call me ‘Rufus’ when I’m with you like this; I want to hear something sweet and loving.” Tremors shook her as he bent to her breast and toyed with her sensitive nipple until she lay helplessly open to his ministrations.

  “Please, I…”

  “Please, who?” he demanded, dropping his hand to the inside of her thigh and dragging his fingers slowly upward, mercilessly, until she writhed beneath him in frantic anticipation.

  “Please, love…” It erupted from her like lava from a volcano as his devilish fingers found their mark.

  Later, when they lay sated, holding each other, her stillness told him she was already searching for words of denial. She attempted to move out of his arm, but anticipating her action, he pulled her back to him, nudged her neck, and bent over her. He wanted a clear view of her expressive eyes.

  “Don’t tell me your sorry, Naomi, and that you didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t want to hear it. We needed this; we needed each other. And it ought to tell you something. There is nothing commonplace about what we feel for each other, and it isn’t going to go away.” If he had been wearing his thinking cap and hadn’t let his heart rule him, he’d have taken her to bed four nights ago, when she’d packed her things and left his house. But he loved her, and because he couldn’t bear to be the source of her discomfort, even indirectly, he had allowed her to call the shots.

  “It isn’t going away because you have decreed otherwise,” she replied. “When we first met, you didn’t want anything to do with me; in fact…boy, this is funny. The merest suggestion of intimacy between us and both
of us swore that we didn’t want it; we were practically insulting to each other. Me, I was hoodwinked. What happened to you? Did you follow my suggestion and get help?”

  She had resorted to humor. Desperate humor, he decided. And why? Minutes earlier, locked in his arms, she had been as honest as a woman could be. Another one of her screens. Irrefutable evidence that he had gotten too close. Well, he wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

  “Naomi, I had begun to think that you’d given up that sly trick of using wit and sarcasm to cover your true feelings. Don’t you dare trivialize what we just experienced. I suppose you figure that if you knock it down, it won’t mean so much to you. Well, don’t believe it.” He pulled her body tightly up to his, letting her feel the need that surged in him. And he gloated with pure masculine pride when he felt the heat rise in her as he rotated his hips and she rocked beneath him, silently demanding his penetration.

  “It means more to me than you could ever imagine, but it shouldn’t have happened, Rufus. I told you when we were in New Orleans that I don’t have anything to offer.”

  “And I told you that you do have something to offer me, and that I want it. I was prepared to leave here tonight. Why didn’t you let me go? You knew what would happen if you so much as put your hand on me, and you went far beyond that. Why did you keep me here?” She squirmed beneath him, but he didn’t ease up. He had too much riding on her acceptance of what for him was a forgone conclusion: she was his. He would do whatever he had to in order to make her acquiesce. He sensed her nervousness and knew it was because she didn’t want to share her secrets with him, but he’d get those, too, he swore to himself. His pulse quickened as he gazed down at her.

  “Why?” he persisted.

  “I didn’t think about it. I didn’t weight the pros and cons. You needed me; you told me so, and I could feel it myself. It was powerful, like some kind of opiate.” He sucked in his breath and let his gaze travel over her, seductively, possessively, until she sighed deeply and buried her face in his shoulder.

  “I needed you, too, and something in me just reached out to you,” she mumbled. “I had no control over it. I just couldn’t bear to see you leave like that, and I needed you to stay. Am I making myself clear? It was both.” It was clear to him, but he wondered if she understood it. It was time he let her know the man in whose arms she snuggled.

  “Why, Naomi?” He held her close, feathering kisses over her face, neck, and shoulders. Maybe he wasn’t giving her a fair chance, but he didn’t really give a damn about fairness right then. He needed to know where he stood with her; his future and that of his children were bound up with her.

  “Why, baby?” he persisted, in a voice that he intended to sound sultry and seductive, running his tongue around the rim of her ear and nibbling on her shoulder. “Come on. Tell me. Why can’t you bear to see me hurt?” He put an arm around her shoulders and a hand under her buttocks, parted her legs with his knee, and let her feel the hard power of him poised at her portal of love, just out of reach.

  “Rufus, I…”

  “Didn’t I ask you not to call me ‘Rufus’ when I’m with you like this? Didn’t I? Now, tell me why you need me and why you couldn’t deny me. Baby, open up to me.” He hoped that by now, her senses were full of him. If not, I’ll give her more, he vowed silently, as he felt her tremble with excitement and frustration from the feel of his warm, silken steel flesh so close, yet not a part of her. He teased and tantalized her until he felt her frantic movements signaling her desperation to feel the heat, passion, and protection of his male power. He was playing trump cards and didn’t care if she knew it.

  “Tell me why, baby.”

  “I…oh, honey, please. I can’t bear it any more. I need you. Oh, God, Rufus, I love you so. I love you. I love you!” A shudder of relief escaped him as he entered her with a powerful surge of his body, cherishing her and loving her until their passion consumed them and left them spent.

  A long while later, Rufus watched her steadily as he buttoned his shirt and secured his cufflinks. “Your mental wheels are busily turning again. Don’t tell me you’ve found some more negative things to say about what’s going on between us.” His stance became aggressive, but he didn’t allow his face to tell her anything.

  “But, Rufus, nothing has changed.”

  He bent over her, grasped both her shoulders, and looked intently into her eyes. “Really, Ms. Logan? You told me that you love me, and, baby, you told very convincingly. I already knew it, but I had to make certain that you did. Now, as soon as you can trust me, everything will change.”

  Half and hour later, having told the sitter good night and checked on his boys, he walked into his bedroom, fighting an uneasy feeling. “Everything will change,” he’d told her, but she had denied it quickly and forcibly. Maybe he had misjudged her after all. She had secrets; he was certain of that. But did she erect barriers between them for some more compelling reason? Like her career? Was success driving her, as it had Etta Mae and his mother? He didn’t want to believe he was so gullible, that his feelings for her had caused him to drop his guard completely, to accept her unconditionally, knowing what his bitter experience had taught him. His instincts cautioned him to be fair: after all, hadn’t she deliberately risked and lost a lucrative account in order to take care of Preston while he worked? And what did that prove? That she felt guilty for having ignored the boys, even though she knew that they yearned to see her? Hell! How was he to know? He stretched out on his back, both hands beneath his head.

  He had been in an emotional vortex, a sexual hurricane. Her passion had filled his nostrils with lush female scent, bruising his senses, robbing him of his very self. He could still taste her warm, sweet flesh and hear her moans of total surrender as they spun together into an otherworld, possessed by each other…it had been the sweetest torture he’d ever known. He loved her and wanted her, but he was definitely going to be more careful. Until he got some answers, he intended to pull back, but not so she’d know it.

  “Everything will change!” Three days later, Naomi still pondered those words. What had she done? Her life was in total chaos. She couldn’t even conceive of a solution, but she had let her resolve waver and had broken down and told him that she loved him. She couldn’t even claim to have been in the grip of ecstasy. But telling him had felt so good, a powerful, cleansing release, a mental catharsis such as a guilty person must feel confessing a crime. How would she feel if she told him everything? Could a man change to the extent that he seemed to have done? She remembered that he hadn’t mentioned love, though he’d forced her to confess. Maybe he believed in her; maybe not. She couldn’t afford to risk it; she had set her course, and she would stay with it.

  Shaking her head as if to deny existence of the dilemma, she walked up the steps of the red brick ranch house on Pershing Street in Silver Spring. The gaily decorated Christmas tree with its whimsical lights in the shapes of musical instruments greeted her through the picture window, giving the house a semblance of gaiety, a Christmas Eve welcome of its own. And it comforted her to know that Aaron lived in a home where the holidays were a time for caring.

  Rosalie Hopkins opened the door and greeted her as she would a sister. She had a keen sense of disappointment that Aaron was at work that afternoon; she wanted to see him in his own environment, to know how he and his adoptive mother related to each other. There was so much she needed to learn, so much she had to know before she could begin to have peace about Aaron and herself. They entered the living room and she glanced at the wall unit that housed an elaborate music system.

  “Who’s the music buff? You or Aaron?”

  “I am,” Rosalie explained. “This is company for me when Aaron is occupied with his books, paints, guitar, and you-name-it downstairs in his private kingdom.”

  “He doesn’t watch television?”

  Rosalie seemed proud when s
he answered. “Rarely. He says it’s a stupid waste of time. And I’m glad. It offers too much of what he shouldn’t know and too little of what he should. Anyway, he’s not a passive person. Have a seat. I’ll be right back.” She hadn’t planned to visit, but Rosalie made tea and invited her to stay. Her gaze took in the warm, attractive room, it’s well maintained appearance and the tasteful but simple furnishings. She saw nothing flashy; a child raised in this environment by such a woman as Rosalie would have garnered a worthwhile system of values. Rosalie returned with the tea and they talked for a few minutes, exchanging meaningless banalities. Then, abruptly, Rosalie rose, as if having arrived at a decision, and took her first to Aaron’s room and then to his basement hideout.

  Naomi touched his little league trophies and pennants and his first guitar and looked through his sketches and drawings, all neatly organized by subject matter and date. She gazed in wonder at his glee club photographs, dozens that chronicled his growth from about age six onward. Rosalie walked over to his desk and showed her a watercolor portrait under which was written, “Noomie.” She struggled to hold back the tears, and when they came, Rosalie comforted her.

  “I hope we can be close friends, Naomi,” the older woman said hesitantly. “Aaron didn’t tell me much, but he seems content, and that’s about all I can ask, since you’ve been together only once. I do know that he hasn’t been restless.” Her smile was that of a mother having fond thoughts of a child, Naomi realized.

  “He seemed more concerned about me and how I feel about his seeing you,” Rosalie continued. “I’ll be honest with you. I want his happiness, and I want him to grow to become a fine man, but no matter what, he’ll always be my son. And I’ll fight for that with my last breath.”