She was slender and fine-boned, as shapely as a sculpted statue, her limbs elongated to elegant proportions. Her long blond braid nestled between perfect breasts, pink-tipped and lifted in invitation. Her slim waist gave way to flaring hips, her taut skin interrupted only by the divot of her navel. A tuft of dark golden hair peeked from the vee of her thighs. Not trusting himself to speak, he gathered her in his arms and kissed the long column of her neck.
Janine arched into him, plowing her fingers through his hair, urging him lower, to her breasts. Her trembling excitement heightened his own desire, which had already spiked higher than he could ever recall. When he pulled a pearled nipple into his mouth, she gasped, a long and needful sound. As he suckled on the peaks alternately, she clawed his shirt up over his back, running her nails over his shoulder blades, making him crazy with lust. He wanted to take his time to give her pleasure, but her enthusiasm overwhelmed him. He’d intended to leave her breasts only long enough for her to remove his shirt, but she continued to tug and pull at his clothes until he was naked, too.
Janine was speechless with wanting him, her body fairly shaking in anticipation of their joining. Derek’s body was covered with smooth defined muscle, lightly covered with dark hair, his shoulders breathtakingly wide, his stomach flat, his erection jutting, his thighs powerful. But his eyes were the most captivating part of him.
Softened with desire, his chocolate eyes delivered a promise of tenderness and finesse … all the things she’d dreamed of for her first time. Pushing herself back on the bed, she reclined in what she hoped was an invitation.
It was.
Derek crawled onto the bed with her, stopping short to kiss her knees, her thighs. Her stomach contracted with expectation, and her muscles tensed as his lips neared the juncture of her thighs. “Derek,” she whispered, half terrified, half thrilled.
“Shh,” he whispered against her mound as he eased open her legs.
She surrendered to the languid, rubbery feeling in her limbs, lying back in anticipation of … what? She wasn’t sure, but only knew that if Derek was offering, she was taking. But she was unprepared for the shocking jolt of pleasure when his tongue dipped to stroke her intimate folds. Her legs fell open as she momentarily lost muscle control. An animal-like groan sounded in the room and she realized the noise had come from her lips.
She’d never known such intense indulgence, such sensual pampering. His tongue moved up and down, evoking spasms each time he stroked the little knob tucked in the midst of her slick petals. A low hum of energy swirled in her body, coming from all directions, but leading to a place deep within her womb. The loose sensations suddenly bundled together, then grew in force, as if they were trying to escape her body. Lulled into the rhythm set by his skillful mouth, she began to move with and against him. The ball of desire rolled faster and faster until she heard herself screaming for release. Then suddenly, a flash of pleasure-pain gripped her body, lifting her to a plateau of shattering ecstasy, then lowering her with numbing slowness back to earth, back to the bed, back to Derek.
Her body had barely stopped convulsing when he drew himself even with her and claimed another kiss. The musky smell of her own desire shocked her, the sharing of it so intimate. She thanked him with her kiss, pressing her sated body next to his, thrilling at the feel of his hard erection stabbing her thigh. Emboldened by his method of pleasing her, she reached down to gently grasp his arousal. His eyes fluttered closed as he groaned his approval, and she was gratified by the moisture that oozed from the tip. Stroking him with long, gentle caresses, she murmured against his neck, “Make love to me, Derek.”
He lifted his head, his desire for her clear in his eyes. “Janine, I don’t have protection with me.”
“In my coat pocket,” she said, thankful for Marie’s forethought.
After a few seconds’ hesitation, he lumbered to his feet, and was back in record time, ripping open a plastic packet with unrestrained vigor. She watched, riveted, as he squeezed the tip of the rubber, then quickly rolled it over his huge erection.
Weak with anticipation, Janine welcomed him back into her arms. They kissed, with fingers entwined, then he rolled her beneath him. Propped on his elbows, he held her hands on either side of her head, pressing them into the soft mattress with his strong fingers. Locking his gaze with hers, he settled between the cradle of her thighs, easily probing her still-wet entrance.
“Janine,” he breathed.
A statement? A question? Heavy-lidded, his eyes glittered dark and luxurious. “Now,” she whispered.
He entered her with a long, easy thrust, accompanied by their mingled moan of temporary satisfaction. The unbelievable sensation of him filling her overrode the fleeting stab of pain. He moved within her, slowly at first, and from the look of the muscle straining in his neck, with much restraint. But soon she was ready for his rhythm, urging him to a faster tempo with her hips, and clenching little-used internal muscles.
His guttural noises of pleasure banished any doubts she might have had about satisfying him. Content in the knowledge that what felt good to her also felt good to him, she rose to meet his powerful thrusts, sensing his impending release as their bodies met faster and faster. Suddenly he tensed and drove deep, burying his head in her neck, heralding his climax with a throaty growl of completion.
Holding him and holding on, she rocking with him until he quieted, until his manhood stopped pulsing.
She hadn’t known, she marveled. Marie had told her. Cosmo had told her. Oprah had told her. But she hadn’t known how wonderful intimacy could be with a man she truly cared about.
Janine stiffened at the bombshell revelation, her eyes flying open.
Derek lifted himself on one elbow. “Am I hurting you?”
“No,” she murmured. But her chest was starting to tighten, and she recognized the warning signs of a panic attack. “But I need to get up.”
He carefully withdrew from her body, but instead of rolling over as she’d expected, he sat up and gently pulled her into a sitting position. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, but the tug on her heart when she looked into his concerned eyes spurred her to change the subject, and fast. “I’m hungry now.”
A grin climbed his face and he ran his hand through his hair. “Me too. I’ll be right with you.”
As he strode toward the bathroom, Janine reached for the T-shirt, then backtracked to the balcony for the sweatpants, her mind reeling.
The night air had taken on a sweeter pungency. Her senses seemed honed as she zeroed in on night birds crooning and insects chirping. Everything was louder, fresher, more vibrant. The world hadn’t changed in the last hour, she acknowledged, but she certainly had.
She’d never experienced such physical and emotional intimacy with another person, and the intensity of their union frightened her. She felt vulnerable and exposed because she knew the encounter couldn’t have meant as much to Derek as it had meant to her. Her heart squeezed when she thought of his face, his smile, his touch, but she quickly pushed aside her inappropriate response.
She didn’t really care for Derek, she reasoned. She was only fond of him because, after all, she’d given him her virginity. Of course she would feel attached to him in the immediate aftermath of something so momentous in her life.
But try as she might to calm herself, to distract herself, to convince herself otherwise, the tide of emotions continued to churn in her chest. She wasn’t in love with Derek, she admonished herself. That would be irrational. Illogical. And highly irregular.
Stunned, Janine forced herself to dress hastily, but could find only one flip-flop in the dark. She leaned over the railing and peered into the dark. Although she didn’t see any flashes of yellow, she caught a glimpse of bright white—Derek’s napkin-turned-bandage. Her flip-flop was probably down there somewhere, along with her water bottle. Glancing at her hand wrapped around the railing, Janine stifled a cry of alarm. Along with something else?
*
; Derek carefully removed the condom, dutifully checking for tears, especially since his orgasm had been so explosive. He frowned at the slight traces of blood, hoping their sex hadn’t been uncomfortable for Janine. Masculine pride suddenly welled in his chest. She certainly hadn’t sounded uncomfortable. Frankly, her eagerness had surprised him, and just remembering her spirited responses made his body twitch. He could get used to her—
He stopped, midmotion and gave himself a hard look in the mirror. He could get used to her … kind of enthusiasm. Ignoring the questions niggling at the back of his mind, he returned to the bedroom and pulled on his underwear. Janine had stepped onto the balcony, probably to fetch her clothes. He stuck his head out to check on her, and his heart lurched when her sobs reached his ears.
Remorse stabbed him. Had he hurt her? “Janine, what’s wrong?” Panicked, he touched her arm, prepared to repair whatever damage he’d wrought.
“I lost it,” she said tearfully.
“Lost what?” he said, then spotted the sole sandal she held. “Your flip-flop? Sweetheart, don’t cry, it’s just a—”
“Not my shoe,” she said, her tone desperate. “I lost my engagement ring.”
*
15
« ^ »
Derek swallowed. “You lost your engagement ring?”
Janine burst into tears, and leaned on the railing.
“I noticed it was missing,” he said lightly, “but I just assumed you’d taken it off on purpose.”
“When?” she asked, grasping his arm. “When did you notice it was missing?”
Derek cleared his throat. “When we were, um, in bed.”
She tore back into the room and he followed, then stood back as she skimmed her hands across the top of the comforter, then stripped it from the bed and shook it violently.
“Do you see it?” she asked.
He shook his head, guilt galloping through his chest. “Don’t worry, we’ll find it. You check that side of the room, and I’ll start over here.”
Janine nodded, emitting a little hiccup, then fell to her knees, patting the parquet floor. Feeling absurdly responsible, he started looking in the opposite corner, patting small areas before moving on, knowing the ring would not stand out against the busy pattern of the wooden floor. Thirty minutes later, they bumped behinds in the middle, both empty-handed.
“It’ll turn up somewhere,” he assured her.
“Yeah,” she said. “In a pawnshop.” Sitting back on her heels, Janine covered her face with her hands. A bitter laugh erupted from her throat. An hour ago she was thinking that telling Steve she couldn’t marry him would be difficult. Now she’d be able to top that tidbit by confessing she’d also lost his grandmother’s heirloom ring. The only silver lining was that the ring was a distraction from her revelations concerning Derek. “Oh my God,” she whispered, rocking. “Oh my God.”
A knock on the door startled her so badly, she jumped. Derek yanked up his jeans and shirt and headed back to the bathroom. Janine dragged herself to the door, but her spirits rose when she saw Manny through the peephole. She swung open the door. “Oh, Manny, thank goodness you’re here!”
He held up a roll of gauze. “Is someone in trouble?”
“Big time,” she said. She took the gauze, then tossed it on the bed. Janine stepped into the hall, keeping the door barely cracked. She struggled to keep her voice level. “I have to go outside.”
Manny sighed. “Janine, I know you’re claustrophobic, but—”
“Not because I’m claustrophobic! I dropped something off the balcony, and I have to find it right away.”
He held up his radio. “What is it? I’ll call a guard to look for it.”
“No! I can’t risk someone finding it and keeping it.”
“What did you drop?”
She puffed out her cheeks, then held up her left hand and wiggled her ring finger. His eyes bulged. “Your engagement ring?”
She winced and nodded.
He touched a hand to his temple. “Oh good Lord.”
“Exactly,” she said. “Now you know why I’m so glad to see you.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m not getting a good feeling about this.”
“You can sneak me out and I’ll find my ring, then you can sneak me back in, and no one will be the wiser.” She clapped her hands together under her chin, sniffing back tears.
“Janine, no one is supposed to leave the premises.”
“I won’t be leaving the premises, I’ll just be under the balcony!”
He angled his head at her. “This isn’t another pitiful attempt at escape, is it?”
“Cross my heart.”
“The most sacred of vows,” he noted dryly, but he was wavering.
“Manny, I’m not going to marry Steve Larsen.”
His eyes bulged even wider.
“Besides the fact that I don’t have enough money to pay for the ring, it’s an heirloom. Irreplaceable.” She adopted a pleading expression. “Please help me.”
At last he sighed. “Okay, but let me do all the talking.”
Hope soared in her chest. “You won’t regret it.”
He shot her a disbelieving look, but a half hour and a half-dozen lies later, they slipped out the side entrance. Flashlight in hand, her feet swimming in a pair of Derek’s canvas lace-up tennis shoes, they made their way to the area beneath the balcony—easy to locate since her yellow flip-flop fairly glowed in the moonlight.
“What the heck were you doing up there?” Manny asked, holding up the sandal.
Instead of answering, she snatched the shoe.
“Oh,” he said, the solitary word saying it all.
“We’re looking for a ring,” she reminded him, shining her flashlight over the grass.
“Is this yours, too?” He held up the half-empty bottle of water. She nodded.
A few minutes later he asked, “And this?” The napkin she’d wrapped around Derek’s hand waved in the breeze. The honey butter smelled pungent and had left some odd-looking stains on the cloth.
She gave him a tight smile, then took the napkin from him and tucked it in the waistband of her—make that Derek’s—sweatpants.
He harrumped. “I’m not touching anything else I find unless it’s fourteen-carat gold.”
“The ring is platinum,” she corrected him.
He let out an impressive, sad whistle. “Well, we’d better split up and cover this area systematically. I’ll start here and go to the tree, then back to the wall.”
With her heart thumping and her fingers crossed, Janine started crisscrossing the area opposite Manny. Taking baby steps in her huge shoes, she stared at the beam of light until her eyeballs felt raw. After only a short while, her neck and shoulders ached. “Manny, have you found it?”
“Yeah, Janine, I found the ring ten minutes ago, but I just like walking humped over in the dark.”
She smiled ruefully and shut up. A paper clip, then a foil candy wrapper raised and dashed her hopes. After an hour, she was blinking back tears. Manny came over to stand next to her, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nothing. Are you sure it fell off your finger when you were on the balcony?”
“I think it did.”
He pursed his lips. “You think it did? I have two mosquito welts on my face the size of Stone Mountain, and you think it did?”
“Well, we couldn’t find it in the room, so I just assumed … I mean, we dropped so many things—”
He held up one hand. “I get the picture.” Manny shook his head, and chuckled. “Wow, when you mess things up, you mess them up in a big way.”
“Well, it’s not like I lost the ring on purpose.”
“Maybe not consciously.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Something,” she prompted.
“Well, it’s just that the subconscious can be a powerful force.” He splayed one hand. “Did you lose the ring before or after you decided you weren’t going
to marry Mr. Larsen?”
“After,” she said miserably.
He lifted his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “Just a thought,” he said, then steered her back toward the side entrance.
“What am I going to do?” she asked, blinking back a new wellspring of tears.
“Search the room again,” he told her. “And I promise I’ll come out myself first thing in the morning with a rake.” He smiled, his blue eyes kind. “I might even be able to scare up a metal detector.”
“You’re the best,” she said, giving him a hug.
“So I’ve heard,” he said with a boyish grin. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”
*
Fat chance, she thought hours later, staring at the bedside clock until it ticked away another thirty minutes. Her tear ducts were swollen and dry. Three o’clock in the morning on what was supposed to be her wedding day, and she lay awake, stiff and sore from the lovemaking of the man sleeping on the floor.
Who just happened not to be her fiancé.
But someone who’d become important to her in a shamefully short amount of time. She laughed aloud, but the velvety darkness of the room muffled the noise.
Today she would call Steve and tell him she couldn’t marry him, a thought that saddened her. Even though she didn’t love him, she was fond of him and his family, and she would always admire his proficiency on the job. She would miss him, along with the promise of a luxurious, if conservative, life.
She sighed. Then after breaking their engagement, she would offer Steve her car, her sole Coach purse and her right arm as a down payment on the lost ring. Now that she thought about it, a hairdresser had once told her he’d give her a hundred dollars for her hair, down to the scalp… Her mother would get used to it eventually. And she could sell her blood every six weeks at the clinic—nobody needed a full ten pints.
Derek murmured something in his sleep. She lifted her head in his direction and saw the pale sheet over him move as he rolled to face her, still sound asleep. Her stomach pitched and rolled when she replayed their passionate encounter in her head. Neither she nor Derek had broached the subject of their lovemaking when she returned from her fruitless search. He’d helped her turn the room upside down, but remained stoic as they stripped the bed and checked underneath. Obviously, the act had been little more than an enjoyable tumble for him, and now he was racked with guilt.
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