Reunited: A Novella

by HELEN HARDT

  He lowered his head and took a hard nipple between his lips. “So sweet,” he murmured.

  First, he licked and teased. My nipple hardened until I thought it would burst open. Finally, when I couldn’t take it any longer, he closed his lips and sucked on the tight bud.

  I squeezed his hardness again, and his groan rumbled against the flesh of my breast. God, I wanted him. Wanted him to stuff that hard cock into me and fuck me hard and fast. Then I wanted to lie in his arms, kiss him and caress him, make slow, sweet, passionate love all night long.

  Was this going too fast? Hell, I didn’t care. If I had only this—only this one night with him—it would be enough. Two nights with Brett Falcone could get me through the rest of my life.

  “I want you,” he rasped against my nipple.

  “I want you, too.”

  “Unzip my pants.”

  I didn’t need further urging. I drew the zipper down slowly, listening to each click of the teeth as they brought me closer and closer to my heart’s desire. Oh, he was hard. And turned on. A drop of fluid had dampened his boxers. I reached under his waistband and pulled out his thick cock. Then I couldn’t wait any longer. I slid out of my sandals, pushed my jeans and panties to the floor, and stepped out of them.

  “Condom?” I said.

  “Vasectomy.”

  “Thank God. Take me now, Brett. Don’t you dare wait one minute longer.”

  He wrapped his arms around me, lifted me, and set me down on his hard, thick cock.

  Oh, the sweet joining of bodies, of hearts. He slid into me so easily, so smoothly, as though he were made for me.

  And he had been. I was sure of it. Surer than anything in the world.

  I sighed at that first beautiful fullness, that first smooth thrust that reunited our bodies.

  “Brett.” My voice had deepened an octave, as though his name had come from the deepest center of me.

  My soul.

  He lifted me again and brought me back down onto his erection. “God, Kath. It’s never been like this with anyone else. Ever.”

  “For me either.”

  I slammed my lips onto his and kissed him. Kissed him with all I had, with all the pent-up frustration of being without him for all those years, with all the love I’d always felt for him and still felt even more acutely now.

  Our mouths melded together in a clashing symphony of teeth and lips. No melody, just discordant threads of a chorus too long ignored. Too long silent.

  No, the melody would come later. This was fucking. Joining. Hard, fast cementing that we both needed. Later we’d make love.

  At least I hoped we would.

  I clamped my legs tighter around his waist as he continued to plunge into me. Harder, faster. The room started spinning.

  “Brett!” The scream came from my throat yet whirled as though it came from above.

  I climaxed with the full force of my desires.

  “I feel you coming, Kath. God, I feel you coming.” He forced me down onto his hardness with one final thrust, and the contractions of his cock pushed against my wet channel.

  “Never like this with anyone else, Kath,” he said again. “Never. I swear to you.”

  Twenty years earlier

  His lips were firm against mine. I froze.

  Oh, I wanted to kiss Brett Falcone. Wanted it more than my next breath of oxygen, truth be known. But fear paralyzed me. I had never kissed before. What if I did it wrong? What if he laughed at me? I couldn’t relive that horrid nightmare of middle school.

  He sucked gently against my mouth and then withdrew. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Open your mouth. Let me in.”

  He really wanted to kiss me. Wanted to French kiss me. How sad was it that I was old enough to vote and had never French kissed before?

  Well, my days of never having been kissed were about to end. My skin chilled, and fear dashed through me. I took a deep breath through my nose and then parted my lips.

  His tongue darted between them. When it touched mine, I quivered. Did I like that sensation?

  Yes, I liked it very much.

  Tentatively I probed his tongue with mine. A deep moan rumbled from his throat. Did that mean he liked what I was doing? From the moan that echoed from my own throat, I knew the answer was yes.

  The surface of his tongue fascinated me. It was silky and wet yet textured, sublime against my own. I swirled mine around it, and then, when a surge of boldness overtook me, I sucked it between my lips and gently bit it.

  He groaned louder this time, shoved his tongue farther into my mouth, and kissed me more deeply. My heart thudded. I couldn’t catch my breath.

  I ripped my mouth away.

  “Wow, Kath,” Brett said. “No one’s ever kissed me like that before.”

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  I hated the words as soon as they’d left my mouth. That’s smart. Just go ahead and tell him you don’t have a clue what you’re doing. Of course, he had probably figured that out already.

  “God, no. It was amazing.” His face came nearer. “Kiss me again.”

  He took my lips with more force this time, and I parted my own in invitation. His flavor intoxicated me—a little mint, a little tannin from the iced tea, a little spiciness from the pizza. It added up to something I didn’t think I could ever get enough of.

  When I probed his mouth with my tongue, he sucked my tongue this time. No wonder he had liked that so much! The sensation melted through me like honey—sweet suction, sweet kisses, sweet longing.

  The kiss went on and on. Every few minutes he’d break away and suck at my neck, nibble on my earlobe, and then return to my lips and take my breath away once more with drugging kisses.

  How long it lasted, I had no idea. I’d have been content to kiss Brett Falcone forever, but when he slid his hand up my side and cupped my breast, I froze.

  I ripped my mouth away. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I… I don’t know. You seemed to be enjoying the kissing. I just thought—”

  “Thought you’d feel me up, did you?”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, I’m turned on. You’re turned on.”

  “I… I should never have let this happen. I’m your tutor. It’s… It’s unprofessional. Unethical.”

  “You’re not my teacher, Kath. You’re a student, just like I am. We’re both the same age. Both eighteen. We can do whatever we want. And right now I really want to kiss you some more.”

  So did I. Truth be told, I wanted his hand back on my breast. Fear bolted through me. Not just my breast. I ached for him to touch the throbbing spot between my legs.

  “Brett, you have to go now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Deb and Bruce will be home soon. Or Terry might wake up. And I have my own homework to do.”

  “It’s Friday night, Kath.”

  Okay, then. “You have a girlfriend, remember?”

  He stilled and then plunked down on the couch. “Yeah, I remember.”

  “What would she think of all this?”

  “I wasn’t actually thinking about her at the moment.”

  “That’s pretty clear.”

  “I wanted to kiss you. I like your mouth. It’s so pretty. Your lips are pretty, and you have a nice smile. I… I just wanted to feel them against mine. That’s all. And when you hugged me—”

  “I hugged you because you found the answer to our question. I was impressed, Brett. You’re very smart. I never knew that.”

  “I’m not smart, Kath.”

  “Yeah. You are. Mr. Phillips told me, and I didn’t believe him. But now I do. You have a natural curiosity that shows how intelligent you are. I mean, I’ve been curious about the whole negatives multiplying into positive thing forever, but I never took the time to sit down and figure it out. To really make a connection between the properties.”

  “That’s what I did?”

  I let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, that’s what you did. I’m impressed. But I alre
ady told you that.”

  “You did?”

  “Weren’t you listening?”

  “I actually impressed you?”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  “Wow.” His dark eyes softened. “Wow. Here I thought I was the only one who was impressed.”

  “Impressed by what?”

  “By you, Kath. Always you. I’ve been watching you forever.”

  I jolted. Had he just said he’d been watching me? “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve watched you grow into one of the most beautiful girls in school.”

  My skin tingled and my tummy tightened. “Excuse me?”

  “You think I don’t regret the things I said to you in middle school? I do. I’ve regretted them ever since. I told you I had no idea how much it hurt you. I knew it was wrong. I let peer pressure control my life. I stopped doing that so much in high school, and I’ve been a happier person. A better person, I think. Anyway, it’s over now. I wish I could take it back, but I can’t undo it.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  “You’ve always fascinated me. You’re incredible. So smart. I always wanted to be smart, to make my parents proud. To be able to do something more with my life than what my parents could. Not that they aren’t good parents. But I want more, Kath.”

  “You can have more.”

  “Yeah, I think I can. That’s why I wanted you for my tutor.”

  “I thought you wanted me because I was ‘a fox.’”

  He laughed. “Well, that too. Looking at you is no hardship. But you truly are the smartest person I know.” He cleared his throat, and his handsome face reddened. “I’ve always wanted to know you better. I just didn’t know how to approach you, given our past. I didn’t know how to apologize to you, to make you understand I never meant any of that. But that’s so superficial. I did it. I can’t take it back. So I couldn’t approach you. Then when this whole baseball scholarship came up and I needed a tutor, I figured this was my chance to spend time with you. Get to know you. Find out if what I was feeling was real.”

  “What you’re feeling? What are you talking about, Brett?”

  “I’ve got a—”

  He looked away. Was the Italian Stallion actually embarrassed?

  “I like you, Kath. I have for a few years now.”

  I jerked my head around. “You’re playing me.”

  “I’m not. I swear. I just kissed you, didn’t I?”

  I longed to believe him, longed for this to somehow be real, but the image of him and his friends jeering seared into my mind. I swallowed my nausea.

  “It’s probably some bet with your jock friends. See how long it takes you to get the nerd to fall for you, right? Well, it’s not going to happen, Brett. I guarantee it.”

  “Hey.” He stood and gripped my elbow. “I don’t kiss anyone I don’t want to kiss. You got that?”

  “Shouldn’t you be kissing your girlfriend?”

  He smiled a lazy smile. “She’s not here.”

  “Ha. And I am, is that it? Any port in a storm?”

  “No.” He raked his fingers through his gorgeous black hair. “You’re twisting it all around, damn it.”

  “Twisting what around? There’s nothing to twist around because there’s nothing between us. Go back to your buddies and tell them you got the nerd queen to kiss you. Collect your twenty bucks and have a big laugh at my expense.”

  “Kath, it’s not like that. There’s no bet. I swear.”

  “Right. I’m supposed to believe you, the Italian Stallion, wanted to kiss me, Kathryn Zurakowsky, the Pollock, the nerd, the ugly duckling.”

  “Who’s turned into a beautiful swan.”

  “And what if I hadn’t?”

  “If you hadn’t what?”

  “Turned into a beautiful swan? Would you want to kiss me then?”

  “I don’t know. Would you want to kiss me if I weren’t good looking?”

  Well, he had me there, and that pissed me off. My blood boiled. “Who said I wanted to kiss you?”

  He laughed that time. Damn him.

  “For someone who didn’t want to kiss me, you gave a good impression of enjoying it.”

  I had enjoyed it. It had been heaven. But I had never kissed before. It would probably be that great with anyone.

  “Maybe I’m just a good kisser.”

  “Ha. Right. If I had a dollar, I’d bet you’ve never been kissed before.”

  “Get out.” I pulled him to his feet. “Get out. I’ve had enough of you. You can find yourself another tutor, too. I don’t need to deal with you. Go kiss your girlfriend—remember her? Or kiss someone else for all I care. Now get out of here before I call the cops!”

  His lips came down on mine again.

  6

  “Wow, Kath.” Brett buttoned his pants. “Wow.”

  I replaced my bra and blouse. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

  “God, don’t be sorry.”

  “Oh, I’m not sorry it happened, Brett. I’m sorry I didn’t have more self-control. I’m acting like a horny teenager.”

  “We both were, Kath. We’re acting like the horny teenagers we once were. I meant it when I said it’s never been like that with anyone else. Not the kisses, not the sex. I mean, I just took you quick and hard against the wall, and I felt more than I’ve ever felt during the longest lovemaking session with Michelle.”

  A spear entered my heart at the mention of Brett’s wife. Ex-wife. That little prefix made all the difference. He was free to be with me now. And I was free to be with him. Sort of.

  He was right about the kisses. An image emerged in my mind, of Brett and me after our first kiss, and my thought that kissing would be the same with anyone. That the kiss with him had been nothing special.

  I’d been wrong. So very wrong.

  I’d done a lot of kissing in my life. None had equaled those fumbled attempts I shared with Brett twenty years ago, and none equaled our passionate embraces now.

  Still, I’d had unprotected sex. I trusted that he’d had a vasectomy, so I wasn’t worried about pregnancy. But I hadn’t seen him in twenty years. Who knew who he’d been with? Not the smartest move I’d ever made.

  “Uh…Brett?” I fumbled with my hair.

  “Your hair looks beautiful,” he said, tucking a strand behind my ear. “It’s as soft as I remember.” He grinned. “What?”

  “I don’t want to spoil the mood, but…I need to know, you know, that you’re clean.”

  “Clean?”

  “Yeah. I know I can’t get pregnant, but I don’t want to—”

  “Kath,” he said, looking directly into my eyes. His gaze burned. “I swear to you, I’m clean. I’ve only been with two women in my life, and you’re one of them.”

  My knees buckled beneath me, and he steadied me.

  Truly? The Italian Stallion had never been with another woman?

  “I should probably be more concerned about you,” he said, “but I’m not.”

  “Oh?” The insult rankled me. “You don’t think I’ve been with anyone but you and my husband?”

  “No, I’m absolutely sure you have.”

  “Yeah, I have. Plenty, if you want to know.” But not a one who had mattered. “So why aren’t you more concerned?”

  “Because I know you. If there were any issue, you wouldn’t have made love to me. You wouldn’t have put me in danger.”

  “True. I’m a doctor.”

  “Yes, but that’s not how I know. I just know you. You’re a kind, gentle person, and you’d never do anything to harm another living soul.”

  Especially not one I cared about so deeply.

  “No, I wouldn’t. But just so you know, I’ve had all the tests, and I’m clean.”

  “Well, I had all the tests when I had my vasectomy three years ago, and I’m clean as well. But I didn’t need the tests, because I’m serious. I’ve only been with you and Michelle.”

  “I can’t believe it.” I shook my head.

  “Why not?�
��

  “Because you’re Brett Falcone. The Italian Stallion.”

  He laughed. “No one’s called me that in years.”

  “You still look the part, I must say. You’re still as handsome and delectable as ever.”

  “And you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You take my breath away, Kath.”

  “Wow. Wow.”

  “You keep saying that.” He smiled.

  “I just can’t imagine why you’ve never been with anyone else.”

  “I don’t know why it’s so hard to believe. I married Michelle after you left. She was a virgin on our wedding night. I was married to her until a year ago. I’ve dated a few women, but there was never enough connection to sleep with them.” He pulled me into his arms. “I’d be happy only sleeping with you from now on.”

  My skin warmed. I could get used this. Get used to being held in his arms, him sniffing my hair, his hands wandering up my back, caressing me.

  But too much remained between us that he didn’t know about. If he ever found out—

  The phone interrupted my thoughts. I pulled away. “I’m sorry. Will you excuse me for a moment?”

  “Sure.” He kissed my cheek. “Don’t be too long, okay?”

  My tummy fluttered as I walked to the kitchen and grabbed the phone off the cradle.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes, hello,” a deep masculine voice said. “I’m looking for Kathryn Zurakowsky Abbott.”

  “You found her. How may I help you?”

  “Well,” he cleared his throat. “My name is Michael Patton.”

  “Yes?”

  “I…uh…”

  “What is it, Mr. Patton?”

  “I don’t quite know how to say this.” He cleared his throat again. “I think I’m your son.”

  Twenty years earlier

  I couldn’t help myself. I kissed him back. More than kissed him back. I threaded my fingers through his black hair. It was as soft as I’d imagined. I caressed his muscular shoulders, his biceps, his sinewy forearms. I ran my fingers over the fabric of his shirt, taking in the hardness of his chest, the firmness of his abdomen. I pushed closer to him, snaked my arms around his waist, squeezed the solid globes of his buttocks.