by Gail Dayton
Eli started up the steep hill into Marilyn's neighborhood, mentally probing his internal processes. Nothing. In the past, when he thought about staying put, he'd get this pain in his gut. He'd get this feeling, like fate or destiny or--or ghosts or something was running up behind him, ready to slam him in the dirt if he didn't move on. But not this time.
This time, it felt like fate was pulling strings to hold him here. He felt good. And the only time he got that ache in his gut was when he thought about leaving. How strange was that?
The next few days settled into a strange kind of domesticity for Marilyn. Domestic, because after all, Eli and Pete were living there with her, but strange, because they were still getting used to each other. She'd been living with Eli for almost six weeks, but it was different now. For one thing, Pete was with them, changing the dynamics. For another, this was the house she'd shared with Bill, the place where she'd raised her children, and lost one.
She would round the corner and be startled to see Eli's shorter, leaner frame standing in front of the stereo looking through music where Bill had once stood. Or hear boy's laughter and shouting outside and be startled to see Pete instead of Kevin when she looked out the kitchen window. But none of that really bothered her.
The thing that did, much more than she thought it should, was that she and Eli were sleeping together like they had at the beginning: side by side, barely touching.
That first night of course, she'd been so upset over Pete and Kevin that she hadn't been up to anything more. The second night, they'd been packing and moving all day, and by the time she got to bed, Eli was already asleep and didn't stir when she got in bed. Then Friday night, she'd gone to bed first and was mostly asleep, but not quite, when Eli came in.
Before, in the apartment, he'd have woken her up, teased and kissed her into responding. But that night, in the house, it didn't happen. And she didn't like it.
Sunday afternoon, Eli took Pete down to the park. They'd found an old plastic disk sled in the garage and Pete drove them both crazy wanting to check it out. Marilyn had been invited, but--well, to be honest, she was feeling sorry for herself and wanted to stay home and sulk.
That night, Marilyn went to bed before Eli, but her nerves were wound too tight to sleep. She'd made up her mind. She was going to find out one way or another whether Eli was still interested in her. She could try seducing him. Maybe go to bed without her nightgown--but if a seduction didn't work, it would be too entirely embarrassing to be the only one naked in bed with nothing happening. Or she could ask him outright. Maybe.
Fortunately, Eli wasn't too far behind her, so she didn't have to obsess long. He sat on the edge of the bed for a minute before lifting the covers and sliding in. He turned to face her and Marilyn fairly buzzed with tension as she waited to see what he would do. Anything? Maybe she wouldn't have to scrape up any courage after all.
But nothing happened. And more nothing. Then he moved, sliding his hand across the immense space in the middle of the bed until his fingertips brushed her arm, and he sighed.
It took a while longer for Marilyn to decide that was all that would happen, and a while longer than that to decide what to do. In the end, her courage failed her. She couldn't seduce him. She just couldn't. If he turned away... But she could ask.
"Eli?" Her voice quivered.
"Yeah?"
"Are you asleep?"
There was a pause. "Well, I'm talking to you, aren't I? So I guess that means I'm awake."
Oh God, he was mad. She'd made him mad with her stupid question, and it wasn't even the right one. "I'm sorry. Never mind. Go back to sleep."
He sighed one of his long-suffering sighs and spoke without sarcasm. "I'm awake. I was awake already. What do you want, babe?"
"I just--" How could she ask without sounding totally pathetic? "Um..." Could she sound any more like a complete idiot? A pathetic idiot? "I got a call from one of my girlfriends today. She said you were buying Frankie Dicenzo's motorcycle shop."
"It's not a done deal yet, but yeah. That's my plan." His eyes glittered in the shadows cast by the nightlight in the hall behind him as he watched her. "Are you mad I didn't tell you? I didn't because--I guess because I wanted to be sure it didn't fall through. I'm just buying a partnership right now."
"I can understand that. You buying into a neighborhood business, it sounds like--are you staying?"
"Do you want me to stay?"
She wanted to scream with frustration. "Stop answering my question with another question. Do you want to stay?"
"I told you. I'll stay as long as you want me to."
"That's not what I asked." She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. No use getting upset. It would only start a fight. She could get upset after she found out what she wanted to know. Then they could fight. "I do want you to stay, Eli, but only if that's what you want too. I don't want you to keep hanging around here when inside you're itching to move on."
"No itch."
She could see his smile in the shadows.
"I want to stay, Marilyn," he went on, sliding his fingertips lightly up and down her arm. "If that's all right with you. Long as you want."
"--you want." She said the last words with him. She'd heard them so many times, but still didn't know what he meant. "Why?"
"Why...?" Eli tipped his head back, moving the shadow it cast out of her face. "Why do I want to stay?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
"Not to me. Unless it's the free rent and child care."
He sat straight up in the bed and switched on the lamp beside it. "Is that what you think? That I'm some kind of freeloader? Damn it, Marilyn--" He grabbed his wallet off the lamp table, opened it and let the contents fall out onto the bed. "Here. Take it. Nobody says Eli Court doesn't pay his way. Not enough? I'll get more tomorrow. We'll settle up then."
"Stop it!" She gathered up the bills on the bed and threw them at him, fighting to keep her anger from dissolving into tears. "I don't want your money."
He threw them back at her. "Then what do you want? What the hell is this all about?"
Marilyn turned to sit cross-legged facing him and dropped her head in her hands. She'd made such a mess of things already, could she possibly make them any worse? Probably.
Why was she so worried about protecting herself anyway? It never seemed to stop the hurt, no matter how protective she got. "I just--I wanted to--" She took a deep breath and looked at him.
Eli sat on the edge of the bed, one foot--the good one--on the floor like he was ready to run. But he was turned toward her, watching her, eyes never leaving her face, like he wanted to stay. Maybe. He didn't speak.
"I need to know, Eli. What is it you want from me? Because I don't think I can go back to like it was before. We've moved on. We can't go back."
"Go back...where? To the apartment?"
She was still getting it all wrong. Stupid, stupid. "No, I--Eli, you haven't touched me since we've been here. I--is it--?" She couldn't say it, couldn't ask if whatever they had was ended.
"I didn't think you wanted me to. You were so upset..."
"That was just one night. And it was ages ago."
His crooked smile appeared and he scooted across the bed toward her, his foot leaving the floor. "It was Wednesday. This is only Sunday. Not even a week."
She felt stupid. Nothing new. "Are you sure? Feels like at least forever."
"Forever and a half." Eli caught her hand with his good one which had been propping him up. Deprived of the prop, he tumbled back on the pillows, pulling her down with him, on top of him.
He kissed her, his cast bumping her head as he tried to hold her in place while rolling to bring her beneath him. Marilyn didn't mind the bump. Eli was kissing her, rubbing his lean, hard body against hers.
"God, I missed you." He growled, pushing his knee between hers.
"I was right here. I didn't go anywhere." Marilyn stroked her hands down his back, fingers pausing as they foun
d one of the odd little scars he bore.
"You might as well have been a million miles away." Eli lifted himself onto his elbows, pushing his hips and his erection into her as he studied her face. "I made you cry like you were coming apart. When I saw you folding that damn towel over and over again--I didn't know what in hell to do."
He brushed the wandering strands of hair out of her face. "The last thing you told me was that you didn't want...sex. I was trying to do what you wanted, and it was killing me."
"Oh."
The pale blue of Eli's eyes mesmerized her as they studied her face. Her brain felt full of just-popped bubbles and Marilyn struggled to recall what it was she wanted to know. "So," she managed to say, "you still want me?"
He rocked against her, that crooked smile still on his face. "Isn't it obvious?"
"Oh..." Her faint laugh was wiped out by a gasp when he slid fully between her legs and rocked again.
"You're not so obvious, though." He reached down and started pulling up her gown. "You have to tell me what you want, Marilyn. Or show me." He grinned as his hands reached her breasts and cupped them, at least on one side. "Come to bed naked and I guarantee I'll get the idea."
He whipped the nightgown off over her head and stared down at her, blocking her hands as they rose to cover herself. "You are so fucking beautiful."
"I'm not. I'm old and saggy."
"Real." Eli burrowed his face between her breasts. "Beautiful."
His mouth on her skin, the reverence in his caresses, almost made her believe him. God knew, she wanted to believe, but the truth was there in her mirror every morning, plain as the nose on her face and the gray in her hair. She didn't know what drove Eli's delusional desire, whether it was availability or gratitude or maybe even safety. A widow who'd only made love to one other man in her whole life was certainly safe.
Eventually, the illusion would fade, he would see her for what she was, and it would end. But until it did, she would take what she could get.
"Marilyn?" Eli lifted his head, looked at her. She must have been too still. "Do you want--?"
She pulled his head back down to her breast, fingers deep in the soft stiffness of his hair, and hooked her heels behind his knees. "Love me, Eli."
"I do," he said. His mouth opened on her breast, suckling, as he dragged his tongue across her nipple. She shivered as he switched to the other, reaching down to yank off her panties. He raked his mouth across her stomach as he rose onto his knees to wrestle the undergarment past her feet and toss it across the room. "I will."
Marilyn fumbled in the covers for the condom that had fallen out of his wallet when he emptied it, but Eli took it away from her.
"Not yet." He kissed her stomach again and kept moving, lower.
She felt her face burn as much with anticipation as embarrassment. It wasn't that she'd never done this before. She had. But not often and never with Eli.
And the lamp was still on and the door was-- "Eli," she hissed. "The door's open! Pete's just down the hall."
"He's asleep." But Eli was already moving, crossing the room to shut and lock the door.
Marilyn watched him, sleek and graceful even in the clumsy casts. "You still have your shorts on."
He paused by the door and looked over his shoulder at her. "Want me to take them off?"
She shrugged, blushing hotter. "Suit yourself."
He grinned. "I will, then. You're cute when you turn all red like that."
"Oh, shut up." Marilyn hid her cheeks behind her hands, but kept her eyes wide open while her young lover, his back to her, stripped off his shorts.
His buttocks were high, tight and round, perfect, save for one of those little scars. She opened her mouth to ask what they were when he turned around and drove every thought she'd ever had right out of her mind.
She'd touched every inch of his body, kissed most of it, and looked way too much when he'd been sitting around her place half-dressed all those weeks. He still took her breath away. Broad shoulders and powerful chest tapered down to narrow hips, his state of arousal all too obvious. Marilyn couldn't quite look, and she couldn't quite not look as he walked back to her.
"You are so fucking beautiful," she whispered as he reached her, and laughed when his face flamed red in its turn. "And you're cute when you blush, too."
"I'm not blushing. I never blush." Eli crawled onto the bed, working his body between her legs.
"Then why is your face red? Fever?"
"Absolutely. You give me fever." He quoted the old song as he slid his hands under her bottom and laid his head on her stomach. "You really think I'm beautiful?"
Marilyn stroked his head, his shoulder, whatever she could reach. "Yes."
"Thank you." He looked up at her and grinned. "See, that's what you're supposed to say when somebody pays you a compliment."
She had to laugh. "Thank you, Eli, for paying me such a lovely compliment even though we both know it isn't true."
He dropped his face straight down onto her stomach and shook his head, rolling it against her. "What does it take for you to believe me?"
"The truth might help."
"Truth. Nobody else in the world thinks I'm beautiful, but you said it. Did you mean it?" Eli lifted himself to his elbows, watching her again.
"Yes."
"So why is it so hard to believe I think you're beautiful, even if nobody else in the world does?"
"I...don't know." But really, she did. He was twenty-five and she was thirty-nine. It was an obstacle that could be ignored for a while, but never overcome.
Eli stroked his cheek against her stretch-marked skin and kissed it. "Believe it."
He scooted lower on the bed, still kissing her stomach. Marilyn shivered, looking down her saggy, baggy naked body at him. "Oh, wait," she cried. "The lamp. Turn off the lamp."
"Do I have to?" He laid his head on her stomach again.
"No, I'll do it." She started to squirm sideways, until Eli tightened his fingers on her thigh to hold her still.
"Leave it," he said. "I want to see you."
"Eli--" How could he say that? She didn't like what she saw and she was used to it.
He sighed, his breath tickling. "If you think you have to. But I really wish you wouldn't. Please?"
How hard was it for him to say that? She knew him well enough by now to know that asking for something--anything--was almost impossible for him. But he asked for this. Nothing more than to leave the lamp on while they made love.
"I hope you know how hard this is for me."
"I know," he murmured. "Thank you."
As he inched his way lower, kissing everything he passed, he used his hands to spread her legs even wider. Marilyn covered her eyes with her hands, feeling so incredibly naked. The lamplight had weight, brushing against her skin, exposing every little secret she'd hidden away. It aroused her, baring herself this way, opening up to him.
Eli kissed the place where her hip curved into leg and stopped. He backed away. Not far. His hands still gripped her legs, holding them wide apart. His shoulders still brushed her thighs, but she could feel nothing else.
Marilyn uncovered her eyes and peeked. Her nipples puckered and hardened and her sex throbbed, wanting him inside. He was looking at her. There. Just looking.
He glanced up, saw her watching him, and stared a long moment. What was he thinking? His hands slid higher and he looked back down. His thumbs parted her labia, taking what little privacy she had left, and she shivered, anticipating his touch. But still, he just looked. God, she felt naked.
She hid her eyes again, needing to hide something. How long was he going to torture her like this?
Eli laid his head against her thigh, making her jump. He chuckled and kissed her there on the soft inner surface. "You make me so crazy," he whispered.
He covered her with his mouth, and the electric slide of his tongue across her most sensitive places nearly brought her up off the bed. She could feel him smile as he did it again. She forgot abo
ut the lamp, forgot about her sags and his youth, forgot everything but what his talented tongue was doing to her.
She cried out, hovering on the brink, and instantly, Eli was up and over her, taking her shout into his mouth as he kissed her, tasting of sex and her own desire.
Nineteen
***
"Sh," Eli whispered. "Damn, woman, you're gonna wake Pete."
"I wasn't that loud."
"You could wake the dead, much less a kid just down the hall." He grinned, opening the condom. "One of the things I like about you."
"Give me that." Marilyn took it away from him. "My turn."
"Marilyn, I don't--"
"Tough. It's my turn." She rolled the condom down over him, hoping she was doing it right. She didn't have much experience with these things, but she loved touching him. She loved the way he shivered, the way he jumped in her hands, the way he looked at her when she did it, like he would spontaneously combust if he didn't get inside her right now.
"Dammit, Marilyn, it's on. It's on, okay? Quit messing with it."
Eli seized her wrists and pulled them away, holding them together in his good hand, raising them over her head. He rubbed his chest against her breasts and pressed his cheek against hers, breathing warm in her ear.
"You're so soft," he murmured. "It feels so good like this, skin to skin, both of us naked so I can feel all of you against all of me."
How did he always know the very thing to say or do that would melt her into a puddle of pure sensuality? She turned her head the little required to lick her tongue over his earlobe and draw it into her mouth. "I want you inside me, Eli. Now. As far as you can go and then a little more."
"Oh, God." He groaned as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He lifted his hips and was at her entrance, no guidance needed, and he pushed deep inside her.
Already driven to the edge, Marilyn came apart with that first thrust. Eli swore. He released her wrists to shove his hand under her hips, lifting them to meet him as he pounded into her. The waves of climax kept coming.
