Bedroom Therapy

by Rebecca York

  But she hung on to her resolve. “You too,” she demanded. “You stroke yourself, too. The way you do it when you make yourself come.”

  He froze, and she thought for a moment that he was going to call a halt to the fantasy. Then his hand began to move. And hers did too. She kept her gaze on him as she felt herself rushing toward climax, stroking with her fingers, rocking her hips, listening to the sound of his breath rushing in and out of his lungs, watching his hand moving, hard and fast.

  Her own need built as she touched herself and watched him doing the same. She couldn’t hold back any longer. Orgasm rocketed through her, just as she heard him gasp and saw his cock pumping as creamy liquid squirted from the tip.

  She collapsed back against the cushions, breathing hard, watching the look of satisfaction—and surprise—that spread across his face.

  Maybe he hadn’t expected to be this involved. But she’d made sure she wasn’t the only one participating intimately in the fantasy he’d set up.

  Wordlessly, she held out her arms to him, and he came up to her end of the bed, gathering her to him.

  “Thank you,” he murmured. “That was mind-blowing.”

  “Yes.”

  She waited for him to say more. She wanted to know how he felt about what they had just done. But she suspected he wasn’t going to tell her. Not yet.

  Guys weren’t great at articulating their feelings. In some ways, what they’d done together was more intimate than if they’d had intercourse. And she wanted to tell him that—and have him share his feelings. But she suspected that if she tried to get into a conversation, he’d accuse her of spoiling the experience.

  And perhaps he’d be right. What they’d just done existed in a place out of time. In another universe. He was still there with her, actually. And for now she would be content to have him hold her.

  For a few moments, he did hold her, nuzzling his mouth against her neck and hair, stroking her damp skin under the robe that she still wore.

  She was thinking that maybe they’d both be more comfortable if they got undressed. But she forgot what she was going to say when the stroking fingers moved to her breasts and down to the juncture of her legs. His touch was light, almost teasing. But she found her arousal building once again.

  “Zach?”

  “I want to taste you. All of you,” he growled. Leaning over, he nibbled at her collarbone, then swept the hollow of her throat with his tongue.

  “Let me,” he murmured, and he began to nibble and lick his way down her body.

  She lay back and closed her eyes, his mouth sending a tide of heat sweeping through her.

  He was good at this, good at all the skills of pleasing a woman.

  He played with her abdomen, then combed his fingers through the curly triangle of hair just below.

  “I wanted to do that. I ached to touch you.”

  “And I ached for you to do it,” she told him.

  He didn’t answer, only lowered his head, finding her throbbing sex with his mouth, making her moan with the pleasure of his skilled caress.

  He brought her to another mind-blowing climax, using his tongue and his lips, two of his fingers sliding in and out of her as he worked her clit with his mouth.

  And she was helpless to do anything besides dig her fingers into his hair and let him have his way with her.

  Afterwards, she knitted her fingers with his, holding him beside her because she suspected he might be getting ready to leave the bed.

  “Stay with me.”

  “I should let you rest.”

  “I want you to sleep here. Please don’t leave.”

  Long seconds passed while she waited for his answer. “You’re not afraid I’m going to wake up and try to strangle you?”

  “Not at all.”

  He waited a moment, and she held her breath, knowing he might still leave.

  Finally he said, “Okay. But I should blow out the candles. And turn off the light.”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding. As she watched him move about the room, dousing the flames, her gaze dropped to the front of his pajamas. He was as hard as he’d been when they’d sat across from each other on the bed, but she had the feeling he wasn’t going to let her do anything about it.

  “Let me get the covers and get rid of some of these pillows.”

  She watched him remove the pile of pillows from the far end of the bed, then open the closet and come back with a sheet and blanket, which he spread over the bed, before climbing underneath with her.

  His total focus was on the domestic tasks, as though he were distancing himself from her.

  In the darkness she asked, “Can I do anything for you?”

  “I’m fine,” he said in a tight voice that told her he didn’t want to say any more.

  She had learned enough about him not to press the point. But as she moved some of the pillows to the floor beside the bed, she was thinking that he had done this before. Kept her from giving him the release that most guys would demand. In fact, the only times he’d climaxed had been . . . when she wasn’t touching him.

  There was always a period when a man couldn’t get an erection after having an orgasm. But Zach was clearly aroused. That wasn’t the problem.

  So what was going on here?

  She wanted to turn the light back on and demand that they have a discussion about why he was denying himself additional sexual satisfaction. Because she knew this wasn’t the right time to talk about it, she pretended she was perfectly content to let things stand as she snuggled down beside him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Amanda woke early, feeling wonderfully refreshed and rested. A smile flickered on her lips when she remembered going to sleep in Zach’s arms. But when she turned to the far side of the bed, she found that Zach wasn’t there.

  A stab of disappointment pierced her. She’d wanted to wake up next to him; she’d wanted that very much. But he’d chosen to leave.

  Getting up, she pulled off the robe she was still wearing, then found some shorts and a tee shirt in the dresser that was still pushed against the bed.

  Then she gazed around the room. It had looked sensual and romantic the evening before. The magic Zach had created still clung to it in the morning light. Maybe because she wanted it to.

  Should she ask him to change it back? She wasn’t sure what she wanted yet.

  After a stop in the bathroom, she poked her head in Zach’s room and was relieved to find his clothing still hanging in the closet. She’d been half afraid that he would clear out before they could talk. But he was still here. Somewhere.

  He wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen, but he’d made a pot of coffee.

  She decided to pour herself a cup, then changed her mind and hurried back down the hall where she stripped off her clothing again and took a quick shower.

  He still wasn’t home by the time she’d partially dried her hair and gotten dressed again. She was pacing barefoot back and forth across the length of the living room when she saw a flicker of movement through the window.

  Looking outside, she saw Zach and breathed out a little sigh.

  He was speeding up the long driveway, dressed in shorts, running shoes, and a tee shirt that clung damply to his broad shoulders.

  He opened the door quietly, then stopped short when he saw her standing in the living room.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi.”

  “You were up early.”

  “I often go for an early run,” he answered stiffly

  The tone of his voice challenged her to make something of it, and she knew suddenly that she wasn’t going to. Last night, as she had lain beside him, she’d sensed that it wasn’t the right time to ask questions. As far as she could see, nothing had changed.

  “I was thinking we should get some groceries,” she said. “There’s nothing in the house to eat, and I’d like to fix some breakfast.”

  The mundane suggestion seemed to relax him. “Let me take a s
hower, and I’ll be ready to go. You can write me a list.”

  She nodded, thinking of the phrase her mother used to use. Sending a man to do a woman’s job. She’d said that there were some things men simply weren’t cut out to do. And grocery shopping was one of those things. But she wasn’t going to argue with Zach until after his shower.

  Fortified with a cup of his strong coffee laced with a nice shot of cream and caramel, she was waiting for him when he came back.

  After pouring himself some of the coffee and taking a sip, he asked, “Where’s the list.”

  “I didn’t write it.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m going to the store with you.”

  He studied her defiant posture. “Not a good idea. You do remember that a man broke into your house and attacked you? You do remember that’s why we moved to a different location?”

  She ignored the pointed reminders of why they were hiding out. Instead she said, “You took me out to dinner.”

  “That was different. An out-of-the-way, upscale restaurant. A grocery store is right in the thick of things. The guy who attacked you could be hanging around public places, hoping you’ll show up.”

  “Well, we can go to one that’s on the other side of town instead of the one in the shopping center down the road.” She argued, then hurried on with another detail, “You can deck me out with a disguise. That way the assailant won’t even know who I am.”

  “A list would be better,” he insisted.

  “I’m not good at making lists. I want to see what’s there. If the tomatoes look good, I want some. How are you at evaluating fresh produce?”

  “Okay I guess.”

  “Let’s do it together. It will only take an hour. Then I promise to stay in this nice cozy little hideout—with no contacts besides you and the ducks out there.”

  He sighed. “Okay. We get in and out of the store quickly. Do you have a hat you can pull down over your face?”

  “I’ve got a sun hat.”

  He thought for a moment. “You usually wear shorts and a tee shirt. Wear something different, like a sundress. Tuck your hair up under the hat. Wear sunglasses. And more makeup.”.

  She nodded and hurried back to her room to follow directions. Her wardrobe was limited, but she pulled on a simple knit dress and topped it with a camp shirt; she dug her straw sun hat out of the closet. Then she slathered on some makeup and made her lips twice their normal size. She completed the outfit with a pair of sandals that matched her hat.

  When she returned to the living room, Zach was wearing an outfit she hadn’t seen—worn jeans, a jeans jacket, cowboy boots, and a hat.

  She did a double take, then grinned. “Are you going for the country and western look?”

  “Something like that,” he answered as he studied her choice of clothing. “Do you have sunglasses?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wear them, and keep them on in the store.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “Let’s get this over with. The sooner you’re tucked back home, the better I’ll like it.”

  “You can go on record as opposing the expedition.”

  “Yeah. Right.” He led her outside, then hesitated.

  “What are you waiting for?” she asked, hoping she hadn’t made him change his mind.

  “I’m thinking about which vehicle to take. I don’t like either choice, but I guess mine is better, since yours was parked at the old house the whole time you were there.”

  ###

  St. Stephens was a small town, Tony thought. If O’Neal and her boyfriend were still here, he had a decent chance of running into them.

  Although he’d cruised the shopping center parking lots and the discount mall, he hadn’t seen either O’Neal’s little Toyota or the guy’s Honda, and he was wondering if they had access to another vehicle.

  He’d done that himself. He’d found an isolated house where newspapers were piling up next to the mailbox.

  He’d come back that night, let himself in, and found an itinerary from a travel agency telling him that the couple who lived there wouldn’t be back from Italy for a week. After parking the van in the woods nearby, he borrowed their old Mustang. The guy probably kept it around because it was a classic model. Tony liked it because it didn’t have a modern ignition or alarm system.

  He was planning to put it back in a couple of days, well before the owners returned home. For now it was the perfect option.

  As he pulled into the parking lot outside the Acme, he was thinking he was getting low on groceries. He might as well kill two birds with one stone and go in to pick up some food. Easy stuff that he could eat while he was driving around looking for Dr. O’Neal and Mr. Buttinsky.

  ###

  Amanda watched Zach as he did a slow tour of the shopping center parking lot. When he stopped beside a white van, she felt a little shiver go over her skin. “Is that him?” she whispered.

  “No. This van’s got a ladder rack on the top.”

  “Oh,” she answered, thinking that was the kind of detail she wouldn’t have spotted in a million years, since vehicles were just a means of transportation, as far as she was concerned.

  There were other vans in the lot, but none of them was white. Zach pulled into a space near the entrance to the grocery store, then turned to her.

  “We’re going to play a very friendly couple. I’ll have my arm around you. And you can say cute little twitty things that are completely out of character.”

  She gaped at him. “Is that necessary?”

  “Yeah. Because it’s not something you’d do in public.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know,” he answered with confidence as he opened his door and climbed out.

  She had no choice but to follow suit. He came around to her side of the car and took her arm, holding her against his side as he pressed the remote control lock. And he kept her beside him as they made their way into the grocery.

  “Don’t make us too conspicuous,” she murmured as they took a cart.

  “I won’t,” he answered, loosening his hold on her waist but not letting go. She slid him a sidewise glance, seeing the proprietary look on his face.

  They’d both felt awkward when he’d come in this morning. She’d guessed that he’d gone running in the first place as a way of avoiding her. Now they were out in public, and he was using the opportunity to get close to her again. They could have been playing a couple who were angry at each other. But he’d chosen to do just the opposite.

  Because he wanted to get close! But he didn’t know how to get past the awkward morning after.

  For just a moment, she laid her head on his shoulder, and he looked down at her.

  “We’ll get in and out of here fast,” he said, completely misunderstanding her reaction.

  “I have every confidence in you,” she answered sweetly.

  She liked the solid feel of his body next to hers. She’d like the solid feel of it on top of hers, she suddenly thought.

  “What?”

  “I was just looking at those nice ripe peaches,” she said. “See, if you hadn’t brought me along, I would never have known they were here. How would you like some peach cobbler?”

  “Sounds good. But peach pie would be even better.”

  She laughed. “Peach pie is too much trouble. I’m not going to make a pie crust, even for you.”

  “You could get one of those pre-made frozen ones.”

  “Hum. Okay.”

  She picked out a dozen peaches, then looked at the salad makings. “Do you mind those salads in a bag?”

  He stroked his hand over her shoulder. “Any kind of home-cooked meal would be fantastic.”

  “Then let’s get some onions and some green peppers.”

  “For what?”

  “A surprise.”

  They were looking at each other, grinning, and she knew she shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. It was like playing house with Zachary Grant, and getting too attached to the idea would be a mi
stake, because in a few days he’d have to go back to New Jersey, and she’d still be down here working on her column and her book. But really, she could do that anywhere. She didn’t have to stay in St. Stephens.

  His voice brought her out of her reverie. “What are you thinking?”

  What was she thinking? Was she fantasizing about moving in with him? She gave the shopping cart a quick shove, heading for the dairy department. “Nothing.”

  ###

  Tony spotted them almost as soon as he walked into the store. They probably thought they were in disguise. But he’d studied Amanda O’Neal too carefully to miss her—even with that sun hat and all that makeup. He’d know her anywhere because his total focus had been on her for the past week.

  He’d been afraid that he’d lost her. Now he felt a surge of elation as he ducked back into an aisle of canned fruit and vegetables.

  Cautiously, he peeped out, but O’Neal and Buttinsky were so wound up with each other that he knew it would take a stack of cereal boxes falling on them to break their concentration.

  The guy was decked out as a cowboy. At least he assumed it was the same guy, although he couldn’t be absolutely sure.

  He hadn’t thought that O’Neal had a boyfriend, but the two of them sure looked cozy. We’ll, they’d better enjoy it while it lasted, because Tony was going to break them up—permanently.

  He kept a good way behind them, putting a few things in his cart as they stopped in the dairy department, then went on to the meat section.

  They shopped for about thirty minutes, then went to the checkout lines.

  Tony waited while they paid for their purchases, then abandoned his own cart and followed them into the parking lot.

  They headed for the Honda he’d seen the other day. The guy had screwed him up then, but it wasn’t going to happen again, he thought as he watched them stow their groceries in the trunk of the car, then pull out of the parking lot.

  He kept well back as they swung onto the highway. When he saw them make a turn onto a side road, he followed.

  It was a little hard to see where they were going because he had to be really careful not to get spotted. But finally he saw the car turn into a long drive leading to a house he could barely see through the trees.