“Come on in,” Lou said.
Before stepping over the threshold, Will paused. “Are you sure you want me to?”
“Yes,” she said softly.
Still, he hesitated. Not yet, he thought. He had to get matters straight. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“I know. This is tonight.”
“The only night. I want you like crazy, Lou, but I also want us both to be very clear. I meant what I said about no commitments.”
She smiled, lifted a hand and ran the palm over his cheek, an oddly maternal gesture. “And that’s why we’re here. You’ve told me how you live your life and I believe you. I don’t necessarily think it’s a healthy way to live, but I respect your honesty. So many men have lied to me, I have very few illusions left. If I have any illusions about the two of us, you won’t hear them from me, Will. This is tonight, just the one night. Trust me, I expect nothing more.”
“It’s just that…I don’t want to break your heart.”
Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe the fact that his last remark was incredibly arrogant, or maybe it was the confidence that came from knowing she was desired by a most desirable man, but whatever the reason, she cocked her head to one side and said, “Have you considered that maybe I might break yours?”
She watched as that crooked grin of his made an appearance. “Touché. A real possibility,” he said and stepped into the living room.
The minute Will was in her home, though, on her turf, something inside her underwent a drastic change. Suddenly, that romantic bubble in which she’d been submerged on the balcony burst and died, and she was in the real world again, which meant she felt less sure of herself.
Much less sure.
This, tonight, was real. It was going to happen. She was going to get naked and make love with Will Jamison.
Oh, dear heavens, what did you do when your dreams came true?
He reached for her but she stepped away from him, leaned down to pat Mr. Hyde’s head. “Shall I make us some tea?”
He looked at her, then stepped closer again. “Do you really want tea?” He opened his arms and drew her close, nuzzling her neck, his broad hands massaging her back.
“No, I’m playing for time,” she replied truthfully. She fingered his tux studs, unable to meet his gaze.
“Why?”
“Oh, Will. All of a sudden I’m one big nerve. You make me anxious.”
He put a finger under her chin and lifted it so she was forced to face him. His eyes, those gorgeous green jewels, glittered warmly in the lamplight. “I’m not trying to.”
“But you are.”
“Why?”
“I’m afraid,” she admitted.
“Of what?”
“There you go with the questions again.”
Lou pulled out of Will’s embrace and walked over to the mantel, ran her finger along the edge, still skittish and wishing she knew how to be cool in this situation.
“What are you afraid of?”
She kept her back to him. “That I won’t please you.”
“Lou, you already please me, just by being you.”
“My body.” It came out in a garbled whisper, and she knew it, so she turned around to look him straight in the eye. “I’m afraid my body won’t please you.”
“Well, then,” he said with a small, crooked smile, “how about we see if it does?”
The smile did it. Made her stand there, made her keep her mouth shut as Will walked slowly toward her, then reached for one of the combs in her hair and removed it, laying it on the mantel near her mother’s picture. Slowly, calmly, he did so with all the other combs, the multitude of pins, that had gone into her hairdo.
Oh, she thought. All the hair spray. If he tried to run his fingers through her hair, they’d get stuck. She would be mortified.
But after all foreign objects had been removed, which felt great—a headache she didn’t even know she had was suddenly gone—all he did was run a palm over the curls, take one between his thumb and index finger, and sniff it. It was pretty high-class hair spray, so she figured at least she needn’t be ashamed on the body-perfume front.
Now he smiled again, his lids a little heavy, the green of his eyes a little darker. Could that be lust she was seeing on his face? Had her hair actually turned him on?
Wordlessly, he reached around behind her and unzipped the back of her dress. Her breath stopped in her chest. He would take it off, stare at her and be disappointed. Or not. Or whatever. Who the heck knew?
But he didn’t take her dress off; instead, he eased it off her shoulders but not all the way down. Staring at her intently, he ran his fingertips lightly over the hollows formed by her collarbones. She hissed in a breath as he did, felt herself shuddering, heard him say softly, wonderingly, “This is one of the most beautiful parts of a woman’s body.”
She closed her eyes, gave herself over to sensation. Those same fingers now traced the curve of her shoulders, the skin on the undersides of her arms, the hollows near her elbows. More shuddering, even a small moan that escaped from her throat.
“So soft,” he said, “so beautiful.”
Now he lowered her dress all the way down, so that she stood naked except for a peach silk bra and matching bikini-style panties. No panty hose—her opened-toed sandals had dictated she wear none.
Oh, God, she thought, fighting the urge to cover herself with her hands, like Venus on the half shell. She didn’t do it, but she kept her eyes closed—really didn’t want to see any expression on his face. None.
And then his mouth was on her small breasts and his tongue was flicking at one of her nipples through the silk.
“I love these,” he murmured, tracing the other nipple with a fingertip. “So nice and generous.”
She forced herself to open her eyes; all she saw was the top of Will’s head as he moved his mouth over her breasts, then over her ribs and abdomen, his hands tracing the indented waist, the subtle slope of her hips. She had curves now, not lumps.
Her fingers were in his hair, pressing against his scalp. And all the while, her body continued to shudder, sensation building upon sensation, most of it pooling in a small, quivering area between her legs. She burned for his touch there, yearned to feel those knowing fingertips and moist tongue…right…there.
But she said nothing. Didn’t have to because now he was just where she’d wanted him to be. She gasped as his touch made her body jerk wildly. She didn’t know if her knees could support her anymore but again, she didn’t have to worry because Will held her in place, his arms wrapped strongly about her thighs, his tongue darting in and out of the V formed by them, flicking the hot little nub of nerves that were screaming for release. It built and it built and it built—oh, how he knew what he was doing! Oh, how magical was his touch!
She had no power, it all belonged to him, and she gave herself up to it. And then she was there—tight and hard and crazy one minute; the next, coming apart, a long series of small explosions, sensation piggybacking on sensation and more sensation.
And then she was liquid, she was melting all in a puddle at Will’s feet. She couldn’t open her eyes, couldn’t move. Would never move again.
Will felt a primitive surge of satisfaction at the strength of Lou’s orgasm. She was sensational, every part of her an exposed nerve just waiting to be plucked. Still, he was just a tad uncomfortable at the way the dog seemed to be watching them. So, still gripping Lou’s thighs, he hoisted her up and carried her to her bedroom, where he gently set her down on the bed.
She was still in recovery mode, her eyes half-closed, her mouth curved upward, her breathing still labored. And he was harder than a piece of fossilized redwood. Quickly, he divested himself of his clothing, got a condom out of his pants pocket, put it on and lay down next to her. She felt him, opened her eyes, smiled at him. Then she spread her legs, bent her knees. “Please,” she said, opening her arms.
He needed no encouragement. He moved between her legs, felt her there with his finger. She
was still moist and most welcoming.
“Please,” she said again, so he plunged into her. The moment he did, she moaned and began to move her hips again, quick little gasps letting him know she was on the verge again. He didn’t know if he could hold out, but he tried. He moved in and out, in and out, grabbed her buttocks with his hands and held her while he plundered. And in no time at all, she was making that same long moan that turned into a scream that let him know she was home, so he could let himself go, too. Feeling on the verge of coming apart, Will exploded, spiraling up, then down a hot, wet, long, dark alleyway, releasing all the pent-up passion he’d felt for this woman from the beginning. It might have been fewer than three days, but it felt like a lifetime.
Afterward, they lay still, wrapped around each other and not talking. Who had the strength?
Will was the first to speak. “I hope your question’s been answered.”
“What question?” Her words were slurred; it was as if she could barely get them out.
“Your body pleases me. Enormously.”
“Uh, yeah, I guess it must.”
They were still again, the sound of their breathing the only noise in the room. It was as though those brief sentences had exhausted them both.
“What about my body?” he said after a while.
“Excuse me?”
“Does it please you?”
She gave an extremely unladylike snort. “Do you have to ask?”
“So you’re the only one allowed to be a little insecure?”
She rolled over onto her side, rested her head on her hand and stared at him. “Don’t tell me. No way. You have a perfect body.”
“No one has a perfect body.”
“You do. Trust me. I’ve been studying it for years.”
“You have?”
Oops. Busted, Lou thought. Whatever happened between them this evening, he was not to know of all the years spent yearning over him. Talk about losing one’s power. She would be sawdust. “Well, not recently, of course, but in high school.”
“Really?”
“Well, sure, you were one of the jocks, the guys all the girls went for. You had to be aware of how much we all admired you.”
“I guess so.”
“What do you mean, you ‘guess’? You had the girls constantly falling all over you.”
He scrunched up his forehead in an effort to remember. “No. That was Gus. Gus Tremaine. He was the one they all fell over.”
“And you, too,” she insisted.
He went on as though he hadn’t heard her. “I always envied Gus. He seemed so sure of himself.”
“So did you.”
He turned his head sideways and met her gaze. “Did I? I remember developing a stutter around Sandi Volker. And breaking out in pimples the night before the junior dance.”
“Are you serious?”
“I am. Do you think I was somehow unaffected by youthful hormones and questions about self-worth? That was Gus, trust me, never a self-doubt in his head. Probably still the same today. Ever hear about him?”
“I think he joined the Army, stayed in Germany or someplace.”
“Yeah? Hmm.”
Tentatively, she lifted a hand, traced some of the wiry curls on his chest. “I had no idea you ever suffered a day of anxiety about yourself.”
“Now you do.”
“Wow.”
Again they took a break from talking, but it felt like a contented break. She sure was contented, no doubt about it.
Eventually, Will put his hand over hers and squeezed it. “So you watched me, huh?” he asked with a pleased grin.
“Yes. All the girls did.”
He nodded, pleased. “I like that. I mean, I knew that some of them were checking me out, sure. It came with the sports thing. But I wasn’t aware you were one of my admirers.”
“I was a few years younger, not always around you.”
“True.”
“Although when you asked Marsha Kramer out, I was jealous, I’ll admit it. She was in my grade.”
“In biological age only.”
“True. She got breasts way earlier than most of us did.”
“And I took her out because, well, Marsha had a bit of a rep, you know. And you may not ask me what happened. I’ve never talked about my conquests.”
“You don’t have to tell me. She told us, in glorious detail.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, God. What did she say?”
“Sorry.”
“Oh, no.” He slapped his hand on his forehead and lay back on the pillow. “I think that might have been one of those times I, shall we say, didn’t hold my end up?”
“Or did, but all too briefly.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, as though mortally embarrassed. “Oh, God. No. Not fair.”
“It’s okay. I’ve since found out it can take some time for a man to learn how to, well, take his time. If you get my meaning. You did fine tonight, by the way.”
“It hasn’t been a problem for a while,” he said dryly.
“Happily for me.” More silence. Lou felt comfortable, relaxed, no longer nervous around him. “So,” she said, “in case you have any doubts at all, your body pleases me very much.”
“Glad to hear it.” Crossing his arms behind his head, Will sighed contentedly. “Have at me.”
Her heart leaped, her womb tightened. “Gladly.”
Lou awoke in the middle of the night to find herself touching Will. All over. Again. All her postpuberty life, it seemed, she’d been starved for this kind of connection with a man, and she wanted to make the most of it, for the short time left to them.
She couldn’t get enough of the different textures of his body. He was all firm muscle and sleek skin, except across his cheeks and chin, where the bristles of his new beard were sprouting. The patch of hair on his chest was dark and soft, his back smooth.
She tried to stop touching him; after all, the poor man was sleeping, a much deserved sleep after what they’d both put their bodies through. And then she heard him moan.
Maybe he was awake, too? Maybe he didn’t mind her caresses? Her questions were answered a second later when he grabbed her hand—currently raking the thick, glossy hair on his head—and brought it down to his erection.
Which was prominent, standing proudly up in the air. She was deeply pleased to accommodate his wishes.
“You have a great touch,” Will said dreamily. “It’s like you know just when to be soft and when to apply pressure. Like you can read my mind.”
“Thank my animals. They don’t like rough treatment.”
“Thank you, animals.” Now he clamped a hand over hers. “However, better stop that now. Let’s save it for just a little while.”
“What do you want to do then?”
He reached over and switched on the lamp next to the bed. “I want to see you.”
This wasn’t quite so much fun. Lou was not only not sure how she’d compare with other women, but there were some secrets about her body she didn’t know if she wanted him to discover. Even so, she lay still and watched as his gaze moved over her, as did his fingers. Light, teasing touches that nevertheless caused ripples of sensation all along her nerve endings.
He planted a quick kiss on her upper thigh. “You have a strawberry birthmark here, did you know that?”
“Yes.”
“It’s pretty.”
“Nonsense.”
He stopped touching her and gazed deeply into her eyes, a small, mischievous smile on his face. “I say it’s pretty. Wanna make a big deal out of it?”
What else could she do but grin back? “Whatever you say, master.”
He closed his eyes. “Ah, the magic word. Master.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
He leaned over, kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her mouth. “But it turns me on.”
“From what I can tell, a lot of words turn you on.”
Now his grin, that dear, of
f-kilter, unbearably charming grin, broadened. “Nah. It’s not the words. It’s you, you turn me on.” Before she could thoroughly bask in his praise, he was back to examining every inch of her. “So, what else can I discover about you in the light?”
She really didn’t want him to explore anymore. It might lead to…
“And this?” He’d been making circles on her diaphragm with his palm and had nudged one of her breasts up. He peered closely at the underside. “It’s something blue.”
She pushed his hand away. “Nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing?” He returned to his examination. “Hey, it’s a tattoo. That’s not nothing.”
“It’s not important.”
He turned on the lamp so that it was at its brightest illumination and peered again at the tattoo. “What is it? Some kind of symbol? What does it mean?”
She threw her arm over her eyes. “Oh, Will, please don’t ask me.”
He grinned. “You’re really embarrassed. Look, you’re red all over. My poor baby.” He put his arm under her head and drew her to him. “How bad can it be? Tell me. What is the tattoo?”
She swallowed. “It’s a W.”
“Really? Is that some kind of club? Or a symbol?”
“Not really.”
“Then what does it stand for?”
She didn’t answer him, so—what a surprise—he asked her again. “What? Tell me.”
“Will,” she said in the smallest voice possible.
“Will? You mean like in free will?”
“No. Like in your name. Will.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
He pulled back and looked at her, puzzled, so she thought she’d better just get it over with. “Remember I was telling you that I noticed you back in high school? Well, it was more than noticing. I had a huge crush on you. I got a tattoo in the summer between my junior and senior year. A tiny one. Just a W. It used to be bigger. I mean, when I was heavier I had bigger breasts, and now that they’re smaller, the W is, too.”
He stared at her, obviously thinking this over. “Wow. You really did have a crush on me.”
“Yeah, I really did. Back then,” she added quickly.
“When did you get over it?”
Never was what she could say. But talk about being naked. No way would she give him that much power over her. “Sometime my first year in college, when I discovered there were actually other men in the world who could make my little heart go pitter-patter,” she said lightly. “And that ‘forever’ in high school doesn’t last too long.”
Whispers and Lies Page 10
