Perfectly Reasonable

by O'Connor, Linda

  Margo felt her heart trip. As he tasted and teased, a lovely warmth swirled in her chest, and she pressed against him. She ran her hands up his arms and felt the muscles bunch beneath her hands.

  Trace nipped at her lower lip when she groaned. He pulled back slowly, and she stared into his intense blue eyes.

  “They’ll bring dinner up in about an hour. Would you like to unwind in the hot tub?”

  “Where have you been all my life?”

  Trace chuckled. “This isn’t how you usually spend Friday night?”

  He lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. He held her hands and trailed soft kisses across the lacy edge of her bra. Her breasts swelled as his tongue dipped under the fabric. Margo caught her breath at the light touch. She ached for more.

  Trace reached behind and unclasped her bra. As he drew it away, his eyes darkened. Margo reached for him, but he held her shoulders and turned her around. “Look.”

  She looked at the reflection in the window as he pressed her back against him and ran his hands across the soft mounds of her breasts. Her breasts felt heavy and her nipples hardened against his palms. He kneaded and stroked with his thumbs, trailing soft kisses along her neck. Margo watched as he ran his hands down her belly and slowly stroked back up. Her legs turned to liquid. She leaned her head against him and reached back to hold him. She needed to touch him, but he held her tight. He followed the curve of her hip with his touch, spanning her waist, undoing the clasp on her jeans.

  Margo watched their reflection. Her naked. Him behind her. His hands on her breasts. She caught his eye and swallowed. There was too much light and possibly too much scrutiny.

  He stopped her from turning. “Uh-uh. You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  His fingers traced a line across her hips and coaxing her legs apart, took their time exploring the softness. He strummed and stroked, his fingers dancing across her wet flesh. Sensation slowly swirled and Margo whimpered. She twisted and arched, her heart racing and her breath catching. She tried to stop the whirlwind from building. Her arms, too heavy to raise, reached behind and clung to him. She glanced at the reflection in the glass.

  Sleepy eyes, flushed cheeks, the wanting, the building, the pressure. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Tremors racked her body and Trace held her tight, until her muscles went limp.

  Margo felt like she was floating and never wanted to touch the ground. Trace kissed her temple and took her hand. He led her to the hot tub, filled with steaming water, and held her hand as she stepped in. As she sank down to her chin, he flipped a switch and silent bubbles filled the tub.

  Trace lit the candles scattered around the room. The sweet scent of the roses, pink, pale orange, and delicate yellow, filled the air. Margo inhaled deeply.

  Trace stood in front of her and pulled his shirt over his head.

  “Mmmm …” Margo hummed in her throat.

  He unfastened his jeans and pulled them down.

  Margo’s eyes widened. Chloe was right. She needed the extra-large.

  He slipped in beside her, water sloshing over the side of the tub.

  She curled against him, her soft breast against his hard chest, her hands very happy. His skin was smooth, his chest broad. The muscles of his six-pack rippled as she swept across. Lower still and down his long lean length. Bulging thighs. She stroked back up. A soft and silky wrapper with a hard throbbing core.

  Trace crushed his lips to hers and sensation exploded in her head. Water sloshed to the rhythm of the quick stroking of her hand.

  Trace groaned and bucked, and she stilled. He kissed her deeply once more before leaning back, his breathing ragged, and his body relaxed.

  Margo cuddled close. Trace wrapped his arm around her and gently caressed her back under the water. Bubbles permeated up around them, and Margo listened to the beating of Trace’s heart against the jazz music playing in the background.

  “This is magical.” She smiled. “You’re a mathemagician,” she whispered, placing a kiss on his lower jaw.

  “And you’re an artist with your hands,” he said back, kissing the top of her head.

  Margo smiled and wiggled closer.

  Trace’s body responded.

  “He’s an active one,” she said with a laugh, running her hand across his belly.

  “So much to see, so many places to explore.”

  When the bath water cooled, Trace helped Margo out of the tub and wrapped her in the fluffy white bath towel.

  When she started to dry off, he stopped her. “Let me,” he said. He unwound the towel, and as if handling fine china, dried her skin. She stood before him, conscious of his gaze. He picked up scented lotion and massaged it into her shoulders. Margo closed her eyes and sighed at his touch. Light fresh lime and citrus infused her skin as he circled around her breasts. He paused with his hands and laved her nipples with his tongue. She strained against his touch and grabbed his shoulders as he stroked and nipped across her belly, down her thighs, behind her knees and onto her calves. She tingled and shivered.

  “I need to touch you,” she said.

  “I want that, too. But not yet.”

  At a knock on the door, Trace grabbed the robes, hanging on hooks. He helped Margo with hers and belted his tight. “Are you hungry?”

  Margo looked at him. “Yes. But not for food.”

  Trace chuckled and went to open the door. He took the two bags of food from the deliveryman, tipped him, and shut the door. He turned to Margo. “Dinner. I ordered seafood risotto with lobster and scallops, an avocado and lime salad, and chocolate mousse with raspberries for dessert.” He raised a brow at her. “We can eat it hot now or cold later.”

  Margo’s stomach grumbled.

  “Just one thing.” He walked toward her, a bag in each hand, until he stood in front of her. “It tastes better if you’re naked,” he said with a smile, challenging her.

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’ve always wanted to eat lobster risotto on a bed of roses,” she said.

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then I guess it’s your lucky day,” he said.

  Margo untied her robe and pushed it from her shoulders, so it landed at her feet. She picked up the cutlery and linen napkins from the table and looked over her shoulder. “Coming?”

  Chapter 25

  Margo sat on an overturned bucket and checked her phone. The job at the hotel hadn’t slowed any in the past two weeks, despite Chloe returning to work. They were stalled for the moment until the primer in the current suite dried.

  Her phone had become her link to Trace. They had texted back and forth, and she followed him on Twitter and Facebook. Crappy way of dating, but with her crazy hours, she didn’t have much choice. With his daily tweets, at least she felt like she knew what was going on in his life. One hundred and forty characters at a time.

  The pace of her job wouldn’t last. She knew it. Didn’t make it any easier when she was in the midst of it, though. Another week, max, and the hours would get better. When it slowed, she had plans. Skin-to-skin contact, face-to-face time, and a two-way conversation more than one hundred and forty characters long.

  She scrolled until she found his tweet.

  The kids are bored. Send toys. Ricky wants sticker books. Adrian wants Lego.

  #givewhatyoucan #KidsCancerCenterwaitingroom

  Margo smiled. He had started a job attached to a research project at the Children’s Cancer Center. When he jumped in, he really jumped in.

  “Another tweet from your boyfriend?” Chloe teased. She sat cross-legged on the floor and popped a banana mini-muffin in her mouth.

  Margo looked over and grinned. “He’s campaigning for waiting room toys for the Children’s Cancer Center.”

  “Good cause. He must like kids, eh? That would explain why he was at the sperm donor clinic two weeks ago.”

  Margo’s eyes widened and she twisted, almost falling off the b
ucket. “What?”

  Chloe took a sip of her mango juice and swallowed. “Yeah. I saw him there. I need sperm, obviously, as part of my baby bump mission. So I thought I’d check out the withdrawals offered at the sperm bank. They’re very stingy with their information, actually.” She waved a piece of muffin in the air. “How does one choose between 4859 and 4562? They’re numbers,” she said with a frown.

  “They probably vet them carefully and match the characteristics you request.”

  “That’s true. But what if there’s a reverse trait?”

  “A reverse trait?”

  “Yes, one that would throw up a stop sign. Make me want to reverse the process and rewind the clock. I have to live with the sperm-spawn for the rest of my life. I don’t want to risk a reverse trait.”

  “Ah … I see your point.”

  Chloe smiled broadly. “So I applied for a job at the clinic.”

  Margo started. “What?”

  Chloe nodded, a smug smile on her face. “Even got an interview. It went pretty well, I thought.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. I did really well.”

  Margo shook her head. “No, I meant, you didn’t really apply for another job?”

  “Sure did. But don’t worry. It’s only weekends nine to three. Receptionist. Full meet-and-greet duties, general dogsbody, and the biggest bonus, full access to all the files.”

  “Chloe,” said Margo. “That information is supposed to be confidential.”

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  Margo shook her head.

  Chloe popped the last of her mini-muffin in her mouth. “Once I choose the perfect sperm and have a baby swimming inside me, I’ll quit. Simple. Anyhow the interview was two weeks ago and lo and behold, who should walk in? Trace Bennett.”

  “Really? Are you sure it was Trace?”

  “Tall, blond, built, with incredible blue eyes?”

  Margo frowned. He would do that? Donate sperm and be the anonymous father of a child? Granted, it was very altruistic. And didn’t she coach him about just that? Encourage him to take on projects to advocate for health and well-being? Yes, yes she did. And after all, it was his sperm. But still, she had a stake in that sperm now. Sort of. She sighed. Not really.

  “I am definitely interested in a squirt from that vessel. I think we would make beautiful babies,” Chloe said with a mischievous grin.

  Margo looked at her with wide eyes and felt her stomach burn. No. No. That was so not right. “B-B-But …” Before she could speak, her phone beeped with a text message. From Trace.

  Hey, Breaking Bread tomorrow?

  She had already missed two weeks. It was enough. The painting was close enough to the deadline that she could afford an evening for herself.

  Yes. I can go. I’ll see you there?

  She smiled at her phone, shut it off, and dropped it in the tote. “Let’s get this job finished, Chloe. I’m tired of watching paint dry.”

  Chapter 26

  Margo stepped out of her car, trying to avoid the icy patch covering most of the Breaking Bread parking lot. She missed the sunny skies of January. The first eleven days of February had been gray and dull, and the piles of snow plowed off the parking lot were taller than her Mini-Cooper.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  Margo turned and smiled. Trace. He swept her close and covered her mouth with his. Margo pressed closer, her lips eager against his.

  She lightly stroked the cool skin of his cheek. “Hi, handsome.”

  Trace smiled and crushed his lips to hers, inviting her tongue to join him. Sensation built. Her breasts felt heavy, the swirl in her belly a lovely pull.

  She sighed and pulled back slowly. “We should go in.”

  Trace brushed his lips against hers. “We should.” He slipped his gloved hand in her open jacket and ran his hand down the curve of her breast. “Maybe after, we could find someplace warmer.” He ran his tongue along her jaw. “And more private.”

  Margo’s skin tingled, and she shivered.

  “Because I miss the feel of your skin,” Trace whispered in her ear.

  Visions of their evening together swam in her head. Margo fleetingly contemplated getting back in her car, pretending she never arrived, and taking Trace with her. “You’re a bad influence,” she said, reluctantly stepping back.

  Trace grinned. “What?” he asked innocently.

  She shook her head and grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the door. “Work first,” she said, turning her head to smile at him. “Then play.”

  Later, cuddled naked beside him, feeling satisfied and sleepy, she ran her fingers across his skin.

  Trace had pulled light sheers across the wall of windows in his bedroom, but she could see the hazy light of the moon. The lake was still frozen, and the reflection of the moonlight on the snow, covering the wide expanse of the ice, brightened the sky.

  “Would you be able to get off early on Thursday?”

  Margo smiled. “For more of this?”

  “Absolutely,” he said with a grin. “It’s Valentine’s Day. You’ll be my Valentine, won’t you?”

  “Absolutely,” she said with a smile.

  “I have plans. But I’d have to pick you up at three-thirty,” he said.

  “Oh. Plans, eh? Sounds intriguing. Am I privy to your plans?”

  He shifted and pushed her gently onto her back. He ran his hand across her breasts and teased the sensitive skin. “There’ll be some of this.” He trailed kisses across her jaw. “And some of that.” He continued down the ticklish side of her neck toward the soft skin of her breast. “Definitely some of this.” His tongue swept across her nipple. He tasted and teased and nipped with his teeth.

  Margo arched toward him and groaned. “Thursday’s shaping up to be my favorite day of the week.”

  Trace chuckled and continued the slow exploration of her skin with his lips and tongue. Across her belly and lower still, until Margo was writhing and bucking and grabbing his hips to guide him in.

  Lying sweaty and spent, Margo turned to look at Trace. “Three-thirty you said? I’ll be ready.”

  Trace removed the condom. He interlaced his fingers with hers, and after a few minutes, threw a blanket over the two of them.

  “I should go,” Margo said in a sleepy voice, not making a move to leave. “I have to be up at six tomorrow morning.”

  “Stay,” Trace said, brushing her curls away from her face. “I have to be at the hospital at eight, so we can get up together.”

  “Really?”

  Trace smiled and kissed her deeply.

  Margo snuggled closer and let her hand wander. She loved the feel of his skin over the hard muscles of his abdomen. Across his thighs, feeling the muscles bunch. Dancing lightly over the warm skin. “How’s your new job going?”

  Trace lifted her hand and kissed it. When he released it, she continued a trail across his skin.

  “It’s good. I’m almost finished collecting the data. They thought they were done, but in order to run the stats, I needed some baseline information. So I’m interviewing some of the kids and parents again.”

  “These are all kids with cancer?”

  “Yeah. And they’ve had at least one round of chemotherapy.”

  Margo sighed. “That’s rough.”

  Trace was silent. She could feel the muscles of his belly ripple as she stroked his side.

  “Some of those kids are tough,” Trace said finally. “They’ve been through a lot of shit. At that age, I was playing hockey after school, learning how to snowboard, running around at our cottage in the summer–”

  “Being a kid.”

  “Yeah, being a kid. They don’t get to be kids. May never get to be adults either.” Trace sighed.

  Margo turned her cheek and kissed his chest. “I saw your tweet asking for toys. You’re helping them be kids.”

  “In a small, small way. But, yeah. The response has been amazing. Some pretty awesome stuff ha
s been sent in.”

  She heard the sadness in his voice. “Part of medicine is helping patients get through the hard stuff. We can’t always take away the suffering,” she said as she kissed him softly again. “But you didn’t ignore it, either. You saw a way to brighten their day in the midst of all the black. And that’s a good thing.”

  Her hand stroked and his body stirred. She wanted him inside. She wanted to soothe away the sorrow.

  She trailed kisses across his chest as she shifted and straddled his waist. His hands came up to touch her skin. Not soothing, not softly, but yearning with need. He reared his head and caught her breast. Margo arched as he sucked and nipped, driving her higher. His hand slipped lower and found her wet and full and ready.

  Margo ripped open a condom and batted his hand aside. She wanted him. She needed him now. She slid the condom on, loving the feel as he throbbed, and guided him inside. Gently first, then tightening around him. Moving and rocking, sliding and pressing. He grabbed her hips and thrust deeper. Margo’s breath caught. A sheen of sweat covered her skin. Sensation built and caught in her throat as she rose up and finally contracted around him. Trace, fast behind her, pumped his release.

  Margo collapsed on his chest, her muscles languid as the tremors subsided, and listened to the rapid beat of his heart. Trace wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

  “I don’t think I can move,” Margo murmured. “I haven’t felt this relaxed … since I saw you last.”

  Trace chuckled. “You’re welcome.” He loosened his hold and rolled her over onto her back. “That was just the main course. We still have dessert.”

  Margo smiled. “And I do have a sweet tooth.”

  He trailed kisses across her collarbone. “I love the taste of your skin.”

  Margo sighed as he nibbled and kissed. “Trace?”