Uma looked happy, and still, her fingers fondled that scarf. He couldn’t pull his eyes away. She caught him staring and looked down. “What’s this?”
“Got you those too. In case…you know.”
It was the green one. The same color as those little dots in her eyes. It was beautiful against her skin.
The change came over her. Like a switch. Uh-oh. Her expression was strange. Maybe he’d gone too far.
The first scarf wafted around her neck, and she picked up the second one. The thicker, wider black scarf that he thought of as his.
When her eyes met his this time, she looked positively wicked. Oh man, this was the woman he’d hoped to see again tonight.
What was it about this woman that made him feel so reckless?
* * *
Uma’s best laid plans would always go awry. It was a rule in life. But apparently life was telling her to stop trying to control everything.
She’d come to Ivan’s place tonight with the full intention of baring her skin and giving him the chance to get out when he saw her as she was: someone else’s leftovers.
Instead, this.
How could she possibly refuse his offering? They’d do it for real. Blindfolded again, because it was what he thought she wanted.
He’d given her everything. And for a split second, it scared the living hell out of her. Until she picked up the second scarf with its thicker weave.
“Come here so I can put this on you.”
“Want a glass of wine first?”
Oh, right. That was what a civilized person did. You sat and had wine and snacks and then you ravished the beast who’d put himself out to please you.
“Okay, sure,” she sighed.
Ivan smiled. “You don’t, do you?”
Uma shook her head and smiled back at him.
“Good.” He picked up the corkscrew. “’Cause I don’t even know how to use one of these.”
She said, “Come here,” and he set the corkscrew down before obeying.
He caught her wrists as she moved to twine the black fabric around his head. “Can I get a kiss first?”
“Oh, right.” Her eagerness was a little mortifying, but his smile told her it was okay. Gently, sweetly, he leaned in and put his lips to hers, giving just the right amount of pressure. Slowly, with impossible calm, he kissed her. When he pulled away, he left her barely able to stand on her own.
“Wow.” She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Yeah.”
“Now, can we…”
He smiled and grabbed a box of condoms before moving to the bed. “Yeah.”
It was different this time. Every move felt set up, somehow. He pulled back the quilt, and they settled on the bare bedsheets before putting on the scarves. Premeditated sex, with intent to shag, she thought a little hysterically. Would he notice that she’d taken the time to shave? Probably. He’d spent enough time down there last night. He smoothed her blindfold on, and Uma muffled another nervous giggle.
She was quickly losing her cool. This wouldn’t do. Jesus Christ. If she didn’t have her cool, what the hell would she hang on to?
“Relax, baby.”
“I’m okay,” she protested too quickly.
“We don’t have to do this, you know.”
“I want to.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Yes. Yes.”
A pause. “What do you say if you want to stop?” Ivan asked.
“Um…stop?”
He laughed against the side of her face. “Yeah. You’ll say it, right? If you want us to stop? Or if I do something you don’t like?”
“Yeah. I’ll say it.”
“Good.” Oh, there were those lips again, kissing her to distraction. And there went her sparkly cardigan, followed by her shirt and punctuated with a hot, wet ellipsis of kisses along the side of her neck. A nip at her shoulder coincided with the snap and zip of pants—his, not hers—and the sound of fabric sliding against skin. Her bra went next—oh God—and those perfectly coarse fingers deftly undoing her jeans. She shimmied out of them, nearly falling off the bed in the process. Ivan’s grasp on her arm saved her at the last minute, and her gasp of panic turned to a huffed laugh-groan when he pulled her in and took her nipple in his mouth.
As Ivan slowly made his way over her body, taking her apart, piece by piece, and loving her back together again, odd things came into focus: the slight sting of woodsmoke in her sinuses, the scent of metal embedded in his hair, the gentle tink-tink of Squeak’s collar as she shifted on her bed in front of the fire. Everything was made sharper, more poignant, by the blindfold.
Kisses along her belly, placed with the utmost care, interspersed with moments of complete abandon, grabbing hands melting into moaning mouths, and her slick wetness making noises she should be ashamed of. He tickled and licked and bit his way around her body until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Stop it!” she yelped.
“What?” he said, his voice sounding breathless.
“You’re killing me, Ivan. I want us to do this.” Why did this suddenly feel wrong? She swallowed back the doubt. “Now.”
“I’m killin’ you?”
She could hear the smile in his voice, clung to it. This is Ivan. Good, kind, sweet Ivan.
Forcing a playfulness she suddenly wasn’t sure of, she slapped his arm and tried to pull away, more unsettled than she’d realized. In search of distraction from the shakiness in her limbs, she asked, “Can you the find the condom, or do I have to—”
“It’s right here, baby.”
She forced out a breath and made herself sink back against the pillows.
Okay. This was it. She was doing this. They were doing this. With a nod, she said, “Good. Now, put it on.”
The crinkle of the wrapper, the snap of the rubber, the smell of it jarred her overripe senses. “Come here.”
He was over her, poised. “You ready?” He was out of breath, shuddery.
And suddenly she wasn’t ready. Not at all. She remembered the last time, with Joey, and what had felt like nerves turned to something else. She was shaking. “I don’t know.”
“Okay.” He paused and pulled away, then after a moment settled at her side. “What’s going on?”
“I… Oh God. I want to do this with you, but I’m…”
“Tell me.”
“I want to look at you. When we do it. I want to see your eyes. I want to know it’s you.”
“Okay.”
“But I don’t think you’ll…want to keep going. If you see me.”
“Oh, baby, I—”
“No. You don’t understand. It’s bad. It’s so bad.” Her voice got away from her as she did her best to hold back a sob.
“Tell me about it. Tell me what happened to you.”
21
He’d asked her for the story, but suddenly, Ive didn’t want to know. He was almost afraid to—afraid of the rage it’d stoke inside him. He’d take back the words if he could.
But he wouldn’t, really. Of course not. Because the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel bad about herself.
“If I show you what he did to me, Ivan, you’ll never be able to look at me again.”
“That ain’t true.” He took a deep breath and pulled off the condom, grimacing at the pinch of rubber against his hard-on. “Don’t have to show me. Start by tellin’ me the story.”
“I don’t…I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”
“I know, baby,” he said. What did she need? What could he do for her? Maybe getting out into the dark, starry night would help. “Come on, let’s go for that walk.”
They managed, somehow, to get dressed, then pulled off the scarves and spent a few silly moments blinking at each other like squinty-eyed moles. That brought the smile back to her fac
e.
He got an idea. “Grab the quilt, and I’ll get this stuff, and we can have a picnic.”
“In the dark?”
“Hell yeah. That’s the way we roll in the country.” He emptied a basket filled with iron odds and ends and repacked the food in its fancy wrappers, then stuffed everything inside. “Red or white?” he asked, arms suspended above the bottles.
“I…” She hesitated, eyes darting between the two bottles. “I don’t—I have no idea.”
“That’s okay. We’ll take ’em both.”
“I should know that, though, shouldn’t I?”
“What do you mean?”
“I should know what I like.”
He shrugged. “Not if you don’t drink wine. I don’t.”
“It’s not that, it’s… I hate this about myself. I hate it so much.”
“What?”
“I let everybody else decide. Joey always ordered white wine for me. He never asked me what I wanted. Not once. And the thing was, I was used to that. I didn’t want to decide.”
“That’s okay. I can pi—”
“No,” she interrupted harshly, hand up and dominatrix expression in place. God, even that tiny little taste made his cock throb. He was one sick puppy. “I want red wine.”
“Red it is. You ready?”
“Let’s go.”
Once outside, Ive remembered the corkscrew and went back in, leaving her alone to gaze up at the starry sky. He found it on the table, then rooted around in a dresser drawer for a couple of thick sweaters. It was cold enough that they’d need them, along with the quilt.
From the door, he took a quick glance around and spotted the two scarves on the floor. Should he?
No. The blindfolds stayed here. Whatever happened between them out there tonight, they’d have their eyes wide open.
* * *
They got settled in the back of the truck. Tailgating, Ivan called it, although it seemed more like camping to Uma.
“Girl, this ain’t nothin’ like campin’. You want to see how we do it out here, I’ll take you with me someday. Up there.” He motioned to the mountains behind the trees. “Appalachian trail’s just up over that first rise. Could do some hikin’, have ourselves a campfire.”
“Roast marshmallows?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Make s’mores.”
She said, “I’m in,” and his chuckle morphed into a happy little sound.
After making her put on one of his enormous sweaters, he pulled the sleeping bag from the cab of the truck and spread it out for them like a blanket, then set everything up again. Uma liked it this way, just them under the stars.
Ivan served wine. This time, the sound of their two glasses clinking together in a toast didn’t bring with it a flood of memories. Uma was right there, in the back of a truck, with this big, handsome man who’d gone out of his way to treat her like a princess.
Ivan leaned against the back of the cab and snuggled her into the crook of his arm. The stars were even more incredible, leaning back like this.
“What kind of moon’s that?” she asked.
“Almost a first quarter.”
“How can you tell if it’s coming or going? Lord, I should know that. My mom would kill me.”
“Remember how dark it was the night you tried to sleep in your car?”
“Yeah.”
“That was the new moon.”
“Oh. So now it’s waxing?”
“Yep.” Ivan leaned forward to snag one of his little burgers, handed it to her, and made quick work of two of his own. “What do you think?”
“Delicious.”
“Didn’t even know what you liked to eat.”
“My mom’s a hippy. Tried to bring me up vegan.”
“What’s that?”
“Vegetarian, except without eggs or cheese or anything like that.”
“Oh, so you—”
“I rebelled. Love meat and cheese and eggs. And”—she clinked her glass to his again—“red wine.”
“Better than white?”
“Yeah, it’s”—she took another sip and swished it around her mouth the way she’d seen Joey do in posher restaurants—“rich, and I don’t know. Carnal or something.”
“Carnal?”
“Or, um…meaty, maybe. No, that’s not right. More like earthy, or of the flesh.” She shivered. In fact, that was exactly how she would describe Ivan.
He took a slow sip in silhouette, eyes closed. Her gaze traveled along his neck to where his Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed, then back up to catch the flash of his eyes on her.
“Seems all right to me, but my taste buds are burned out from too much Coors.”
“I’ve never been a big drinker.”
He smiled. “That’s okay too.”
“What else you got for me to taste?”
“Oh, this is a blue cheese. Lady at the store told me it’s French. The mother of all blues, she called it. Here.” He handed her a cracker and made up his own.
“Roquefort.”
“You know this stuff?”
“Yeah.” She didn’t elaborate. Joey had enjoyed teaching her all about the finer things in life. Cheese and foie gras. She’d enjoyed the cheese but refused the goose liver. You could take the girl out of the commune, but you couldn’t force her to eat tortured animals. She hadn’t been completely deaf to her mother’s teachings, after all.
They ate a little of everything. Sometimes he fed her and sometimes the other way around, but what she liked most was rediscovering it all with this man. Erasing the bad and replacing it with the good. She liked the way he offered without insisting. She liked the way he listened to her opinion.
Before she knew it, the bottle was gone, and they’d decimated the snacks.
“What’d you like best?”
“Your venison.”
“Yeah? You just sayin’ that?”
“No. It was good.”
“You ever think about hunting?”
She jerked a little at the thought before letting it settle over her.
“No. Never. Do you use a gun?”
“Yeah, that and a tomahawk.”
“Wha—Oh. Ha-ha.” She snuggled farther into him, liking this. Liking him so much.
“We’re out of red. Wanna try the white?”
“You brought it?”
“Girl, I brought everything.”
“Everything?”
“Got the condoms.”
“What about the scarves?”
He hesitated before saying, “No.”
She let out a big breath. “Good.”
“Come here,” he said, pulling her to him and into a heady kiss, slow and sweet and deep. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Is this okay?”
He meant them, what they were doing. “Yeah.”
“You go out with me now?”
“You mean like a date?”
“Yep.”
“What’s this?”
“No, I mean dinner, movie. Maybe get lucky?”
She hesitated. “Don’t expect me to wear a dress.”
“No dresses. Got it.” He pulled her down and rolled them onto their sides, squeezing her close against his body so everything lined up. They fit perfectly under the quilt.
“When?”
“Um, how about tomorrow?”
“Aren’t you sick of me yet?” she asked, teasing, but kind of worried that he was. She rolled to her back, facing the stars rather than him. His hand stayed at her waist, light, but definitely there.
“Hell no.” He sounded a little surprised at the idea. “Kinda gettin’ used to you hangin’ around.” Ivan cleared his throat. “Like I said. You could stay here. For a while, I mean. As long
as you wanted. If you got sick of livin’ next door.”
“What, in your truck?” she joked, deflecting the thrill of hope that the invitation gave her. Yes, yes, yes. Oh please, yes. Let me stay here, and you can keep me safe. Forever.
“Yeah, right.” He chuckled, but there was a tiny bit of insecurity in his voice. Oh crap. He meant it. He really wanted her to stay. “You could stay in the house. Pick a room. Get you a bed and stuff.”
Uma closed her eyes against the hope swelling almost painfully in her chest. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? To let him take care of her.
“What’s the deal with your house?” she deflected.
“No deal. Just fixin’ it up.” Ivan’s hand moved from her belly to her hip, stroking her gently through her clothes.
“Do you have a kitchen there and working bathrooms?”
“Sure. Workin’ on detail stuff now.”
“But you don’t live there.”
“I gotta finish it before movin’ in.”
“You give tours?”
“Sure. Show you around tomorrow before our date.”
“Oh, so you assumed I’d go on that date with you?”
“Nah, but I figured if I upped the ante and asked you to move in with me, you’d have to say yes to the lesser commitment.”
Uma smiled. The hand still stroking her tightened a fraction and skimmed up her waist to her breast. “So, how long have you had this place?” she asked.
“Six years.”
“You’ve been working on it that long?”
He nodded, his nose nuzzling the side of her face and his hand running back down to slide under her shirt. “Yeah.”
“Must be amazing inside.”
“It’s too nice for me.”
Uma didn’t like that. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t need a big house like that, all that fancy scrollwork and trim and stuff. Grew up in a trailer.”
“So, what are your plans for the house?”
“First, I thought maybe I’d—” He cleared his throat and shifted away, taking with him the heat of his hand. “You don’t wanna hear this crap.”
“No, I do.”
“So, when my uncle left me the house, it was like I could change the future. Had plans for…stuff.”
Under Her Skin Page 21
