Bed of Lies

by Teresa Hill

  "Thank you. And just to be clear, I have to see her tomorrow, to say... you know... It's over. I'm sorry. Do you want to keep the apartment or do you want me to? It didn't seem like the time to have that conversation today."

  "You were living together?"

  "As much as two people can when we were hardly ever in the same city at the same time. And I promised myself just hours ago I wouldn't be here again until I had absolutely ended things with Gwen, and still... Here I am."

  They stared at each other for a long moment. He took a breath, then another, feeling calmer and not so terribly alone, ready to fill his head with nothing but thoughts of her.

  God, that wasn't fair.

  He knew it. He just couldn't make himself say it.

  Help me, Julie. I'm drowning.

  "Yes, here you are," she said, letting her palms come to rest flat against his chest. "And why is that, Zach?"

  "Because this is where I want to be." There was more to it than that, but it was the essential truth. He desperately wanted to be with her.

  Slowly, he reached out and cupped her shoulders, and he felt better just having both his hands on her. She'd be his anchor on another dark, scary night. All he had to do was pretend this was about him wanting her, about sex, and she would take him into her arms, into her bed, just like that. She'd told him so that afternoon when they'd talked in front of her house.

  Her gown had thick, ribbon-like straps, leaving the rest of her arms, shoulders and neck bare. He looked over all the pretty skin, watched the tops of her breasts rise and fall with each breath she took, watched her nipples bead up and press against the fabric of the gown.

  It was so easy with her. So easy to fall into desire and let it sweep him up and away. She'd made all the bad things go away before.

  Now, she stood before him looking like something out of his dreams, so soft, so sexy. Her skin was warm, her eyes kind, happy even. He hadn't seen a lot of Julie truly happy over the years, and it was nice to think she was now, with him.

  With one of his thumbs, he traced the line of her collarbone, then toyed with that little hollow at the base of her neck. She was close enough that her soft breath came out in a hiss and then feathered across his lips. He ached to kiss her, but there was something he had to settle first, something he had to know.

  "That night with me... I keep thinking I was rough with you." People had been rough with her all her life, and he didn't want to be one of those people. He wanted to be kind and generous and take care of her, to make life better for her, not hurt her or take advantage of her. "I hate that, and I really worried that I hurt you. I asked before, and you said I didn't, but... Julie, tell me. Did I?"

  "Zach, it was nothing—"

  "Don't say that. I know you like to think of yourself as the toughest girl in the world, but not with me. And dammit, it matters when someone hurts you."

  She sighed. "Okay. If you insist. Do you want a list?"

  List? Fuck, what had he done to her that night?

  Feeling absolutely grim, he nodded.

  "Rug burn on my back, something I hadn't had since I was a teenager, but I have trouble considering that a real injury."

  "Okay." If he ever had her on the floor again, he'd make sure she was on top. "What else?"

  "Some tiny—truly tiny—bruises on my hips from your fingertips holding onto me so tightly. Honestly, when I saw them, I thought they were kind of sexy." She grinned shyly at him. "A sex injury. It made me sound like such a bad girl, and every woman wants to sound bad sometimes."

  Okay, that didn't sound so terrible. Not that he thought he'd ever left bruises on a woman before. Still, she thought it was kind of sexy...

  He moved closer until their bodies were barely touching, let his hands drift down her arms and around to cup her bottom, sleek and softly rounded, fitting in his hands just as he remembered from that night. He couldn't seem to get close enough to her.

  She sighed with pleasure and nestled her body against his, cradling his growing erection against her belly.

  "That's it?" he asked. "That's all I did?"

  She cupped his jaw with her hands, rubbing her thumbs across the stubble on his face. "This was the roughest part of you that night, Zach. You needed a shave. Although I didn't really notice at the time. I was too busy thinking about the contrast between your mouth, how soft it was, and the roughness on your jaw. I thought that was sexy, too."

  Then he remembered devouring her, his mouth all over her. He traced her soft lips with his thumb, then the skin around her lips. "Here? I scraped your soft skin here?"

  She nodded, her lips parted, her breath warm against his thumb. She turned her head just enough to press a little kiss against it, and he thought about her taking his thumb into her mouth, which made him think about other parts of him in her mouth.

  He leaned in to show her that he was sorry, conscious of the fact that it was late and he needed to shave now, too. So he needed to be extra gentle with her, and he would be this time. He licked his way across her soft, parted lips with his tongue, barely letting himself inside her mouth, and then went looking for that tender skin he'd abraded before, licking that, too. He wanted to soothe, to apologize with his touch.

  She whimpered, her breathing becoming more agitated, her mouth begging to be kissed for real, but he resisted. He was a man on a mission.

  He remembered nuzzling her neck that night, and he put his other hand there, tracing the delicate line. "Here? Did I scruff you up here, too?"

  She trembled beneath his hands. "Not especially. I don't remember noticing that."

  Easing his upper body away from hers, he took one of her breasts in his hand, his thumb rolling slowly around her distended nipple through her pretty gown. He'd sucked hard there. He knew he had.

  "Here?" he asked.

  She closed her eyes, nodded, breathed deeply, pushed the warm weight of her breast more fully into his hand. He forgot all about why he'd come here, why he shouldn't be here. He just thought about how perfect her pretty breasts were, her whole body.

  "Did I leave marks on you here?" he asked, loving the feel of her breast in his hand.

  "A little redness. Around—"

  "Your nipple?"

  She nodded.

  Slipping two fingers beneath the strap of her gown, he eased it down on one side until he'd uncovered just one breast, one berry-colored nipple jutting out. He had thought he might see a tiny rim of reddish skin around it. He pulled the gown back into place, covering her up.

  She put her hand on his head, urging him on breathlessly. "Zach, please."

  He went back to the neckline of the gown with his fingertips, tracing the line of her skin just above the material, up and over the curve of one breast, into that deep hollow between them, up and over the other. Then he did the same thing with his lips, his tongue, as softly as he possibly could, careful not to scrape her skin.

  She was trembling all over by the time he was done, and he absolutely loved making her tremble.

  He leaned down and nuzzled her nipple through her dress with his nose and finally with his mouth. She groaned aloud, a sinking, begging sound. The silk was so thin, almost like nothing, and yet it was there. He took long strokes with his tongue and had to catch her hard against him as she started swaying on her feet, as if it took too much thought or effort to stand.

  Then he remembered the delicate skin around her nipple he'd abraded and went to find that with his tongue, around and around that tiny nub, his tongue rasping around its side as he went.

  "God, that's sweet," he said, as he moved from one breast to the other. "So sweet."

  When he finally lifted his head, he had her lower body pressed hard against his to hold her up, and because it felt so good.

  The silk was wet and nearly transparent, clinging to her breasts when he was done. He'd never taken such pleasure in an apology.

  "Is that it?" he asked. "Did I hurt you anywhere else?"

  Her eyes came open, glanced down, then
back up again. She blushed prettily. He didn't understand at first, and then remembered absolutely eating her up. Greedily, even roughly, on such delicate skin.

  "Oh, baby. Here?" His hand slid down the silk, over her belly, softly cupping her mound through the dress. He'd just been so desperate to have her, had rushed her so much that first time, and... damn. It seemed like he could have really hurt her. "Does it still hurt?"

  "No. It didn't... it was more... an awareness.... Like I could still feel...

  "Me," he guessed. "My mouth? There?"

  Her lashes fluttered down as more soft color came into her cheeks.

  And wasn't that ridiculously hot, thinking about her walking around all day, with every move she made making her remember him with his head buried between her legs.

  She was hot now, he realized, rubbing delicately at that heat with his fingers through the silk gown.

  "Do you want me to show you how sorry I am about this?" he asked.

  She grinned. "If you do, I don't think I'll be able to stand up on my own."

  He took her by the arms and turned her around until her back was against the wall, intending to help hold her there with his own body. With the back of one hand, he skimmed down her body, sank to his knees in front of her and nuzzled her mound with his nose.

  Her hands clutched at his hair, pulling him to her, clearly wanting more. He finally gave her his mouth through the thin barrier of the silk, thinking he couldn't hurt her this way. She moaned and arched her body toward him as he teased her with his mouth, his breath and finally his tongue. The wet silk was almost like a second skin, and he pressed into her with his tongue, trying to find that nub of desire.

  Wanting more, needing it, his hands skimmed down her pretty thighs, her calves, to find the bottom of the gown and then tunnel up under it. He raised it just far enough to let him drape one of her thighs over his shoulder, opening her up to him, and then he tried to keep the fabric of the gown between his face and her, everywhere except his mouth and his tongue.

  Her breath hissed as she sucked in air, moaning, goose bumps rising on her skin. The hand she had in his hair held on tightly to him and her hips rocked into the pleasure of his mouth. He licked, toyed with her with his tongue. He would have kept going until she came for him, but she sagged, boneless, against the wall, her whole body going weak.

  "I can't," she cried. "I can't hold myself up. Not while you do that."

  He lowered her foot to the floor and then stood up, holding her up himself and kissing her softly. "Tell me what you want, Julie. Your bed? The table? The couch?"

  "I don't care. Pick one."

  He scooped her up and went to the dining table. It was closest and looked like the right height. He sat her down on the edge of it. She undid the top two buttons on his shirt, and then he pulled it over his head and threw it down. She unbuttoned his jeans and then worked the zipper down carefully over his cock. He shucked jeans and briefs in one motion.

  "I still don't have a damned condom."

  "I don't care," she said, stroking him with her warm, delicate hands, then gripping more firmly, pumping in earnest. He wouldn't be able to stand much of that at the moment.

  He slid the straps of her pretty gown down her shoulders, and the gown down enough to bare her breasts, loving that deep, berry color of her nipples. They matched her lips, he realized, something he hadn't seen in the dim light of his hotel room that night.

  Spreading her thighs wide, he stepped between them, put his arms around her and eased her back to lie flat against the table. "Do you mind? I want to watch you."

  She smiled up at him, her dark hair spread out around her, breasts bare, the gown pooled at her waist. He took her legs in his hands and eased them around his waist, then slipped his hands beneath her hips and pulled her to him. Leaning into her, he slid his cock against her slick folds, tormenting them both. She arched her body against his, trying to get closer, but in this position he had all the power and he made her wait as long as he could stand it.

  Sanity was inside her, he decided. Sanity and the best kind of insanity.

  He ached for her, throbbed for her, felt like he owed her so much and wanted to make this so good for her.

  She wriggled her hips against him, trying to get him inside her, clutching at him with her hands. Her breath was fast and shallow, and he watched her breasts rise and fall with each one she took. She was so wild and beautiful like this, and it turned him on so much to watch her.

  His body pulsed with need. It was the only thing he thought about, the only thing he knew. He needed her. With his hands on her hips, he lifted her lower body up off the table and to him, pausing at the entrance to her body, feeling the heat of her and how wet she was, remembering the way it had been that first time, and the second, and the third.

  Couldn't have been as mind-blowing as he remembered, he'd been telling himself, and he was so wrong.

  He eased into her just a bit, then had to stop and breathe, get himself under control. A pulse beat hard in his whole body, but hardest in his cock. Her body clamped down around his, just as he remembered, and then he couldn't wait anymore. He pulled her to him, even as he surged forward until he was buried inside her to the hilt.

  Her mouth fell open, and she moaned. He rocked against her, with her. She put her hands on top of his, holding on to him as he held onto her. Still needing more, he lowered her hips to the table top, took her legs and held them up against his chest, draped them over his shoulders.

  "Ahh, yes," he whispered.

  Impossible as it seemed, that was even better. He could get even deeper inside her. He palmed her hips one more time, loving the way those pretty curves fit in his hands, afraid he was being rough with her one more time. But he would swear she was with him every step of the way, that she wanted him just like this.

  Her body clamped down around his even tighter, pulsing hard and deep as she came in long, excruciating waves. He held himself still and took it as long as he could, and then let himself go, too, gloriously mindless with pleasure and need.

  His mind went blank completely, all his thoughts evaporating as sensation after sensation rolled through his body, seeming to reach down into him, to every single cell. It was like being remade, reborn into a different life. One where he got to hang onto her, and everything seemed better.

  He stayed there inside her until all the little aftershocks in his body and hers were done. Then he carefully pulled out of her, lowered her body back onto the table and scooped her up and carried her to bed.

  * * *

  Julie curled up against his side in her bed, her body warm and languid with satisfaction, so happy to be with him again. He was lazily stroking her hair, her arm, sometimes her hip, not seeming to want to sleep anymore than she did.

  "Can you stay until morning?" she finally let herself ask.

  "Depends on whether I try to sneak back in before my parents wake up." He laughed softly. "Would it make you uncomfortable, if they knew I'd spent the night with you? Would you rather try to keep this private for a while?"

  "I had a hard enough time facing your mother just knowing what we'd already done. But I don't want you to leave yet, either."

  "They're early risers, both of them. If I'm out of here by five, I might be able to sneak in before either one wakes up."

  "I know it seems silly, at our ages—"

  "No, it's fine. You have Peter and child protective services to think about, too. I'll go early."

  She waited, content in the silence, her hand pressed flat against his chest, enjoying the warmth of his body, all that bare skin pressed against hers, the way he smelled, the gentleness now of his touch, the sound of his voice.

  Her whole life, in fact, at this moment, seemed blissful. Her body felt like it was glowing with happiness and contentment, with satisfaction so complete it left room for nothing but him and her in that bed.

  Idly, she played with the little spray of hair on his chest, traced a muscle here and there, unable to s
top touching him.

  He was the most amazing lover she'd ever had. Skill, she would have expected, along with patience, generosity and a certain level of polish. But not the raw passion and need, that hint of wildness and yet vulnerability, too.

  It was a heady combination, she'd found, one she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to resist. She'd always had such a soft spot for Zach the boy, the high school kid, the college student. She'd never, ever expected to have Zach the man, no matter how briefly.

  And it would be brief. She was sure of that.

  How she'd forget and put this all behind her when it was over, she had no idea.

  She shivered at the thought, and he must have thought she was cold with nothing but him and the sheet to keep her warm. He eased away from her just long enough to find the quilt bunched up at the foot of the bed and pull it over the two of them.

  "Better?" he asked, pulling her back into his arms.

  "Mmm. I wasn't cold. Not really. I was just thinking..."

  "About?"

  "That... you're not what I expected."

  He went still. "In what way?"

  She took a breath and forced out the words. "As a lover. I mean... is it always like this with you?"

  He cupped her head in his hand. "Like... what?"

  She groaned. She'd started this. Now she'd have to finish this. "This... good?"

  He slid onto his side and looked at her, a bit hesitant. "This is just good?"

  She laughed. "No, that's... a poor choice of words. This is... so good. It's amazing—"

  "Yeah. For me, too." He laughed. "If you'd told me this was just plain good for you, I'd have thought—what?—that I must have been doing it wrong all these years—"

  "No, you're not doing anything wrong. Not at all."

  It was right.

  So right.

  "Julie, it's never been like this for me, ever."

  "Me neither," she admitted, surprised and very pleased.

  He shot her a look that left her whole body remembering the way he'd watched her lying back on the table, shivering with pleasure, whimpering, crying his name. He'd taken her hips in his hands and pulled her up and off the table and to him, holding her there as he surged inside her, taking what he wanted and giving so much in return.