by Brea Viragh
She walked beside him up the stairs and along the hallway, trying not to feel cherished as she continued to hold his hand. He could tell she was uncomfortable with the idea of real intimacy. Uncomfortable with the idea of being intimate with someone who was so unlike her.
It was the way she moved—uncertain, vulnerable—that made him want to whisk her away and protect her. His fingers were gentle on her and with every step they took toward the bedroom, he could feel her growing annoyance that despite her resistance he’d managed to worm his way into her life.
He didn’t take it personally. In fact, it was a good sign. A very good sign. It meant there were cracks in her armor and she was working on letting him in. Maybe it was his optimism talking. Either way, they moved together into her bedroom and she closed the door behind him with a snick.
“All right. You have me here.” He shuffled until they were facing each other, her back to the door. Both quiet. Breath stilled in his lungs. “What do we do now?”
“Something I’ve never done before.” She stepped forward and pressed herself against him. Harlan wouldn’t have said no, not even if there was a gun to his head.
When her mouth moved up to meet his it was hot, branding, taking him under her spell. He opened to her and let her take control of the kiss. But only for a moment, until he felt her self-confidence blooming.
He’d been there for her for nearly a month. Now it was time to take something back. She’d held the red flag in front of the bull for too long, he thought hazily, his arms pinning hers and leaving her unable to escape. It was a damn good thing she didn’t want to.
He was helplessly trapped in the kiss and the hunger between them, the emotion, the passion, the thrill of finally having her where he wanted.
“I’ve barely been able to contain myself,” He whispered as he ripped his mouth from hers to trace his lips across her forehead, down her cheeks. “Be with me or don’t, but this is your last chance to back out, Olympia. I won’t be able to stop again. Not when I’ve wanted this for so long.”
She lifted her head to meet his eyes. “And what if I told you to get out? To take your hands off of me? What if I say I’ve changed my mind?”
“Please don’t.” He ran his fingers up her spine. Into her hair. It was both heaven and hell to touch her like his, stroking her in such a foreign yet familiar way. There was a wild, reckless freedom about it and he pushed the last of his questions, worries, and doubts from his mind.
“Then I won’t,” she told him with a wicked grin.
Game. On.
It was all he could do to keep his hands off of her hot, smooth skin after that. She bit down near his neck and he nearly went wild with the sensation. Whispering half-crazed demands of each other, they stumbled their way to the bed.
He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think for wanting her. His lips skimmed over hers and he was delighted when she murmured, “Don’t ever stop touching me.”
Her wish was his command and Harlan filled his hands with her curves. His blood rushed and surged beneath his skin, a primal response when her breath caught and she quivered against him. He fell on the bed and pulled her on top of him, sliding his hands along her legs, groaning when he grabbed a handful of her supple rear.
Olympia bit down on his earlobe and nearly halted his progress, his fingers tugging at the material of her shirt. He managed to get it over her head, going to work on her bra and tugging impatiently at the thin fabric.
“I need to see you.”
He fumbled with the rest of her clothes until she was naked in front of him. A vision. There was a faint sheen of light on her skin, illuminating creamy curves, ample breasts, supple thighs.
Her head dropped back when he plunged his finger into her. “Dear God.” She fell forward to bury her face in his neck, shuddering around him. “Please.”
Now she was the one begging him. Lust drove him forward and he fixed his mouth on her throat, driving her wild while she whimpered and shook. She felt impossibly good. Softer than anything he’d ever felt. When he found her mouth again it was by instinct, and he swallowed her sobbing breaths.
His free hand he used to cover her breast, which his mouth, hot and hungry, soon replaced.
“What about you?” She sounded half mad, tugging at him.
“I can’t stop now.” No way he could stop.
“No, I’m saying you have too many clothes on. Take them off.”
His erection strained against his jeans and now that he’d tuned into it, they were painfully tight. “Good idea.”
She pulled his shirt over his head, tossed it aside, then used her mouth on his chest while her hands dived to his zipper.
He relished the sensation of having a sexy woman undressing him, taking control of him. Grabbing her hips, he locked his arms around her waist. A possessive rope of muscle.
Olympia lifted her head when his fingers found her core again. Her eyes were a deep pure green and seemed to burn into his. For an instant, his heart gave a long, hard thud against his ribs and the world around them stilled.
The spell broke when she pushed his jeans down to where his legs met the inside of her thighs. On a growl, Harlan was forced to lift her up and attempt to kick the offending pants to the side. They got stuck on his ankles.
“Here, let me.” Olympia reached down to help and they both lost their balance, toppling over the side of the bed to land on the floor with a loud thud and mutual squeals.
“Shh!” He silenced her laughter with a kiss. “The baby.”
He didn’t want to wait anymore. Couldn’t, not when she was looking at him, her gaze heated and sending streaks of lightning through his system. Pawing through his pants pocket, Harlan found his wallet, found the condom he’d stuck in there that afternoon. A just-in-case thing he’d hoped and prayed he would need later. Gut instinct had told him he would. Luckily, he’d listened.
“Whatever you’ve done to bewitch me, I won’t let you get away with it,” Olympia warned, watching him with dark eyes.
“Nothing much. A little voodoo, some wishing upon a star.” He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, rolling the condom down over his erection. It was all he could do to tear open the packaging and slip the little sheath over his throbbing erection. Hot and hard and ready. Her body, with its lush and glorious curves, had bewitched him the second he saw her. “But I’ve dreamed about you. This moment. I want to touch you until you’re screaming in pleasure. I want those beautiful breasts in my face as I thrust inside of you. I want to feel you gripping me and tightening until you make me come...”
Her nostrils flared. “How can you talk to me like this?”
“Do you like it?”
She growled and fell on him, found his mouth, kissing the thoughts right out of his head. She was ready for him when he parted her thighs with his hands, pushing them apart before driving himself into her.
It was hard and fast and enough to make him lose the rest of his mind. She tightened around him, gripping him, her legs straddling his hips. It was a race of pleasure with the end in sight far too soon. She stole his breath, her nails raking against his shoulders, his fingers digging into hers while he pounded. Still they pushed each other for more.
She nuzzled her cheek against him and a streak of fire shot down to his groin. She was so soft. He wanted the moment to last forever, especially when she linked her fingers with his. Wanting him. Needing him.
Her arms latched around his neck and he twisted to bring her onto her back, the plush carpeting beneath them providing enough softness for comfort.
And there she was. Staring up at him with none of her filters. None of their combined hang-ups or arguments or apprehensions. She groaned as his teeth nibbled at her nipples. He wanted to rub himself all over her, touch and taste and savor her until morning. Her legs were clamped tight around him and he continued to buck up and into her, keeping her unable to move away or do anything except arch against him.
Her eyes were brilliant and blazing with need, her
voice hoarse as she begged him to continue. He shook with the intensity of feeling, her breath hot on his ear when he stroked deeper and deeper. Olympia clutched at him, her body tensed and tight, pulling her legs up higher. He felt the moment she reached orgasm. Everything inside of her exploded.
His own was close behind and the joy of it shot through him as he strangled a yell, arching up and pounding out his own moment of rapture. Finally, he collapsed, and Olympia kissed him, her hands stroking along the damp planes of his back, still quivering with little sparks of pleasure.
“Don’t ever,” he managed through gasps, “let a man tell you we don’t get aftershocks. We do.”
Chapter 7
Sometime later, when her chest finally stopped heaving and she could breathe without gasping like a fish on land, she propped herself up to look at him. “Where do you find the energy?”
“I’ll tell you once I make sure I’m still alive. I’m searching for a pulse. Can’t find it.”
She laughed and pinched him. “Has anyone ever told you you’re incorrigible?”
“Stop talking dirty to me. Those big words...they get me every time. I’m not ready for round two yet.” He drew in a shaky inhale. “I mean, yeah, round two is coming, but I need more than five minutes of turnaround time. I’m still enjoying our last bout.”
It was the strangest sensation, she thought, sprawled on top of him. To have a man with a happy and healthy appreciation for a woman with a sexual appetite. An appetite she’d suppressed for a long time because she thought it was too much. She’d certainly suppressed that part of herself with Dan, because he’d been too stressed with work, too preoccupied with his anxieties to want to make love longer or more often than simple perfunctory physical need. When she dared to ask for more, he called her selfish, unwilling to see things from his perspective. It should have been a warning sign.
No, there was no room for those thoughts anymore. Not here, not now. Not with Harlan.
His eyes were closed but he was smiling. “You wrung me out, woman. Do I look like wet laundry? I feel like it.”
“I didn’t think we would end up here,” she murmured.
He rolled onto his side, trailing a finger down her clavicle between her breasts. “Here...on your bedroom floor? Where exactly did you think we’d end up, the kitchen counter? Although that—”
She punched him playfully. “I let you seduce me. When you kissed me, I think you disconnected my body from my brain and I allowed my vagina to do all the thinking.”
“There is nothing wrong with letting your vagina do the thinking. Especially if it means I get to lavish more attention on these truly wonderful breasts of yours. They’re fabulous.”
“Oh, you like them, do you?” she asked against his lips, unable to stop kissing him.
“I like everything about you.” His answer was another touch, his hand sliding down to her hip this time. “It would be nice if we could stay here for a day or so. Forget about everything, focus on each other.”
She chuckled. “Things like that only happen in movies. It isn’t real life.”
“It could be if we let it.” Her skepticism must have gotten across to him even in the dark because he chuckled too.
“You know, no one has ever brought me to orgasm from sex before.”
His magic fingers stilled against her and she looked at him, wondering why he’d stopped. “What?”
“You must be really good,” she continued, suddenly self-conscious at having given voice to that revelation.
“Your husband, he never...well...he never made sure you got yours from sex?” Harlan’s eyebrow cocked halfway to his hairline in disbelief.
She shook her head and reluctantly slid off, moving to the bed. “No. He tried ahead of time, if you get my meaning, but most days he was simply too busy. Most months, rather, because once a month became our norm before he died. Most of the time I got myself off when he wasn’t around.” And where had she found the courage to reveal that to Harlan?
He rose from the floor and joined her on the bed, cradling her in his arms. “You don’t know how sorry I am to hear that. I hope you’ll let me make it up to you.”
She blinked. “It isn’t your job to make it up to me.”
Whatever else he wanted to say on the matter, he zipped his lips and kept it to himself, shifting the subject seamlessly. They talked to each other for hours until Harlan had recovered the strength to make it up to her. Which he did twice more before five o’clock in the morning. Then Olympia used whatever brain cells hadn’t been burned away to ask him to leave. It was better to have him gone than risk Renee waking up and finding him there.
But the bed felt empty without him. Big and empty and cold. Her body was used and sore in the best ways, and if she didn’t focus on the ache between her legs, she might have wondered if it really happened. Had she really let herself go and spent the night with Harlan Anderson? Harlan, her ward’s manny, the one who made inappropriate jokes and could never be quiet for more than a minute. Harlan, who thought he knew best and didn’t hesitate to let her know when she was being a pill. Who took her shit and dished it back in the nicest of ways.
Yes, yes, she had. It was her first intimate encounter with a man since her husband had died.
And she didn’t regret it for a moment.
She tried not to think about the way her legs still felt boneless or the way she remembered the taste and feel and scent of him. How all three had been absorbed into her subconscious and she could recall them at will. He’d managed to melt away the last of her reservations, all of her worries and concerns and stresses about how a smart woman would conduct her relationships—because smart women did not get involved with the manny hired to care for their children. They certainly didn’t throw themselves at a man who depended on them for a paycheck. A man who wasn’t their significant other.
She must have drifted off at some point. In her dream, she didn’t have to go to work. Her time was occupied with caring for Renee and creating a proper home. And the scary thing was? It frightened her. She’d spent a large portion of her life thrown into her job, and it had gotten to the point where she felt more comfortable busting her ass for someone else’s dime than she had being alone with herself. There was an aura of escape to the dream, but not in the way she expected. There was no comfort in it. She knew she was dreaming, and tried to get out of it by doing what she normally did at work. Methodically checking off one item at a time from her list, turning what should have been happy and fulfilling housekeeping chores and child-rearing duties into items on a pre-arranged agenda. But that only took her deeper into the dream instead of the opposite.
She woke up on a ragged inhale, wondering just what the hell her mind was trying to tell her. And came face to face with a drowsy Renee.
“Sweet pea,” she said, trying desperately to get her lungs to resume normal functions without coming off sounding like a crazy person. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t sleep.”
There was the honeyed voice, the whispered syllables with a hint of an accent.
“Do you want to climb in here with me?” The offer was automatic.
Oddly, her heart quieted when Renee nodded, lifting her arms for assistance in getting into the large bed. Olympia made a nest of covers around them, bunching them on either side until it brought a smile from the child.
“Bad dream?”
Renee nodded again. “I didn’t want to be alone.”
Olympia was astounded when the little girl snuggled against her. She felt strong, and strangely at peace. It had been a long time since she’d felt so at ease.
So needed.
She didn’t want to move a muscle, didn’t want to disturb the tentative silence and peace. This was the first time Renee had actively reached out to her for comfort. If she thought too long about it, she’d wonder at the timing, at the message her dream was trying to tell her coupled with this new milestone.
Renee dragged Olympia’s hand to her belly. �
��When I had a bad dream, my mommy used to rub my tummy to make me feel better.”
“Then I’ll rub your tummy. It’s okay. It was only a dream. It’s gone now. It can’t reach you.”
The baby nodded again and Olympia made small clockwise circles gently on the child’s stomach.
“I don’t feel well,” Renee admitted.
“What’s the matter?”
“My throat hurts.” Renee coughed and snuggled closer.
“Is that what woke you up?”
“Mm-hm.”
It didn’t take Olympia long to realize why Renee wasn’t feeling well. The thermometer she pressed to the child’s forehead revealed a fever of one hundred and one, and the coughs soon turned into a hack deep in the little chest. Thank God she’d had the foresight to stock up on children’s aspirin and other such necessities. Her first real test at surrogate parenting was about to begin.
But instead of striking fear into her heart, it galvanized her. Olympia was all Renee had to count on now, and she wouldn’t let the child down. No matter what.
“I DON’T THINK I’LL need you today,” she told Harlan over the phone a few hours later. She jiggled a fussy Renee on her hip, her other hand holding the phone with Harlan on the other end, and she tried not to let the goose bumps of memory distract her.
“I know it’s my day off, but I can come if you need to get things done,” he offered. “I know I took you away from your work last night.”
His voice deepened on the last two words and she fought against another shiver. “Yes, you did,” she purred. “But it’s Sunday and it’s the only day off you get. Renee isn’t feeling well, so I’m just going to take the time to focus on her instead of what I need to be doing for work.”
“Renee is sick? Why didn’t you say so?” he said urgently. “Does she have a fever? Is she vomiting? Can she tell you where it hurts? Do you think you should call an ambulance?”
Olympia could hear the panic rising in his voice and hurried to reassure him Renee was fine. The children’s aspirin along with some cough syrup and more sleep had done wonders for the little girl, although she was still cranky and restless. Unless her fever spiked again, Olympia thought she would get over it without a visit to the emergency room.
