Love Will Keep Us Together

by Kathryn Shay

  Elise. He’d been madly in love with her when they married—a big wedding at his grandparents’ home with all the right people attending. He would have eloped if she’d have agreed, but she wanted the fussed-up event. He was trying to remember how long they’d had before the charm of partying and being in the hip places wore off. It exhausted him, and he needed something meaningful to do. That’s when he started teaching.

  The buzzer went off for the brie, so he took out the plate, then the croissant, assembled everything, and brought it to the living room. He thought about making a fire, but he didn’t have the energy. Besides, fire elicited reflection, and he didn’t need any inducement to think about Elise or Mariella.

  So, he did something he rarely did. He turned on the television that came with the house rental and flicked through the channel guide. He stopped on A Princess for Him. Doux Jésus! Somebody up there had it in for him. He turned up the sound and watched the show as he dipped the bread into cheese and then crunched a tart apple sliver in his mouth. Princess Lizette, a long-haired blonde, stood staring out the window of the palace and singing a sweet song.

  Could Mariella sing? Had she lived in a castle? Jordan thought she’d referred to her home as a palace. Well, he’d see soon enough. Tomorrow, Yvette would video call with him and he’d get a glimpse of where she was staying.

  The princess was joined by her mother. “What is it, darling?”

  “I want to go out into the world, Mother. I’m sick of being cooped up in this castle. I want to meet people, maybe a man, some day.”

  “You’re only twenty-one. But perhaps we could arrange for some suitors to come calling.”

  “You’re missing the point.”

  And so it went. Eventually, the princess got her way and was allowed to live in the city for six months, incognito, but with discreet protection. She’d attend the local university and take some liberal arts classes.

  Not long after, a scene showed her in an apartment. There was a knock on the door. “Hello, there. I’m your next-door neighbor. I came to welcome you.”

  Because her parents had checked out all the tenants, the guard stationed down the hall nodded his okay. Lizette said, “Hello. Would you like to come in?”

  He entered. “I’m Gabriel Charpentier.”

  “Mon Dieu.”

  Now he was glued to the screen which played out the romance of the Frenchman and the princess.

  He watched the whole damn thing. It turned out her parents had chosen Gabriel to live next to her. He was a student at the same college and had been checked out to have stellar credentials to date her.

  At the end, Jordan turned off the set and put his head in his hands. How low he’d sunk. It was later in the evening, now. He pulled himself out of his funk and went back to his book, where he wrote for another three hours. After which, he went to bed.

  He finally fell asleep thinking of Mariella, playing out in his mind a few fantasies of what it would be like making love with her. He awoke in three hours with a painful erection. This was not his night. Naked, he got out of bed, threw pajama bottoms on out of habit and went to the den. He sat there, staring at his computer, plagued by images of the woman he wanted more than he could ever remember wanting anyone.

  * * *

  Mari couldn’t sleep, probably because her daughter was absent from the house. The place seemed empty. Brie had invited her to stay over at their house, but Mari said no. She’d sleep in her own bed like a grownup.

  Sliding out of it, she stood by the glass doors in her room that led out to a patio. Sad, Mari watched the snow fall in light flakes, accumulating on the dry ground. She wanted to be with Jordan. She’d actually taken out the calendar and counted the days until the last day of class in April. Fifty-six days! She had to wait fifty-six days!

  Well, you don’t have to wait. You could have him now.

  But that wasn’t right. God only knew the repercussions of sleeping with her teacher. If it ever came out, what a scandal it would cause. Besides, their daughters wouldn’t understand any negative publicity or gossip, which was more important.

  That doesn’t help you tonight, principessa. Or the next six nights when you’re alone.

  The hell with this.

  Without censoring her actions, she dressed in brown woolen slacks and a heavy beige fisherman-knit sweater, then dug out her boots. Once finished, she grabbed her coat, gloves and hat from the closet and headed to the garage. She hit the open button and was circling the car when she saw a figure standing about ten feet down the driveway. Snow dotted his gorgeous hair and his face was wet. He had his hands in the pockets of a long, navy coat. Jordan.

  He started toward her and she came out of the garage. They simply stared at each other. He confessed, “I cheated. I can’t stay away.”

  “I cheated, too. I was coming out to drive over to your place.”

  “Ah, mon amour.” He closed the distance between them and swooped her up, brought her to his body, and pressed his cold mouth on hers. She responded. He was the one to draw away. “Let’s go inside. You’ll freeze out here.”

  Chapter 7

  When he slid his arm around her, Jordan blocked out all the recriminations and concentrated on the feel of Mariella. But she drew back. “I just thought of something. Before you come into the house, will you move your car into the garage? If Brie sees it in the morning, she’ll come right over.” On tiptoes, she whispered in his ear, “I don’t want to be interrupted.”

  “I’m up for that.”

  She grinned. “Good to hear.”

  He patted her rear as she went into the house.

  Making quick work of the car, he went inside. He heard her singing in the bedroom. So, she could sing—very well. He didn’t bother to hang up his coat. Instead, he tossed it over a chair, but he took the time to pull off his boots. He found her in a room on the first floor, standing in the moonlight. Its beams silhouetted her.

  His breath hitched. She was his, all his.

  She turned and crossed to him, fully clothed. “I waited for you.”

  “I’ve dreamed of undressing you.”

  “As I have. Of you.”

  Cupping her cheeks, he kissed her forehead, her nose, seared her with a firm press of his lips on her mouth, then let his hands fall to the hem of the sweater. He tugged it and the turtleneck beneath over her head. “Mon Dieu. Do you always...”

  “No, silly. Mostly at home. I couldn’t see bothering with underwear tonight.”

  “Smart girl.”

  Her hands went to his green sweater, wool and baby-soft cashmere. She rubbed her cheek against his chest, as if she could feel the heat of his skin even through the material. Then she pulled the garment off. A green T-shirt still covered his torso. After removing that, she stepped back. “You are beautiful.”

  “Je te remercie.”

  Her fingers grasped onto his jeans. Unsnapped them. Pushed them down. “Hmm, you’re commando too.”

  “Same reason as you.” Bending, he slid down her jersey pants, and when he stood, their bodies met, for the very first time, naked. Jordan closed his eyes. Let the sensation of silky skin and curves seep into him. Let the fresh scent of her fill his head. She pressed herself against him, and he moaned.

  “Jordan, how can this feel so good?”

  “Because it was meant to be, chérie.”

  “Not for fifty-six days.”

  A chuckle rumbled through his chest. “You counted them.”

  “At about midni...ahhhh...”

  His hand at her groin, he cupped her firmly. Then moved his leg between hers. For a minute, she rode it, but stepped back. “The bed, il mio amore. I don’t want this standing up.”

  They lay back on the dark brown sheets and nestled their heads on cushiony down pillows. He tucked some hair behind her ears. Then he gathered up a hefty section, trailing it over her shoulder and sweeping it across first one of her nipples, then the other. Her legs moved restlessly, and she shivered, but she let the naug
hty sensation go on. For a while. “If you don’t put your mouth there, I’m going to scream.”

  Before he obeyed, he whispered against her skin, “Oh, you’re going to scream, baby. Plenty.”

  Mariella tried to talk but he suckled her, and she could feel the tug all the way to her core. Steeped in the pulling motion, it was a long time before she drew his head up, moved back and slid her hand across his torso. She teased his nipples, too, flicking them with a fingernail, then going lower...grasping onto his penis.

  “Mon Dieu. C’est le paradis.”

  She murmured, “It feels marvelous to me too, Jor-dán.”

  Like a courtesan might, she guessed, she kneaded his stiff flesh, massaging him with strong fingers, running one over the tip.

  This time, Jordan protested. “No, more, love. I will not last.”

  In his ear, she whispered, “Well, we don’t want that.”

  Turning to her side, she opened her legs. They scissored his. He went to lower his hand to her most sensitive spot. “No, Jordan.” In his ear, “I’m very, very wet.”

  Their bodies took over. Mari lost all sense of reality as he plunged into her. Thrust. Thrust again. She started to spiral when his spasms began, and she remembered the exhilarating feel of being about to peak. They came at the exact same moment in a cataclysmic union.

  Afterward, he collapsed against her. She lay very still for moments, then he started to pull out.

  “No,” she said sexily. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Did I hurt you?”

  She laughed in his ear. “Nope, I’m just not done.”

  * * *

  Jordan had fallen asleep, but he awoke on his stomach to the feel of Mariella straddling the backs of his legs. He started to turn over, and she said, “Shh. Don’t move. Relax.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He couldn’t see her, but she must be close enough to his feet because her hands were warm and slippery on them from heated oil, he guessed, that smelled like lavender. She massaged the soles of his feet. Up his calves. She stroked firmly—he moaned loudly--then rubbed lightly with her fingertips.

  He groaned out, “Ah...Doux Jésus.”

  She stopped, repositioned herself forward and kneaded his thighs in the same manner. For a bit, he couldn’t speak for the pleasure of it. Then, “You have no idea how that feels.”

  “Hmm.”

  Interesting. Someone had done this to her. Well, she had been married. Her hands caressed his butt. She’d lathered on more oil and she applied more pressure. She molded his cheeks. At his lower back, she pressed harder, working out long-knotted muscles. He buried his face in the pillow and moaned. After what seemed like a heavenly eternity, she slid her hands up and paid special attention to the muscles between his shoulder blades and his neck.

  “Mariella. Mari... chérie.”

  Jordan thought the puddle of sensations couldn’t get any more pleasurable, until she stretched out and leaned forward on him. There, she sensuously slid her body from side to side. At one point, she tightened her thighs against him and lightly grazed his back with her breasts. His skin heated, prickled, raised goose flesh, and not from the oil. All his muscles relaxed except for one. Which was painful now.

  She eased back. “You can go back to sleep, Jordan.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

  He didn’t even consider it. “Move off for a second.”

  When she dismounted him, he turned over. She was a goddess kneeling next to him with long locks streaming down her breasts to her waist and naked skin glowing in the moonlight. “Now straddle me again.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t sass me.”

  When she got in position, he grasped her hips and lifted them up, then he slid her down on his incredibly hard penis, inch by unbelievable inch.

  “Now move.”

  “Whatever you say, Jordan. Whatever you say.”

  * * *

  The bacon sizzled, filling the house with its signature scent and joined by the doughy aroma of croissants heating in the small oven. The eggs were ready to scramble, and the table was set with silverware and juice. He came up behind her and encircled his arms around her.

  “Hmm, you had aftershave in your gym bag.” Which he’d retrieved from his car.

  “I showered and shaved.” He nuzzled her neck. “Don’t want to give you brush burns.”

  “I wouldn’t mind. Pour some coffee from the pot and sit down.”

  As the eggs cooked, she removed the croissants from the oven, added bacon on the two plates and then the eggs. She set one plate down in front of him, kissed his head, then served her own food and dropped down into an adjacent chair. When she got a good look at what he was wearing, she laughed. “Great minds think alike.”

  He wore navy blue work-out pants and a navy long-sleeved shirt. The color of her yoga clothes, which she dressed in after she took her own shower, matched his. He grasped her hand and kissed it. “We do.” He gestured to the bedroom. “Man, we clicked in there, too.”

  “I knew we would. Now eat.”

  When they finished, he pushed away his chair. “I’ll take care of this.”

  She drank coffee and peered over at him as he scraped plates, bent over and stowed the dishes in the dishwasher, giving Mari a view of his terrific butt. He came back to the table, dropped a kiss on her lips, then reseated himself. “So, what made you do it?”

  She didn’t ask what he referred to. “I couldn’t stop myself. I’ve learned a lot of discipline in the last five years, but it fled.”

  “Same for me. I couldn’t keep myself from coming over.”

  The corners of his sculpted mouth turned up. “Where’d you get the book?” She angled her head questioningly. “I found it on the dresser in your room.”

  “Ah.” She lifted her chin. She didn’t feel shy with him. “I bought it at an erotic bookstore.”

  “You went to an erotic bookstore?”

  “I did.”

  “Weren’t you embarrassed?”

  “Why would I be?”

  “Was it seedy?”

  “Hardly. It was high end. Raven knew about it and brought me.” She cocked her head. “But in any case, I wouldn’t have been embarrassed. Aren’t young girls in France taught to appreciate and pursue their sexuality?”

  “They are.”

  “Do I seem shy to you?”

  His laugh came from his belly—deep and sexy. “Never. I read some of it. Increasing Pleasure is an appropriate name for what you did to me.”

  Her brows rose flirtatiously. “Want to pick something out?”

  “I already did. When you’re ready.”

  She gave him a Mona Lisa smile. “How about if we take a walk in the snow first? Digest our breakfast and get invigorated.”

  “I do not need to be any more invigorated than I already am.”

  “I want to hold hands and enjoy a stroll like normal people.”

  “We have to talk to the girls.”

  “We’ll do it when we get back. We’ll tell another lie, that we met at the library.”

  “This whole thing is worth a little deception, honey.” He turned serious. “Truly.”

  “It is.”

  * * *

  They disrobed quickly after a FaceTime session with the children.

  He picked up the book and turned to the section he’d marked. “Climb on the bed, and lay face up, keeping your head on the pillow.”

  She did what he asked.

  Leaving the book open on the bed, he knelt over her and placed his left leg between hers, with his right one on the outside of them. Half kneeling, he whispered, “Crook your right leg.”

  In position now, he nibbled on her. Then, starting at her neck, he laved her precious skin. Eventually, he took tiny love bites, and laved again. After a while—she was beginning to move—his mouth traveled to her breasts, and he took his time there, until she shifted restlessly on the bed.

  “All right, sweetheart.” He entered her with one strong push. He
stayed still, feeling himself pulse at the tight clasp of her muscles. When he could, he moved back and forth, but avoided the spot he knew she wanted him to attend to. Then he pressed his thigh against the inside of her right leg and she gasped.

  “That’s wonderful. But I’m ready.”

  “No way. The title of this page is Delayed Gratification.”

  A moan was her only answer.

  He pressed his thigh farther down into the mattress for different sensations.

  When she started to writhe, he didn’t let up.

  “Fuck the book, Jordan. Do this now or I’ll die.”

  “Ah. You want the petite mort.” Little death in French.

  She could only grunt. So he did what she asked.

  * * *

  On Monday, Jordan headed over to Georgetown for the faculty retreat. Mari offered to make dinner for him at his house, as it was closer to the university. Before she went over, she spent some time with Brie, who had finally convinced Dante to let her pay for four days in the Caribbean during their week off. They’d left for the airport around ten.

  Mari arrived in the afternoon and puttered around Jordan’s house, snooping a bit into his drawers and closets, holding sweaters up to her nose, inhaling the scent of him. She’d also studied his huge library and picked out a few books she’d like to borrow. She half-cooked a special dinner—Mamá’s lasagna—made a salad with vegetables and cheese, and bought a chocolate cake for dinner. Then, she went upstairs to his bedroom, turned on the gas fireplace, took off her clothes, donned his shirt. She climbed into his big bed under a navy striped down comforter with a book she got from his library.

  When he returned at five, she called out to him, and he took the stairs to his bedroom, flung off his clothes, and they’d made long, lusty love. Afterward, they cuddled under the covers and in front of the fire, sated and happy.