After The Storm (Men Made in America-- Mississippi)

by Flanders, Rebecca

  "Wouldn't hurt you a bit," Kevin decided, and poured the last of the wine into her glass.

  Kate, listening to the rustle of the breeze in the grass and the gentle lap of waves against the shore, was disinclined to argue with him. Kevin sat beside her, close but not touching, one long leg stretched beside hers, the othar drawn up as a casual prop for his forearm. Together they sipped wine and watched the sunset change from magenta to golden violet to dusky blue.

  "It will be dark soon," Kate said reluctantly, not moving. "We should go in while we can still see the way back to the house."

  "Plenty of time," Kevin replied. "It's nice out here."

  "Let's take a walk," Kate decided suddenly, gathering her energies for the undertaking. "If I don't move soon, I'm going to fall asleep right here."

  "And what a tragedy that would be." Kevin's tone was lazily sardonic, and he groaned as she got to her feet and extended her hand to him.

  "Especially," she retorted, "since you would leave me here all night on the wet ground and I'd probably catch pneumonia."

  His hand closed warmly over hers, and he made her apply some strength to pulling him up. But once beside her, he slipped his arm easily around her waist, and she found herself doing the same, looping her thumb into the tab of his waistband where the elastic gave way to a stylish cotton belt. They walked companionably together in the soft grass at the edge of the shore, her head against his shoulder, his arm strong and warm around her waist. She noticed with dim surprise what an easy, natural rhythm they had together, for walking like this with most men was uncomfortable and awkward. But with Kevin it felt natural.

  "Do you ever think how strange it is," she mused after a time, "that the two of us have known each other so long?"

  "All the time," he admitted without hesitation. "With the kind of life I lead, knowing somebody who's been around for longer than a year is not something you take lightly. Your longevity is one of the two things I like best about you."

  "I'm not exactly sure that was a compliment," she murmured, and glanced up at him. "What's the other?"

  His eyes twinkled, and he brushed his chin lightly against the top of her tousled, towel-dried hair. It was a spontaneous gesture of simple affection, but it caused a small flush of pleasure to go through Kate from her head to her toes. "That you've never lost your cute little Southern drawl," he responded immediately, and she made a face at him.

  "Which of course," she retorted, "you lost along with everything else the minute you left Mississippi."

  He stopped and looked at her. His expression was very serious, and his eyes reflected the colors of the sunset. He said softly, "Not everything."

  He looked at her, his face bent close to hers and her face lifted to him, and Kate could feel the tingling of her pulse, the catch of breath in her throat as she knew he was going to kiss her. And to be kissed, to kiss him, was what she wanted more than anything in the world right then. So much, Kevin, she thought. So much we have to share, so much yet to discover.

  His eyes went over her face rapidly, lightly and caressingly, and she could feel their movement like a touch. Yet there was question in Kevin's face, and hesitation, and after a moment his lashes obscured his expression, and he looked away. It had all been so quick, so uncertain, that Kate could almost believe she had imagined it as they started walking again.

  But she hadn't imagined it. There was a new hardness to Kevin's muscles beneath her hand, and a new and unconsciously sensual languor to his touch upon her waist. The grass beneath her feet was losing the heat of the sun, and the shadows were lengthening in gold and green patches. Only a shimmering spot of silver remained reflective on the lake's surface, in a distant comer. And between Kevin and Kate a new awareness tingled, something hesitant and exciting, strange and uncertain. Something was changing between them, and each of them welcomed it; each of them was afraid of it. Neither was willing to take that first step to acknowledge it.

  After a while, Kevin said casually, "My last marriage broke up because of you; did you know that?"

  She glanced at him, startled. "What?"

  He looked sheepish and shook his head a little. "Well, not because of you exactly. I shouldn't have said that. But she was jealous—crazy jealous, if you know what I mean—and I guess I talked about you too often or made too many comparisons. Anyway, our last argument was about you." His eyes glinted with easy mischief as he slanted a glance toward her. "How does it feel to be the evil other woman?"

  Kate did not think it was in the least funny. Her head was spinning with a thousand confused emotions. Kevin had talked about her, had made comparisons; even then she had never been far from his mind. What was she supposed to think? How was she supposed to feel? She began uncertainly. "Kevin, I—"

  He laughed and squeezed her waist, his fingers spreading down to caress the side of her hip in easy affection. "Don't look so stricken, Katie. You know how it was with me and marriage. Easy come, easy go." And then his tone grew thoughtful as he added, "My trouble was, I never loved any of them. Oh, I was in love, if you know the difference, but it was never anything permanent. I guess I always knew that, and almost from the wedding day I was looking for ways to get out. But I was never unfaithful while I was married." His voice was serious, and he looked at her as though it were important that she know that. "Not once."

  Kate shook her head slowly, uncertain what to say. "Kevin, don't you think that's rather sad? I mean, broken promises, failed commitments..."

  "I think it's very sad," he emphasized without hesitance. "But," he added reflectively, "I was in my twenties, a kid, really. I made a lot more mistakes than just getting married. I like to think I've grown up—at least in some ways—since then."

  Yes, he had grown up. In some ways, at some time when Kate wasn't watching, he had changed. And so had she. At least she had changed enough to see him differently.

  They walked in silence for a while, watching the sun evaporate into mystical blue twilight, inhaling the fresh woodsy scent of the approaching evening. Kevin said softly, looking out over the lake, "God, it's beautiful here. I don't know why I ever left."

  "To become rich and famous, of course."

  "Well," he agreed modestly, "there's that." Then, without any warning at all, without the slightest change of tone or expression to indicate the mischief that was coming, he invited lazily, "So tell me about these fantasies of yours, Katie dear."

  She looked at him sharply, accusingly. "You promised!"

  His eyes were dancing. "I'm a consummate liar, darlin'; you know that. It's the nature of the business."

  With a growl of mock rage, she broke away from him, running toward the shelter of a weeping willow tree. That proved to be a mistake, for she became entangled in the long, leafy fronds, and in three strides he was upon her, swinging her around with one arm around her waist. For a half-moment they stood there, her hands braced against his shoulders and his arm holding her tightly around the waist, laughing into one another's eyes. And then, as the most natural thing in the world, Kate's arms lifted and looped around his neck. Their lips met.

  It was sweet, so sweet. Unlike the desperate, fear-based passion that had consumed them last night, they explored each other now with leisure and wonder and infinite delight. He tasted of sunshine and wine; he filled her with warmth and sensual pleasure. She took a deep, luxurious breath, filling herself with the wonder of him, the scent of him, the strength of him. She parted her lips for him, inviting him inside.

  Her heart beat heavily, strongly, as Kevin's tongue explored the shape and texture of the velvety flesh of her inner lips, played over her teeth, mated briefly with the tip of her own. Light, teasing, arousing, they explored each other with joy and welcome, discovering and savoring. Kate's hands cupped his head, her fingers buried in the thick luxury of his hair. Her tongue traced the shape of his lips, as his did hers, darting playfully inside and retreating with butterfly grace to taste the flesh around his mouth again. Ah, Kevin, she thought dizzily, helpless
ly. At last. She could feel his breath, shallow and heated, upon her face and his pleasure, as though it were a tangible thing, joining with her own. One of his hands spread warmly over her back, holding her near; the other lightly guarded her waist. He bent to drink more deeply of her.

  With a surge of power that was intense and swift and breathtaking, his tongue invaded her mouth, demanding and drawing from her. Kate's heart lurched hard against her rib cage, once, and then scattered into a heavy, rapid rhythm that pumped heat and weakness through her muscles, heaviness through her veins. His fingers were tight and strong against her back, pressing her close to the hardness of his thighs and abdomen. She gave to him as he demanded, helpless against the onslaught of sensations he evoked. Her pulses hammered; her head spun. There was nothing but Kevin, infusing her with heat and weakness that spread like a flush from the surface of her skin to the core of her womb. He made her anxious; he made her helpless.

  How long, she wondered, how long had she wanted him without knowing it? When had it begun to change between them? How could she have fought it for so long? But at that moment it hardly mattered, for it seemed as though she had wanted him forever, and all her life had been no more than waiting for this moment.

  His mouth bent to her neck, darting flames against her throat and her ear and the hollow of her collarbone. Her hands drifted down over the heated cords of his neck, along his shoulders and the shape of his back, touching him, memorizing him, filling herself with him. She was a composite of sensations and needs and suspended wanting, and Kevin was the life force that gave her breath.

  His hand caressed the shape of her waist and moved upward to cup her breast, a warm, heavy pressure that expanded her pores with electric awareness. His lips touched her throat, nibbled gently at her ear, infusing her with a shudder of pleasure. Lightly his fingers spread over her breast, and weakness grew from his touch, flowing deep inside her. She tilted her head back and drew a long, moist breath that was a silent moan of pleasure. Oh, Kevin, she thought. How long we've waited for this. She was trembling, and a golden yellow haze obscured reason. She knew only that she wanted him, and she wanted all of him.

  She felt then the struggle begin within him as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, his face against her neck. His breath was hot and taut with the effort he made to steady it, and he turned a gentle kiss upon the side of her face. She felt his heartbeat, fast and strong against her chest. And then, helpless against the instincts she could not control, she turned her face to his.

  Their kiss was deep and raw and urgent. They clung to each other as though afraid of being swept away by the unfamiliar tide of passion into separate destinies. They clung to each other as though to the only right and true thing in a desperately spinning world. Kate's hand moved restlessly on his back and his neck and through his hair, wanting to press him closer, and closer still. Then her trembling, unsteady fingers moved down across his waist and the shape of his hip between their bodies, to rest lightly on the heat and hardness of him that pressed against her.

  He moaned softly deep within his throat, and he pulled his lips away from hers. She could feel the fan of his breath on her heated face and the male strength beneath her hand, and she opened her eyes to the haze of passion that blurred his flushed, damp face. His eyes were dark, and though he tried to smile, there was an intensity in his eyes that seemed to singe her very soul.

  "Katie," he said huskily, "if that's a question, the answer is yes." His breathing was unsteady, and the smile faltered. His eyes moved over her face, seeking her own answers. "I do want you."

  Yet there was doubt and uncertainty, and even as he spoke, he started to move away.

  Kate's hand slipped away from him, resting against his waist, and all that she felt was naked on her countenance. She whispered, "That wasn't the question."

  On his face she saw hesitation, questioning joy and disbelief. And then he drew her slowly into his arms. His hand stroked her hair; his lips touched her face. Then, moving lightly to cup her chin, he kissed her lips, gently and with restraint. She was terrified, in that single moment, that he would say no, that for all of this, he still didn't understand. But he only smiled and lifted a forefinger to hghtly trace the shape of her cheekbone. His eyes were still afire with need. He murmured a little breathlessly, "I wonder what Colt Marshall would do now?"

  "Break his vow?" Kate suggested, and lifted her arms to his neck, drawing him gently down onto the ground with her.

  In many ways, over the years, Kate had been Kevin's superior, his guide and his teacher. But in this, the mystical art of love, he was her master. Kate was accustomed to being in charge, to taking the lead and calling the shots. But here, for the first time with Kevin, she found herself in a position of helpless surrender, receiving instead of giving, letting him take her strength and infuse her with magic.

  The soft grass was their bed, the pale green enclosure of willow leaves their canopy. In this secret, peaceful place they lay together and lost themselves in each other, in the wondrous touch of lips and hands, the whisper of breaths and the fever that built between them with slow, exquisite certainty. He kissed her lightly, delicately, on her face and her throat and the thin material that covered her breasts. As her demand rose, so did his, and he returned to her mouth with a searing heat that controlled passion even as it fueled it. Her hand slipped beneath his shirt, exploring muscle and sinew, hard ribs and the light dusting of hair on his chest. She pushed the material up, anxious for his skin against hers, and he straightened, impatiently tugging the garment over his head and then removing her blouse.

  He lay against her for a moment, the wonderful sensation of firm, heated flesh against flesh, his hardness against her softness. Then he bent his head, his mouth covered hor breast and she lost herself to whirling clouds of pleasure and need.

  His hand slipped beneath her skirt, pushing the material up, stroking the length of her leg. And with each movement the yearning inside her increased, tightening and flaring, until she thought she would cry out from the intenisity of it. His mouth moistened and suckled, lips and teeth and tongue teasing, nibbling, stimulating unbearably, and his hand moved upward, caressing the shape of her hip, spreading across her abdomen. She lost her breath to the wonder he was creating within her, to the spreading ache that wanted to absorb him, to draw him into her. She strained toward him. A sound of half pleasure and half pain escaped her as he gathered her close, holding her, his breath, his heartbeat, mingling with hers, becoming part of her.

  With trembling hands, she stroked the damp flesh of his face and his hair. Through a haze she saw his eyes, pupils enormous, alive with fire. He kissed her face; he inhaled deeply of the fragrance of her neck. For a moment his arm tightened about her so intensely it was painful, and yet she held him just as strongly, bursting with need for him. He whispered something, a ragged, desperate sound that might have been "Oh, Katie, are you sure?"

  But her answer was in her kiss, in her movements, as the frenzy overtook them both, blinding her and driving him. The remainder of their clothes were discarded, and she felt his thighs, strong and hard between hers, his mouth on hers, his lips whispering words she could not understand. She moved against him, her hands greedily exploring the length of his shoulders, his back, his buttocks. Her tongue tasted salt on his face and his throat; her leg bent to caress his hip and stretched to stroke his lean, muscled calf. And then his fingers slipped beneath her hips gently, bringing her to him. With a single low, long, sliding thrust, he buried himself deep within her.

  How strange it felt to have him inside her, stretching her, filling her. Unconsciously, she made a sound of startlement and wonder, and immediately his hand came up to stroke her face, soothing her, caressing her. She opened her eyes to his face, so familiar, so gentle, and yet so strange, so wonderfully strange, flushed with pleasure and softened with need, his eyes deep and slightly unfocused, drowsy with the sensations that flowed between them. Kevin. Her Kevin. Joining with her in this most ex
clusive act of intimacy, showing her pleasure, opening her to him in the final, most meaningful way a man can communicate with a woman. There was disbelief, there was wonder, there was even, in that moment, a little fear. And then he began to move within her, his hand upon her face, his lips brushing hers and caressing her, his body drawing from her the very rhythm of life. Kevin. Hers.

  Had Kate been of a rational mind, she would have known not to expect too much from the first joining of unfamiliar lovers. She had known awkwardness before, the clumsiness and anxiety that comes as two bodies, as well as two minds and personalities, try to become accustomed to pleasing each other. There was never magic the first time, she knew that.

  But with Kevin it was different, and perhaps she had known that all along, too. Though intimacy was strange to them, closeness was not, and it was as though all years that had gone before had only been in preparation for this moment and sharing what only the two of them could give one another. They joined together perfectly, their rhythms instinctive; they blended together as though they had never been separate. And through the beauty that dazzled her, the intensity that blinded her, Kate thought dizzily and deeply and yet so distantly she was hardly even aware of it, Oh, Kevin, it was you all along. How could I not have known it was you?

  They moved with sweet, slow, sensual breaths, drawing each moment to its finest extension, savoring and letting the passion build to its finest dimension. There were colors, dusky and golden, and soft rustling breaths of breeze and whispers. There was heated, slippery flesh and straining muscles and long, trembling breaths of stillness as they strained to capture and hold forever the wonder of what they shared. And then the urgency grew; his thrusts became deeper and more powerful, and Kate's consciousness receded to a pinpoint of desire focused upon Kevin as she rose to meet him, grasping for him, gripping him and crying out in a single explosive moment that came too quickly but lasted forever. Pleasure—simple, blinding, mindless. More than physical, it was a great bursting wave of emotions unrecognized, needs too long unfulfilled, a mystical joining of something deep within her with something deep inside him, and it would leave her changed forever.