“Coffee?”
“Please.”
Carol carried their dishes to the sink, stuck the leftovers in the refrigerator, and returned with the glass coffeepot. She filled both their cups, returned it to the kitchen and then took her seat opposite him. She rested her elbows on the table, and smiled.
Despite his best intentions through a good portion of the meal, Steve hadn’t been able to keep his eyes away from her. The way she was sitting—leaning forward, her elbows on the tabletop—caused her breasts to push together and more than amply fill the bodice of her dress. His breath faltered someplace between his lungs and his throat at the alluring sight she made. He could have sworn she wasn’t wearing a bra. Carol had fantastic breasts and Steve watched, captivated, as their tips beaded against the shiny material. They seemed to be pointing directly at him, issuing a silent invitation that asked him to fondle and taste them. Against his will, his groin began to swell until he was throbbing with painful need. Disconcerted, he dropped his gaze to the steaming cup of coffee. With his hands shaking, he took a sip of his coffee and nearly scalded the tender skin inside his mouth.
“That was an excellent dinner,” he repeated, after a moment of silence.
“You’re not sorry you came, are you?” she asked unexpectedly, studying him. The intent look that crowded her face demanded all Steve’s attention. Her skin was pale and creamy in the muted light, her eyes wide and inquiring, as though the answer to her question was of the utmost importance.
“No,” he admitted reluctantly. “I’m glad I’m here.”
His answer pleased her and she smiled, looking tender and trusting, and Steve wondered how he could ever have doubted her. He knew what she’d done—knew that she’d purposely destroyed their marriage—and in that moment, it didn’t matter. He wanted her again. He wanted to hold her warm and willing body in his arms. He wanted to bury himself so deep inside her that she would never desire another man for as long as they both lived.
“I’ll help you with the dishes,” he said, and rose so abruptly that he nearly knocked over the chair.
“I’ll do them later.” She got to her feet as well. “But if you want to do something, I’d appreciate a little help with the tree.”
“The tree?” The words sounded as foreign as an obscure language.
“Yes, it’s only half decorated. I couldn’t reach the tallest limbs. Will you help?”
He shrugged. “Sure.” He could have sworn that Carol was relieved, and he couldn’t imagine why. The Christmas tree looked fine to him. There were a few bare spots, but nothing too noticeable.
Carol dragged a dining-room chair into the living room and pulled a box of ornaments out from underneath the end table.
“You’re knitting?” Steve asked, hiding a smile as his gaze fell on the strands of worsted yarn. Carol had to be the worst knitter in the world, yet she tackled one project after another, seeming oblivious of any lack of talent. There had been a time when he could tease her about it, but he wasn’t sure his insight would be appreciated now.
She glanced away as though she feared his comment.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tease you,” he told her, remembering the time she’d proudly presented him with a sweater she’d made herself—the left sleeve had been five inches longer than the right. He’d tried it on and she’d taken one look at him and burst into tears. It was one of the few times he could ever remember Carol crying.
Carol dragged the chair next to the tree and raised her leg to stand on it.
Steve stopped her. “I thought you wanted me to do that?”
“No, I need you to hand me the ornaments and then stand back and tell me how they look.”
“Carol … if I placed the ornaments on the tree, you wouldn’t need the chair.”
She looked at him and sighed. “I’d rather do it. You don’t mind, do you?”
He didn’t know why she was so determined to hang the decorations herself, but it didn’t make much difference to him. “No, if you want to risk your fool neck, feel free.”
She grinned and raised herself so that she was standing on the padded cushion of the chair. “Okay, hand me one,” she said, tossing him a look over her shoulder.
Steve gave her a shiny glass bulb, and he noted how good she smelled. Roses and some other scent he couldn’t define wrapped gently around him. Carol stretched out her arms and reached for the tallest branch. Her dress rose a solid five inches and exposed the back of her creamy smooth thighs and a fleeting glimpse of the sweet curve of her buttocks. Steve knotted his hands into fists at his sides to keep from touching her. It would be entirely plausible for him to grip her waist and claim he was frightened she would tumble from her perch. But if he allowed that to happen, his hands would slip and soon he would be cupping that cute rounded bottom. Once he touched her, Steve knew he would never be able to stop. He clenched his teeth and inhaled deeply through his nose. Having Carol standing there, exposing herself in this unconscious way, was more than a mere man could resist. At this point, he was willing to use any excuse to be close to her once more.
Carol lowered her arms, her dress fell back into place and Steve breathed normally again. He thought he was safe from further temptation until she twisted around. Her ripe, full breasts filled the front of her dress, their shape clearly defined against the thin fabric. If he’d been guessing about the bra before, he was now certain. She wasn’t wearing one.
“I’m ready for another ornament,” she said softly.
Like a blind man, Steve turned and fumbled for a second glass bulb. He handed it to her and did everything within his power to keep his gaze away from her breasts.
“How does that one look?” Carol asked.
“Fine,” Steve answered gruffly.
“Steve?”
“Don’t you think that’s enough decorations, for God’s sake?”
His harsh tone was as much a surprise to him as it obviously was to Carol.
“Yes, of course.”
She sounded disappointed, but that couldn’t be helped. Steve moved to her side once more and offered her his hand to help her down. His foot must have hit against one leg of the chair because it jerked forward. Perhaps it was something she did, Steve wasn’t sure, but whatever happened caused the chair to teeter on the thick carpet.
With a small cry of alarm, Carol threw out her arms.
With reflexes born of years of military training, Steve’s hands shot out like bullets to catch her. The chair fell sideways onto the floor, but Steve’s grip on Carol’s waist anchored her firmly against his torso. Their breathing was labored, and Steve sighed with relief that she hadn’t fallen. It was on the tip of his tongue to berate her, call her a silly goose for not letting him place the glass bulbs on the tree, chastise her for being such a fool. She shouldn’t put herself at risk over something as nonsensical as a Christmas tree. But none of the words made it to his lips.
Their gazes were even, her haunting eyes stared into his and said his name as clearly as if it were spoken. Carol’s feet remained several inches off the floor, and still Steve held on to her, unable to release her. His heart was pounding frantically with wonder as he raised a finger and touched her soft throat. His gaze continued to delve into hers. He wanted to set her back on the carpet, to free them both from this invisible grip before it maimed them, but he couldn’t seem to find the strength to let her go.
Slowly she slid down his front, between his braced feet, crimping the skirt of her dress between them. Once she was secure, he noted that her lower abdomen was tucked snugly in the joint between his thighs. The throbbing in his groin began again, and he held in a groan that threatened to emanate from deep within his chest.
He longed to kiss her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life, and only the greatest strength of will kept him from claiming her sweet mouth with his own.
She’d betrayed him once, crippled him with her deceit. Steve had sworn he would never allow her to use him again, yet his arg
uments burned away like dry timber in a forest fire.
His thumb found her moist lips and brushed back and forth as though the action would be enough to satisfy either of them. It didn’t. If anything, it created an agony even more powerful. His heart leaped into a hard, fast rhythm that made him feel breathless and weak. Before he could stop himself, his finger lifted her chin and his mouth glided over hers. Softly. Moistly. Satin against satin.
Carol sighed.
Steve groaned.
She weakened in his arms and closed her eyes. Steve kissed her a second time and thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, his need so strong it threatened to consume him. His hand was drawn to her breast, as if caught by a vise and carried there against his will. He cupped the rounded flesh, and his finger teased the nipple until it beaded and swelled against his palm. Carol whimpered.
He had to touch her breasts again. Had to know for himself their velvet smoothness. Releasing a ragged sigh, he reached behind her and peeled down her zipper. She was as eager as he when he lowered the top of her dress and exposed her naked front.
Her hands were around his neck, and she slanted her mouth over his, rising to her tiptoes as she leaned her weight into his. Steve’s mouth quickly abandoned hers to explore the curve of her neck and then lower to the rosy tips of her firm, proud breasts. His moist tongue traced circles around the pebbled nipples until Carol shuddered and plowed her fingers through his hair.
“Steve … oh, I’ve missed you so much.” She repeated the sentence over and over again, but the words didn’t register in his clouded mind. When they did, he went cold. She may have missed him, may have hungered for his touch, but she hadn’t been faithful. The thought crippled him, and he went utterly still.
Carol must have sensed his withdrawal, because she dropped her arms. Her shoulders were heaving as though she’d been running in a heated race. His own breathing wasn’t any more regular.
Abruptly Steve released her and stumbled two paces back.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” he announced in a hoarse whisper.
Carol regarded him with a wounded look but said nothing.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” he said, expelling the words on the tail end of a sigh.
Carol’s gaze widened and she shook her head.
“Carol, we aren’t married anymore. This shouldn’t be happening.”
“I know.” She lowered her gaze to the carpet.
Steve walked to the hall closet and reached for his jacket. His actions felt as if they were in slow motion—as if every gravitational force in the universe was pulling at him.
He paused, his hand clenching the doorknob. “Thank you for dinner.”
Carol nodded, and when he turned back, he saw that her eyes had filled with tears and she was biting her bottom lip to hold them back. One hand held the front of her dress across her bare breasts.
“Carol …”
She looked at him with soft, appealing eyes and held out her hand. “Don’t go,” she begged softly. “Please don’t leave me. I need you so much.”
Three
Carol could see the battle raging in Steve’s tight features. She swallowed down the tears and refused to release his gaze, which remained locked with her own.
“We’re not married anymore,” he said in a voice that shook with indecision.
“I … don’t care.” Swallowing her pride, she took one small step toward him. If he wouldn’t come to her, then she was going to him. Her knees felt incredibly weak, as though she were walking after being bedridden for a long while.
“Carol …”
She didn’t stop until she was standing directly in front of him. Then slowly, with infinite care, she released her hold on the front of her dress and allowed it to fall free, baring her breasts. Steve rewarded her immediately with a swift intake of breath, and then it seemed as if he stopped breathing completely. Carol slipped her flattened hands up his chest and leaned her body into his. When she felt his rock-hard arousal pressing against her thigh, she closed her eyes to disguise the triumph that zoomed through her blood like a shot of adrenaline.
Steve held himself stiffly against her, refusing to yield to her softness; his arms hung motionless at his sides. He didn’t push her away, but he didn’t welcome her into his embrace, either.
Five years of marriage had taught Carol a good deal about her husband’s body. She knew what pleasured him most, knew what would drive him to the edge of madness, knew how to make him want her until there was nothing else in their world.
Standing on the tips of her toes, she locked her arms tightly around his neck and raised her soft lips to gently brush her mouth over his. Her kiss was as moist and light as dew on a summer rose. Steve’s lashes dropped and she could feel the torment of the battle that raged in his troubled mind.
Slightly elevating one foot, she allowed her shoe to slip off her toes. It fell almost silently to the floor. Carol nearly laughed aloud at the expression that came over Steve’s contorted features. He knew what was coming, and against his will, Carol could see that he welcomed it. In a leisurely exercise, she raised her nylon-covered foot and slid it down the backside of his leg. Again and again her thigh and calf glided over his, each caressing stroke moved higher and higher on his leg, bringing her closer to her objective.
When Steve’s hand closed, almost painfully, over her thigh, Carol knew she’d won. He held her there for a timeless moment, neither moving nor breathing.
“Kiss me,” he ordered, and the words seemed to be ground out from between clenched teeth.
Although Carol had fully intended to comply with his demand, she apparently didn’t do it fast enough to suit her ex-husband. He groaned and his free hand locked around the back of her head, compelling her mouth to his. Driven by urgency, his kiss was forceful and demanding, almost grinding, as if he sought to punish her for making him want her so much. Carol allowed him to ravage her mouth, giving him everything he wanted, everything he asked for, until finally she gasped for breath and broke away briefly. Steve brought her mouth back to his, and gradually his kisses softened until Carol thought she was sure her whole body would burst into flames. Sensing this, Steve moved his hand from the back of her head and began to massage her breast in a leisurely circular motion, his palm centering on her nipple. Her whole torso started to pulsate under his gentle touch.
Carol arched her spine to grant him easier access, and tossed back her head as his fingers worked their magic. Then his hand left her breast, and she wanted to protest until she felt his fingers slip around her other thigh and lift her completely off the carpet, raising her so that their mouths were level, their breath mingling, moist and excited.
They paused and gazed into each other’s eyes. Steve’s were filled with surprise and wonder. Carol met that look and smiled with a rediscovered joy that burst from deep within her. An inner happiness that had vanished from her life the moment Steve had walked away from her, returned. She leaned forward and very gently rubbed her mouth across his, creating a moist, delicious friction. Gently her tongue played over the seam of his lips, sliding back and forth, teasing him, testing him in a love game that had once been familiar between them.
Carol gently caught his lower lip between her teeth and sucked on it, playing with it while darting the tip of her tongue in and out of his mouth.
The effect on Steve was electric. His mouth claimed hers in an urgent kiss that drove the oxygen from her lungs. Then, with a strength that astonished her, he lifted her even higher until his mouth closed over her left breast, rolling his tongue over her nipple, then sucking at it greedily, taking in more and more of her breast.
Carol thought she was going to go crazy with the tidal wave of sensation that flooded her being. She locked her legs around his waist and braced her hands against his shoulders. His mouth and tongue alternated from one breast to the other until she was convinced that if he didn’t take her soon, she was going to faint in his arms.
Braced against the clos
et door, Steve used what leverage he could to inch his hand up the inside of her thigh. His exploring fingers reached higher and higher, then paused when he encountered a nylon barrier. He groaned his frustration.
Carol was so weak with longing that if he didn’t carry her voluntarily into the bedroom soon, she was going to demand that he make love to her right there on the entryway floor.
“You weren’t wearing a bra,” he chastised her in a husky thwarted voice. “I was hoping …”
He didn’t need to finish for Carol to know what he was talking about. When they were married, she’d often worn a garter belt with her nylons instead of panty hose so their lovemaking wouldn’t be impeded.
“I want you,” she whispered, her hands framing his face. “But if you think it would be best to leave … go now. The choice is yours.”
His gaze locked with hers, Steve marched wordlessly across the living room and down the long hallway to the bedroom that had once been theirs.
“Not here,” she told him. “I sleep there now,” she explained, pointing to the room across the hall.
Steve switched directions and marched into the smaller bedroom, not stopping until he reached the queen-size bed. For one crazy second, Carol thought he meant to drop her on top of the mattress and storm right out of the house. Instead he continued to hold her, the look in his eyes wild and uncertain.
Carol’s eyes met his. She was nearly choking on the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her. Tentatively she raised one hand and pressed it to the side of his face, her eyes wide, her heart pounding so hard she was sure the sound of it would soon bring down the walls.
To her surprise, Steve tenderly placed her on the bed, braced one knee against the edge of the mattress and leaned over her.
“We aren’t married…. Not a damn thing has been settled between us,” he announced, as though this should be shocking news.
Carol said nothing, but she casually slipped her hand around the side of his neck, urging his mouth down to hers. She met with no resistance.
“Make love to me,” she murmured.
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