“Lily, are you all right?”
Walking through the kitchen and the shadow-filled living room, she kept her gaze on the screen door, where Ron stood silhouetted against the twilight.
It shamed her to admit how her palms went damp and her mouth went dry as she approached him. Didn’t seem fair somehow, that she could be so affected by his presence, knowing that he didn’t feel what she felt.
She stopped a foot from the screen door and asked, “What’re you doing here?”
He glanced around at the yard and street, as if making sure no one was observing him, before looking back at her. “Wanted to see you.”
Her idiotic heart that didn’t know enough to protect itself against further injury leaped in her chest. She fought it back down. “Why?”
“Why?”
She nodded. “Simple question, really.”
He shoved one hand through his usually neat, now rumpled, hair, then shoved that hand into the pocket of his black slacks. “Can I come in to talk about this?”
Come in, she thought, away from prying eyes and nosy neighbors.
“Afraid to be seen at my door?”
“If I were,” he pointed out, “I wouldn’t be here at all, would I?”
“Good point.” Ridiculously, she felt better, just acknowledging that he’d risked gossip to see her. And for a man like Ron, that was saying something. She stepped forward, unhooked the latch and pushed the door open. “Come in.”
She turned and walked into the living room, more to keep a safe distance between them than to guide him into the house. After all, her place was small, cozy she liked to think. But with Ron standing so close behind her, the room seemed to shrink considerably in size.
She turned the switch on the nearest lamp and banished the shadows to the farthest corners of the room. Golden light pooled over the table and flowed over the rich colors of the Turkish carpet covering the gleaming wood floors. She looked up at him and saw that golden light reflected in his eyes. It seemed to wink at her, despite his solemn expression.
“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice rumbling into the strained silence between them.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“When I pulled into your driveway, I saw smoke.”
Lily groaned and perched on the back of the over-stuffed sofa. “That was just me. Cooking.”
His mouth curved slightly, and she scowled at him.
“Finally,” he said. “Something you’re not good at.”
One of her eyebrows lifted into a dangerous arch. “Well, now that you’ve been reassured that my house isn’t burning down…”
“You must be hungry,” Ron said quickly, ignoring the implied request that he leave. He couldn’t leave her. Not yet. All he’d been able to think about all day was being with her. And now that he was here, he wasn’t ready to go.
“Not really,” she said, pushing up from the sofa and starting for the front door. “I’ll make a sandwich or something.”
“We can do better than that.” He snagged hold of her upper arm as she walked past him, and then he led her through the house toward the kitchen.
“Really, it’s not necessary—”
He stepped into the kitchen, winced at what was left of the steak, then dropped her arm and headed for the refrigerator. “Everybody has to eat, Lily.”
“Ever hear of a drive-through?” she asked. “Or takeout?”
“Cooking’s easier.”
She snorted. “Depends on your point of view.”
He looked at her over the open door of the fridge. “We all have our strengths.”
“And yours is?” she asked, dropping into a kitchen chair.
“Omelets,” he said, stepping away from the refrigerator, holding an armful of ingredients.
“You cook?”
“I’m no chef, but yeah.” He set everything down on the counter and started assembling what he’d need. Glancing at Lily, he said, “You can slice the peppers and onions.”
She stood up, sighed and reached for a knife.
He stopped her. “You can slice without taking off a hand, right?”
She gave him a tight, unamused smile. “Not my own hand, anyway.”
“Ouch,” he said, laughing. “I’ll consider myself warned.”
Minutes ticked past as they worked in silent companionship. Ron had missed this. The simple time spent with a woman in the kitchen. Doing everyday, mindless tasks. The teamwork that sprung up between a couple without their even having to try to find that balance.
Hell, he thought. Be honest.
He’d missed Lily.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about her for longer than a minute since the previous night. And seeing her this afternoon at his mother’s house had only churned up the need building inside him. He hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t counted on need. He’d thought only of want.
Now his heart and mind were at war with his body, and he had no idea which was going to win.
“I wouldn’t have thought you’d be much of a cook, either.”
Lily’s voice, calm, quiet, startled him and he glanced at her. “Why?”
She shrugged. “From everything I’ve heard about your late wife, I can’t imagine you were left to your own devices very often.”
Ron stiffened slightly, then forced himself to relax.
But she noticed. Sighing, she said, “Never mind.”
“No,” he said. “It’s okay. Stupid not to talk about Vi since she was a part of my life for so long.” And if it felt strange talking to his lover about his wife, then he’d just have to deal with it. “Vi was a busy woman. Charitable functions, meetings, volunteering. There were lots of nights I was left to forage in the kitchen.”
Funny, he hadn’t remembered that in years. Whenever he remembered their marriage, he recalled it in Technicolor snapshots of perfection. He’d selectively forgotten the little annoyances that plagued all relationships. He’d created a gilt-edged memory that shone brighter with every careful recollection. When had he started this subtle process of revisionist history? When had he stopped remembering Vi the woman and created Vi the icon?
“Independence is a good thing,” Lily said.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, still thinking about his little discovery.
“Ow!”
Her sharp exclamation had him dropping his own knife and turning toward her. She was holding her left index finger and watching blood well up from the neat slice she’d just made across her own flesh.
Grabbing her hand, he dragged her to the sink, turned on the cold water and held her finger under the icy stream.
“That hurts!” she complained from behind him as she tried unsuccessfully to pull her hand free.
“Not surprising,” he muttered, even as he tightened his grip, turned off the water and then elevated her hand to stop the bleeding. Looking at her, he asked, “You’re not a big bleeder, are you?”
Her mouth twisted. “I only bleed as much as necessary.”
“Good to know.” He kept a firm hold of her hand and pulled her closer to him. “You should be more careful.”
“No lectures, thanks,” she said, trying to push away from his body.
“How about a bandage instead?”
She sighed, surrendering to his ministrations. “In the bathroom.”
“Where?”
She directed, he led and, once at the bathroom, he slathered antibacterial ointment on the cut, then wrapped a bandage tight around it.
“Do I need stitches?” she asked, staring at her injured finger.
“No, just some tender loving care.”
Her gaze shot to his. “You have someone in mind for the job?”
Ron stared down into her dark-brown eyes and felt himself falling, tumbling helplessly into those soft, warm depths. “Oh, yeah.”
She swallowed hard, but didn’t struggle when he pulled her tight against him. “Are you sure?”
His gaze moved over her even as his hands stroked up and down he
r back, defining every curve, every line of her body. “Never been more sure.”
“You weren’t this afternoon,” she said, and he saw again the hurt in her eyes.
He lifted one hand to stroke the side of her face, letting his fingers slide into her hair at her temples. Like silk, he thought, and wondered at the cool slide of it across his skin.
Blowing out a deep breath, he admitted, “There’s plenty I’m not sure about Lily.” He felt her stiffen slightly, but a little pressure on her bottom melded her to him until she felt his body’s reaction to her nearness. “What’s between us confuses the hell out of me. But, damn it, I’m not ready to walk away from it.”
He paused, looked down into her eyes and tried to let her see everything he was thinking, feeling, when he asked, “Are you?”
Her beautiful eyes glimmered with the sheen of tears as she reached up, pulling his head down to hers. “No, Ron. I don’t want to walk away.”
“Thank God.”
Chapter Thirteen
The pain in her finger forgotten, the pain in her heart ignored, Lily gave herself up to the wonder of Ron’s kiss.
His mouth came down on hers hungrily, fiercely. With lips, teeth and tongue, he claimed her physically as he hadn’t been able to emotionally. Wrapping his arms tightly around her, he lifted her off the floor. Lily clung to him, digging her fingers into his shoulders before sliding her hands down his back. She felt his muscles tighten and bunch beneath the fabric of his cotton shirt.
He tore his mouth from hers, gasping for air like a dying man. “Bedroom?”
“Oh, yeah.”
He grinned. “Where?”
“Oh!” Lily dropped her head to his chest and chuckled. “Out the hall, second door on your left.”
“Got it.”
“Oh, you sure do,” she said, clinging to him as he carried her on the brief walk to her bed.
His long legs made short work of the trip. In seconds they were in her room, and Ron sat down on the mattress, still holding her tightly to him. His mouth took hers again, but this time, though the hunger was there, she also felt control and strength pouring from him.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and shifted so that she was sitting astride his lap. The black skirt she wore hitched high on her hips. Groaning softly, Lily let her head fall back as she felt his erection pressed to her center. Instinctively she rocked her hips, moving against him, increasing the mounting pressure for both of them, feeding the need rising within.
“What you do to me,” he whispered into the curve of her neck as he tasted her pulse point, flicking his tongue against her skin in rhythm with the pounding of her heart.
She speared her fingers into his hair, loving the feel of his mouth on her. His beard roughed her skin, making the sensations more pronounced, more…vibrant. “You do the same to me,” she whispered, eyes closed while she let him feast on her.
His hands slid from her hips to her thighs, and she shivered in anticipation. Still rocking her hips, she felt his fingertips against her heat and groaned in frustration as he met the fragile lace of her panties—a barrier between them, but not for long.
He snapped the elastic with a quick twist of his wrist and she smiled as he snatched the fabric and tossed it aside. “You’re going to owe me lots more lingerie.”
“I’m good for it,” he mumbled as he reached to stroke her.
“Ahh…” The word came out on a sigh. “Yes, you are.” She lifted into his hand, wanting him to touch all of her, explore her depths and take her back to the mountaintops.
One finger, then two, dipped inside her, and Lily nearly whimpered. She went up on her knees, wanting more, needing more. She wiggled against his hand, squirming under his touch and delighting in every caress. On and on he went, teasing, torturing with a gentle hand. He touched her, and she went up in flames. He stopped, and she wanted to weep. She needed him as she’d never needed anyone else. She wanted him with an all-consuming strength that shattered her.
She loved him as she’d never expected to love.
His thumb brushed across her core, and she splintered, whispering his name as the world dissolved into a quivering mass of light and shadow.
And at last, when the trembling stopped and her body had floated back to earth, she settled on his lap again. Looking up into his eyes, she said quietly, “I missed you.”
He cupped her face between his palms. “I missed you, too. Desperately.”
“Good.”
“My house was too empty without you.”
She smiled. “Better.”
“I had to be with you.”
“Better still.”
“I want you so much,” he admitted on a groan, “I can’t think of anything but you.”
“Don’t think, remember?” she said, reminding him of his own words the night before. “No thinking. Only feeling.”
He nodded and dipped his head to kiss her.
While their mouths mated, Lily let her hands drop to his lap. With deft, clever fingers, she undid his belt, then opened the button and zipper on his khaki slacks. He groaned again, tightly, and pushed his tongue into her mouth, sweeping inside her warmth, plunging her into a swirling abyss of desire and passion.
Yet she wouldn’t be dissuaded from her task. She freed him from the prison of his trousers and curled her hand around his length. Stroking, caressing him, she felt the strong man in her arms tremble at her touch, and her own sense of completion roared inside her. Sensual power shimmered within, and she gave herself up to the heady rush of it.
He ground his mouth against hers and when she went up on her knees again, his big hands took hold of her hips and guided her to him. Slowly, she sank down, taking him in inch by slow, deliberate inch. Drawing out the pleasure, stoking the fires higher and higher.
Ron broke the kiss and fought for breath. Staring up into her eyes, he watched her expression as she took him within her. He wanted to rush, to dive into her heat and lose himself there. But he also wanted this moment to go on forever. So he let her set the pace. Allowed her to take charge. Forced himself to give up to her. To surrender all that he was and wait for her to accept it.
He sucked air through gritted teeth as she continued her agonizingly slow assault on his senses. His body felt ready to burst. His heart raced and his blood rushed through his ears with a roar that was deafening.
The world came down to her.
To one pair of dark-brown eyes.
To one slightly turned-up mouth.
To one curvaceous, warm-hearted woman holding him in thrall.
Seconds ticked past, measured in small eternities. He gulped in a deep breath of air and held it as she finally accepted his full length into her damp heat. They were joined. Physically. Emotionally.
He felt her heart touch his.
Felt his soul slide from the shadows toward a light that was blinding.
He shifted his hands, drawing them up to the buttons on her blouse. As she sat atop him, he undid the small, pearlized buttons and pushed them free until her white silk blouse hung open, displaying a bra that was more lace than fabric. Hungrily he slipped her blouse off and down her arms, then tossed it aside. Just as hungrily he flipped open the front catch of her bra, and when she shrugged out of it, filled his hands with her breasts.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, bending his head to taste first one, then the other. Lips and tongue worked her rigid nipples, and he smiled against her skin when she sighed and dug her fingers into his shoulders. She rocked into him, moving her hips on his body in a slow, sweet slide that pushed him nearer the edge.
He loved her breasts.
Loved the lush, full feel of them in his hands. Vi’s breasts had been small, delicate. But Lily had a generous build that fascinated him and drew him to her even in his dreams.
He tasted her again and ran the edges of his teeth across her nipple until she twisted and moaned atop him.
“Torture isn’t fair,” she whispered brokenly.
; “It is if it’s fun,” he countered.
“Remember you said that.” With that warning, she reached down and cupped him as she moved atop him.
“Lily…” He stared at her now, transfixed by the passion glittering in her eyes. She barely breathed as she moved on him, up and down, side to side, driving him wild, driving him higher than he’d ever been before.
“Take me,” she murmured, “and let me take you.”
His breath staggered from his lungs. His vision blurred. His heartbeat skittered.
She rode him with a fierce abandon and pushed them both to the brink of madness. And when he couldn’t stand it a moment longer, he grabbed her, pulled her off him and tossed her onto the bed. Scrambling now for his wallet and the protection he’d brought along, he took care of things then lifted her off the bed, holding her hips in his hands and guiding her down onto his body once more.
She groaned, locked her legs around his hips and held on. Forgetting about the bed, forgetting about niceties, he backed her up against the wall and drove himself inside her. Need roared, and he answered. Over and over again, he entered, withdrew, then plunged within again. Taking, claiming, accepting.
And when she called his name, tightening around him, he whispered, “Lily,” and joined her in the fall.
The next week flew past, and Lily and Ron settled into a routine of sorts.
They didn’t talk about it. Avoided mention of it, really. But they became a couple. Lovers. Meeting whenever they could and coming together in glorious bursts of passion that left both of them shattered and wondering what would happen next.
But there were no answers since neither of them posed the question.
Lily stared out her office window and only half listened to the everyday hubbub of the clinic. A dangerous time, she thought. Having caught up on her work, she had nothing to fill her time with except thoughts of Ron. And heaven knew, he was taking up far too many of her thoughts lately.
The affair she’d thought would be simple had become the most important thing in her life. The only problem was she didn’t have a clue how Ron felt about her. And she didn’t have the guts to ask.
Forever…Again Page 14
