Beyond the Quiet: Romantic Thriller

by Brenda Hill

  In the office, I kept to myself, going over new listings. Nina and Ed tried to talk to me, but I had nothing to say. I glanced up at one time and saw Nina give Ed a look; when she saw me looking at her, she flushed and became absorbed in paperwork.

  My phone rang. I ignored it. It kept ringing and I kept ignoring it. “Just give it to Ed,” I said to Nina.

  A little later, I was trying to close my briefcase. For some reason the lock wouldn’t click shut. I tried and tried, my impatience growing with each try. I broke a nail.

  “Damn thing!”

  “What’s wrong?” Ed asked.

  “This...thing won’t close,” I said between gritted teeth.

  “Here, let me help you.” He rose.

  “I’ll get it!” I turned the briefcase over several times, trying from different angles to get the damned thing to lock. It still wouldn’t shut and I just knew if I picked it up, it would fall open and all my papers would spill out.

  After trying a couple more times, I lugged it under my arm, grabbed my handbag and raced out the door.

  Just as I hit the pavement, my heel turned and I went down, scraping my knee, and my handbag flew out of my arms. My briefcase hit the ground and burst open, and all my papers spilled out, scattering on the ground like huge white ashes.

  “Damn, damn, damn!” My knee stung like hell and bled through the pant material. I pushed myself up and started picking up the scattered papers and couldn’t believe how much I hated that briefcase. I kicked it and kicked it again, would have kicked the damn thing into the street if Ed hadn’t grabbed me. He pulled me to him. I tried to push away, but he firmly held me. I caught a glimpse of Nina gathering my papers and I burst into tears.

  “Let’s go inside and take a look at your knee.” Gently Ed guided me up the steps, then to a chair in the office. Dropping to his knees in front of me, he pushed up my pant leg to expose my bloody knee.

  “Ouch, that must sting.”

  “Here, I’ll get some bandages.” Nina said, dropping everything onto her desk. “Don’t worry,” she told me, her voice kind. “I know it hurts, but I think it looks worse than it is.”

  I wept all over again, and this time, the sobs came so hard that I had to catch my breath.

  Ed kept an arm around me and Nina pulled up a chair to stay close. “There, there,” they kept saying in that age-old comforting tone. “It’ll be okay.”

  When I wound down, my eyes were so swollen I could barely see. My head felt stuffed and I was exhausted. And ashamed.

  “I’m sorry I was so shitty,” I told them both. “Thanks for putting up with me, and thank you for helping.”

  “We’re your friends,” Ed said, and I could have kissed him. “We all have bad days, and we know you must be going through a lot.”

  “Care to talk about it?” Nina asked.

  “I can’t,” I told her, “but I’ll need a few days off to get myself together.”

  Driving home, the rage had dissipated, but I couldn’t wait to crawl into my bed. I felt so exhausted I almost pulled to the side of the road to sleep, but I wanted the comfort of my own bed.

  Sometime later the doorbell woke me again. The house was dark, the nightstand clock glowed an amber 10:00pm. I rolled over and willed whoever was at the door, probably Maggie, or even Stan, to go away.

  The doorbell rang again. Je-sus Christ. Pulling on my robe, I made my way to the living room and flung open the door.

  “I told you—” I began, then saw it was Terry.

  “I know it’s late,” he said, “but I had to see you, Lisa. I can’t take this any longer.”

  Standing at the door, I realized how glad I was to see someone who loved me, someone who seemed to need me as much I needed him. Suddenly I had to hold him, needed to feel his arms around me, and that need was so great that I felt consumed with it. I unlocked the screen, grabbed his shirt and pulled him in. I didn’t even give him a chance to speak before I plastered myself against him and kissed him.

  Terry slid his arms around me and pulled me tighter, enclosing me in a warm, safe cocoon. He smelled faintly of soap and hair tonic, and when he kissed me again, I tasted brandy. I licked his lips. He captured my lips with his, gently sucking on my bottom lip, then probing my mouth with his tongue. If I had been capable of thinking logically, I might have considered how absurd the entire thing was, but the pleasure tingled all the way to my toes and all I wanted to do was feel.

  He trailed small kisses on my neck, then nibbled on my ear lobe, drawing it into his mouth, gently sucking until every nerve in my body tingled and I wanted more. He lowered the zipper on my gown and it fell in a bundle around my feet. He kissed the valley between my breasts, then unsnapped my bra and eased it off over my shoulders so he could run his hands over my naked breasts, stroking my nipples with his thumbs. When they stiffened into hard nubs, he lowered his head and took one nipple at a time into his warm mouth.

  “Oh, God,” I groaned. I’d never known such exquisite pleasure and I arched against him. Each time his tongue touched me, shocks of pleasure flooded my body with moisture. My heart pounded; my pulse raced. I felt his erection through his slacks. Instead of freezing, I gloried in his need of me.

  His breathing ragged, Terry raised his head. “Are you sure this is what you want? If it isn’t, you’d better say so right now.”

  “Make love to me, Terry,” I gasped. “Make me forget everything but you.”

  He slipped his arm under my knees, easily cradling me in his arms. After I pointed the way, he carried me upstairs to the bedroom.

  “I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long,” he said, laying me on the bed, his eyes devouring me.

  Without thinking, I covered my breasts with my arms. While Mac had never said my small breasts were disappointing, he’d always admired the big breasts of other women, even suggesting once that I consider surgery.

  “Honey, let me see every inch of you,” Terry said, taking my hands in his and pressing them above my head. “Let me love you.”

  And with that, he began kissing me again, so softly, so leisurely, as if he delighted in each feather touch, until my body felt liquid. Pulling off my blouse, he pressed his chest against mine, and the slight tickling sensation from his soft hair rubbing against my skin added to my pleasure. His hunger for me, his gentle touch made me feel as if I were a delicacy he intended to savor. Never before had I felt so wanted, so needed, and I surrendered to every new delicious sensation.

  When he let go of my hands, I cupped the back of his neck, pressing his head against me, wanting more. And when he moved from my lips, I moaned in frustration, until he kissed his way to my nipples, erect and begging for his touch. He drew my left nipple into his wet mouth; pure sensation shot to my loins, and I was aware of a fierce hunger I’d never felt before.

  I didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want the delicious feelings to end, and when he raised his head, I moaned, reaching for him, wanting to draw his warmth back to me.

  “I love your body,” he whispered, running his hands over my shoulders and breasts as if he were a blind man, exploring something wonderful with his hands, feeling each inch of my skin through the palms of his hands. He stroked my breasts, my shoulders, even down my arms. I would never have thought that the feel of someone’s palm could be so sensuous.

  “Your breasts are so beautiful,” he whispered, stroking my breasts along the outside and underneath. “Just enough to hold. And your nipples...” He bent down and ran his tongue over them, instantly puckering each one. “So pink and pretty.”

  For the first time, I felt proud of my breasts.

  When he drew away from me and stood, I cried out.

  “I’ll just be a moment,” he said, removing his clothes. Before I could do anything but glimpse his large, muscular form, he was back on the bed with me, covering my body with his own.

  Settling his weight on his elbows alongside of me, he began kissing me again, slowly bringing pure sensation alive once more. I wrapped my
arms around him, stroking his neck and broad shoulders. An aching heat flushed my body and I strained upwards, almost panting, needing more.

  “Sweet Lisa,” he murmured, his voice ragged, “that’s good, so good.”

  When he entered me, I was ready for him, and it wasn’t long before I felt the first complete release of my life. Then he stiffened and collapsed on top of me.

  Chapter Twenty

  Breathing heavily, Terry stretched out on his back, pulled me to him and kissed me. It wasn’t a kiss of passion, but one of affection, of love. He kept an arm around me, and it felt good, comforting. I thought it amazing how one person’s simple action could deeply affect the other. Even though our bodies were separate, I still felt connected to him, still wanted by him. My body still tingled and I should have been exhausted, but I felt wonderfully alive. I never imagined sex could be like that.

  Best of all, I hadn’t once thought of Mac. It was as if my life with him had miraculously been delegated to the past, as if, for the first time, I’d been shown how it felt to be loved. And it felt glorious.

  I studied the man next to me, his straight nose, the full lips that had given me such pleasure. His dark brows had strands of gray and I thought the combination sexy.

  He grinned. “What’s so fascinating?”

  “You.”

  He laughed and I admired his straight, white teeth. Everything about him seemed perfect. His arms tightened, and I felt the beginnings of his erection brushing my thighs. But I needed a shower. I threw my legs over the side of the bed.

  “You going somewhere?” he asked, propping his head on his hand.

  That was strange, I thought. Mac had never touched anything, including his own body, until he’d washed after sex. I never fully realized until this moment how that had made me feel.

  “To the shower,” I told him.

  “Great. I’ll join you. I hope it’s big enough for two.”

  Oh, no! Now I wished Mac hadn’t remodeled the master bath to include a separate shower stall. Even though Terry and I had just made glorious love and he’d seen every inch of my body, I didn’t think I could handle standing totally nude opposite him under the bright, harsh bathroom lights where he’d be able to see the droop of my breasts, the rounded tummy and stretch marks. I couldn’t let him be repelled just yet. Oh, please, not yet.

  “I’ll go first,” I mumbled, sliding into my robe and dashing for the bathroom.

  Usually I loved soaking in a tub of warm water, but a shower would be quicker, and maybe I could get through and slip into my robe before Terry came into the bathroom.

  Quickly running the soap over my body, I was rinsing under the warm water spray when I glanced through the frosted glass door and saw Terry walking toward me. I grabbed the washcloth and covered my breasts, but realizing how ridiculous that was, I pulled it off and sucked in my tummy. He opened the door and stepped into the tiled stall.

  “I hoped you’d need help,” he said, brushing against me.

  My first instinct was to cover my breasts with my hands. He, in turn, appeared to have no such inhibitions as he faced me, lathering his large male body with soap, then stepping around me to rinse. I wanted to be that way—oh, how I’d love to feel so gloriously free, as I never had with Mac.

  “Here, let me.” Terry lathered his hands with soap and began running them over my breasts, then down to my stomach and thighs. Instantly my nipples puckered, but I backed away.

  He glanced up at me, his blue eyes questioning.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I couldn’t speak. I covered my breasts with my arms and began to cry.

  “Did I hurt you?” He wiped away the tears and tried to hold me. I wanted him so desperately, yet, stiff and unyielding, I kept my arms folded over my breasts. What was the matter with me?

  Terry was clearly puzzled. “Is something wrong? Do you want me to leave?”

  Tears leaking down my face, I shook my head.

  “Then what is it?”

  “I don’t know,” I managed. “I just...can’t...” He regarded me for a few, long, miserable minutes.

  “Okay, honey,” he said, “I have an idea. Here. Let’s rinse off and get out.” He opened the door, stepped out, and offered his hand to help me. As if I were a child, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around me, briskly drying my skin and placing the towel over my shoulders. He took another to use for himself. “If you need to pee, you’d better do so now. We’re going to be a while.”

  I must have looked frightened, because he chuckled and held me.

  “Don’t worry, I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

  “I’m thirsty,” I told him, more because I didn’t know what else to say than for any other reason. But once we were in the kitchen, I discovered that I was starved. And so was he.

  After a snack of hot tea, buttered English muffins with peanut butter and some fruit, I relaxed and enjoyed Terry’s chatter. We were still in towels and we didn’t talk about anything major, just the house, the view in the daylight and his apartment in Redlands. After Terry wiped his mouth with the napkin, he stood and took my hand.

  “Now to the bedroom.”

  I followed, intrigued and a little nervous, although not as bad as before. Once there, he turned on both bedside lights, the rose glass one on the vanity, and even flipped the bathroom switch. Bright light flooded the bedroom. Irrationally, I thought of the sheets and was glad I’d changed them yesterday to a lavender floral design.

  He took his towel to the bathroom. I wasn’t ready to give him mine. Then, back by the bed, he held out his hand to me.

  I eyed the well-lit bed. “I’m not sure...”

  “Do you trust me?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, come to me. It’ll be okay.”

  When we were standing together by the bed, my heart raced. I didn’t know why I felt so frightened.

  “You remind me of a frightened little girl,” he said, brushing the hair away from my forehead. “What in God’s name did someone do to you?”

  I could only shrug. I’d never been abused, so I couldn’t tell him why I felt so uneasy.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. Do you believe that?”

  “I believe you.” I wanted to tell him I wasn’t afraid he’d hurt me, but I couldn’t tell him why I was so apprehensive.

  He sat on the bed, then lying back, he stretched out in the middle and opened his legs. “I want you to look at me.”

  Surprised, I must have made a sound.

  “Take your time and really look,” he said. “I want you to know every inch of me.”

  I hesitated, but once on the bed, I made sure my towel was snug around me and got to my knees. Determined to overcome any embarrassment, I began my scrutiny, looking at Terry like I’d never done to Mac in our twenty-five years together.

  Starting with his face and head, I worked my way down to his broad chest and his shoulders and arms, still muscular, I imagine from years of hauling equipment for the fire department. He didn’t have the form of a body-builder who pumped iron all day; instead, he looked natural, like a man who worked hard and enjoyed life. He smiled and ran his hand down my arm.

  Feeling a little more at ease, I returned his smile, patted his tummy, then ran my fingers through the mat of hair on his chest. I played with his nipples, wondering if, as a man, he felt anything. Mac had said more than once that he didn’t like me touching his. A waste of time, he’d said.

  “You’re torturing me.” Terry pulled me down on top of him and kissed me. “I think if you’re going to look,” he said through clenched teeth, “you’d better do it now.”

  Quickly glancing at his erection, I smiled, suddenly aware I had power over his body. I liked that feeling. “Well, it’s your own fault. You pulled me down on top of you, remember? I was quite content—”

  “Ah, there's my girl, sharp-tongued, as usual. I was wondering what happened to you.” As he relaxed, his erection softened, although it didn’t to
tally disappear.

  “Tell me about your marriage,” Terry said. “Were you happy? Did your husband abuse you in any way?”

  “Mac was very good to me. He wouldn’t dream of abusing me. I was the one who failed him.”

  “In what way?”

  Thinking about his questions, I continued exploring his body. His penis lay on a nest of hair, the white strands curling with the darker ones. His legs were long, his thighs thick and calves rounded. They reminded me of a dancer’s legs, long and well-shaped. It was strange how much I liked looking at him. I even thought his little belly was cute.

  “Why do you think you failed your husband?” Terry gently prodded.

  It was obvious he wasn’t going to let it slide, so, folding my legs under me, I sat back. I didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to tell him what a total failure I’d always been as a woman. But whether I’d wanted him to or not, he meant a lot to me and I wanted to be open about everything.

  He propped himself against the headboard and pulled me up next to him, clearly prepared to let me tell everything in my own time. Hesitantly, I began talking.

  I told him everything about my marriage, the dismal sex life, how I never could relax. I explained that we’d tried everything, including wine. And how, each time, I just wanted to get through it.

  “I don’t understand,” Terry said. “You felt something with me just now. I know you responded.”

  “I can’t explain that. I never liked sex.”

  “You can’t say that now.” Terry turned to me and took my left nipple in his mouth, and I felt that same throbbing need zing straight to my toes. I flooded with moisture. Had I turned into a wanton? He was already hard and I clutched his shoulders. He gentle slid me down the bed, then bent low to kiss my tummy. When he moved lower, I froze inside and drew my legs together.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “That’s okay, honey,” he said, stretching out beside me. “But what happened? I know you were ready just then.”