She closed the fridge and, again, pulled the photographs down.
She and Theo were making a child. A daughter.
Suffused with an unfamiliar kind of happiness that simply had to be expressed, she stripped out of her leggings and oversized t-shirt, dropped them and her bra to the kitchen floor, and crossed to the bathroom.
She opened the door and then stopped. Through the thickening haze of steam, and the beads of water on the clear glass door, she saw Theo with his forehead on the tile, simply standing there, his hands on the tile at either side of his head, letting the hot water spray over his back.
He didn’t look like a man who shared her happiness.
She opened the shower door and got in. He stood straight immediately, turned, and smiled at her. “Hey. Fancy meeting you here.” That smile was weary, though. Too weary.
“Thought you might like company.”
His smile sharpened, became more real. “Always.” He grabbed her hips and pulled her close, lowering his head to kiss her. She felt him harden against her belly.
Reluctantly, she broke the kiss and stared into his eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Sure. Can’t you tell?” He flexed his hips, pressing his erection on her.
Deciding that the shower was the wrong time and place to attempt a serious conversation, especially while his fingers teased at her nipples and his teeth plucked lightly at her neck, Carmen abandoned the question and wrapped her hands around his gorgeous cock. Leading him thusly, she turned them until the water was out of her way. Then she bent her knees and knelt at his feet.
He groaned and put his hands on her head. “Carmen, you don’t have to…”
“Of course I don’t have to. I want to. I love”—she licked the length of him, root to tip, flicking her tongue sharply over his glans—“blowing you.” His eyes sparked with heat, and his halfhearted protest stopped. She sucked him down as far as she could, loving his hiss of pleasure, and got to work.
She did love blowing him. His cock was lovely, hard as granite, smooth as marble, with one thick, glorious vein that bulged delightfully the closer he got to climax. And he was so very responsive. Most guys she’d been with seemed to feel that behaving as if they were really into it was somehow unmanly, which was bullshit. Carmen wanted to know, to see, to hear, to feel, the effect she was having. And Theo showed her. With his voice and body both, he showed her.
“God, I love fucking your mouth. I love the…ah, God…way those perfect lips wrap around me.” His hips began to flex with more speed and force, and she felt his hands tangle and tighten in her hair. She unwound a hand from his base and took hold, just a shade to the rough side of gentle, of his balls. He jerked violently, his back slamming against the wall. “Fuck, Carm, oh fuck. Don’t stop. Just like that. I need it, I need it now.”
She stopped and stood, and he gaped at her, breathless and dazed with need. “Fuck me, Theo.” She turned her back to him and bent over, adjusting her position so that the shower spray wouldn’t hit her in the face. She put her hands on the tile and waited, looking back over her shoulder at him. “I want my Rough Rider.”
At first, he only stared, blinking. But then he grabbed her hip with one hand and fed himself into her with the other. She cried out as he went deep, striking her g-spot with almost painful force. With his hands clawed into her hips and his feet framing hers on the shower floor, he pounded into her, yanking her back, hitting her deepest core and making her let loose a wild grunt with each brutal thrust.
Every nerve in her body seemed to be more sensitive with the pregnancy; nowhere was that more true than where Theo was now. The sensation of him hitting her spot was so intense it nearly surpassed pleasure. Grunting, gasping, unable to gain enough breath to speak, she wasn’t sure she could stop him if she needed to—and she wasn’t sure if she needed to. She knew her body was taut and resistant, guarding against the intensity, but she didn’t think he’d noticed. He certainly hadn’t slowed down or backed off. His own grunts echoed fiercely off the tile and glass walls.
Just at the point when she was sure pleasure was gone and had left only intensity, when she had decided that what they were doing was a mistake she’d made and now had to endure, everything changed; her body relaxed suddenly, and pleasure returned in a rush so powerful, Carmen shrieked. In the span of a thrust, what she felt flipped from pain to orgasm, and she came until she could no longer keep her feet. Coming off his own roaring release, Theo caught her as her knees buckled, before she collapsed to the floor.
He pulled her tightly to his chest, his strong arms around her, his face tucked to her shoulder. His panting breaths warmed her wet skin. “Are you okay?”
She answered when she finally had the breath to do so. “I have no fucking idea. That was…God. I don’t even know.”
He turned the water off and opened the door. He grabbed a towel and wrapped her up in it, turning her toward him, then closed them back into the warm shower. “Did I hurt you?” He kissed her cheek. “I hate how often I’ve asked you that question.”
She rested her head on his still-heaving chest. “Do you not like the way we fuck?”
“I worry that we get so rough. Especially now, with the baby.”
“Teresa.”
“Hmm?” With her ear on his chest, the hummed question vibrated deeply, sensually. Even that sound made her tingle.
She leaned her head back so she could see his face. “I want to call her Teresa, after my mother.” She pronounced it as her mother had: Ter-EH-za.
“Teresa.” He pronounced it as she had, then smiled and kissed her. “That’s beautiful. Can we name her after my mother, too? Her name was Joy. What do you think of Teresa Joy?”
“I think that’s perfect.” And apt, as well.
~oOo~
Carmen woke the next morning cozy and at peace. Sun streamed in from the loft window that looked out over the sea. She loved that best of all, the way the world woke her with it, gently, as the sun came up from the horizon to start its work.
She opened her eyes and saw a wall of chest and golden curls. With a deep, easy breath, she snuggled closer to Theo.
“There’s no sleeping in around here, huh?” He moved his hand as he spoke, and Carmen realized he’d been caressing her belly. The touch made her feel content.
“Sorry. I like the dawn.”
He groaned and moved his hand from her belly to her back, bringing her closer. “We need to talk, my love.”
She knew they did. He’d been with her more than a week, and still they had not discussed anything about the future.
Except the naming of their child.
But the future was huge and terrifying, full of questions that had no obvious answers. She knew them all; they’d run through her head in a constant litany since he’d arrived. Where would they live? Whose life would change most? Would they even live together? The only question that had a clear answer was that they would be forever joined by the child she carried. They would have a little girl, whether they found answers for the rest or not.
She shook her head. She’d had only a week of being happy in this cocoon, only a week of knowing what happiness like this was, and she knew that the talk they needed to have would smother it all until it was dead. She just knew it. That was how her life worked—it gave her a glimpse, a taste, of what she wanted, then shoved her onto the road that took her away from it.
“I’m not ready. Not yet. We have time.”
He brushed her hair from her face. “Carmen, we don’t. We have big decisions to make.”
“Please? Please not yet.”
“You’re afraid.”
“Of course I am.” She pushed away from him and sat up. So much for cozy cuddling. “No matter what, everything changes. I know the questions that need answers. One of us has to tear our life apart. Or not, and then we tear us apart. I’m not ready to deal with any of that.”
He lay where he was, quietly, until, finally, Carmen turned and looked back over her shoulder
at him. He looked gorgeous and golden in the winter morning sun. He was watching her, and when their eyes met, he said, “Okay. But I have a favor to ask, then.”
“What?”
“Come with me to Maine. Just for a week. I’ve seen your life here. See mine there. Then, when you’re ready, when we have to decide, we’ll both have some context for the choice.”
He was calm and reasonable, as always, and he was giving her time. “When?”
“Now. Today. We can drive up in your truck, if you don’t mind that. It’s only a few hours to Portland, and I’m not far past it. The rest of my stuff should be arriving from Paris in a couple days, anyway. I should be there to receive it.”
Her family wouldn’t be happy that she was leaving just before Christmas, but he was only asking for a week. She’d be back in time for the holiday. And maybe she’d know more about the choices looming before them.
“Okay. Maine it is.”
~ 18 ~
“Turn left at the stop sign.”
Carmen nodded at Theo’s direction and drove on, northward on Colson College Road. Though they’d talked most of the ride to Maine, she had grown quiet as they’d left the Portland suburbs behind and moved deeply into the Maine Woods. Hoping it was the beauty around them that had silenced her, he let her be quiet.
It really was beautiful, like a Currier and Ives print. They wouldn’t get the heaviest snows until after the New Year, but there was a blanket of about eight inches over the ground, and the pine boughs were coated with white puffs. The roads were clear and dry, though.
Theo watched Carmen see the world he lived in—quiet and peaceful, nearly always. She seemed to be taking it in completely, her mouth open slightly, he hoped in awe. He wanted her to love this place like he did.
Because he couldn’t leave Maine. She had to come to him. She and their daughter.
The Colson town limit was farther down this road, and the college at which he taught was beyond the other side of town. He planned to show her everything, but they’d start with his house.
Carmen paused at the three-way stop and then turned left onto the gravel road that would become his driveway in about half a mile, after they passed the Darrons’ place and Joe Boyd’s. This road was not clear, but resident traffic since the snowfall had formed reliable, well-packed tracks for Carmen to follow. Her Tundra was four-wheel drive, so he wasn’t worried.
He’d offered to drive as they were preparing to leave Quiet Cove, and again when they’d stopped for lunch. Both times, she had cocked a wry, assertive eyebrow at him. She drove her own truck.
Fine with him; he didn’t feel less manly on the passenger side. And it tickled him to listen to her grumble and bitch at other drivers when they did things she considered stupid or inconsiderate—not an infrequent occurrence. She didn’t drive aggressively, but it was a good thing her road mates couldn’t hear her commentary.
As the road narrowed, Carmen stopped, her brow furrowed. A snow-topped, hand-carved sign ahead announced that they were at Wilde Wood.
“You named your place—and you named it Wilde Wood?” Her tone had a mocking flavor.
“Hey, Eli made that in woodshop class. He did good work on it.”
She conceded with a smiling nod. “I guess we’re at the right place then—not that anyone could tell otherwise.”
Theo said, “No one’s been around, and I didn’t think to call my neighbor and ask him to clear the drive. But drive on ahead—that break in the trees is my driveway.
She nodded and downshifted, then asked, “You left your house just unattended since May?”
“No. Jordan was here most of the summer, and then Eli was here until he moved, and my neighbors checked in on things regularly enough. Living back here is pretty safe. It’s a small lake, not all that well known, and no big boats allowed. Most of the property around the lake is still owned by town families, so we don’t have a big contingent of summer people. We have more trouble with college kids in the spring than anything. And that’s just rowdiness.”
There was a fairly steep dip toward the end of his drive, and the Tundra’s tires took half a second to grab on, then made the descent and climbed back up without a problem. As they crested the rise, Carmen took an audible breath.
“Fuck.”
The tone with which she said it was appreciative, almost reverent, and Theo smiled. Yes. This place.
To their right, nestled into the trees, his small, cedar-shake house, not dramatically different in style from Carmen’s beach cottage. To the left, down about seventy yards, Colson Lake, rimmed with pines and birches, busily about its work of freezing for the winter. The house was surrounded by expansive cedar decking of varied tiers, eventually connecting with the walkway to the lake, which became the dock onto the lake. That decking and walkway was the hard work of a summer for Theo and Eli several years before. Past the deck, his office, a tiny cedar cabin of its own. Back and to the near side of the house, functional but not nearly as picturesque, stood a large garage clad in corrugated steel. Once, it had held three vehicles, a riding mower, a little jon boat, and a rack of canoes and kayaks. These days, besides the boats and mower, his ’95 Cherokee was the only vehicle in there.
Carmen parked her truck, and they got out. Theo walked around the back end and went to her, catching her hand in his. “This is where I live.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yes. Come with me. I want to show you something.”
The air was sharply cold, and the snow moderately deep, but he wasn’t worried. She was dressed in big work boots, heavy, black leggings, and a dark brown sweater that hugged her belly. Over it all, she wore a navy down-filled coat with a faux-fur trimmed hood. She was a woman who knew what winter was. Maybe not a winter in the Maine woods, but she knew how to dress for the cold.
Shaking her hand free of his, she zipped her coat closed and then fished in her pockets and pulled out her gloves. When they were on, she took his hand again, and he led her down toward the lake.
He walked her out on the dock, so she could see past the edge of his little cove and out toward the larger lake. On a winter day like this—the sun bright and turning the snow into a sparkling blanket of pure peace, the lake itself iced enough to hold the snow but not yet enough to be trod upon, the trees lifting the white burdens of their boughs to the sky—it was possible to forget there was a world anywhere else. He loved it deeply. He’d lived a life here. He’d lost much here. He’d healed here. And he hoped that Carmen’s general distaste for humanity would entice her to live with him here, beyond the touch of strangers. He wanted to move on here.
They stood at the end of the dock; Theo behind her, his arms around her.
“God, Theo. It’s like Narnia. This can’t be real.”
He burrowed his face past the hood of her coat and into her hair, taking a deep breath of her. “But it is. We’re alone here. Totally private.” He slid his hand up under her coat and sweater, and then into her leggings, under her panties. He rubbed his palm over her taut, rounding belly. Their little girl. “No one to see us, no one to bother us.”
“Theo…”
Hearing reluctance in her voice, but not resistance, he pushed his hand between her legs and found her becoming wet already. She gasped and flinched as his fingers brushed her clit and her folds.
“No one to mind us at all,” he breathed against her ear. He pushed his fingers deep, holding her snugly with his other arm as she folded forward with a cry. She wet his fingers thoroughly, and he groaned into her hair.
“I love to feel you want it like this, to feel you swell at my touch.” He moved his fingers to her clit and rubbed, keeping the pressure firm and steady, but varying the way he moved, as she liked. Here on the dock in December, bundled up in their winter layers, he wasn’t planning to linger. He wanted to get her off quickly and powerfully. She was extra sensitive these days and doubly responsive, and now he was bent over her back because she’d nearly doubled over. With both gloved hands
between her legs, she held his hand on her and flexed, grunting, until she came, going suddenly, rigidly still, and wetting his hand even more.
When her body relaxed, he stood them both straight and removed his hand, setting her clothes to rights. Then he turned her to face him and kissed her flushed cheek. “Welcome to Maine,” he murmured.
~oOo~
They spent their days primarily alone together, tucked into his little woodsy haven. Joe Boyd had been over to check on things recently enough that the Cherokee started almost right away, the pipes were working well, and the wood was dry.
Rooted (The Pagano Family Book 3) Page 23
