Friendly Persuasion

by Dawn Atkins

  “We what? Oh.” He looked confused.

  “I mean, if we keep this up,” she said, “someone’s going to get hurt.” Me.

  Ross didn’t speak.

  “I know I’ve said this before, but this time is definite. From here on it will just get too complicated.”

  “You’re sure?” he said hollowly.

  She nodded.

  He seemed to be considering her words. “One more time for the road? We still have the virgin thing, you know.”

  “Not a good idea.” She had to go cold turkey. No last, lingering fantasy, where real feelings might spill out like champagne poured too fast into a flute. “We have to remember what we agreed when we started. We agreed that—”

  “Don’t,” he said, cutting her off. “If you recite a ground rule I’ll bust this window with my head.”

  She paused, surprised at his intensity. “Are you okay, Ross?”

  “I’m fine. You’re right.” He sighed again. “I just…it’s a shame about all that Victoria’s Secret stuff.” His sorrowful expression didn’t match his wry words.

  “Yeah,” she said. “When I wear them, I’ll think of you.” She’d aimed for humor, too, but it came out wrong.

  “Do me a favor and don’t, okay?” He seemed hurt.

  “I don’t want you to think this is easy for me, Ross. It’s very hard. All that we’ve done has been amazing and so good for me. You’ve taught me so much.” She looked into his eyes, glanced at the mouth she loved. She’d never taste it again. She looked at his hands, which were gripping his thighs as if for life itself. Those fingers would never touch her intimately again. Tears welled in her eyes and she wanted to fall into his arms and take it all back.

  But she had to stay strong. She whispered, “Better get the taxi back,” gave him a quick peck on the cheek, inhaling his smell one last time, like a secret vice, and got out of the cab. “Drive carefully,” she said. “Watch out for Officer Reynolds.” She turned to run up the walk, blinking back tears, feeling as if her heart was leaking all over her insides.

  Behind her, the battered cab rattled away. She turned to watch it go, standing there for a long, long time. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. This was for the best. She’d call Baylor first thing Monday morning and ask him out—for Saturday night if possible, so she wouldn’t be tempted to call Ross and recant.

  Already her body ached everywhere, as though she’d fallen down stairs and gotten bruised head to toe. But she was still on her feet. Not desperate. Determined to move on. Not even crying—though her eyes were a little watery. She’d caught it in time.

  12

  HE WOULD HAVE BEEN OKAY, if it hadn’t been for Baylor Jones, Ross thought on the following Saturday afternoon, staring at his phone. Breaking it off had made sense when Kara explained it last week in the cab. Their friendship was number one, after all.

  Kara had high standards, he knew, and he wasn’t that confident of his feelings. He couldn’t stand disappointing her. The idea of sex as themselves, not as characters in a fantasy, had enticed him into wanting to go for something more. Dangerous.

  As if to prove the rightness of the decision, he’d gotten home to four phone messages from women wondering where he’d disappeared to, asking if he was interested in “getting together”—code for no-strings sex. When he returned those calls, he’d have a delicious month of romps to look forward to. It didn’t get much better than that.

  Then Monday at work, Kara had announced she had a date with Baylor Jones. Our plan worked, she’d said, all cheerful and bouncy. You showed me how sex can be fun without getting uptight and planning the future. I can date Baylor with open eyes now. Isn’t that great?

  Yeah. Just great.

  He stared at his phone. He’d picked it up three times, each time barely keeping his itchy finger from speed-dial one—Kara’s spot. What was he going to say to her—Don’t go out with that dweeb. I’ve got a whole new list of fantasies we can act out?

  Then he looked at the message machine where the women’s messages still waited. He should make a date. Get started on life without Kara. He pushed play and picked up a pen to write down the numbers. Except then he hit delete, erasing each sweet offer, one by one. He didn’t want a month of sexual romps. He wanted Kara.

  He knew where he could find her tonight. Jones was taking her to a trendy wine bar and then to dinner at a restaurant where you turned over your Gold Card when you walked in and they handed it back to you maxed out. The guy was pulling out all the stops just to get in Kara’s pants, no doubt.

  Don’t let him, Kara. Don’t let him touch you.

  Every time he thought about it, his vision faded to gray and he wanted to hit something. He had hit something, as a matter of fact—the wall a couple of times—and now it hurt to play his guitar, which he’d been doing between aborted calls…lonely blues so fierce the whine of the strings made his ears ache. He was an idiot.

  Why hadn’t he just told her he wanted to try the big R? Because it sounded feeble, that’s why. Kara needed a rock, and he wasn’t sure he was that solid. How could he ask her to risk it when he couldn’t promise anything?

  He watched the clock tick. She’d be in the shower now, washing those gorgeous breasts, that flat stomach, those great thighs. Washing herself for Baylor Jones. What kind of a name was Baylor? You named a suit Baylor Jones, not a man. Baylor, Baylor, Bo Baylor, banana fanana fo failer. Baylor the Failer. Not a man for his Kara.

  Now she was drying off. He saw the towel brush between her legs, that place he loved, so delicate, so responsive, and he got hard. The thought of Baylor touching her there, hearing those breathless sounds she made, made him sick. The guy wouldn’t think to find that place on her thigh that, when Ross stroked it just so, made her rigid with pleasure. Hell, the guy probably wouldn’t even care if she climaxed.

  He shouldn’t be thinking like this. This was damaging. But he kept it up and an hour later, he found himself roaring on his bike to that chichi wine bar to get Kara. I love you. I want to be with you. No more games.

  He kept the ferocious hunger for her at the front of his mind, blocking out the fact that he was operating on undiluted testosterone, and if he’d just kick back with a beer or take his board to a skate park and take a few blows to the head, he’d get over it.

  But here he was, standing in the door to the bar, running his fingers through his hair so he looked good for Kara. He blinked to adjust his eyes to the expensive Pinot-Noir light of the place, then zeroed in on Kara like a homing signal. She was sitting on a love seat leaning toward a guy—Baylor the Failer, no doubt—smiling, now laughing, at something he was saying.

  Ross strode across the room, feeling like John Wayne in a bad Western—Take yer hands off my woman. He didn’t give a damn how stupid he looked.

  The place was crowded with people sitting at the bar and standing in clumps, all trying to look New York. By the time he’d woven his way to where Kara and her date sat, Jones was gone. He caught the guy’s retreating back heading toward the john alcove. Good. He could talk to her alone.

  Extravagantly bowled wineglasses sat on the tiny table in front of Kara and there was a wedge of cheese they’d been nibbling on. Everything so tasteful and elegant. Until Ross crashed in. He was an idiot, but it was too late for second thoughts because her name was on his lips.

  “Kara,” he said from behind her.

  She turned in the love seat and looked up at him. “Ross?” She blanched, but then he saw what he’d needed to see on her face. Delight. Relief. Joy.

  “Come here.” He took her arm and guided her to her feet. She rose willingly, if a little confused, then he crushed her into his arms over the back of the sofa—a move straight out of a movie, except this was real, as real as the strawberry flavor of her lips, the sweet flower of her perfume, the shaky breath from her dear lungs—all of it sending life into him. He’d been dead, he realized, except for longing, since he’d dropped her off after the interrupted cab sex and
she’d told him it was over.

  She sagged in his arms, then managed to pull away. “Stop it,” she said, her mouth bruised looking from his kiss. “No more games. I’m on a date. And we never planned ‘jealous boyfriend,’ anyway.”

  “I’m not playing, Kara. This is real.”

  “What are you saying?” She searched his face.

  “I’m saying I…I love you, Kara.”

  Her eyes went wide with surprise. Before she could say anything that made him doubt his own words, he pulled her tight and kissed her again, this time with more tenderness than he thought he had in him.

  Kara couldn’t believe what was happening. Ross had appeared and declared his love and now he was kissing her and it was wonderful and amazing and heavenly and….

  A man cleared his throat. She jerked back to the reality of Baylor at her elbow. “One visit to the rest room and the world turns over,” he said.

  “Baylor,” Kara said, hazy with enchantment. “This is so rude. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize this would happen.”

  “I guess I’m not surprised,” Baylor said.

  She could see he was hurt and she didn’t blame him. He was a nice guy and the drink they’d shared had only made her like him more. And want to sleep with him less.

  “Rebounds are risky, but you seemed worth it, Kara. I hope you know what you’re doing.” He gave Ross a once-over of disapproval. Ross did look out of place in the toney crowd in his red Keds, T-shirt and jeans, but Kara didn’t care. She was so happy to see him he could have appeared in a gorilla suit and she’d have been delighted.

  She watched Baylor leave, feeling Ross’s eyes on her, burning a hole into her. She turned to him.

  “I couldn’t stand the idea of you being with that guy,” Ross said. “Or any other guy. You belong with me.” He cupped her face in his hands. “We belong together.”

  Her heart rose in her throat, pounding and pounding so she could hardly think. All she could do was look into his hazel eyes, dark with emotion and desire. “Ross, I don’t know…I don’t think…”

  “Tell me you don’t feel the same way.”

  She couldn’t make the words come out. “I feel that way, I guess. I’m just scared.”

  “Me, too, but let’s go for it.” He grinned and grabbed her by the elbow, and before she knew it he’d hustled her out to the parking lot and straight to his motorcycle, which gleamed a menacing, daredevil black and silver. She stopped short. “I can’t ride this.”

  “Sure you can. Here.” He handed her a helmet.

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Not as dangerous as taking a cab. The driver would get one hell of an eyeful. I’ll drive carefully. I promise.”

  Weakened by his kiss and in a haze, she hiked up her dress, threw a leg over the saddle and wrapped herself around Ross’s warm body.

  Ross backed up the bike, kicked it to life and they roared off. Kara gasped in terror, plastered her face to Ross’s back as best she could with the helmet in the way, closed her eyes and held on with a death grip. If she was going to die, she’d rather do it with Ross.

  After a few minutes, when she realized they were still upright and the wind wouldn’t blow her off, she opened her eyes to look.

  And found it amazing. Ross steered the bike evenly on the road and she could tell he was deliberately going slow. It was startling to be part of the scenery, to be close to the cars driving beside them, music drifting from open windows, touched by the spring air, open to the scent of orange blossoms, mesquite-grilled food from restaurants they passed, seeing pedestrians, neon signs in complete detail, not blurred or smeared by window glass. She felt Ross’s heart pounding against her palm. He was here—solid and sure—and he wouldn’t let her get hurt. And she realized she wasn’t scared of the bike. Or anything right now. Adrenaline and love made her feel invulnerable. Ross loved her. And they were going to make love to each other—for real and for the first time ever.

  What are you doing? her sensible side demanded. This is some fantasy-induced drama. Ross is just jealous of Baylor. Men get like that. You’re doing it again, falling in love too soon.

  This wasn’t the same old pattern. This was different. Ross loved her. She knew him better than the men in her failed relationships. This was new. Better. Right.

  All the same, she closed her mind and just held on to Ross all the way to his apartment.

  Once inside his place, Ross cupped her cheeks and searched her face. “I want to make love to Kara. Not Katherine or Angel. To you.”

  “I want that, too.” Words failed her, so she kissed him with her whole heart. The kiss was full of the discoveries of the first one—so this is how you taste, how your breath moves, how your lips feel—but deeply familiar, too, like coming home from a long, dangerous journey, safe and sound.

  They broke apart and began to undress without saying a word. The moment felt almost sacred, as if they were offering themselves to each other, open and honest and completely there.

  Kara let her dress drop to her feet. She’d worn plain white underwear tonight because she had no intention of sleeping with Baylor, but Ross’s eyes gleamed with the same look as Miguel’s that first night when she’d worn the sexy black-lace teddy.

  Ross whipped off his T-shirt and tossed it to the side, then removed his pants to stand before her, his erection prominent and proud.

  Kara unhooked her bra and let it drop, then slid out of her panties. She felt no embarrassment, no shyness, just pleasure and pride.

  “Look at you,” Ross said.

  “Look at us,” she answered.

  They smiled at each other in wonder, like Adam and Eve discovering their sexuality. Then Ross took her hand and they walked to his bedroom, where they went to separate sides of the bed.

  Kara slid under the sheet, but before she could pull it up, Ross yanked it completely off the bed. “I want to see everything,” he said, reminding her of Dr. Michaels, the sex therapist. He climbed onto the mattress beside her, examining her with adoration, treasuring her. He cupped one breast the way Miguel had.

  She touched him, too, feeling the swell of his pectorals, the flatness of his stomach, the muscles jumping under her fingers. He held still, watching her, as he had when she’d overpowered him as the Love Thief. When she reached his velvety penis, he closed his eyes. She curled her fingers around the shaft and slid upward to end in a gentle touch at the head.

  He groaned. “You know me so well,” he said, words he’d used as the cabdriver. He cupped her with his palm and slid two fingers gently between her folds to the live wire of her body hidden there. That reminded her of Mike reaching under her flight attendant uniform, riveting her in place with his fingers.

  She rolled from her side to her back.

  “I want you to feel everything,” he said, the Love Thief again. All the lovers were coming back, combining together into Ross. “I want to make love to you,” he said.

  Make love. Not have sex. Ross and Kara would be making love. Just the two of them. No roles, no games. For real, this time.

  Kara realized she’d wanted this, longed for it, fought it since the adventure began. At last it was all right. She loved him and, best of all, he loved her.

  She spread her legs, open to Ross, open to anything he wanted to do to her, aching for him to fill her, to go deep, as far as he could go. He stayed poised at her entrance for a moment, then he whispered, “I love you, Kara,” and pushed into her.

  She gasped, the pleasure of his entry, the relief of it, and the joy of hearing his words all equal in her heart.

  “I feel right when I’m inside you,” Ross said, his face full of love. “Like I belong here.”

  “You do belong here. Exactly here.” She bent her knees, lifting her hips, bringing him in deeper.

  He pulled out and thrust in, hard, then out and in again and again. There was no playful teasing in their lovemaking this time. The bed banged against the wall with the force of their movements. They worked hungrily t
oward climax, moving as one, laying claim to each other, body and soul. Ross was inside her, part of her. He was in love with her, feeling what she felt.

  Ross thrust again and again. Kara lifted her hips to get every bit of him, to give him all of her. She felt her orgasm approach, sensed his in the quickening of his thrusts.

  Once more and they were swept away on the wave, calling each other’s names. That sounded so right, she thought as she felt the sparks and stabs of utter pleasure. The orgasm seemed to go on forever, as if her spasms added to his and his to hers, making both bigger and longer.

  Finally, finally, they shuddered to rest, panting, wearing sweat like a glove. Staying inside her, Ross rolled to the side, holding her tightly against him, something he’d never done before. Their fantasies hadn’t allowed for cuddling, or whispering things: I love you. You make me so happy. I think of you every minute. I can’t stand to be away from you. So these were the things they said to each other as their breathing slowed and settled and their hearts stopped pounding.

  Then they changed positions, spooning—her back to his front. After a few peaceful minutes of murmurs and squeezes, Kara felt Ross’s breathing deepen into sleep. She wanted to move, so they could both sleep more comfortably, but if she so much as twitched, Ross grabbed her against him hard. She smiled and snuggled in for the night.

  This was the right thing to do. It had to be. How could she feel this good otherwise? This was different than with any other man. She felt connected to Ross. And Ross wanted it, too. That was what had been missing in all the other relationships—a matching love. This time it was real, not wishful thinking on her part.

  What would they do now, though? Live together? Get married? That seemed impossible, but Ross had said they belonged together. What else could he mean?

  Doubts lifted fingers of warning from where she’d submerged them—what if this was just the game intensified to a dangerous level? What if Ross is wrong for you?—but she absolutely would not spoil the moment. This was real and Ross was changing. He was about to get the new job, for one thing. That would ease her worries about his stability. Just a few adjustments and this would all work out fine.