by Jule McBride
“Oh, no,” she whispered. He’d torn her tights in front, and now he was curling his fingers in the crotch of the thong she happened to be wearing. Wetting his fingers, he put them between her legs and she dropped the shopping bag with Lizzie’s rice as he quickly unzipped, came free of the jeans and stroked himself in a way that made her blood rush, the gesture quick, male and perfunctory, making sure he was hard enough.
Sheathed a second later, he was inside her and she was climbing, her hips rocking to meet him, her back arching as steely, muscular arms curled around her. Hands lifted her backside. Her legs circled his back, her ankles locking and pulling him closer. Her purse dropped to the floor. Pure sensation swept her away. His mouth on hers, punishing, crushing, wet, devouring. Him gasping against her wet lips, his tongue thrusting, her dress wadded between them. She clutched fistfuls of his brown shirt, pinching his nipples and tugging, eliciting soft male sighs from him, before curling her hands around his shoulders and clinging.
She was crying out, striving, her hips riding on a wave of need beyond her control, then he was reaching between them again, pushing the thong further out of the way, the back strap pulling between the cheeks of her backside, her gasping as drenched silk in front stretched taut against her clit.
“You’re burning, baby,” he muttered against her mouth.
Oh, yes, she was.
“Come,” he commanded, lifting her body with one arm. “Now, Ari.”
Breath heaved. As soon as she convulsed, his head reared back, and he pounded into her, his hands clenching her hips before he released a guttural sound of satisfaction that she felt in her bones. She was still reeling when he started tugging down her messed-up dress. Then she, too, was trying to straighten and arrange and make herself respectable. As soon as his pants were zipped, he released the Stop button and the elevator continued traveling upward.
“I’m not ready,” she managed to say, her voice shaky with excitement, as she grabbed her purse from the floor. “My tights are going to fall down! There’s nothing to hold them up! I need to get to a bathroom and maybe I can tie the tops of them together or something. I can’t believe you ripped them like that.”
“What can I say? You turn me into an animal.”
“Maybe I have a safety pin in my purse, I don’t know!”
“Just hold them up for now. If nothing else, I’ll go into a store and buy you pins. I’ll get the stuff you’re taking to Lizzie,” he said, retrieving the shopping bag.
She took a deep breath. “I can’t believe we did this!”
When he laughed, it did wonderful things to his face, making his eyes twinkle like a clear sky at night. “Here,” he said. “I think you a need a disguise. Just in case we’re arrested for lewdness.” As she laughed, he reached into his raincoat pocket and withdrew something...glasses. He slid them onto her face.
Her heart skipped a beat. “The Kate Spades.”
“Maybe a little dark for the elevator,” he conceded, “but downstairs, I could tell you really liked them.”
It was so thoughtful, so unexpected. Since she didn’t know what to say other than thank you, she was almost glad when the doors opened onto a crowd grumbling about the elevator’s slow service. Luckily, she didn’t know any of them well and was spared having to make conversation while pressing her purse against her midsection to keep her tights up. As soon as they were alone in the hallway, Bruno reached for her hand and squeezed. “I owe you a fantasy.”
Her mind went strangely blank. She could think of a few, of course. But anything Bruno did was over-the-top. “I always wanted a ride in a helicopter,” she offered.
He looked disappointed. “I can’t do sex and fly. I would wreck.”
Guys could be so dense. “We can land for that part, Bruno.”
“Excellent,” he said.
Chapter Eight
“I know Bruno says he’s stuck in Chicago, but I can’t imagine being called away on so many Sundays,” Mom Mad said.
Says he’s stuck. Ari silently dared her mother, the Queen of Indirection, to openly accuse Bruno of lying regarding his whereabouts, and then Ari reminded herself she was a well-adjusted, self-supporting, sexually active adult. She was twenty-six years old and hadn’t asked her family for anything since high school, not even to co-sign her mortgage. By contrast, Lizzie took gifts all the time. The purses came with so many strings that Ari didn’t know how Lizzie stood it.
“Businesses close on weekends, so it’s prime time for him,” she said, her quick sigh acting like air from a pressure relief valve, keeping her from blowing her lid. Nobody ever talked back to Mom Mad, not really. “The electric load is less and they run tests. He’s overseeing a project in Chicago as well as the one here.”
“But two Sundays in a row, Ari? I know you think I’m meddling. Your father calls it meddling. But when you drop off these leftovers, why don’t you leave Bruno a note and ask if everything’s fine? Are you sure he’s okay with you being so career focused? And working as a freelancer? I mean, instead of for a company? I’d hate to see him lose interest.”
Even if the falling snow wasn’t providing the excuse for her early getaway, Ari couldn’t escape fast enough. She was descending into the deep, dark hole created by Mom Mad’s hypercriticalness whenever Ari put down her guard. “Isn’t Lizzie’s wedding enough to micromanage?”
“Do you think he sees your move to Raleigh as a sign of disinterest?” Mom Mad continued, steamrolling on as if Ari hadn’t spoken. “I don’t want you moving, either. Lizzie and your dad are upset about it, too.”
“It’s my life.” Mom Mad always wore the pants, but tonight, she’d graduated to breast binders and strap-on dildos or something, probably because Lizzie’s Final Event was this coming Saturday. Prolonging the conversation would only make Ari’s spirit plummet, but she felt compelled to defend Bruno. “I signed a lease before I met him,” she pointed out.
“Nothing’s set in stone, hon. Tell your new tenants to find something else.”
“My tenants are perfect,” Ari managed. Five hours of badgering and Mom Mad had almost convinced Ari she’d lose Bruno unless she changed long-standing life plans. It was crazy, but she was starting to resent Bruno, just the way she sometimes did Lizzie. And she didn’t want to resent Bruno! Lizzie, either! She’d found a wonderful, young pregnant couple, hyper-responsible, who could move in only two weeks, and they wanted to grow their own veggies. Her bungalow was entirely packed, the moving trucks arranged. “Please don’t ruin this for me.”
“I think you’ll find city living isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. High rents and cramped quarters, but you’ll have to find out for yourself. You’ve never been like Lizzie when it comes to taking advice, and as a parent, I’ve had to let you make your own mistakes.”
“It’s not a mistake!” Ari exclaimed, but of course, she didn’t know that yet. Only time would tell. And the long-suffering way Mom Mad spoke about being her parent, you’d think Ari was a serial killer or something. “I have income from the rent on my house and tons of work.”
“Being full-time with a company with benefits would be better. That’s all I’m trying to say.” When Ari didn’t respond—couldn’t respond—because she was tumbling head over heels into a black hole, Mom Mad continued. “You told Bruno how sorry we were to hear about his mother, didn’t you?”
“So he’ll know mine spies more than the NSA?” There’d been no occasion to mention his mother, anyway. He kept his living spaces sparse, no photos, no knickknacks, all the books on an ereader.
“Maybe all he’s interested in is sex, and if it didn’t happen, he’s decided...” Her voice trailed off. “Don’t give me that look! Lizzie confides in me!”
Lizzie lies to you, too. “I’m not Lizzie,” Ari managed. Usually, Dad Mad kept the missus in check, but because snow had caused power outages in sur
rounding counties, he and The Dentist were outside, checking the backup generator. Jack was staying with Lizzie in the carriage house tonight, instead of driving home, and they never saw patients on Mondays anyway. He’d pretend to sleep on the sofa, since Lizzie was still telling Mom Mad she was a virgin, which she wasn’t. Schools had been canceled, so Mom and Dad Mad would be staying home tomorrow.
“Of course you’re not Lizzie. And Ari, everybody researches people online. Bruno would see it as a sign of interest.”
Ari heard his husky, sexy voice. I was wondering how long you’d let me fuck your brains out before you asked about me. Was Mom Mad right? Was she too self-centered? Ari shook her head to clear it of confusion. Lack of sex was definitely not why Bruno hadn’t come to dinner after accepting invitations for two weeks running. “He’s stuck in Chicago, due to bad weather,” Ari said. “His not being here has absolutely nothing to do with me.”
Mom Mad sent a long glance. “People can usually make time, Ari.”
She was in rare form tonight. “Mom, just stop.”
“Stop what? You’re my daughter and I want you to be as happy as Lizzie. I don’t think you should screw this one up, Ari. He was a child prodigy and teaching at Georgetown by the time he was twenty-five.”
Her mother’s goal-oriented approach to male-female relations seemed so insane. A relationship was just that—people relating—not a game with a wedding as the goal post. “He quit. He hated it.”
“And went into something even more interesting!”
“Maybe you should marry Bruno.”
Mrs. Eli cut her mother’s salt-and-pepper hair razor sharp to the chin, and now she repeatedly tucked it behind her ears, the way she did when she was annoyed. “Aribella, this man is interested!”
“Do you think you could sound more surprised?”
“Nobody is better than my little girl, of course, but he could have anybody.”
“Other than me?”
“You’re twisting everything I say!”
No, she wasn’t. “Who’s more accomplished, Mom? Bruno or Lizzie? Maybe we should have a contest?”
“Don’t get sarcastic! I know you’ll never be like Lizzie. I’ve never asked you to be like Lizzie. I wouldn’t want you to be like Lizzie. She was the one who always had the steady boyfriend, even if she’s marrying The Dentist now, not The Accountant, and by sixth grade, she’d set her sights on dental hygiene. I’m only afraid you’re not going to settle down. I want you to find a man who can make you every bit as happy as Lizzie’s going to be!”
“About Lizzie,” Ari interjected, shakily. “Please tell her goodbye.” She was in the bathroom, doing God knew what, while Ari dealt with the dishes, as usual. Lizzie hadn’t seemed any more normal tonight than Mom Mad, quiet as a church mouse and picking at her food. She’d asked to borrow Ari’s black silk floral print blouse with the splashy red poppies on it, and Ari had brought it, although Lizzie never wore Ari’s clothes and the blouse wasn’t her style.
“Don’t forget the leftovers. I put in two containers of most things. Roast. Potatoes and carrots, macaroni salad, lots of blackberry cobbler. He’s got no mother to cook for him now. It’s so sad. Did I forget anything?”
“He’s not home,” Ari reminded, hating the plea creeping into her voice.
“You said he showed you where he kept his extra key.”
“Only in case of emergency!” The information had come out during an unrelated conversation. Even if it weren’t snowing, Ari wouldn’t want to drop by Mr. No-Show’s after hours of being subjected to Mom Mad at her worst. “It’s snowing, Mom.”
“You think I don’t know that? His turnoff is on your way, and you’d better hurry, since the snow is starting to really come down. Oh, and in your note, remind him I sent an invitation to the wedding.”
But she didn’t want to go to Bruno’s! Or maybe she did, but she was only mad about being railroaded by Mom Mad. Ari could no longer tell. Earlier, Ari had found herself even regretting letting Bruno send over his packers. He’d flown her to D.C. for dinner, too. Just the two of them, sharing a view of shoreline from the Outer Banks to an inner-city helipad, then a fancy meal at an upscale restaurant and wild, delicious, no-holds-barred sex in his high-rise condo. She’d loved the novelty of being whisked away for a midnight return flight under the stars, but it had been intimidating, too.
And then, this evening had been a reminder that Bruno was in her life now, since he’d become a topic of family speculation. Forget all Robby’s shrink theories about her being relationship-averse due to some in-the-womb twin-thing, tonight proved the problem was Mom Mad. Yes, tonight had been pivotal. Everything with Bruno had been going perfectly. It was so uncomplicated. His mouth here, his hands there. But now Mom Mad was pressuring her. By monitoring her responses, Ari had come to see exactly how Mom Mad was making her want to push Bruno away.
“You don’t have to move, Ari. At least stay home three more months. Just while he finishes his job here. See where things go.”
“I’m packed! I have a moving date!” Ari almost ran to the coat closet, but Mom Mad followed on her heels. She watched like a hawk while Ari pulled a white down coat over a blue knit dress that buttoned up the front, then put on a knitted Peruvian hat with rope-braid tassels hanging from the ear flaps.
“Here,” Mom Mad said, looping the handle of a bag of packed Tupperware containers over Ari’s hand. “I’ve been married thirty years, so I do know a few things, Aribella. I’ve coached Lizzie, and she’s about to start her own family now. I want that for you, too.”
“Just tell everybody I said ‘bye.”
Outside, Ari stood on the wraparound porch of the old stone house in shock, gulping deep breaths, welcoming the cold air stinging her lungs. Like a slap in the face, she waited for the sharp sensations to pull her out of the funk, but they didn’t. She loved her family, she really did, but it could take days to recover. She’d driven the pickup since its tires got better traction than the Mustang’s, and she’d parked by the road, since it would stay clearer than the long driveway. Walking toward the truck, she shivered, her breath clouding the air.
The snow was as rare as it was beautiful, but she couldn’t even enjoy it right now, and she resented that, too. Because it never snowed, the town didn’t have a salt truck or snowplow. For days, people had been hoarding and discussing school and work cancelations. By the time Ari had gone to the store for emergency supplies, shelves had been empty, and she’d felt lucky to get the last gallon of milk.
Icy roads weren’t the real issue, though. She just wasn’t in the mood to deliver leftovers after listening to Mom Mad sing Bruno and Lizzie’s praises all night. She felt all mixed up, like she wanted to fall in love with Bruno, marry him, anything, to get Mom Mad off her back.
Suddenly, her heart missed a beat. Footprints trailed though the woods near the house, which was a little creepy. As she neared the truck, she heard a car motor and saw tire tracks. Someone had pulled out of sight behind a cypress thicket. Her blood quickening, she approached. Hitting a patch of ice, she slid on the heels of her knee-high lace-up boots before catching herself. “Gavin’s Jeep,” she whispered in relief. Readjusting the shoulder strap of her purse and clutching the leftovers, she sidled next to the vehicle. Gavin was hunched over, bundled in a black down jacket and black knit cap with a Tar Heels team logo. She tapped the glass and he powered down the window.
“I thought you were a home invader. What are you doing out here? Peeping?” Even with the bluish cast to his skin from the cold, he was way better-looking than The Dentist. He had brown eyes, and dark wavy hair, long enough to lick from under the bottom of the Tar Heels hat.
Instead of answering her questions, he said, “She’s not really going to marry him, is she, Ari?”
“The wedding’s in six days, Gavin.” Sighing, she reached into the bag. “Here. You l
ook like you could use some nourishment.”
“Mom Mad’s roast?” His voice was wistful. “She always made the best roast in the world.”
Ari was hardly in the mood to hear Gavin compliment Mom Mad’s cuisine. “Why didn’t you propose, Gavin?”
When he plunged into a monologue about how nothing was good enough for someone as perfect as Lizzie, Ari was sorry she’d asked. He droned on, saying he still didn’t think he could have done enough, in terms of trying to save, start his business, and buy Lizzie a new house. No doubt, Ari was going to wind up exactly like him. Alone, out in the cold and pathetic, at least if Mom Mad had her way.
“I wouldn’t have felt right about asking Lizzie for a commitment unless I had more to offer,” Gavin was saying. “She deserves the best. Mom Mad must have told me that a million times. I can hardly even stand to look at you right now, no offense, because it reminds me of Lizzie so much.”
“Except she’s more perfect, right?”
“Only to me.”
Ari shivered. “Here. Take some cobbler, too.” Bruno would be none the wiser. If she was even going to Bruno’s. Right now, she wanted curl in a fetal ball, maybe knock off a bottle of wine alone. She’d stop by Boondocks and hang out with Paulie and Sally, except they’d closed due to snow. “I’ve got to go. It’s cold. And get home, Gavin. Seriously, if you don’t follow me, I’m not leaving.”
On top of being depressed, she felt chilled to the bone as she trotted to the truck. The wind was whipping her legs and despite the heaviness of her coat, icy cold permeated the fabric. Setting the shopping bag on the passenger seat, she turned up the heat while making a pact with herself not to get confused about her motivations. One more push from Mom Mad, and she would have agreed to put off moving, just to pursue Bruno, which was crazy. As it was, he’d visit her in Raleigh, or she’d drive to the coast, or up to D.C. Maybe the relationship would fizzle out, as Mom Mad predicted. Ari never stuck with men, the way Lizzie did. Something else Mom Mad kept pointing out. And she had coached Lizzie, too, so maybe Ari should take her advice seriously, especially now that Lizzie was headed for a life of marital bliss, financial security and all the rest.
