by Karen Booth
“In my pocket.”
“You’re prepared.”
“Yes, my dear, I am.” He rolled me to my back without another word, and everything became a frenzied blur. Minutes later, we both collapsed, breathless. I felt as though I’d been hit by a particularly handsome freight train.
“Tell me that isn’t the usual version of the house tour,” I said, still catching my breath.
“Uh, no. That was a first for the rug.” He laughed. “It’s your fault, you know. I thought I was going to pass out in the car. It’s not good to have all of that blood flow diverted when you’re trying to drive.”
I shook my head. “My fault? I’m surprised I was able to walk out of the airport without falling down.”
He rolled back to his side and smoothed his hand across my stomach. “I promise to take my time with you later tonight.” He smiled half of a smile, his eyes smoldering, and I became peppered with goose bumps.
I shook my head again to break the spell he’d cast on me, at least long enough to speak. “Do we wear clothes for the rest of the tour?”
“Of course. We can’t be completely uncivilized.”
Both of us sporting the appropriate attire, Chris began the official tour where we’d started, in the living room. One wall housed an expanse of floor-to-ceiling bookcases, brimming with a collection of books that I was intent on exploring, curious about what new things I might discover. I’d entered our relationship knowing a lot about Chris. Learning anything new would be a novelty.
He put his arm around my shoulders, gently squeezing me toward him, and led me out to the second floor terrace. The view down to the pool was lovely—the lights, reaching from the depths, showed off the water’s smooth glassy green. Palm trees cast exotic shadows against the tall walls surrounding the property.
The air was at a virtual standstill, but pleasing when it chose to turn and become a breeze. He put a hand to the railing and I felt as if the mole on his cheek was toying with me. I smoothed my hand across his back and leaned into him.
He pecked me on the cheek before pushing back from the railing. “You can see the kitchen later. I want to show you the music room.” Inside and downstairs, at the end of a wide hall, sat a massive black metal door.
Once I stepped over the threshold, I knew that the volumes in his living room would only be a small part of learning more about Chris. The sheer size of the music room and the extent of its contents made it impossible to take it in at one time. My eyes pinged everywhere, drawn to one fascinating object after another. There were at least two-dozen guitars; some hanging in display on the dark felt walls while a few sat in stands near a glossy grand piano.
I ventured farther to the walls lined with gold and platinum records. They hung in neat rows to make room for all of them and there were many. It was surreal to stand there and look at the album covers, to think about a far-off time when his band was one of the most important things in my life.
“Around the World. I remember waiting in line to buy that the day it came out.” I pointed at a picture of the band holding their gold records. “Who’s that handsome guy?”
He smiled. “No idea.”
I continued and he was clearly amused to watch me. “Deadly Guest. My dad hated that title. He thought it had some satanic meaning. Wow, White and Gray.” I pointed again. “That was my favorite for a long time. You sold eight million copies of that one?”
“It appears so.”
I wandered at a careful pace; the room was an impressive statement about the importance of music in his life. I could see how much it defined him. “You wrote all of the songs on the new record here?”
“This is where I escaped when things got really bad.”
“It’s unbelievable.” I choked up, thinking about the way he must’ve felt then. He’d worked hard to move on with his life and much of it was going to come rushing back with Elise’s book. I knew I should tell him, but I was petrified of what it would do to him, of what it would do to us. I caught his eyes and he returned the gaze. Tomorrow. Let us keep tonight.
He stirred me up with his smile. “Come on. We don’t want to miss our dinner reservations. Let’s get you settled in my room.”
Back upstairs I poked my head in his lovely guestroom, twice as big as mine. Next down the hall was another bedroom he described as empty when we passed the closed door.
Chris’s room was spacious and serene, painted a light cocoa brown. It was also minimalist in decoration, but that may have been his inner bachelor speaking. Earthy Asian inspired paintings were on one wall, and some edgier black and white art prints on another. His furniture was dark wood, modern and masculine.
I couldn’t help but think about him and Elise in the room, together, for years. The four walls had likely seen many arguments and make-ups to follow. The bed had an icy blue coverlet and crisp white pillows that looked new. I could only presume he’d gone about the business of replacing things after he asked her to leave.
On our way out for dinner, we held hands and laughed, walking down the hall from his bedroom. We passed the closed door and I wondered if at one point in his life, he’d hoped that the room next to his, the one that was empty, would be the baby’s room.
Chapter Twenty-Four
We went out for sushi, but of course, it had to be the sushi restaurant where reservations were impossible to get and everyone came to be seen. We still didn’t want to be seen, by anyone, and Chris had made arrangements. The manager met us at the back door and we were ushered through the kitchen to a booth that shielded us from most of the restaurant. We sat on the same side and tortured each other with wandering hands.
I was glad I’d taken fifteen minutes at the house to doll myself up because the amount of silicone in the room was unsettling for someone with average endowments. I’d always liked my barely B-cups, but I stuck out like a sore thumb in my low-cut dress, as if I was bragging about nothing. Chris caught me staring at the astounding display from our waitress and then reflexively glancing down at my own. I knew better than to be truly envious. Her ladies looked as if they’d rolled off an assembly line. He tucked his arm around my waist and scooted me even closer.
The lights were dim, the candles on the table the only real illumination, casting his freshly shaven face with a flushed glow. We shared a menu and I leaned into him, uninterested in food even though I was starving.
He muttered from the corner of his mouth, “Yours are better.”
“Hmmm?” I turned toward him, our noses inches apart as I waited for his breath on my lips.
He glanced down at my chest. “Yours are better. They’re a perfect handful.” He smiled at me before he returned his attention to the menu. “Just like you.”
I nestled my mouth against his ear. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
Our dinner conversation was effortless now that we had shared experiences. Many of the laughs about our trip were at Graham’s expense, but I was sure that if he’d been with us, he would have been pleased to be a topic of conversation.
“So, I have to ask. Has Graham always been so loud and obnoxious?” It did occur to me that I was insulting his oldest and dearest friend.
Chris chuckled. “Since we were kids. He likes being the center of attention. That’s what made him an amazing front man.”
“I guess I just didn’t think he’d be so…exuberant.”
“I’m sure that was for your benefit. You were someone new to perform for. He loves that.” He reached for another spicy tuna roll. “Did your lunch plans work out with Angie?”
“Yes, we’re going out tomorrow. Is that okay?” I finished my seaweed salad, forgetting how it likes to stick in your teeth.
“I’d prefer not to share you with anyone, but I’ll manage.”
As we waited for the waitress to return with Chris’s credit card, he took charge of my hand and my heart began beating like a moth against a light bulb, flapping to get inside the glass. I steadied my eyes on him and he was possibly
the most handsome I’d ever seen him. I wondered if it was because he was becoming mine.
Just as we stood to leave, a woman, a walking flip of blonde, approached us with her orangey spray tan and insufferable perfume. She went in for a kiss on the cheek from Chris, and I felt his body stiffen as he squeezed my hand.
“Hello…you.” He looked at her and then at me, bugging out his eyes. “This is my girlfriend, Claire.”
Our guest seemed disappointed that I wasn’t introduced as his sister. It was also uncomfortably obvious that he couldn’t remember her name.
“Hi, I’m Sharon.” She shook my hand with a girly grip while confusion clouded her face, although she probably spent much of her life disoriented. She managed to smile at him while she stared at me, tilting her head to the side. “Christopher, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”
“It’s a recent development.” He hooked his arm around me and pulled me close.
She possessed enough brainpower to take that as her cue to leave, and we ducked out the back of the restaurant.
“I’m sorry about that. I guess I blocked out her name. She was a bit of a loon,” he said, peeling out onto the street.
“It’s okay.” I reached across to his leg. He could’ve told me he slept with her fifty times. It would have made no difference. He’d called me his girlfriend.
Back at the house, I followed him to the kitchen. It was ultra-modern with simple dark wood cabinets topped with white stone. The backsplash was glass tile and everything else stainless steel. I hopped up on the counter and kicked off my heels, feeling drunk and then regretful when I thought about the money I’d spent on my shoes and the way I’d treated them. Chris leaned with a hand on the counter and studied my every move. He smiled and pulled a bottle of Limoncello from the freezer. I shivered from the blast of wintry air as he poured a round.
“Are you cold?” He slid his hot hand down my back and handed me a glass.
I tossed back my shot in a single swallow. The lemony goodness crept down my throat, mild and summery at first. I licked a drip from the corner of my mouth, aware of how his face was tempting me.
“You’re supposed to sip it,” he quipped.
I gave him my glass. “I know. Hit me.”
“You have to promise you aren’t going to get so leathered that you pass out. That would be a disappointment.”
“I promise.”
He handed me the second drink and then brought out the big guns, relinquishing the look that never failed to trigger my least ladylike response. He hovered closer, our lips inches apart, electrical pulses crossing the imaginary dividing line between us—and I started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” He whispered, resting his hand on my leg.
“I can’t help it.” I continued to giggle, letting the Limoncello get the best of me. “I’m a little tipsy.”
“No kidding.” He finally kissed me, using his body to set my knees apart while his hand went from on top of my dress to under it. He made a clinging advance up my leg and grasped my hip.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and bent each leg behind him before I dug in my heels to muscle him closer. I could’ve kissed him for hours; our lips were a perfect match and tasted the same, but I doubted that was his plan and it didn’t meet the extent of mine either.
“We’ve spent a lot of time kissing in kitchens,” I mumbled, when he’d stopped to brush my hair aside and float along my neck with his lips.
“Some day we’ll try for more than kissing.” He pulled my hips until I had no choice but to slip off the counter. “But we already christened the living room rug today.”
I took his hand and left my shoes on the floor, stumbling to his bedroom, where things boiled over at a mercurial pace. I hurried him out of his shirt and pants. My dress was no match for him this time—one quick pull of the zipper was all it took. He slid his arms to my back, but I twisted my shoulders and broke away to turn off the light.
“I don’t mind the light. You could’ve left it on.”
“Of course you don’t mind the light. You look good from every angle.”
“We had all kinds of light earlier today.”
I tiptoed back to where he stood. “That’s different. I didn’t have a chance to make you move to a dark room.”
He went back to covering every square inch of me with his hands. “I love the way you look, from every angle.” He unhooked my bra and smoothed his hand across my collarbone. “Your skin is gorgeous.” He kissed my shoulder and then mumbled into my ear, “Don’t get me started on your hair and your butt.” He leaned down while he gripped my ribcage and kissed each breast. “And don’t forget my two best friends, Penelope and Guinevere.”
I flushed red. “Don’t tell me you gave them names.”
He laughed, breathlessly. “I didn’t. I just made that up.”
I pulled his face back to mine. “You’re a very funny man.” One knee at a time, I dropped to the floor, dragging my hands as I clutched his chest and stomach, before separating him from his boxer shorts.
He looked down at me with pure excitement on his face. “This is like Christmas morning.” He pushed his hands into my hair. “The anticipation is killing me.”
“No talking. You’re ruining the moment.”
“But what if you aren’t doing it right?” He laughed.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
Although there were no discernible words escaping his lips, Chris told me that indeed, I was doing it right. Being with him made me feel different, uninhibited, and I savored every minute of pleasing him. He surprised me when he tugged on my arms, interrupting one of my most elaborate efforts.
“Come here.” He pulled me up and gave me a soft kiss. “As much as I was enjoying that, I need all of you.” We walked sideways to the bed, never allowing our lips to part.
I dragged him down on top of me; the full force of his body weight was perfect, like he belonged there. “I missed you so much,” I said. “I missed everything about you.” I kissed his shoulder and his neck, dotting his skin with fading prints of my lips. “I missed the way you smell and the funny thing you do with your eyebrows and the way you’re hungry all the time.”
He tipped his head to the side in acknowledgement that I’d broken my own rule. “Aren’t we chatty? I missed you too.” He returned to my neck with his lips and lightly traced his fingers between my ribcage and my hip. “I don’t like being apart from you either. At all.” Then he got the look in his eyes again.
He put a hand on my stomach and made a slow descent before he glossed my entire chest with his luscious mouth. He remained unhurried in his motions, revisiting some extra sensitive spots a second or third time. He settled for a moment in the slip of skin between my breasts. Most men overlooked it, but the brush of his lips there was indescribable, a mysterious pleasure, and I felt a stitch of disappointment once he moved on—until I realized where he was headed.
He kissed my belly button and kept going with his lips, gently urging my thighs apart with his hands. As incredible as his mouth felt on every other part of my body, this was a different stratosphere. I sank further into the bed with every torrid flicker; gathering up the bedspread in bunches to have something to do with my hands.
More than talented, he was inventive, and before long, even the most insignificant parts of me were ignited, poised for release. I tried his trick and pulled on his arms, but he ignored me and forced me to use words. “Chris, come on. Get back up here. I need you. Now.”
“I love this new talkative side of you.” He pressed his lips against the base of my throat.
“Shhh. Get a condom. Quick.”
“You’re so bossy.”
Emotion coursed through me when I felt his now familiar presence. It flooded my entire body with happy abundance. Our eyes connected and he drew me in, no words between us. I was sure I’d never felt better than I did at that moment, like I was exactly where the world wanted me. The pinnacle crept up on me and I became
riddled with electricity as I gave way, succumbing to the moment much more noisily than usual. We continued with our pitch until he, too, collapsed in breathless, relieved contentment.
Without obligations, we reveled in the chance to be together for as long as we wanted. We tangled our limbs under only the sheet, as I was certainly no longer cold. We kissed and talked, lazing until his growling stomach let its needs be known.
“I have to eat something.”
“Didn’t we just have dinner?” I felt the smile spread across my face. “Of course, let’s feed you.”
I’d brought two nightgowns for the trip—the first was black, silky and short, but could still pass as legitimate sleeping attire. The other, wrapped in tissue paper, was dark blue with black lace, obscenely short and low-cut, with straps that made dental floss look like mariners’ rope.
I stood over my suitcase, trying to decide which to wear. Certainly, my audience would be pleased either way, but something didn’t feel right. At that moment, all I wanted was to be enveloped in Chris, to be as tipsy from him as I was from the Limoncello. His gray dress shirt sat puddled on the floor. As soon as I smelled it, I knew what to wear to bed.
He came out of the bathroom as I was rolling up the sleeves.
“That is the sexiest thing I’ve seen in a long time,” he said, stepping closer, a sly grin across his face. “We don’t want to get carried away with the buttons. That’s far enough.” He set his hand on mine and pecked me on the top of my head.
He dug through the refrigerator wearing only his gray plaid boxers, likely unaware of the effect on me when he did things like scratch his stomach while his hair flopped into his face or talk while stretching his arms above his head. He eventually decided on a turkey sandwich and I brewed myself a cup of decaf Earl Gray. At the kitchen table reveling in each quiet moment, I watched him as he made the sandwich disappear. I remained in awe of everything he possessed in his glorious body.
He reached for my hand after pushing his plate aside. “I have a surprise for you.” He smoothed my hair back softly, looking at it, rather than me.
