Better Deeds Than Words (Words#2)

by Georgina Guthrie

  His nose was barely touching mine, and our eyes were locked in their own heated embrace when he moved his hand to where we were joined and gently circled his fingers.

  “Yes?” he said softly, brushing his lips against mine.

  I nodded.

  Yes. A thousand times, yes.

  He smiled knowingly, intent on discovering what delighted me, what secret touches would make me come unhinged before him, and I knew without a doubt that his efforts would be rewarded. I stretched my arms above my head, straining upward, outward—seeking that perfect moment of bliss.

  Daniel followed the lines and curves of my body, his mouth against mine, not kissing me but sharing my breath, reaching for one of my hands with an outstretched arm and threading his fingers tightly through mine. He stroked me with his other hand, devoted to a single-minded goal.

  “I can’t wait to watch you come.”

  His voice, low and husky, was my undoing. My whole body buzzed in anticipation. I tried to keep my eyes open, knowing he was watching me, wanting to share this experience with me as much as I wanted to share it with him. Every muscle and nerve in my body was directed inward as if by some magnetic force which then exploded outward in an exquisite rush of pure pleasure. Weeks of sexual tension were obliterated in a blinding flash of euphoria.

  I quivered, breathing his name into his open mouth, and then I sighed, dropping my head back as I tried to regain my breathing.

  He stared at me as I gradually floated back to earth.

  “That was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever seen,” he said at last, his voice thick with emotion. He brushed his thumb across my fingers.

  “It felt pretty incredible, too.” I rubbed the back of his leg with my toes. “Care to join me?”

  He smiled lazily and then hooked his hand behind my knee and hitched my leg up. He brought his face close to mine again. “I thought you’d never ask.” He moved slowly but rhythmically. Captivated, I watched the vein on his forehead straining, the muscle in his jaw jumping with his effort, his breathing becoming heavier, more rapid as he moved inside me. How many times had I imagined this moment, tried to picture Daniel’s face contorting with ecstasy? My imagination was a poor substitute for reality.

  I listened to his labored breathing and felt the tautness of his muscles straining against mine. I’d angled my face to kiss him when suddenly, with a sharp gasp, he rolled onto his back, pulling his hand free of my grasp and placing it over his chest, wincing.

  “Daniel? What’s wrong?”

  “My heart,” he said. “It feels like it’s going to leap out of my chest. It’s not right.”

  “That’s normal. My heart is racing too.”

  He shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. It’s—fuck—it’s too much like that feeling I get before I have an anxiety attack.”

  I moved in close to his side and placed my hand on top of his. “Breathe for a second. You’re fine. I’m sure you’re fine. An accelerated heart rate is a normal physiological response, right?”

  He rubbed at his eyes in frustration. “I don’t want to lose control. Maybe my subconscious…”

  “This is right. It’s perfect. Try to relax.” My heart ached for him, but at the same time I was sure he was over-thinking things. I caressed his cheek.

  He closed his eyes and swallowed, breathing deeply.

  “Fuck, I’m ruining everything. I’ve tried so hard to stay in control all day.”

  I turned his face, forcing him to look at me. “Hey, you’re not ruining anything.”

  “What if I lose—”

  “Shh. You’re not going to lose control. I don’t think this is anxiety. You’re second guessing yourself. But we aren’t doing anything wrong. You know that.”

  He took my hand and threaded his fingers through mine. “I want this to be perfect for you.”

  “This is perfect for me. I want it to be perfect for you, too.”

  I kissed him again, teasing his mouth open with my tongue, trying to reassure him that our love was right—that we were meant to be together and there was nothing for him to feel anxious about.

  “I don’t deserve you,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re so incredible.”

  “Together we’re incredible.” I looked at him for a moment. “Why don’t you let me take control for a few minutes?”

  I sat up and moved over to straddle him, watching for any sign of objection. He swallowed thickly.

  “Holy fuck, Aubrey.”

  I angled my body over his. “It’s your turn,” I whispered.

  He moaned and gripped my thighs, guiding my movements. I tried to measure his expression for signs of anxiety as well as pleasure. God help me if I was wrong about this.

  He cupped one of my breasts with one hand, holding my hip with the other. Suddenly he pushed me up to a seated position, moving with me and wrapping one arm around my waist. I ran my hands down his back, burying my face in his neck, feeling his pulse beating erratically under my lips.

  “You feel incredible,” he said.

  “This is so right. You know it is,” I whispered. “Just let go.”

  He moaned in response.

  I dug my nails into his back.

  “Oh, yeah,” he urged me.

  I dragged my nails up his back, all the way to his shoulders, feeling him arch upward with the movement of my fingers. Then, with a hoarse cry, he pushed into me hard, breathing my name. Those two syllables were the most beautiful sound in the world as he experienced physical release.

  I held on to him for dear life, so relieved. His face was nestled in the crook of my neck as he rocked me. I ran my fingers through his hair, my heart flipping with pure happiness. We’d finally given ourselves to each other. Maybe it hadn’t gone without a hitch, but I didn’t care. It had been perfect.

  “I love you so much,” he said at last.

  Tears welled in my eyes, and my throat ached with emotion. “I love you, too. More than ever.” I remained cocooned in his warmth for a moment, and then I leaned back and placed my hand over his heart. “You scared me for a second.”

  He laughed softly.

  “I scared myself. I don’t know what came over me. But you know what? You were right. I am okay. I’m more than okay. I’m the luckiest man in the world. Thank you for keeping me grounded. But how are you?”

  He ran his thumbs tenderly under my eyes, catching an errant tear. I shook my head as he reclined back onto the rug, and I lowered myself onto his chest.

  “A little overwhelmed, I guess.” I tangled my legs with his, rubbing against his glorious thighs and snuggling up into his side, already missing the intimacy of our joined bodies.

  He stroked my hair gently. “I know what you mean. That was completely mind-blowing.”

  I grinned up at him. “It was pretty amazing. I think you’ve been holding out on me. You’ve got some mad skills, mister.”

  He laughed and tickled my back with his fingertips. “I thought I was fairly forthright about my manly prowess. But you’re one to talk. You told me a little fib a few weeks ago.”

  I frowned at him defensively. “What’s that?”

  “Well,” he said rolling me onto my back and trapping my legs with one of his. “You told me you’ve never been horseback riding.”

  “I haven’t,” I said. “I’ve never ridden a horse. I swear.”

  “Hmm.” He regarded me suspiciously. Then, with a cheeky grin, he added, “After what I just witnessed, I find that very hard to believe, young lady.”

  Chapter 28

  Love Speaks

  …when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods

  Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.

  (Love’s Labour’s Lost, Act iv, Scene 3)

  DID I LOOK DIFFERENT? Was there anything about me that said, “I just had awesome although slightly stressful first-time sex with Daniel Grant?”

  Not really, although my chin was pretty red. And this was no post-coital flush. This was razor-burn-r
ed. I leaned into the mirror.

  “You’re just gonna have to toughen the hell up,” I said to my rosy chin.

  It glowered back at me. I quickly rubbed some moisturizer on my face and went back down the hallway to the living room where Daniel was waiting for me in front of the dying fire, now wearing a pair of cargo pants and a black T-shirt.

  “There you are,” he said, patting the cushion beside him and looking me up and down. “Hey, that’s nice. Very sexy.”

  I snuggled into his side, pulling my feet up under me. The belted silk wrap hiked up, barely covering my ass. Daniel reached down to pull up the hem, sneaking a peek at the matching panties I’d put on. He whistled and squeezed my thigh.

  “La Vie en Rose?”

  “Uh-huh. You approve?”

  “I do.” He pressed his lips to mine, caressing my breast through the silky fabric. “So far I love what you picked out. I can’t wait to see the rest.” He rubbed his thumb gently across my chin. “Did I do that? I should shave.”

  “No, it’s fine,” I said. “You don’t need to. I’ll get used to it. Really.”

  He frowned like he wasn’t convinced, but then he kissed me gently, trying not to rub his scruff against me. I cuddled up closer, sneaking my hand under his T-shirt and resting it on his heart.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “I’m fine. Sorry if I scared you.”

  “Daniel, it’s okay. It was real. I’m not looking for something from a fairy tale or a movie. I’ve never wanted that. I just want you.”

  “How do you know just what I need to hear?”

  “I’ve always thought that about you, too. I guess we’re good for each other.”

  “I guess we are. Thank you for being so understanding. Aside from the fact that it was insanely hot watching you take control like that, I think you were right. I needed to stop analyzing everything. It was just such an unknown.”

  “What was?”

  “Sex. With the anxiety issues. I didn’t know what to expect.”

  I sat up. “Wait a minute, are you telling me you haven’t had sex since you started having your anxiety attacks?”

  He nodded and frowned. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  I blinked incredulously. “But that was last year.”

  “Right. I haven’t been with anyone in almost a year and a half.”

  “But you’re so…”

  He looked at me, a bemused expression on his face. “So…?”

  “So…fuck hot,” I blurted.

  He laughed. “Oh, poppet, you’re so good for my ego.”

  “Well, it’s true. That’s just a waste.”

  He regarded me with mock seriousness. “So, by having sex with me, you’re basically doing a public service? Making sure I’m put to good use?”

  “Absolutely. Waste not, want not.” And I want. I really, really want.

  “Seriously, though,” he said, looking at me earnestly. “You didn’t take me for a…I don’t even know the word.”

  “A man whore?” I suggested.

  He smirked and nodded. “I guess that’s as good a term as any.”

  “No,” I assured him. “I mean, I’m surprised that you’ve been unattached all this time, but I guess I assumed…”

  “Assumed?”

  “I don’t know. Sabrina…?”

  He sighed and took my hand in his. “Don’t even go there. We haven’t been together that way in years. She was a supportive friend when I came back to Canada last spring, but I had no interest in any romantic liaisons, trust me. She’s history, Aubrey. Ancient history.”

  And then he kissed me deeply, slowly, until I was sure I could feel his love filling every spare corner of my heart and squeezing out all of my self-doubt. I didn’t have to worry about Sabrina, or anyone else for that matter. He loved me. He wanted me.

  “You know what amazes me?” he asked. “I still can’t believe we’ve made it. It’s okay for me to love you, to make love to you. No one can do anything about it. I could make love to you again, right this minute. There’s no reason to stop, no need to feel guilty. It’s surreal, after all this time.”

  “It’s pretty amazing, that’s for sure.” I batted my eyelashes at him hopefully. “So, do you want to?”

  He chuckled and shifted his body so that his legs were stretched out and I was tucked between him and the back of the couch.

  “Of course I do. But I also want to do a million other things—all the little things we haven’t been able to do. I want to curl up with you and talk for hours, watch movies, drink wine, cook together, watch the sunrise, watch the sunset, sleep with you wrapped up in my arms.” He tucked my hair over my ear. “I’m in love with you, Aubrey. I want to share everything with you, not just my body…everything.” He rolled his eyes. “God, that sounds cheesy. I’m sorry. Does this all make me less—what did you call me?”

  “Fuck hot?” I laughed and shook my head. “Not at all. It actually makes me love you more, if that’s possible.”

  He rested his hand on my hip and kissed my forehead. “Good.”

  I looked at him quietly, trying to digest all the wonderful things he’d just said.

  He examined my expression, and his eyebrows furrowed. “You do believe me, right?”

  “Of course,” I said. “It’s just…I have to admit it did cross my mind at one point that maybe the novelty would wear off. Like maybe part of my appeal was that I was forbidden—”

  He frowned and interrupted me. “Do you want to know why I’m not tearing this incredibly sexy but ridiculously flimsy robe off of you right this minute?”

  “I guess.”

  “Because we have all weekend together. And as much as I’d love to devour you, I think I’d rather savor you and enjoy every single moment.” He punctuated his words with kisses.

  He slid his hands inside my robe, finding the curve of my breast, teasing me until I was trembling and the familiar ache between my legs surged back with a vengeance. I moaned and slipped my hand up his thigh.

  “I have a funny feeling you’re trying to make it difficult for me to resist you,” he murmured, running his nose along my cheekbone.

  “I might be.” I pressed myself against his hand, urging him to continue his caresses.

  “It pains me to admit this, sweetheart, but I’m not seventeen. I do need a little recovery time.”

  He leaned over the arm of the couch and poured us each another glass of wine.

  “Recovery time, eh?” I said, lifting my eyebrow.

  “Uh-oh. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Do you need to give this some thought now that you know I’m not Johnny Endurance?”

  “Yeah,” I said, feigning disappointment. “I don’t know about Johnny Endurance, but you did sort of mislead me with the John Holmes thing. I guess I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.”

  He snorted and squeezed my thigh playfully. “Okay, let me get this straight—you don’t want something from a fairy tale, but you do want something from a skin flick?”

  I shrugged, and he laughed.

  “I may not be a porn star, but I guarantee I’ll make you eat those words,” he said. “Give me half an hour, and you’ll be sorry.”

  “You promise?” I asked playfully.

  “Cross my heart.” He drew a little X on his chest.

  “I look forward to it, Mr. Grant.”

  I made an exaggerated show of looking at the clock on the mantelpiece while I sipped my wine and stretched my legs out across his lap, occasionally rubbing my foot against his zipper. Though he resolutely refused to react, the shadow of a smile played on his lips.

  He relaxed against the couch, running his fingertips lightly up and down my legs, making me tingle with every sweep. I marveled at how natural this all felt. It was as if we had done this every night for months. There was something to be said for getting to know someone before becoming intimate. We could talk seriously, we could joke around—everything was so easy. All of the turmoil we’d been thr
ough seemed to have brought us closer together, showing us the importance of being completely open and honest with one another.

  He rolled his head to the side to look at me. “You’ve gone very quiet all of a sudden. What are you thinking?”

  “About how happy I am. I’m comfortable here, and with you.”

  “I feel the same way. It’s been ages since I’ve felt…content. I’m glad you like it here.”

  “It’s perfect,” I sighed as he massaged my calf. “Daniel, did you really think about us here? Me lying on the rug in front of the fire?”

  “Honestly? I sat on this very couch when I was up here with my parents and imagined you doing exactly what you did earlier—holding out your hand to me, like I was the only person in the world that mattered. That’s when I decided I wanted to bring you up here this weekend. Earlier I had to remind myself I wasn’t dreaming.”

  “It’s rare that things work out the way we hope they will. So, where else did you imagine us?”

  “Everywhere! In my bed. In the shower.” He chuckled and put his hand over his eyes. “Oh, God, if you only knew what went through my mind that weekend.”

  “Really? Well, we’d better get moving. Maybe we should head to the bedroom. Sounds like we have a few fantasies to fulfill. Once you’ve fully recovered, that is,” I added with a wink.

  He stood up and grabbed the bottle of wine.

  “Okay, you insatiable wench. How do you feel about watching a movie in bed? I brought Casablanca. You told me you’d like to watch it together some time.”

  “I wouldn’t mind watching the first half hour of Casablanca,” I said mischievously. I glanced at the clock. “Nope, make that the first twenty-five minutes.”

  “Oh, come on, we have to at least watch Sam sing ‘As Time Goes By,’” he insisted, wrapping his arm around me, the bottle pressing against my back. “That’s my favorite part.”

  “I don’t know. My favorite part of the movie has always been the opening credits. Once they’re done…the rest? Meh,” I said, smiling as I took his hand and led him to his bedroom.