by Terry Odell
She pulled him to her, guiding his head back to her breasts. The gentle suction of his kisses launched new surges of excitement directly to her center. Her pelvis arched toward him. She twisted his hair in her fingers, drew his head harder into her chest as she lost herself in the growing heat of his touch. His hands played up and down her body, traced her contours, sent shudders in their tracks. Kisses followed, the warmth of his breath and the gentle tickling as his hair brushed her skin, brought goosebumps of delight. His fingers probed, brought her to the edge and she ached to be one with him.
“Please. Now,” she panted, pulling him to her.
He rolled away and her heart skipped for a moment and by the time she realized he was putting on the condom, he was back, poised above her. She guided him into her, slowly, as long-unused muscles adjusted to his entry, and they gasped in unison.
“Oh, God,” he said. “You feel so good.”
She rocked gently beneath him and lost herself in the pleasure of feeling complete. Her hips, unbidden, arched higher, moved faster, as she sought release.
“No, you don’t,” Randy said, half withdrawing. “Not yet.”
She dug her nails into his buttocks, but he waited. Counted to ten.
“Largo,” he whispered. “Slowly.” Rhythmic strokes dizzied her with pleasure.
“Adagio. Andante.” As his passion grew, so did his tempo, until Sarah begged for fulfillment.
He pulled back once more. “Pausa. Rest.” Fifteen counts before he began again. This time, the tempo quickened much faster and she could stand it no longer.
“Oh God, Randy. I can’t wait. Now. Now!”
And her entire being focused on that one tiny part of her. The universe collapsed to encircle them. Suddenly, there was no Sarah, no Randy, only a glorious sensation that throbbed through her very being. Randy gave one final thrust, gasped her name, and a wild crescendo filled her.
When she could think again, she found him propped above her. She took a shaky breath. There was enough light from the not-yet-full moon to see his face, eyes barely open, a smile on his lips. He kissed her.
“I’m sorry. I wanted that to last a little longer,” he said between kisses. “A lot longer.”
“No apology needed.”
He rolled beside her. She curled on her side and pulled his arm around her, tucking his hand under her chin. Snuggled back into his body, she felt herself descending toward sleep.
“Why the music terms?” she mumbled.
“Leftovers from my music lesson days. Trying to keep things slow. For all the good it did.”
“Any slower and I might have died.” She sighed. “Music lessons. Remind me to ask you about that when my brain starts functioning again.”
Chapter Nineteen
Randy drifted through half-sleep, aware of a feathery touch through his hair. Sarah.
He opened his eyes. The moon had moved along its nightly course, leaving the room in semi-darkness The faint glow from a distant street light shining through the bathroom window cast just enough light to reflect a glow in her eyes.
“Are you awake?” she whispered.
He managed something between a grunt and a groan. God, he wanted to lie here, semi-conscious, and enjoy having a soft, warm body next to him. He pulled her to his chest.
With her head resting in the curve of his collarbone, Sarah moved her hand to his neck, shoulders and down to his chest, tracing the outlines of his musculature. “Can I touch you yet? I love the feel of you.”
Fully awake, he reached over to embrace her, but she shook her head, stroking his biceps.
“No,” she said. “You lie there. No moving. It’s my turn.” She ran her fingers behind his ears. Her lips caressed his throat. The scent of her peach shampoo, the delicate tickle of her hair as her lips moved down his chest, the soft sounds she made as she kissed, and he was more than ready.
“You’re driving me crazy.” He moved to flip her, but she grabbed his hands.
“I said it was my turn.”
Her fingers ran down his chest, past his navel, to his thighs, behind his knees like so many butterflies. She hadn’t touched his erection, but he throbbed with desire. She moved back to his throat, this time nibbling, scraping, tasting her way down his body. His body responded as if it had been months, not an hour, since he’d shared himself with her.
“Sarah. Oh, God.”
“Quiet.” She covered his mouth with hers, as if to enforce her command. He relented.
She stopped long enough to find a condom and tear open the foil. “I’ve never actually done this before.”
“Let me help,” he whispered and guided her hand as together, they rolled it over his erection.
“You’re mine now. Hands off.” Her magic fingers went back to work, driving him to a frenzy. She straddled him. Found his cock. Wriggled against him, taking him in, drawing back, then allowing him another inch, until he was buried inside her. Her breasts hung above him, round and soft, and the memory of the taste of them, the feel of them beneath his fingertips had him twisting the sheets at his side.
“All right?” She started to move, riding him, rocking, clamping around him until he balanced on that razor edge of control. He looked at her, poised above him, back arched, head thrown back and a smile of utter pleasure on her lips. Sweet God, she was going to send him over. He reached for her, seeking the spot that would carry her with him.
She took his hands. “No,” she said. She shifted, leaned forward and gazed into his eyes and in that instant he understood. Right now, she was in charge, not at the mercy of everything life had thrown at her. “For you. No holding back. Let go.”
He’d give her that power—as if he had a choice. She moved again and he felt the pressure gather and his mind disconnect. And that marvelous moment of total release.
* * * * *
Shortly after dawn, Sarah awoke and found Randy leaning on one elbow watching her. She turned and smiled at him. “Hi,” she said. She felt like she’d been waking up next to him forever.
“Hi, yourself. You want some breakfast? I can cook.”
“No argument there.” She turned on her side and placed her palm against his chest, tracing lazy circles with her forefinger. Her hand roamed lower, fingertips barely making contact with his flesh. His eyelids lowered and his chest expanded as he drew in a breath. She paused at his navel before continuing down his torso, only half-surprised to find him aroused. “But maybe breakfast can wait. It would be a shame to waste this, wouldn’t it?” She moved her hand to the small of his back and squeezed herself tight against him.
This time, there was no urgency. Their bodies found the rhythm of that eternal dance, touching, exploring, learning. Fulfillment came gradually, building in ever increasing swells until together, they rode the crest and slid down into sweet oblivion.
Some time later, Randy spoke. “It’s almost eleven. I think we’re talking about brunch now. I can make French toast. I might have some bacon, too.”
“Mmm. Yes. I think I could eat now. Can I clean up first?”
“Sure. Towels under the sink. Help yourself to anything you need.” He kissed the top of her head and put on some sweats before leaving the room.
Sarah gave a longing look at the biggest bathtub she’d ever seen. Room for two, even if Randy was one of them. Maybe later. She showered quickly, borrowing some of Randy’s shampoo. He’d have to forego the peach scent today. In the bedroom, she opened a dresser drawer and found a long-sleeved gray jersey with a large blue number seventeen on the front. The shirt hung past her knees. Good, because she didn’t think her jeans would be too comfortable this morning. Tenderness was a small price to pay for the joy and peace Randy had given her. She rolled the sleeves up enough to give her the use of her hands, rubbed her hair with a towel, and went out to the kitchen.
The aroma of frying bacon tantalized her nostrils and she realized she was ravenous. “Smells fantastic,” she said and crept up behind Randy who was removing the strips fr
om the pan to a paper-towel lined plate. She put her arm around his waist.
“Careful. This spatters.”
“You make an excellent shield.”
He turned and looked at her, gave a grin of approval. “That shirt doesn’t look half as good on me,” he said.
“I’m glad you don’t mind. I wanted something comfortable.” She helped herself to a strip of bacon from the plate. She saw the kitchen table set for two, with a heaping platter of French toast in its center. “Looks like you cook in the kitchen, too.”
His laugh, natural and full of joy, was almost as rewarding as their lovemaking had been. It was obvious he was relaxed. Comfortable. At peace.
Randy brought the bacon over to the table and pulled a chair out for her. “Sit. Eat.”
“You sound like Maggie.” Sarah giggled.
“Ah, but would Maggie do this?” he asked and lifted her up to his waist and kissed her.
Sarah wrapped her legs around him and returned the kiss. He smelled like bacon and coffee, with some sex, sweat and a little of her own scent mixed in. “Put me down. I’m hungry.”
* * * * *
“Do you play?”
Randy took his eyes off the basketball game long enough to see the sparkle in Sarah’s eyes as she gazed up at him. Her head in his lap was starting to affect him again, and he shifted her to a sitting position beside him on the couch. “Play what? Basketball?” He took a slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table.
“Piano. I saw one in the other room.”
“Now and then.” He avoided looking at her, pretending to concentrate on his pizza and the game. Sarah had a way of digging up things he’d thought were well buried.
“That’s what you meant by music lessons, right? Are you any good? Would you play for me?”
Damn, he couldn’t resist her enthusiasm. He glanced at the score. No way Duke could blow their lead. He stood up and extended his hand. Sarah took it in both of hers, sliding her fingers over his.
“I thought your hands looked artistic. I can see them on a piano.”
He helped Sarah to her feet. “Let me wash the pizza off, and I’ll play for you.” Randy led her to the spare bedroom, pointing to the chair by the window. “Make yourself comfortable.”
As Sarah eased herself into Gram’s chair, images he’d buried shimmered around her. “Be right back.” In the bathroom, he took a deep breath. It was time to deal with it. When Sarah was around, all thoughts of Gram were pleasant memories, not painful ones. He dried his hands and went back to Sarah.
He opened the cover of the keyboard and sat down, felt the cool ivory beneath his fingertips and let the familiar wave of calm wash over him. He played a few arpeggios to warm up. It was time. He stood and opened the seat of the piano bench, found the yellowed sheet music, and set it lovingly on the stand.
It had been more than eight years since he’d been able to bear even thinking about playing this, Gram’s favorite. He remembered how she would sit beside him, insisting he go over and over the difficult passages until he thought he would never, ever want to hear the piece again. And then, one day, it was no longer notes, but music, and the beauty brought tears to Gram’s eyes and to his. Whenever he played it, she’d sit in her chair, her eyes closed, to listen.
Randy looked first at Sarah, then at the page, put his fingers to the keys and let the music resonate through his soul.
When he finished, Sarah came and sat beside him. “What was that? It was wonderful.”
He blinked hard and swallowed before he spoke. “Beethoven. Pathetique. Gram’s favorite.”
“Do you only play classical music?”
“Nope. Gram laid the foundation with the classics, but she loved all music. I worked my way through college playing in hotel lobbies, lounges and piano bars. The tips were good if you could play the requests, so I kept on top of things. Once I got into the police academy, I stopped adding to my repertoire, but I have a good ear. If I know the tune, I can fake it.”
“How did your Gram manage to get a kid to study classical music? I’d have thought you would have wanted to play the popular stuff you heard on the radio.”
“Cartoons.”
“What?”
“We’d watch television on Saturday mornings and after lunch, Gram would play the melodies from the cartoons. There’s a lot of Mozart in Looney Tunes, you know. And Wagner.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“It worked. I thought I was playing cartoon music. By the time I figured it out, I was hooked.”
Sarah named songs, lyrics and composers. Randy met every challenge, enjoying the music as he hadn’t in so long. Maybe the audience made all the difference.
“I can’t believe you can play this stuff off the top of your head,” Sarah said.
“After a while, the notes are in the muscles. The brain hears the melody and the fingers follow along. It’s turning the notes to music that takes practice—’letting your soul through’, as Gram used to say.”
“I’m glad you’re talking about her.”
He kissed the top of Sarah’s head. “I am too.”
* * * * *
They stood outside the door to Sarah’s apartment, fingers entwined. “I’d invite you in,” Sarah said, “but I’m afraid we both might be late for work tomorrow.”
“Can’t have that. Now that we caught your Gertie, I’ve got a little more elbow room to dig. I’ll be busy, but maybe we can get together after work?”
“I’d like that.” She stood on tiptoe, tilted her head up in invitation.
Randy gave her a kiss that reached her toes. “Good night. Be careful.”
“You, too.” She locked the door behind him, the taste of his kiss lingering on her lips.
Wonderful as the day had been, she had things to do. As she navigated the back stairs with her trash, the night chill stiffened her nipples against the fabric of her—Randy’s—shirt and she thought of his touch. Smiling, she walked to the alley and set the bag down while she wrestled with the heavy lid of the Dumpster.
A shadowy form appeared from behind it. Her heart raced. The lid fell with a loud clang as Sarah turned to run. She hadn’t gone three steps before an arm wrapped around her chest.
“I said I’d take care of you. You didn’t listen, so we’ll have to do it this way.”
She squirmed away from his grasp, but he was too strong. A cloth covered her mouth. When she took a breath to scream, she inhaled a sickly sweet smell and then blackness engulfed her.
Chapter Twenty
Randy strolled down the hall to his office Monday morning, relaxed, refreshed, and feeling good about the day. He’d hung up his jacket when Kovak walked in, the inevitable latte from the corner cart in hand.
Kovak’s gaze moved over Randy, lingering on his face. He sat down at his desk and mumbled something that sounded all too close to, “I told you so.”
“You say something?” Randy asked. He made a point of rooting through the notes and messages on his desk.
“Me?” Kovak grinned. “No. But you look well rested. I take it you took my advice? Enjoyed your weekend?”
“I did. After I brought in the woman who held up Sarah Tucker’s shop.”
“Way to go.”
“Partly. She was someone’s puppet. I’m still looking for whoever’s behind this.”
“She give you anything?”
“Not much. Another Consolidated link. We found her in Cottonwood, so they’ll bring her over this morning. I’ll check their reports, see if she talked. Spending the weekend in lockup can loosen tongues.”
Kovak picked up some papers from his desk, stuffed them into his briefcase. “I’m off. Snitch has a lead on the Oregon Trust break-in for me. Catch you later.”
Randy suppressed the urge to ask Kovak more about the case. Instead, he punched the codes for his voice mail into the phone, half hoping to hear Sarah’s voice. Instead, he heard the nasal twang of the Cottonwood officer he’d worked with Friday ni
ght. They’d gotten the phone number Harriett had called. Randy thumbed through his notes, found the number Tony Mazzaro had given him. Not surprised when they were identical, he called Victoria at the phone company.
“Hi, Victoria. How’s my favorite lady?”
“Good as gold, Doll Boy. Anything going on, or is this a love call?”
Randy smiled in spite of himself. “I need a favor.” Victoria was seventy-two years old and refused to retire. When so many of her contemporaries had shied away from learning the new computerized systems, Victoria had no such qualms. There was nothing she couldn’t ferret out of the phone company’s database, and Randy knew she had a lot more tricks up her sleeve.
“Ask away.”
Randy gave her the number. “Can you tell me who this belongs to?”
“You got a court order?”
“Not yet. Any chance you can poke around and if things pan out, I’ll get one?”
“Randy, my dear. You wound me. Are you losing faith? Or have you found someone else? You haven’t been by to visit in ages.”
Randy grinned this time. “Victoria, you know there will never be anyone but you. And you’re right. I don’t get to Woodford nearly enough. Next time I’m in town, I’ll stop by. That’s a promise.”
“That’s more like it. You want to hold? This should be quick.”
He could hear Victoria sucking on one of the lemon drop candies that were a fixture in the jar on her desk. He made a mental note to get her some more.
Less than three minutes later, Victoria confirmed it was a Consolidated phone number.
“You’re sure? Consolidated denied it.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. It’s Consolidated. You need more, I’m going to have to get paper, you know.”
“I’ll be in touch.” He hesitated barely a moment. “But if you happen to have some time and want to pull the Local Usage Details on that number for me … let’s say, six months?”
