Just as he bent his head to kiss her throat, he saw her eyes close and her head drop back. He pressed his lips to her skin, smoother even than the silk, and kissed his way down to the top of one of her breasts, flicking his tongue as he went.
With his free hand he gently held one breast while he applied his lips to the other. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, the tempo gradually increasing. As he touched, sucked and nibbled, her breasts seemed to swell beneath his lips and fingers, the nipples shrinking and hardening.
She let out a long, soft sound of satisfaction. He tightened his grip on her wrists and pinched one nipple, rolling it between his thumb and index finger while he lightly bit the other.
For the first time, she wriggled and tested the strength of his grip on her hands. “Alice,” he said without looking up, his lips grazing her flesh, “hold still, please.”
He could feel her muscles straining as she tried; a little quiver ran through her. Tugging at the nipple he held in his teeth, he slid his hand down her torso and around to the roundness of her ass.
There was a small quivering here, too – he could feel it beneath his palm. As he moved his hand to stroke with his fingers that delicious piece of flesh where her ass met her leg, she began to whimper.
Lifting his head, he saw her eyes were closed; she held her lower lip in her teeth and she was almost panting. He watched her face as he traced the line of lace inward toward her sex and saw her eyelids flutter.
When his fingers slid deeper between her legs, she whimpered again and made another attempt to free her hands. He ignored that and ran his fingers, as lightly as he could, back and forth over the damp silk that covered her sex until she began to moan continuously.
It was time to remove this alluring, no, incendiary, under-thing – he could wait no longer. He shook first one, then the other arm free of the straps, closed his fingers around the lace hem and gave it an exploratory tug. To his delight, the silk slid easily down and pooled at her feet; he lifted his head to look at her.
The overwhelming sensuality of her body rocked him. He lifted his hand, cradled her chin and ran his thumb over her lips, pushed it firmly inside, felt her mouth close around it to suck. He withdrew the thumb and thrust his hand into her hair, pulling her head back until she opened her eyes.
They looked a deeper blue and nearly emptied of everything but carnality. She looked distracted now, impatient; she tried to shake his hand free of her hair and turned her head into his palm. He felt her lips and her tongue and her teeth, scraping against his skin, and then she bit him, hard, below his thumb.
He took a sharp breath and unintentionally loosened his grip; she immediately brought her arms around to slide her fingers into his hair. She lifted one foot, then the other, to kick the puddled silk away and kissed him, tilting his head with her hands.
Her kiss was deep, voracious, but short. She stepped away, shook her hair back and licked her lips in a way that struck him as almost predatory. Very slowly, she slid her hands over her breasts, pausing to stroke her nipples, and down her torso to stop at the black lace garter belt.
Inwardly boiling with lust, he’d kept his face calm, almost impassive as his eyes followed her hands; now he glanced up to her face and saw her watching him, gauging his reaction. Then her eyes closed as she moved her hands, fingers pointing downwards, over her belly and down her thighs, skirting her sex.
She drew her hands back up, her fingers slipping between her legs to caress the inner thighs; he reached to again grasp her wrists and stood, his shirtfront grazing the tips of her breasts. Placing her arms around his neck, he lifted her.
With measured steps he carried her --his prize, his captive --across the room and placed her on the bed. She gazed steadily back at him, her golden hair spread out on the pillow, her breasts moving up and down with her rapid breath, the stockings and garter belt only serving to make her seem more naked, more open.
He stepped away, but kept his eyes on hers. “Do not move,” he said and strode around the corner to the small dressing area. He upended the “Tahoe!” tote bag, dumping the contents onto the short counter there, and surveyed the jumble as he kicked away his shoes and got his pants off.
Taking a condom, he went back to the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked. He sat, slipped on the condom and started to roll onto her, but she unexpectedly sat up, put her hands on his shoulders and pushed to press him down flat on the mattress.
“Please,” she said, swinging her leg over to straddle and sit on him. “I want you to watch me.”
He smiled, nodding his assent, and she leaned over, putting her hands on his shoulders again and lifting her sex away from his cock. Then, in her own time, she slowly lowered herself onto him, reaching down to guide him inside.
When she sat up straight, he put both hands on her hips and groaned. Unbelievably fucking hot, he thought, knowing he had met his match. He took his hand away to grab a pillow to raise his head, allowing him to see her better.
At first, as she slowly raised and lowered herself, she watched his face. Then she closed her eyes and her expression grew dreamy as she found her own rhythm, her own pleasure. He had never felt so aroused.
The room was quiet except for the occasional crackle or hiss from the hearth across the room. The fire backlit the fine strands of her hair, cast a glow over her skin, highlighted the smoothness of her curves and she looked like a goddess, a nymph, a creature almost unearthly, he thought.
After a few minutes, he saw her catch and hold her breath, pause momentarily and begin again, increasing the pace of her movements. She paused again, shuddered, and he tightened his hands on her hips. Another tremor ran through her; he felt her tighten around his cock and she began to pant.
She slid her hands and forearms along his sides and dropped forward, onto his chest, her breath hot against his neck. He folded his arms around her back as she continued to rock against him until she stopped again and gave a muffled scream.
The spasms built, crested, and eventually subsided; he stroked her back and hair, listened to her sighs of satisfaction, whispered that he loved her. He waited a moment for her reply, smiled to himself, and then rolled them over together, still joined.
“Alice,” he said, beginning to move inside her, gliding smoothly in and out, looking into her eyes. He was propped on his elbows, his hands at the sides of her face. “Tell me.”
Her expression showed she understood him, knew exactly what he wanted to hear. She parted her lips as if to speak, but as he thrust again, her eyes lost focus and she made a strange little squeak. When she looked back at him, her eyes were wide and he felt her stretch beneath him, draw her knees up, tilt her pelvis to take him in more deeply.
“Ahh,” he said. “I see.” He braced himself, found her hand, pulled it up to the pillow and put his weight there, then did the other side, pinning her down. “Tell me,” he said again.
Watching her face, he pulled almost all the way out, waited, then slid slowly back inside. He did it again, and again, and again, felt her muscles tense as she tried to lift herself, hurry him.
A calm, powerful certainty of the perfection of all this settled over him. This woman, this place, this time – the impossible rightness of everything made him feel invincible.
Soon he increased the pace, thrusting a little harder, and began again to talk to her. “Tell me,” he said, his voice rougher. “Tell me, Alice.”
She had been slowing turning her head from side to side, lost in sensation, her neck stretched, her mouth open. At the sound of her name she looked up to him, and something in his expression made her gasp. “Please,” she whispered.
Leaning down, he kissed her, and as their tongues met, felt her shiver around him again. And at last, her lips touching his, she said, “I love …. Ohhh…” She strained under his hands holding her, jerked and bucked against him and as he climaxed, heard her say, “I love you I love you I love you I love you.”
It took a long time for her to settle; he
released her arms and put his weight on his elbows. He bent his head, kissed her damp shoulder, her chin, her lips, and said, smiling down at her “Nice to hear.”
Chapter Fourteen – Wednesday
The room was flooded with light when Alice awoke. The sun flared off the lake and the movement of the water cast shifting shadows on the ceiling. Wednesday, she thought. A week ago I didn’t even know he existed, how very strange. Now she couldn’t remember what last Wednesday had been like, who she had been before they met.
He slumbered on beside her and Alice realized this was how they’d slept last night, too. So it seemed the left side of the bed was to be hers – how nice – that was where she’d always slept.
Getting up, she went over and peeked through the slit in the curtains. Good lord, what time was it? The lake was crowded with boaters and fisherman; the shores were packed with kids, and happy guests were wandering the hotel paths just beyond their balcony.
She looked around, found the bedside clock on Ryan’s side. Nine-thirty. Probably a good idea to let David know she was alive and everything, but not coming in today. When she found her phone with no messages or texts, she knew he’d decided she could take care of herself -- apparently Ryan had passed some mysterious brother-approval test.
It took her several minutes to figure out the shower-of-the-future in this simple mountain hideaway; there seemed to be too many options and way too many sprayers. The end result was worth it though, and she got out thinking, wow, am I ever clean. She wrapped herself in the white terry robe from the shelf.
In the area outside the bath, she glanced over at the big wall mirror and the counter beneath it, examining for the first time the haphazard pile of items there. Toothbrushes, paste, sunglasses, condoms, a souvenir keychain, a bottle of aspirin, and a pair of rubber flip-flops, her size. She hugged them to her chest for a moment, thinking she might cry.
When the room service waiter wheeled in the breakfast cart, Ryan had stirred and mumbled in his sleep, but not awakened. She went out to the balcony, propped her feet on the railing and sipped at her coffee, letting her mind wander.
It was difficult to get used to the idea that two of the major questions of her life had been settled forever. “Who?” and “When?” had occupied her thoughts for so long that it felt a little strange to finally know the answers.
And of course, as everyone had told her – not what she’d imagined at all. She’d always been so proud of her independence that in her fantasies she’d never dreamt of a man so committed to taking care of her. She wiggled her feet and gazed at her flip-flops. It was a brand-new, utterly delicious feeling.
Gradually she became aware he was there, watching her again, and she looked behind her. He was standing by the part of the sliding door still covered by the curtain, naked. How could she ever have thought he was too skinny? She slid her new sunglasses part way down her nose so he would see her appraising him.
“You know, I assume, that you are asking for trouble, looking at me that way,” he said.
“Oh, I don’t think it will be much trouble at all,” she replied calmly, and turned her face back to the view.
“I am going to brush my teeth and shower, then I’ll be back to show you what I mean.”
“Gee, I hope so,” she said, and then called after him. “Let me know if you need help with the shower.”
His voice came from a distance. “I think I can handle it, babe.”
About two minutes later she heard him yell from the bathroom. “Alice?”
She gave him a smug smile as she went in. “Yes dear?”
He waved a hand at the huge tiled stall. “What the hell?”
It was a spacious room, but she could smell him – a little minty, a lot male. All I have to do is open my robe, she thought, and found her hand moving to the tie at her waist all by itself. Re-directing it, she punched a few of the digital controls and got the water going.
“Hands off that one,” she said, pointing to a button. “I think that one might hit you in … let’s say the wrong place.”
On her way out, she saw the jacket she’d hung in the closet last night. She hesitated, tempted. Of course, maybe there was nothing there at all – maybe patting his pocket was just an odd habit. But somehow she didn’t think so.
Back on the balcony, she wondered ruefully how long she’d have to wait. What if he thought he needed another “perfect” moment? They’d be in that nursing home together, scandalizing the other residents with their out-of-wedlock relationship. Well whose fault is that, silly?
“Are there any times when you don’t look beautiful?” He was standing at the door, just inside the room.
Dear god. His hair was damp and mussed; the robe hung open on his tall frame, giving her another look at his body. He was like a boxer or some other athlete in prime condition, and this time she was glad he couldn’t see her eyes. She’d been staring at his cock.
Wrenching her eyes away, she cleared her throat. “Right back at you, handsome. Are you coming out?”
“I could tell you haven’t eaten yet. Shall I bring you some of that fruit?”
“Sure. And a croissant, please.”
He disappeared and she very deliberately tried to think of something other than sex. He returned with a plate and the coffee pot, refilled her cup, went back in for a while, and eventually settled in the other chair.
He tossed a few blueberries into his mouth like a kid eating popcorn and stared silently out at the mountains, squinting against the sun. “May I talk about something important?” he asked.
Oh, goody. “Of course,” she said quietly.
There was a long pause, but when he finally began, he spoke very rapidly, sounding excited and happy. “I took a drive in these mountains the other day and I thought, I just knew somehow this was the right place and I decided to build a house with a view like this—”
He waved a wild arm, knocking his cup, and a little coffee slopped over the rim. “Oh, whoops,” he said, and then went on. “You and I can plan it together and we’ll have whatever you like, but I really think I want one of those showers, okay?”
Without waiting for a response, he went on. “I think I’ll just rent something in the meantime so you and I have somewhere to be alone until the house is finished. That’s a good idea, right?” Now he finally stopped and looked at her eagerly.
She had never seen him like this – he was always so precise, so controlled. Because she’d been expecting the proposal, she’d had trouble keeping up and she hesitated. He jerked in his chair as if someone had stuck him with a pin, then leaned forward and went on.
“Or not. If you don’t like that idea, we can go anywhere you want – I can work anyplace. Where do you want to live – just name it. Paris? How about Paris?”
He jumped up and took a step to lean against the balcony railing for about five seconds before saying, “Damn. I forgot something,” and rushing inside.
Alice felt a little like she’d walked into a Mixmaster, but his enthusiasm was contagious and she was giddily happy, too. She was laughing when he walked back out, already talking.
“… bought you a ring last night so I could propose and I think you’ll really like it, here it is.” He set a black velvet box on the table, missing the spilt coffee but mashing a stray blueberry.
She picked up the box but didn’t open it, simply looked up to him with a grin and tilted her head in query. His eyes went back and forth from her face to her hands. “Open it, don’t you want to see? You’re going to marry me, aren’t you? Open it up.”
Laughing again and thinking well, close enough, she opened the box. As she gazed down, her hands began to tremble so much she had to put the box down, afraid she would drop it. She managed to slip the ring on, then sat staring at her hand, wondering if she ever seen anything quite as lovely.
When she looked up to him, her eyes full of tears, she saw that his belt had come untied in his rushing around. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, opening the robe
further. “That’s a yes, right?” he said, bobbing his head towards her hand. “Yes?”
She covered her eyes with one hand and tried to stop giggling. “Ryan, sit down,” she said, “before someone calls security.”
He obeyed, looking slightly mystified, and she stood and walked over to sit in his lap. She put her arms around his neck and laid her head against his shoulder, felt his heart beating fast near hers. “Yes,” she said. “That’s a yes.”
His arms enfolded her tightly and she snuggled deeper. His hand moved to gently brush the hair away from her face and she looked up to him, expecting his kiss. But his face was puzzled, his brow furrowed slightly. “Sweetheart,” he said, “why were you laughing?”
Alice looked into his beautiful eyes and touched the side of his face with her fingertips. “I’ll tell you later,” she said softly, and kissed him.
After a few moments he murmured, “Anytime in the next sixty years or so will be fine,” and stood up as if she weighed nothing at all.
He carried her inside, laid her on the bed and then sat beside her. As he undid the tie and slowly spread her bathrobe open, Alice looked up for a moment at the shimmering, shifting shadows on the ceiling.
The fresh morning breeze billowed the curtains and carried the fragrance of evergreen trees into the room along with faint, scattered sounds. From far away, she heard a lifeguard’s whistle, laughter, the muted roar of a motorboat.
And then, at the sound of Ryan’s voice, she felt an even more blissful serenity settle over her. “Oh, Alice,” he whispered. “You are every dream I ever had come true.”
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