Home Fires

by Barbara Delinsky

  Mark’s eyes twinkled. “You heard me?”

  “I heard you.”

  He softly sighed his relief. “I’m glad.”

  Unable to think of anything to say, Deanna simply nodded her agreement The situation was mind-boggling. Though she stood in the arms of a stranger, she felt as close to him as she had to … to Larry. But Larry was gone and this closeness was different She needed it every bit as badly as she’d ever needed anything. It was fantasy, yet it was tangible.

  Mark’s face took on the same look of vulnerability, the same intense need Deanna had fallen prey to on that very first morning nearly a week earlier. Looking up at his sun-grazed features, she was tossed about on an ocean of sensation. His body warmth buoyed her. The distinctive scent of man and brandy excited her beyond reason.

  When his eyes finally captured hers they held the question she had already heard from his body, which tautened against her as he exercised control. Deanna fought an instinctive resurgence of fear. Mark wanted her. As a woman. Now. It was fantasy of the highest order. But it was an unknown. Had she thought it would go so far? How could it not! Her body trembled in anticipation.

  “You’re afraid,” he stated in a deep and warmly understanding tone.

  She nodded. “I’ve never done this before.”

  The back of his hand stroked her cheek, the contrast in texture somehow symbolic of their vibrant differences. “Would you believe that I haven’t either?”

  The issue wasn’t virginity and they both knew it. Their silent understanding was that it was the suddenness of it all, as well as its force, that was unique. Calmed by his touch and gratified by his words, Deanna finally assimilated the rich timbre of his voice. It vibrated softly through her.

  “No?” she asked, needing to hear it again.

  “No.” He paused to allow his fingers to brush across her brow, chasing wayward wisps of her auburn hair. “You’re very lovely.”

  It was a standard line that Deanna had heard over and over again. But Mark had said it differently, with an intimacy that nurtured her delight The words were offered freely and without obligation. And it was in precisely that spirit that she responded, with a slight blush and a hint of shyness.

  “So are you … handsome, that is.”

  “Does that mean you’ll stay?” Urgency had suddenly overcome all else.

  “Does one necessarily go with the other?”

  “If it’s the only reason you can find.”

  “It’s not.” The exchange had been made in eager whispers. Now she felt her pulse accelerate more dangerously and wondered whether Mark could feel it. Could she ever be a sophisticated lover for him?

  He reached for her wrist, then drew her hand down to cover his heart while his other arm maintained its circle around her. She felt a strong beat, a thudding that matched her own heart’s rhythm, and its strength surged through her.

  “Will you stay?” he asked again.

  Would she reach for fantasy’s fulfillment? Just this once? “Yes,” Deanna heard herself murmur through lips that were moist and faintly trembling. She knew that she might live to regret what she was about to do, that in guilt alone she might suffer long after. She also knew that she owed this to herself. The feelings Mark inspired were too beautiful to be ignored. For the first time in her life she would be her own woman, responsible to no one but herself. And to him. Yes, that was the other half of her need. It was a need to give of herself to another. Here there was no question of the impersonal acts of letter writing or check signing or handshaking. She was no longer an adjunct of some larger body. Here she was a woman stripped of all pretense. Here she would have only that which was deep within her to give. It was a dazzling, if fearful, thought.

  Again Mark felt her emotions. “We’ll be together,” he whispered and Deanna knew what he meant. He would help her, guide her. He didn’t want her to be afraid.

  With a smile, she nodded. His body felt fine against hers and she knew it would support her if she wavered. When he lowered his head to kiss her again she met him with lips parted in readiness. Passivity would not do for this man any more than it would do for the woman he seemed determined to make her. More than anything, she wanted to be that woman.

  Standing back, he took her hand, then led her silently into the adjoining bedroom. Leaving her just past the threshold, he moved to turn on the lamp by the bed. Despite the many times she’d seen these rooms or others just like them, Deanna suddenly took them in in an entirely new light. The queen-size bed with its elaborate mahogany frame, the original silk-screen prints on the walls, the textured silk draperies and spread that shimmered shades of apricot and teal through the air—all were now a romantic backdrop whose details blended in sensual array.

  The only details that stood out boldly were those of Mark’s frame as he slowly turned to face her. Deanna was aware of the distance separating them and couldn’t seem to make her feet move. Unsure as to what she should do, she watched silently as he shrugged out of his blazer and let it fall to the nearby armchair, then loosened his tie. His eyes held hers reassuringly, telling her that he would call when it was time. Deanna wondered at the steadiness of his hand as it released the top two buttons of his shirt, for she was anything but steady as the tanned V of flesh appeared. It was a narrow stretch, but enticing. She wanted to touch it, but held herself back, because the urge itself intimidated her. Once again his expression was of understanding and reassurance. But he made no move to stop.

  She watched wide-eyed as each successive button was undone until he tugged at his shirttails and freed them completely from his pants, but kept the shirt on. In a moment of nervous anticipation Deanna moistened her lips. Her pulse raced and her limbs felt weak, but she could no more look away than she could turn her back on this man. With the soft closing of the door to his suite a few minutes before, she had been committed. That was what she wanted to be, wasn’t it? One look at the wider expanse of flesh now exposed and she identified a part of those yearnings she had previously ignored. She wanted him physically as much as he wanted her. With the real world, that other world, now safely blotted out, she could freely admit that need.

  Deanna sought the doorjamb behind her for support as her gaze slowly fell from his throat past a path of tanned, man-haired skin to the point at his waist where his hands now moved. After releasing his belt buckle, he unfastened his slacks and let them drop. Before she could catch her breath, he stood before her wearing nothing but the open yellow shirt with its tie draped loose and a pair of the bluest, sexiest continental-styled briefs she had ever seen.

  In the instant’s shock she felt totally out of touch. Was this the kind of underwear that men now wore? Men’s underwear had never been an issue to consider in the past Even as she helplessly stared at his body she tried to recall how inconsequential a matter it was. But it wasn’t! Those snug blue briefs made a bold statement

  Deanna had never imagined that a man could be so physically exciting. Even her fantasy paled in comparison. As her gaze wandered her breath came faster. She traced his legs, long lengths of bronze, softly haired. She appreciated the perfect shaping of his calves and the latent power of his thighs. In the dim amber lighting he seemed ever warmer and more beckoning.

  She gasped at the inevitability of what was about to happen. He called silently and she slowly left the doorway.

  To say that she was in a trance would have been wrong, for she knew precisely what she was doing. She was living out a fantasy. She covered new ground with each step across the plush blue carpet Never before had she been driven by the fire that now consumed all sane thought Mark was the only one capable of quenching the flame and she walked steadily forward.

  Inches away from him, she paused. Was this right? Was it what he wanted? He nodded almost imperceptibly and she raised her hand to touch his chest His skin was warm to the touch and softly textured beneath her fingers. She nearly gasped at the delight of him, but bit her lip cautiously. Despite what he’d said about never havin
g lived this particular dream before, Deanna knew that he had to be far more experienced in the ways of women than she was in the ways of men. While the sensations she felt were new to her, he had to know just what he wanted and how he wanted it done. There was nothing clinical about it; it was a simple matter of personal desire. Could she satisfy him?

  “That’s right,” he murmured in encouragement when she moved her hand against his chest. Emboldened and curious, she brought the other to meet it, then began a tactile exploration that built her own arousal. With each passing second her fingers grew more eager, raking slowly across his chest to outline its muscled expanse. Again she looked up at him and again he spoke softly. “That’s it. Feel free …”

  He sucked in his breath when her fingertips breezed across each flat male nipple, then returned for a more brazen caress that produced dual bold buds. Deanna felt a definite sense of triumph at his instant response, yet her hands trembled all the more.

  His hands gently encircling her neck, Mark tipped her chin up with his thumbs. “Don’t be afraid to touch me,” he whispered. “Anything is all right as long as you feel the pleasure.”

  Deanna slid her hands beneath the flaps of his open shirt and savored the smooth flesh of his sides from rib to hip. “And your pleasure … ?”

  “Comes from you.” He smiled with a gentleness that belied the smoldering light in his eyes. “Don’t you see? Your pleasure brings me mine. They’re one and the same. I don’t think we could separate them if we tried.”

  “But I don’t know …” she cried out softly in an attempt to confess her inexperience.

  Mark wouldn’t hear of it. “You do know.” He was deeply insistent “I saw it in your eyes from the first You’re exquisite.” To illustrate his point he kissed her again, with greater conviction now and an ever-deepening drive.

  Deanna found herself settling happily into the haven of his arms, surrendering willingly to the beauty of his kiss. This was part of that promise she had seen in his eyes and its soul-touch was every bit as exquisite as he claimed her to be. She submitted to his sweeping exploration of her mouth and thrilled to the heady nectar of his.

  But again, from deep within the fantasy, came a demand for more than submission. It wasn’t enough to be kissed. Kissing back was just as critical. Under the gentle caress of his hands on the rustling silk that covered her back, Deanna opened her lips more fully to welcome Mark’s tongue and then, timidly at first, meet it with her own. Gradually she experienced the sensation and soon found herself swept up in it. It was a whirlpool of desire, ever widening to draw her deeper and deeper into its heart With growing abandon she let herself know its dizzying force as she met Mark’s heat with her own.

  He was right, she realized. The more she gave, the more impassioned she grew. It was an endless circle, as endless as the rings whirling about them, tightening bit by bit to bind them together.

  For a fleeting moment Deanna wondered whether other women knew this extreme sensual joy, whether she was the oddity for having been ignorant of its bliss for so many, many years. She had always found satisfaction in other realms. Now, at this moment, there was only Mark.

  As though hearing his name in her thoughts, he drew back to look at her. The familiarity of his expression was nearly more than she could bear. It spoke so clearly of his desperate need of her. But Deanna had just begun to recognize her own needs. This freedom he had given her was just taking root.

  Moving on pure instinct, she leaned lower and put her lips against his chest His skin seemed to throb beneath her mouth and she closed her eyes to better savor his scent and the wild heat he exuded.

  He moaned, pressing her closer. She was aware of the full length of him, of the thighs that supported hers and the hands that molded her lower body to his. Her heart hammered loudly as she understood the rising thrust of his need. It, in turn, inflamed her.

  Once again he held her back, this time with a hand on her either arm. “I need you,” he whispered. “It seems as if I’ve waited forever.”

  “I know,” she answered falteringly, and she did. Fantasy had its own needs and they were demanding after their long years of denial. Breathing in short, uneven gasps, she gently nudged his shirt over his shoulders and let it drop behind him. But when she reached to touch the masculine wealth suddenly opened to her, he reached as well. She was unprepared for the sudden rush of air on her back, needing a minute to realize that he’d lowered the zipper of her dress.

  Startled, she recoiled. There had been an unreality to the situation when he had undressed before her and her mind had been caught up in the passion of it all. But now it was her turn. Her clothing was the property of Mrs. Lawrence Hunt. Stripped of it, she was in many ways a stranger to herself.

  “Please, let me love you,” Mark said softly. “I won’t hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

  She nodded slowly. She did know it, though she wasn’t sure how. When it came down to facts, she knew practically nothing about this man other than his name, his profession, his home base. He could be any number of horrible things … but she somehow knew he wasn’t. As bizarre as it was, she trusted him. And she wanted him. Even in the throes of unsureness, she was aware of the fever that raged within her own body. There was only one antidote.

  Forcing herself to relax, she smiled. “I’m all right This is just so … new …”

  “I know,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her with the gentleness of that understanding. As he straightened he drew the dress from her shoulders and eased it down her body.

  Deanna focused on the auburn vibrancy of his hair while he knelt to help her from her black silk slip, her shoes, her stockings. With each went a bit of the past, replaced by the fantasy of a new woman. If the mild unsteadiness of Mark’s hands was a sign of his own dubious control, Deanna’s pulse was racing too fast for her to notice. Finally he straightened and looked down at her.

  His eyes touched her everywhere, caressing her throat and the swells of her breasts, moving over her stomach to the lace-edged silk of her panties. She felt the heat rise to paint her cheeks a delicate pink as she tried to discern his thoughts. Was he disappointed?

  Groaning softly, he gathered her into his arms. “How did I ever find you?” he rasped into her hair and she felt the beginnings of a reassurance that was enhanced by his hoarse-whispered, “So lovely.” Working his way around her ear, he tasted the lemon freshness of her neck, then sought her throat in a sequence of warm, moist kisses. Deanna closed her eyes and let her head fall back as she felt resurging delight at every touch point She arched her back unknowingly, innocently offering herself to him. The whisper of a sigh escaped her lips when his moved across her chest. Behind her, the muscles of his arms tensed with wanting.

  In one dizzying moment she was lifted and gently laid on the bed. When she opened her eyes in the stillness, he was smiling just above her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. The arms he propped on either side of her trembled slightly.

  “I think so.” Reaching up, she threaded her slender fingers into the thickness of his hair and drew his face down. When she arched off the sheets to kiss him, he slid his hands behind her and deftly released the catch of her bra. It was gone in an instant and she gasped.

  But the gasp caught in her throat, silenced by the worshipfulness of his expression. In its wake she felt like a goddess, a woman of flesh and curves with the awesome power to please this man. It was what she wanted more than anything to do. And she sensed a renewed urgency in him.

  Her hands went to his shoulders, then around his neck, as she pulled herself into his embrace. His back was warm with muscles that flexed when she touched them, which she did with growing courage. But Mark touched as well, and was soon dissatisfied with the slender span of her ivory-sheened back. Easing her down he placed both hands on her neck, then began an erotic descent toward her breasts. When he reached their fullness at last, she strained toward him. Her nipples had long since grown taut, yet now they responded even
more fully to him. His fingers massaged the pebbled tips until she bit her lip to keep from crying out at the torment.

  “Don’t do that,” he commanded softly against her lips as his freed them from her teeth. “Yell, scream if you want to. I don’t want you to hold anything back.”

  Deanna looked up. “I’ve never felt anything like this.”

  “I know.” He grinned with a pleasure that was remarkably calm in light of the fire that licked at them both.

  In that instant time sped back. Deanna recalled that fantasy of girlhood innocence when she’d first anticipated a man’s possession. Blushing as she might have done then, she asked, “You do?”

  “Uh-huh,” he hummed smoothly, invitingly.

  “How?” Without realizing it, she flexed her fingers around the solid strength of his arms.

  “Your reaction. It’s almost … virginal.”

  Embarrassed, she looked away. But Mark captured her chin and turned it back. He was sober and intense, silently speaking of that ultimate need. With a soft cry, the first she had allowed, she threw herself into his arms and moved restlessly against him.

  It was as though she had given the sign; suddenly his seduction began in earnest. He touched her everywhere, finding sensitive niches all over her body, kissing some, tonguing others, stroking them until she writhed beneath him. He paused only long enough to remove her panties, then his own briefs, before settling sensuously against her and letting her know the height of his desire.

  Patience was exhausted on both of their parts. For Mark, the physical demand had overcome all other thought. For Deanna, all other thought was actively chased away. Her total concentration was on her body and his, on his hands that caressed her and hers that mirrored the motion. With each sound she made he gave her encouragement, and she felt freer than she had ever felt before.

  There ceased to exist any other world, any other woman. The Deanna Hunt who lay on the bed, naked beside him, bore no resemblance to the Deanna Hunt who had existed for the past twenty-nine years. This Deanna was beyond all recollection of that other, more subdued woman. This Deanna was alive with love.