by Noelle Adams
That gets her attention. Very slowly her head turns in our direction. She sees me first and then shifts her eyes to Marcus. I really don’t know if she recognizes him or not.
“Do you remember Marcus Greene?” I ask her. “He’s the youngest Greene boy from the farm next door. He works at Milford with me now. He came to say hi.”
She just stares at him.
Marcus has been smiling at my grandmother, but now he turns to give me a questioning look.
I shrug. “She’s not always talkative, but she knows what’s going on. Don’t you, Grandma?”
I’m pretty sure that my grandmother still comprehends most of what happens to her, but since her stroke, she hasn’t been very communicative. At first she physically couldn’t speak, but she can now. She just doesn’t seem to want to every day.
Today is evidently one of her bad days.
“I’ve been driving Jennifer to work and back for a few weeks,” Marcus says in a friendly, offhand tone that’s exactly right. I can tell from my grandmother’s expressions that she always hates it when people talk to her like she’s a child or a pet even if they’re trying to be nice to her. “Her car is getting fixed. I guess she’s told you that.”
My grandmother gives the slightest of nods, but it encourages me. Evidently Marcus too because he smiles. “She clearly has the patience of a saint for putting up with me for so long.”
“Well, you’re the one who’s doing me a favor, so I figure having patience with your annoying qualities is the least I can do.” I’m smiling at him, inordinately pleased that he’s so good with my grandmother.
Her condition makes a lot of people so uncomfortable they don’t know how to behave.
“Since you, of course, have no annoying qualities at all, it’s an easy favor. I figure maybe some of your perfection will rub off on me.”
“I do my best, but your degree of imperfection means my perfection, even if it spills over to you, will be pretty well tainted.”
His eyes are warm as they rest on my face. They make my breath hitch. “Well, I’m clearly in such a state that I need all the perfection spillage I can get, so if you can spare it...”
My grandmother makes a breathy sound. I turn to her in concern, until I realize she’s laughing.
Laughing.
Not loudly and without much of a smile, but I can recognize it.
I haven’t heard her laugh in months.
“See what I have to put up with?” I say, keeping my voice light so I don’t make a big deal of her amusement. Even though it feels like a big deal to me. “I’ve had weeks of this, and Johnny still isn’t done with my transmission, so who knows how much more I have to suffer through?”
My grandmother starts to speak. The words are soft and stilted but easily discernable. She’s looking at Marcus. “How... your parents?”
“They’re good,” Marcus replies, leaning back in his chair, looking relaxed and handsome. Familiar in a way that makes my heart clench strangely. “My dad has a bad knee, but he’s still out every morning doing chores.”
“You still... helping them?”
“Yeah. I converted the old tractor barn in the southeast corner of the property to a studio apartment-type thing, and I live there.”
“You still... got your job?”
“Yeah. At Milford. I’m in facilities.”
“He’s the director of facilities,” I clarify, knowing this will mean something to my grandmother. “He’s in charge of the whole department.”
“Good... good job.”
I’m smiling, both because of her affirmation of Marcus and because she’s being so conversational today. It’s probably good for her to see people other than me and the staff of the nursing home. Other people demand more of a social effort, and sometimes that helps.
We talk for about a half hour until my grandmother is obviously so tired that she’s about to drop off into a nap. Then we say goodbye and leave.
I’m happy. Encouraged. My grandmother might have had a bad day, but it ended well for her.
Thanks to Marcus.
“Thank you for coming in to see her,” I say as we’re leaving the building. “It really did her good.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah. I haven’t seen her so responsive in several weeks. She has ups and downs, but this was definitely an up for her. You don’t see her normally, so you wouldn’t know, but she was really happy to see you.”
His eyes are on my face, and I don’t know how to read the expression in them. They look deep but not sober. I don’t understand it. “I’m glad.”
“So anyway. Thank you. I mean it.”
He shrugs as we step outside, and his tone changes as he glances around. “I’ve never been here before. It’s a pretty nice place. They keep it really clean, and the grounds are well kept. How big is the property?”
“It’s not huge, but they’ve got a garden and some lawns and trees in the back.” Since he sounds so interested, I add, “We can walk around if you want to see it.”
“Yeah. I’d like to see what they’ve got here.”
So we walk around the building. There’s about an acre of land in the back with a path that leads through the garden and then around the lawn so residents and guests can walk.
It’s a pleasant evening. Cool and clear with a fresh breeze. I enjoy the walk, and I enjoy having Marcus beside me. He occasionally puts a hand on the small of my back when we make turns and once when we run into another couple walking.
I like that too.
I wonder if it’s okay for me to like it. He’s still the kind of guy who doesn’t take the world seriously—who has fun rather than make commitments—but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy his company. He’s got a good heart underneath all the smirking insouciance.
He’s not really a bad boy at all, no matter how he acted as a teenager.
Surely he’s right about what he said to me earlier. I’m allowed to enjoy myself occasionally without my whole world falling apart.
He’s good company right now. I can indulge it. It doesn’t have to mean anything else.
He draws to a stop at the far corner of the property, looking out onto the large field that adjoins it. It’s owned by a local farmer who’s been trying to sell it for years now.
I stand next to him, peering up at his face, trying to figure out what he’s thinking.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” he asks without even looking at me.
“How did you know I was staring?”
“I can feel your staring in my sleep.”
“How do you know that? You’ve never been asleep when I’m around.”
He sighs with a little tilt of his mouth. “Always so literal.”
“That’s because I never know if you’re being serious or not. And that’s your fault, not mine, so don’t act like I’m lacking in comprehension abilities.”
He turns to face me, his expression softening as he tilts his head down. “In most things, I’d say your comprehension abilities are second to none. But there are a few things you are completely blind to.”
“Blind?” My eyes widen, and I stiffen my spine. “I am not blind.”
“Yes, you are, Jennifer.” His voice has gotten husky. “Not about everything. Not about most things. But about a few things.”
“What things?” I don’t like the idea of being blind about anything, but I can’t help but like the timbre of his voice. The texture of it is doing shivery things to my insides. So is the look in his eyes.
He takes a step closer so he’s only inches away from me. He lifts a hand to angle my head up, and he keeps his hand there, gently cupping the right side of my jaw. “These things.”
He’s right about me.
Absolutely, utterly right about me.
I have been blind to at least one thing. Because never in my wildest dreams would I ever imagine him kissing me.
Right now.
Or ever in my life.
But that’s w
hat he does. He kisses me.
He leans down enough to brush his lips lightly against mine, and the featherlight touch sends my nerve endings into overdrive. My cheeks flush. My breath quickens. My hands reach up of their own accord to cling to his soft shirt.
Evidently sensing my responsiveness, he brushes his lips against mine again, this time lingering a bit longer.
He smells like a breath mint and fabric softener. His bristles lightly scratch my skin when he moves his head.
I lean forward and surge up toward his mouth, needing more. A lot more.
He makes a sound in his throat and claims my mouth harder, darting his tongue out to trace the line of my lips. My blood throbs in pleasure, and I wrap one arm around his neck.
He’s still holding my face with one hand, and the other has slid down to the small of my back, just above where my bottom curves out. He uses the hand to push my body closer to his, and it’s exactly what I want.
I open my mouth when he explores the line between my lips, and then his tongue is all the way in my mouth. Deep. Demanding. Hungry in a way that thrills me.
I hear someone giggle nearby, and the sound jars me from the hot frenzy of my mind. This is Marcus. Marcus Greene. That’s why the kiss is so good, so needy, but it’s also why I shouldn’t be doing it.
I hate the thought of letting him go, but my heart is pounding in fear now as much as in pleasure. So I let my hand slip from his neck, and my mouth and tongue grow still.
It’s all the sign he needs. He draws back with nothing more than a soft sound in his throat.
He’s as flushed as I feel, and his eyes are hot and hungry. But they’re also questioning, searching. He’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking.
I don’t want him to know what I’m thinking. I don’t want anyone to know.
I was about to throw myself into something potentially dangerous—dangerous to my stability, dangerous to my heart—for no reason but that I want to feel so good.
And I don’t do that.
I never do that.
“What...?” I have to clear my throat. “Where did that come from?”
“It came from what’s been happening between us for a few weeks now. Don’t pretend you didn’t want it too.”
I drop my eyes. Take a deep breath. Try to pull myself together and act like a grown-up rather than a little girl who wants to hide under the covers and pretend something never happened. “Well, yeah. I wanted it. Obviously there’s some sort of... of attraction between us.”
“Yes.”
“But you know I’m looking for more than that.”
“Yes. In the long run. But why does that mean you can’t kiss me right now?”
His question surprises me so much that I look up. He’s got his characteristic half smile going, so he can’t be taking this conversation too seriously.
In a way, it’s a relief.
It means I don’t have to take it seriously either. It might feel serious to me, but it isn’t.
It’s just a kiss.
And people kiss other people all the time without it being earth-shattering. World-shaking. Heart-twisting.
It doesn’t have to be any of that.
It can just be... fun.
But I’ve never done anything like that. Kissed someone just for fun, knowing it’s never going to be serious. It’s such a new feeling I can’t process it immediately.
So I do what I always do when I’m not sure what the smartest choice is. I stall. “I don’t know. It just surprised me.”
His smile broadens just slightly. He seems casual, teasing. But not as real as he did a few minutes ago. “I can see that. We don’t have to do it again.” His tone changes to something husky and seductive. “Unless you want.”
I roll my eyes since that’s what his teasing deserves, and we make our way to his car.
Things seem fine between us. He obviously doesn’t feel rejected, which is a good thing. I wouldn’t want to hurt him.
But things also don’t feel settled.
Something is still unfinished. Waiting. Lingering in the air between us.
We don’t talk much on the way home, and when we reach my house, I still haven’t gotten things settled in my mind to my satisfaction.
“Thank you for taking me to the nursing home. And for visiting my grandmother with me. It meant a lot to her. And to me.”
He narrows his eyes. “That’s the third time you’ve thanked me for that. You know how I feel about endless thanking.”
I’ve gotten better about not repeating thanks to him for the drives to and from work, but this feels like above and beyond. “Well, I’m sorry. But some things deserve more than one thank-you.
“One thank-you is plenty for me.”
I nod and open the passenger door, reaching down to grab the strap of my purse.
I blink when he gets out too.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice sharp because I’m confused.
“I’m walking you to the door. Do you have a problem with that?”
“But why?”
“Why not?”
I don’t have an answer to the question. And since he didn’t give me an answer, I feel like I don’t have to give one to him either.
But I’m shuddering with something like excitement as we reach the front stoop of my grandmother’s house. I stop and stare up at him.
He’s gazing down at me with that same deep, warm expression I saw in him earlier.
Right before he kissed me.
“Why are you doing this, Marcus?” My voice breaks slightly because I’m pulsing with everything I’m feeling.
“I’m just standing at your door.”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
He nods, his mouth relaxing slightly. “I’m doing it because I want to kiss you again, and I think you want that too.”
I lick my lips. He sees it. His expression heats up.
It thrills me so much I quickly get my tongue back into my mouth and swallow hard. “I don’t know, Marcus. I don’t usually do things... just for fun.”
“I know you don’t. But I keep telling you that you’re allowed. Kissing me would be fun for you. And for me. It doesn’t have to mean anything more. It doesn’t have to change anything important about your world. So why shouldn’t we do it again?”
“Because... because I think it would... If we do it again, we’re going to do more than kiss.”
He chuckles softly and reaches up to brush some hair back from my face. “Yes. We probably will.”
“And you think that can be just for fun? No... no... pressure or complications?” I can’t believe I’m even considering no-strings-attached sex, but that’s exactly what I’m doing.
That’s what Marcus is offering.
And I want it so much.
“Yes. I think so. If that’s what you want.”
“That’s all it could be between us. For obvious reasons.”
He gives a slight nod. “Yes.”
This confirms a tiny, lingering question I’d never even acknowledged. And it makes things so much safer.
Safe enough for me to let myself be tempted for real.
After all, sex with Marcus is going to be good. I know it for sure. And if I can enjoy it—have some fun—in a way that both of us agree will lead to nothing disruptive to my life, why the hell shouldn’t I?
Why can’t I be like everyone else and just let go now and then?
It doesn’t have to threaten the security of my world.
I really think I could let go with Marcus and still be safe.
He confirms this by saying in a more serious tone, “I’m here for anything you want, Jennifer. Anything. Just name it. But if it’s not what you want, all you have to do is tell me, and I’ll never make a move on you again.”
I gulp. “I... do want it.”
“Yeah?” He tilts his head down.
“Yeah.”
“So you want to try to have a little fun and see what happens
?”
Somehow I’ve made up my mind. I’ve decided. Everything inside me wants to do this, so I’m going to do it after all. “Yeah. That’s what I want.”
His eyes smolder in a way that makes my heart clench.
And other parts of me clench as well.
“So I can kiss you again?”
I nod. “Please do.”
It’s so freeing—so exhilarating to put aside a few of my constant inhibitions—that I’m smiling when he leans down to claim my mouth.
This time it’s just as good as last time but without the confusion of surprise. It feels good immediately. His lips moving skillfully against mine. His hands lifting to take my head and move it the way he wants.
I wrap my arms around him and arch against the hard line of his body, and that feels even better.
His tongue is in my mouth already, moving deep and entitled and thrillingly possessive. He slides one hand down my back, but it doesn’t end at the small of my back like last time. It cups one of my bottom cheeks. He finds the line of my panties through the fabric of my dress and rubs me there.
Everything throbbing inside me clamps down in pleasure at the intimate gesture.
He’s getting hard against my middle. I feel a bulge growing in his pants. It’s almost as thrilling as the touch of his hands and his mouth.
He wants me. Jennifer Raleigh. Good girl all her life. Never taking any risks.
Until now.
He wants me, evidently exactly as I am.
“You better open your door,” he murmurs thickly, pressing kisses over my mouth and jaw. “Or I swear I’m going to fuck you right here on your front stoop.”
I make a gasping sound that might have been pleasure or amusement. Probably both. I fumble for my keys until I can unlock the door. As soon as it’s open, he’s on me again, pushing me into the house and kicking the door closed behind him as he eases me up against the wall of the entryway.
He’s deep in my mouth before I can take a full breath. He’s trapped me with his body, and it’s exactly the way I want to feel him. Like there’s nothing in the world but the warm, hard substance of him. His mobile mouth. His hot, hungry eyes.
