“No.”
“Let’s pretend we’re at the beginning.”
He kissed her hard then, pinning her against the door, his hands behind her, drawing her closer. He could feel the heat of her skin through the silk as his hands moved down her back, pulling her toward him so that their bodies ground together. Then her robe fell open and he moved his hands inside, feeling the skin itself, hot, alive to his touch. She held the back of his head, her mouth everywhere on his face.
“Come to bed,” he whispered.
“No.” She was gulping air. “Not there.”
And as his hand rounded her, moving toward the back of her thigh, she brought her leg up beside him, as if he were taking her right there, standing up, and his prick jumped with excitement. He rubbed his hand under her thigh until he felt her hair graze his fingertips, already moist, and the wetness made his erection pulse again, almost painful now in his pants. His fingers moved up along the moist lips, slick, back and forth, so that she began to ride them, her mouth making stifled noises behind the kiss. Then he turned his hand so that his open palm held her, the heel of it grinding against the front of her as the wet finger still slid back and forth, and she pulled her mouth off his to gasp for air, her lower body still moving against him. But he couldn’t stop now-the fierceness of it, the hurry, was outside them. He could feel her breath, ragged, in his ear. He covered her mouth again, their tongues slippery, as he moved his hand away to unzip his pants, fast, so that when it sprang out it moved toward her at once to replace the hand, sliding along the wet part of her until it slipped inside and he thrust up, filling her, and she gasped, dropping her head on his shoulder. He thought for an instant he would come then, still, her heat wrapped around him. There was nothing but feeling now, so complete he was afraid to disturb it. But then he felt the walls of her vagina grip him, making gentle spasms, and they were moving again. “Oh,” she said, a low sound from her throat, her head back against the door, and the sound of it excited him more, and he put his mouth back on hers, kissing her as he gripped her below, pounding into her with her thigh still drawn up beside him. He could hear them thudding against the door, oblivious as animals, and then a sharp sound from her as he felt her grip him again inside, and he knew she had come, so that he was released now too and after a few more jabbing thrusts it spurted out of him, everything in him shooting out, taking his breath with it.
They stood there for a few minutes, still locked together, gulping air, and he knew they must look absurd, their mouths smeared with saliva, standing against the wall like dogs, his pants down below his knees. But her face glowed, and when he looked at her he felt an immense gratitude. It had been so quick, but she had let him, not protesting, giving herself to it. He had wanted to make love, not just fuck, but they had already waited too long to take their time. Now he kissed her gently and lifted her up, still hard inside her, and moved haltingly toward the couch, his pants wadded foolishly around his calves. But the point was not to leave her. It didn’t matter how they looked, messy and awkward, so long as he remained inside her. When he laid her down on the couch, still inside, she smiled at him, and this time they kept a different rhythm, moving smoothly in and out, and the sensation in him spread outward so that his whole body was making love, every piece of skin sensitive. This time his hands felt all of her, drawing along her breasts, kissing the side of her neck, until they both began racing and she wrapped her legs around him, urging him, waiting for him to come so that they could finish together, shuddering in the same jolt of pleasure.
They lay quietly for a while until, calm now, he sensed his weight on her and slipped out, his penis finally soft, and moved to the side, still holding her. He saw her face moist with tears.
“Don’t,” he said softly, brushing them lightly off her face.
“No, I’m all right,” she said, turning on her side to face him. She held the side of his head, looking at him. “What will it be like, do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
“No. Never mind.”
“Like this, maybe.”
“Maybe,” she said, tracing the shape of his ear.
“Why do we ever think anything else matters?”
She smiled. “That’s sex talking.”
“I guess.”
“I’ve never done it standing up.”
He grinned. “What do you think?”
“Not sure yet.”
They would have gone on like this, he knew, comfortable, idly touching each other, but there was a rap on the door.
“Oh God,” she whispered, sitting up, pointing him quickly toward the bedroom. “Bloody hell.”
What had seemed smooth before, no more than another stroke of lovemaking, was clumsy now, and he almost tripped as he staggered toward the door, holding his pants.
“Coming,” she said out loud, belting the robe around her and running her fingers through her hair. She waited until he had closed the bedroom door. Inside, he flopped on the bed, too exhausted to dress and afraid of making a sound.
“Emma,” he heard a woman’s voice say through the door, “thank God you’re up. Do you have any coffee? I don’t know how I ran out, but Larry’ll be a bear if he doesn’t have his coffee. I’ll pay you back.”
“I was just making some. This enough?” she said over the rattling of a tin.
“Hmm. You’re perspiring.”
“It’s this damn central heating. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, wouldn’t you?”
“Thanks,” the woman said, obviously taking the coffee. “Sorry to bother you so early. Where’s Daniel? I thought I heard somebody.”
“No, just me. He’s off-site. Awful, talking to yourself, isn’t it? If I’m not careful they’ll put me away.”
There was more as she lingered at the door, but Connolly stopped listening. He lay there instead, looking up at the ceiling, still drifting in a haze of sex. Now there was the sound of water running, the rattle of a pot being put on to boil, the scrape of a match. Everything seemed to him erotic. He imagined her measuring out the coffee, her robe half open so that her flushed breasts stood out, the nipple firm against the silk. He imagined lying here every morning, listening to her being busy in the kitchen as the stickiness of sex dried on his skin. When she opened the door, her finger to her lips in warning, she giggled at the sight of him.
“Look at you,” she whispered. “Do you think you might put your trousers on, or do you just want to stay like that all day?”
“All day,” he said. “Come to bed.”
But she shook her head. “No, I told you. I won’t do that to him. Come and have some coffee,” she said, leaving the room.
He got up, pulled his pants on, and followed her out. “Funny scruples you have,” he said teasingly.
But she came up to him and held him. “Don’t scold. I won’t, that’s all.”
“Sorry,” he said, kissing her. “Do you want me to go?”
“No. Let’s not waste the coffee, now that I’ve made it. Bloody cow next door. She’s probably put her ear to a glass at the wall.”
He sat at the little kitchen table near the window, smoking, watching her as she poured the coffee and brought it to the table. Every movement seemed interesting-the way she smoothed the back of her robe under her as she sat down, blew gently on the coffee, reached for a match.
“What?” she said self-consciously.
“Just looking,” he said. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“Well, you’ve only just started,” she said dryly, lighting a cigarette.
“No. Weeks. From the start.”
“That’s nice,” she said, taking a sip of coffee, playing. “It must have been the sight of me doubled over sick that made you decide. Was that it?”
“No. The ride back from the ranch,” he said seriously.
“Really?” she said, interested.
“Uh-huh. There was that moment.”
“What moment?”
“There’s always a moment between a man and a woman when you know something can happen. It doesn’t
