hall.
“Where are we going?”
“I think making love with you by the fire’d be outstanding-another time. On the pool table might be another terrific idea. Another time. But the first time, I want you on a big, hard mattress.”
“Um…”
“Cat got your tongue, Winona?”
He was unnerving her, and he knew it. Liked it. She wasn’t afraid of anything. Never had been. She’d faced down strung-out kids and brutalizing adults and even, as a child, stood up every time she was afraid-partly because there’d never been any other choice; she’d only had herself to depend on and she’d learned courage from doing just that. But somehow, right then, she was afraid of him.
Not that he’d hurt her.
Never that.
This fear was a curious thing, elemental, sharp. Thrills and adrenaline kept scissoring up her nerves, electrifying her hormones, charging heat through her whole body. She wanted to dive off this cliff. She wanted to soar without a parachute. She wanted this high-speed chase.
She wanted him.
She was just scared. Of something she couldn’t name, wasn’t sure of. But when she kissed him, the fear ebbed back. And when she kissed him hard, mindlessly, putting her whole self into it, the fear became something so much fun that she never wanted it to go away.
Her shoulder grazed the stucco wall in the hall. Then a doorjamb. There was no way to recognize anything in his bedroom-not just because she’d never been in there, but because he didn’t seem to remember to turn on a light. She had a sense of a long narrow room, lots of space, a chill from a window cracked open. She caught scents- sandalwood and leather. She caught sights because of certain objects shining in the darkness-his metal four-poster bed, a mirror over the bureau reflecting the star-spangled night, his shadow and hers moving past it.
The room was part of him. His. But the textures spinning spells around her were his whiskery cheek, his smooth naked shoulders, the liquid heat pouring off his skin, the silk of his mouth and more of those deep, dark, wicked kisses.
He opened a bedside drawer in the dark, took something out, slammed the drawer. “I’d love your babies, Win. I’d love to make half a dozen with you. But this night, I don’t want anyone in this bed-any thought on your mind-but how much trouble you’re in. And what I want to do to you.”
“What
“Love you. Like I’ve wanted to love you for a long, long time.”
She felt a keening inside. A caving in. Maybe he didn’t mean it. A grown-up woman should know better than to believe a man’s words of passion…but she did believe him. She felt the truth in his eyes, felt the emotion in his touch and his voice. And that was the last coherent thought she had.
The rest of their clothes peeled off, pushed off. Jeans, socks. Cold air rushed on her bare skin, raising gooseflesh, but then his tongue and mouth covered that gooseflesh, searing kisses everywhere, anywhere. Her elbow, her ribs, the insides of her thighs…oh my, no one had ever kissed the insides of her thighs.
It was payback time. She rolled on top of him, letting him know who was in charge now. In response, she heard his throaty laughter in the darkness, more whispered love words, the hint of more wicked promises glinting in those eyes. He was delighted with her. That’s what he’d have her believe. That he cherished, exulted in her letting loose and losing control.
Her being abandoned.
With him.
Finally they were both completely naked. He pulled her hands over her head, stretching them, so that the feeling of length to length was exquisitely intimate, breast to chest, belly to belly, her pelvis rocking against his aching hardness. The thrill wasn’t so much fun now. Need started biting at her heels, want gnawing at the lonesome, empty place inside her. “Justin. Come to me,” she said urgently.
“I don’t want you to forget this.”
“I couldn’t forget this in a hundred million years.”
“I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and think, aw hell, I’m not sure this was such a good idea.”
“There’s no way I’ll regret this. I promise.”
“I want this right for you, Winona. I mean it. We can make it right. The two of us-we can make anything right. I know you’re not used to the idea of us being together-”
Holy horsefeathers…and they said women talked. She swiveled around and then bent down, thinking that words alone seemed to be completely failing to communicate to him, so she simply had to try another way. She stroked him, then cupped, then leaned even closer. Her caress was tentative because she knew perfectly well this wasn’t her personal preference and she wasn’t comfortable with it. She understood men liked it; it just wasn’t the sort of thing that personally sizzled her toenails. But with Justin…
With Justin, none of the old rules seemed to apply. Different things were true with him, because she didn’t seem to be herself. This wasn’t just about herself. It was about love. And giving. And the more she tasted, and stroked, and learned him, the more inspired she became by his body’s intense and volatile response to her. She heard him groan. Then she heard him growl. She gestured with a hand, trying to say, this was her party and she’d do what she wanted to…but, of course, it was dark, and he likely couldn’t see the gesture.
When she failed to respond to his verbal entreaties, though, she suddenly found herself lifted in midair and smooshed into that nice, big, hard mattress again. She vaguely remembered thinking the room was cool before. Now she wondered if his furnace wasn’t disastrously malfunctioning. Heaven knew there was a blazing conflagration in his eyes.
“Did you want this over before we even got started?” he demanded.
“Well, no. But I was having a good time. And since I’m the guest, I think you should do the polite thing and let me do what I want.”
“How about if I let you do what you want for the next ten years, but I get my way tonight?”
“Hmm. Well, on the surface, that sounds like a pretty good deal…but the more I’m with you, Justin, the more I’m getting the impression that possibly I could get my way all the time.”
“Oh, all right,” he agreed. And kissed her. Then took her. She couldn’t have been more ready for him, yet she was still snug, the fit still tight, and he speared slowly inside that soft, private nest, easing in until his shaft was completely inside her. Colors of sensation washed behind her closed eyes. Sparks of fire seemed to ignite along her nerve endings.
“Justin…” The teasing was gone from her voice. Her belly was filled with him now, yet only ached more fiercely, seeking completion.
As he did. He began a rocking cadence that shook the bed, the room, her universe…whether she rode him or he rode her, Winona could neither keep straight nor cared, but this was a galloping song, a rhythmic race as pagan and pure as exhilaration and joy. “I love you, Win. Love you,” he whispered, and then tipped her over the edge into oblivion.
In the dark, afterward, it seemed hours before her lungs could remember that complicated task about inhaling and exhaling. She didn’t want to breathe normally. She didn’t feel normal. She hooked up on an elbow and just looked at her lover in the dark, savoring everything she saw. The lustrous dampness on his skin, so like hers. The dark satisfaction in his eyes, that had to be reflected in hers. His mouth, as swollen from her kisses as hers was from his.
He lay there, wasted, at least until he opened an eye and realized that she was wide-awake and studying him. She felt fingertips grazing her jaw. “Did I tell you how beautiful you are?”
“Yes, you did.”
“Did I tell you how sexy?”
“Oh, yes. In fact, you went into a lot of detail.”
“Did I tell you that you’re the most fabulous lover and the most extraordinary woman in the universe?”
She bent down and kissed the very tip of his nose. “I’m not even going to answer that. But…if that offer to marry you is still open, Doc…my answer is yes.”
She slipped into her house at 4:00 a.m., turning the key in the lock with the stealth of a burglar, carefully
