Chasing Stanley (19 page)

His mouth was roaming now, teasing first her lips, then her neck. Delilah felt herself melting beneath him. “You're so soft,” he marveled, unbuttoning her blouse.

“Ah,” he continued, his fingers tracing the swell of her breasts above her lacy bra. “This must be the special underwear.”

Delilah smiled, then shuddered as his fingers continued exploring. One moment his hand was cupping her; the next he had slid the bra up and had started to suckle. Sensation after sensation rippled through her body, accompanied by amazement. She was teetering on the edge of ultimate desire, and they hadn't even gotten close to the actual act yet.

“Relax,” Jason urged, reaching around to unfasten her bra. Delilah complied, helpless to resist when he gently tugged off her top and bra, leaving her naked to the waist.

“Look at you,” he marveled, lowering his mouth to taste her. “As perfect as I imagined.”

Delilah groaned, stirring beneath him. She was arching up into him. Arching and pressing, making her need known. Jason took a ragged breath and reared up, tearing his shirt off over his head. Then he returned to pleasuring her, his mouth taking its time feasting, sparks shooting from their skin each time flesh touched flesh.

Delilah held her breath as Jason's mouth journeyed lower over the heated terrain of her skin. He kissed her ribs, kissed her torso. And with each kiss, Delilah wanted more.

Jason lifted his head, looking into her eyes. “I want to see all of you.”

Delilah swallowed, heat circling her body like the vortex of a storm. “I want to see you, too.”

Jason nodded, rose from the bed. Delilah had the distinct feeling that he knew baring himself to her first might ease her nerves. He stripped—slowly, unselfconsciously. Clambered back down beside her to take her in his arms and let her fingers touch him, learn him. His skin was hot. Her hands played over his rippling muscles. He was so solid, so
male
. Her touching him seemed to inflame him. He was breathing harder now, moans of desire coming from deep within his throat. Delilah skimmed a finger up his thigh, and he shuddered.

“Don't do that,” he said hoarsely. “Don't do that unless . . .”

Delilah silenced him with a kiss. Jason grabbed her face between his hands and kissed her hard. Delilah felt her will drain away. Whatever he wanted, she would do.

Jason's hand crept down to Delilah's jeans, a question in his eyes. Delilah nodded her compliance, lifting her hips so he could remove her pants. She watched to see how he would react to the lace briefs, whether Marcus was indeed correct that he'd find the sight of her in them enticing. Her heart leapt to see he did, a guttural groan crossing his lips as he moved to cup her. Delilah let her head drop back, moving against his hand. How she wanted. Ached. Did he know? Could he see?

One moment her panties were on. The next they were sliding down her body, silk trailing against her legs as Jason freed her.

“I want you,” he declared, eyes shining as he drank in every inch of her body. Earlier, Delilah had feared feeling exposed. But the way he was looking at her made her realize she was beautiful, at least to him. That was all that mattered. The two of them here, now, together.

Delilah clasped him tightly to her, her body giving assent. Jason rose up slightly, put on protection, then eased himself into her. Pleasure burned through her as he began moving atop of her. Delilah drew herself in around him, saw the shocked pleasure in his eyes as she cleaved to him. They were indivisible; one heart, one mind, one soul. Joy rocketed through her until Delilah felt as though she were flying into the face of the sun, the heat nearly unbearable. Then she came sailing back down to earth, moving with Jason as he, too, reached the heights. Delilah smiled to herself. Special underwear indeed.

Jason looked mortified as the bedroom door swung open and Stanley jumped up onto the bed, pushing right between him and Delilah.

Delilah scrambled to cover herself with the sheet. There was still the faintest sheen of sweat on her body; the last thing she wanted was to find herself coated with Stan's hair as if she'd been tarred and feathered. She'd had a feeling all along Stanley was going to make an appearance. Newfs hated to be alone. Plus the noise from the bedroom must have alarmed him.

Jason rolled off the bed, glaring. “Stan! Down!”

Delilah took one look at her naked lover trying to cajole his dog into leaving the comforts of bed and laughed. “I wish I had a camera.”

“And I wish I had a cattle prod.” Jason gently took hold of Stan's collar.
“Down!”

Stanley threw him a baleful look, but he did what he was told. Jason slid back into bed, taking Delilah in his arms. Delilah had no sooner snuggled close to him than Stanley, conveniently forgetful, hopped right back up on the bed, though this time he had the good sense to curl up at their feet.

“Jesus Christ,” Jason muttered.

“I told you you should train him not to come up on the bed.”

“You're right. You did.” Jason frowned apologetically. “Sorry about this.”

“It's okay.”

The truth was, Delilah liked that the three of them were together. Before she began boarding dogs, her dogs always slept with her. Why snuggle with a stuffed animal when you could hold on to the real thing? Her dogs were her family. But once she started her business, she had to stop: the boarder dogs would get jealous, and fights would erupt. Though it saddened her, she trained her beloved pooches to sleep on the floor like the rest.

Jason seemed to have accepted Stan's presence. “That was great,” he murmured as he sweetly stroked Delilah's hair. “I really enjoyed that.”

“Me, too.” She was still feeling blissful.

Stanley shifted position, and Delilah found herself with a head resting on her calf. “You're a pip, Stan,” she called down to him. She sighed. “I wonder how my three are doing.”

“You left them in capable hands, right?”

Delilah nodded. “Marcus.” He was one of the few people she trusted with her animals, or anyone else's, for that matter.

“Maybe he could watch them for a weekend, and we could go away somewhere.”

Delilah just smiled. Now was not the time to tell Jason she would never leave her dogs for an entire weekend. Lots of other people did—it was how she made much of her money, after all—but Delilah herself had never felt comfortable doing so. They'd given her so much. She repaid them by always being there for them.

Jason kissed her neck. “Any chance of you coming to a game this week?”

“It depends,” Delilah replied honestly. “I think I have some boarders. I have to check.”

“I don't see what difference it makes,” Jason replied, sounding confused.

“I can't just
leave
other people's animals left in my care. They'd bark their heads off. Or rip each other to shreds.”

“But if you never leave them, how do you have a social life?”

“I have one when it's just me and my dogs.”

Jason looked worried. “How often is that?”

Delilah felt the first stirrings of anxiety. “Is there a problem?”

“No. I'm just trying to figure out how we'll go out and do things when you're boarding dogs.”

Delilah shrugged. “I don't need to go out all the time. I'm perfectly happy to hang out at home with my dogs. In fact, I prefer it.”

She could see from the expression flashing quickly across Jason's face—a cross between a grimace and a cringe—that it wasn't the answer he'd hoped for. Delilah's anxiety spiked. “Is everything all right? Because—”

“Everything's fine,” Jason hastily assured her. He drew her close, kissing her forehead. “We should probably think about getting some sleep. Maybe in the morning, you can show me that special underwear again.”

“My pleasure,” Delilah murmured. She reached down, patting Stanley's head for her own reassurance as much as his. She should have felt contented. Instead, she felt uneasy. Delilah closed her eyes, and talked herself into sleep.

 

 

God. Damn. Eric.

Jason jammed his pillow over his head to block out the sound of the ringing phone. It was six thirty in the morning.
Six fucking thirty.
What was Eric doing calling him at this hour? He must have known Delilah was there and he was out to bust Jason's balls. Jackass.

Jason toyed with letting the answering machine pick up, then thought better of it. He knew Eric; the jerk would deliberately run out the tape. Groaning in resignation, Jason snaked his arm out from under the comforter and grabbed the phone.

“Yeah?” Jason tried to turn over onto his back, but found he couldn't: sometime during the night Stanley had crept between him and Delilah. Worse, Stan was snoring. “Shit.”

“Excuse me?”
asked the imperious male voice on the other end of the phone. There was a tense pause. “Jason, this is Marcus.”

“What's up?” Jason murmured, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible. The phone hadn't disturbed Delilah at all; she was sleeping soundly, the comforter bunched up around her neck, making her look like a disembodied head in the bed. An adorable disembodied head, Jason thought tenderly.

“I need to talk to Delilah,” said Marcus. “It's urgent. Something's up with her mother.”

“Hang on.” Jason reached across Stanley to gently shake Delilah's shoulder, trying to rouse her. Eventually Delilah's eyes fluttered open.

“Hi,” she whispered with a sleepy smile Jason doubted she knew was sexy. His heart sank. He hated having to kill the moment, but he had no choice.

“Marcus needs to talk to you,” he said, handing her the phone.

The alarm instantly transforming her face was so severe that Jason had to look away. He found himself stroking Stanley, if only to give himself something to do.

“What happened?” Delilah asked breathlessly as she sat up in bed. “When? . . . Well, what did she say? . . .
Shit
. . . Thank you, Marcus. Love you, too.”

Delilah handed the phone back to Jason. “I have to go.”

“What's going on?”

Delilah's expression was tense. “It's my mother. She called Marcus—I mean, me—a few minutes ago in hysterics, saying there was a family emergency, and I needed to come out to the house right away. When Marcus pressed her, she wouldn't say what was wrong.” Delilah clamped her eyes shut. “God, I hope my father's okay,” she whispered.

Jason rubbed her shoulder. “If it was something that serious, wouldn't she have said so?”

“No.” Delilah's eyes sprang open. “My mother doesn't believe in giving bad news over the phone.”

“No offense, but that's nuts.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” She looked as though she were going to cry. “I have to go,” she repeated flatly.

Jason got out of bed along with her. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Delilah looked touched. “No. But thanks for asking.” Jason hung back, unsure of what to do. He watched as she gathered her clothing together. Her movements seemed abrupt, distracted. Twittery Delilah was back.

“Delilah.” He came up and hugged her tightly from behind. He could still smell her perfume from the night before. “We're here if you need us,” he whispered.

“We?”

“Me and Stan,” said Jason.

“I know that,” Delilah sniffled.

“Do you?”

Delilah nodded.

“Good.”

Reluctantly, he let her go.

 

 

Delilah took it
as a positive sign as she pulled into her mother's driveway that the house wasn't blocked off with police tape, nor was it a smoking pile of rubble. She had tried repeatedly to call her mother on the ride out to Roslyn, but got no answer. Her mind had run through dozens of disaster scenarios. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. Delilah threw her car into park and raced to the front door, slipping inside.

The house was eerily quiet, its bleached walls making her feel as though she were cocooned within an egg. She paused, listening. Her mother was upstairs weeping. Delilah padded up the white carpet of the stairs, praying she could handle whatever bombshell Mitzi was about to drop.

“Mom?”

Delilah stood in the bedroom doorway. She'd always been wary of her parents' room, since that was where much of their fighting took place. To her it was a dark place, a place of turmoil, not marital harmony. Even now she found herself hesitating.

Her mother was sitting up in the massive king-sized bed purchased years ago from one of her father's stores, mascara running in black rivulets down her powdered cheeks. Delilah couldn't believe she was already made up for the day. Hearing Delilah's voice, Mitzi wanly extended a hand.

“You came,” she whispered, sounding like she was on her deathbed.

Delilah was alarmed. “Of course I came! You said it was an emergency!”

Mitzi's face crumpled as she resumed sobbing. “Oh, Leelee.”

Delilah swallowed hard as she approached the bed. She hadn't seen her mother this upset since Grandma Ida died. Steeled, she took her mother's hand.

“What is it, Mommy? Is it Daddy?” Delilah's mother nodded frantically. “Oh, God.” Delilah felt as though her chest would crack open from pain. “When did it happen?”

Mitzi swiped at her nose. “I'm not exactly sure.”

She seemed dazed. Delilah wasn't surprised she didn't have a grasp on the hard facts. Grief did that to people. It scrambled their brains.