My Heart Can't Tell You No (17 page)

He woke with a start when he felt the bottle of beer slipping from his hand, but when he opened his eyes he saw it wasn’t slipping at all; someone was pulling it. He looked at the hand that surrounded the neck of the bottle; familiar, long-fingered, delicate, yet strong hands. His gaze slowly moved up the soft flesh of her arm. God, how many nights had he awakened in a sweat, having dreamt of those arms clinging to him as he plunged into the warmth of her body? His eyes moved to the front of the oversized shirt as she bent slightly to retrieve the bottle. In this position he could see the white satiny material that clung to the breasts he had tasted the autumn before. The memory of it sent a jolt through him, bringing a tightness to his groin that was electric. She would have straightened, not having noticed he was watching her, but his hand encircled her wrist, holding her prisoner.

“Maddie.” His voice was thick from sleep and a slightly drunken buzz, as well as the yearning that was surging through his body.

Her eyes moved up to meet his. Were they the same eyes he had forced himself to avoid for nearly seven months? He couldn’t recognize them. She had changed again. He could see she was no longer a child. She was developing quickly. Her mind possessed an age beyond her years. She turned her eyes away from his deep, searching gaze and looked to the book still on his lap.

“May I?” She knelt before him and opened a few pages before closing it and looking up at him. “He loved you, Joe.”

“Did he?” Damn it, didn’t she know what she was doing, kneeling between his legs as she was. “He never showed me. So I guess I wouldn’t know.”

“Maybe he couldn’t.” She put the book and bottle on the coffee table, then turned back to him. Her position between his knees did not change as she rested her arms on his thighs. “But I know he loved you. When you were overseas, and I would visit him, we would sit and talk about you. Sometimes I’d come down and catch him staring at your picture. You were never far from his thoughts.”

He didn’t want to hear how much his father had cared. If he were to dwell on something he never felt, he would only feel worse. As it was, the odd numbness was bad enough.

“How long have you been here, Maddie?”

“About forty-five minutes. I’ve done your dishes and cleaned up a bit in the kitchen. Everyone was in bed up home, and I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you came down here. Why?”

“To help you.” She looked away, to the kitchen doorway and then back to him.

“To help me,” he said flatly as his hand moved to the dark strands of hair that flowed over her shoulder, taking pleasure in its thick silkiness as it slid over his fingers. “Do you know how to help a man, Maddie? Do you know how to take a man’s mind off his problems and make him feel alive again?”

“I think maybe you’re a little drunk and a lot tired.” She dropped her gaze from his face.

“Maybe a little drunk, but not very tired at the moment.” He spread his legs slightly to ease the pressure building in his jeans. “What would you do if I asked you to help me right now? Help me right here? Would you turn around and run back to your parents? What if I told you there was only one way you could
help
me tonight? Would you slap me in the face like you did last year? Or hope Lew shows up to save you like he did the two years before that?” He looked into her eyes, eyes that watched him like a doe caught in someone’s headlights, mesmerized, a little frightened, not knowing which way to go. “Help me, Maddie,” he whispered.

His hand came up to her face, his thumb gently stroking her jaw line as he looked down at her. This was his Maddie. This was what he had been waiting seventeen years for, maybe even longer. His hands went under her arms, lifting her and bringing her against him, wanting to crush her inside of himself. He was trembling as his lips claimed hers, tasting what they had to give as her hands moved to his upper arms for support. He felt short of breath, as if he were drowning in her very essence.

As he stood he brought her up with him, his hands sliding over her, moving down her back to meet the denim cut-offs she was wearing, over her small rounded buttocks to where the frayed denim met the silkiness of her thighs. In one swift movement he parted her legs and lifted her until she was resting on him, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried her to his father’s bedroom. His kiss moved across her face as he stood her on the floor at the side of the double bed, his fingers hastily opening the buttons of his shirt before tossing it to the chair in the corner. He looked at her standing before him, looking so frightened he half expected her to run away, and he was immediately drawn back to her mouth, tasting its sweetness as she opened it and answered his tongue’s caresses with her own. He didn’t remember opening her blouse or pushing it off her shoulders, but he remembered the sensuous feeling of her silky white bra as his palm moved over it, its texture familiar to his touch from the previous autumn. The bra came off in an instant, and he felt that if he didn’t sit down soon he would fall from the dizzying heights where she was sending him.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her against him as his attention moved back to her breasts. His lips hungrily devoured one peak, his tongue rolling first gently then with a fiercer demand and bringing a moan from her as she swayed toward him, holding onto his shoulders for support. He held her against him with one hand as he unsnapped her shorts and pulled down her zipper then pushed the worn denim and satin panties over her hips. The slight twist of her hips to assist him sent a jolt through him, innocently arousing him as no other woman could. He moved his hand up the back of her leg, over her perfectly formed calf, savoring its silkiness before moving on to her thigh and then on to meet the firm softness of her bottom. It felt good in his hand, fitting it well. His mouth moved to her other breast, repeating what it had done before as his hand slid back to her leg, moving to the front of her this time and feeling the silky muscle of her thigh before moving to the skin as soft as a baby’s on the inside. The upward motion of his hand tightened Maddie’s grip on his shoulders as she sucked in her breath. The first contact with her ultra-sensitive skin released her pent-up sigh with a rush.

“Joe,” she moaned when his fingers slid through the soft curls and touched her.

“It’s all right Maddie. I’ll try not to hurt you,” he whispered hoarsely against the sensitive area between her breasts, his lips and tongue tasting her honeyed sweetness.

His gentle stroking was making her legs weak as her arms encircled his neck, pulling his head against her. She was leaning most of her weight against him as her hips began moving rhythmically with his hand, searching for something he knew she didn’t have the logic right now to think of.

“Joe,” she breathed. “I can’t—I can’t . . . .”

“You are. We are.”

“But I can’t—not much longer. Please, Joe, I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” His hand never stopped its rhythm as his eyes lazily moved up her body until he was looking at her lovely face.

“I can’t stand here like this. Let me down before I fall,” she breathed.

He almost laughed as he pulled her down on the bed, then moved up next to her where she was reaching for him. The innocence of her gaze was unnerving as his hand moved to her once again, her face flushing slightly when his eyes moved to hers. She moved her hand up his right arm, over his shoulders toward the area she was staring at. Just what it was, he wasn’t sure until her fingers finally stopped at the stubble on his upper lip, making him smile as she stroked it until, with a quick lift of his head, he bit her fingers. He looked down at the sheen of sweat covering her body as it moved beneath his hand. She was so beautiful. He was drowning in the very sight of her. He watched as she lifted her hips against his hand, still searching for something to fill the emptiness that ached through her. Finally he moved from the area that was controlling her, her eyes widening when first one finger and then another slid deeply inside of her. Her warmth hugged his fingers, exciting him beyond belief at the thought of embedding himself within that tightness. Slowly he started moving in her, his fingers sliding in her deeply and just as slowly withdrawing. She grasped his shoulders when her pleasure began building again as he watched her moving next to him, increasing his rhythmic movements until he felt her shudder, arching against him again and again before practically going limp.

Slowly, her eyes moved up to meet his, her lazy, timid smile charmed him completely as she turned against him shyly. He gently pulled his hand from her and wiped the sweat from his face on his forearm. The sight of the blood on his hand worried him; he hadn’t even broken through yet, but it confirmed what he already believed. He was her first, and, as far as he was concerned, he intended to be her only; for life.

He looked back to her and never before had he seen her so totally content. It excited him to know it was the result of his touch. When her gaze moved to the red stain on his fingers her eyes widened again, but he quickly leaned over and kissed her tenderly.

“It’s okay. It’ll be all right,” he reassured her.

He removed his pants and underpants swiftly, kicking them off his long legs and onto the floor, then rolled on top of her, throbbing against her as his kiss deepened. His hands moved lightly up her sides, barely touching her, but sending a shiver through the small body beneath him. His mouth moved across her cheek to her ear where his tongue played with the delicate shell. He needed her badly, but waited for some sign that would show she was as ready and wanting again as he. He could feel her fingertips lightly moving up over his sides, tracing over the muscles of his back, his shoulders, his arms. He felt as if he were in heaven, dying in her kiss. His touch moved just as gently over her, his kiss moving along her neck and shoulder. She was so sweet, so addictive. When his mouth moved back to hers and his fingers traced over her breast, quickly tightening her left nipple to a hard stone, her movements turned into an eager invitation as she pressed against him and opened her legs, allowing him to slide between them. He moved his hand to guide himself to her, his entrance slow and forced as he looked down at her. But one attempt wouldn’t allow him complete entrance, her tightness slowly stretching to accommodate his size as he withdrew and entered her again, slowly boring into her warm, moist core. Inch by inch he pumped inside her silky sheath until meeting the obstruction that announced her still-virginal state.

“Oh, sweet, Jesus,” he breathed against her mouth.

He grasped her hips, holding her securely as he plunged through the barrier with a final thrust. He felt the searing pain on his back, her nails ripping his flesh as a cry came from the back of her throat. It was such sweet agony as he remained motionless on top of her, panting slightly as he attempted to control himself before moving his gaze back to her again. If he were to continue now it would end far too soon, and she needed time to adjust to the size of him.

He leaned on his elbows and moved his hands to either side of her, gently stroking her temples with his thumbs, trying to ease that tension that covered her enchanting face.

“Maddie. Look at me,” he coaxed, bringing her trusting gaze up to him, showing him those eyes that had the power to mesmerize him, those eyes he adored, now brimming with tears. “Don’t cry, Angel, please don’t cry.”

“It . . . hurts,” she said softly. The simplicity of her reply let him know she was prepared for the pain and willing to work her way through it with his help.

His smile was tender as he looked down at her. His heart nearly broke at the thought of causing her more pain at that moment.

“Only for a minute. I promise.” His explanation brought a slight nod of her head, revealing her complete trust in him. “You are my beautiful, beautiful angel.”

His lips brushed over hers as he worked his way farther into her, withdrawing then slowing, working his way back again, seeing the tightening of her brow as she watched him. A few more slow strokes and the tension started to ease from her eyes, and a few more and he could see she was beginning to feel something new, another, newer kind of ache that didn’t involve actual pain so much as need. Slowly, he felt her relax again then slowly move her hips in sideward gyrations to urge him on.

“Ah, Jesus, Maddie.”

His strokes were slow and powerful as her hips began to rise to meet his. Her arousal evident as her mouth mated with his and her hands started to move over his back and shoulders, going down to his waist until they grasped him tightly. She pulled his body down as she trailed her mouth to his neck and sent her lips on a mad exploration of the muscles that supported his head. The urgency of her movements beneath him pushed him on as his hands tangled in her hair and pulled her to where her mouth nipped at his throat and neck. The deep moan that escaped her let him know everything. She arched against him, her teeth biting into him a little rougher than she had been as her body clutched around him. The pain she gave him sent him on a spiraling burst as his body shuddered over her and his final thrusts left him to lie heavily on top of her. Their breathing labored as they clung to one another, limbs entwined, feeling one another’s heartbeats strongly thumping in their chests. Finally he moved to get off of her, but her grip on him tightened.

“No—don’t leave,” she whispered as her legs slid over his thighs.

He smiled down at her. Never had he seen anything quite as beautiful as the flushed face staring up at him with her long black hair spread about and messed from his hands. He wouldn’t leave her, not if she didn’t want him to. His movement to get up was purely out of habit—Lena nearly always pushed him away so she could run to the bathroom to clean herself.