Then holding her tightly to him, grinding against her, he came hard, and so did she. Even when he was spent, lying on her like a dead man, her tiny orgasmic aftershocks nipped at him. It was like being kissed right on the tip of his cock. He was too whipped even to smile, but in his mind he did.
Eventually they were still.
He cupped the back of her head in his hand and rolled onto his side, carrying her with him. And he held her like that, one hand securing her head beneath his chin, the other still firmly on her ass, holding her in place, keeping him inside her. The sensations were indescribable. He was torn between wanting to stay there like that until they petrified, and looking at her.
He wished there was a way to get out of their clothes without moving. He was suddenly desperate to be skin to skin. He wanted to look at her breasts. At all of her. To touch, explore, nuzzle, and pet all those tantalizing spots he hadn’t let himself even think about.
Later. Right now, her lethargy was so absolute, she appeared to be asleep. He angled his head back so he could look into her face. Her lips were slightly parted, damp and soft looking, swollen and red from her biting them. Where the fuller lower lip met the upper one, there was a shallow dimple. Jesus, that was a sexy spot, begging to be caressed by the tip of his tongue.
He was lowering his head to do just that when her body went rigid. Her eyes sprang open, and in a flurry of thrashing limbs she separated them and sat up. “Oh, God.” She buried her face in her hands. “Ohgodohgodohgod.”
“Laura—”
“Don’t say anything! Just please don’t…don’t…Oh, God.” She was groping for something at the side of the bed, and he saw it was her underwear. She wrestled the panties on and left the bed, disappearing into the bathroom and soundly closing the door behind her.
He got up and clumsily pulled on his boxers, went to the bathroom door, and knocked. “Laura.” Without waiting for permission, he opened the door.
She was working her skirt up over her hips and shoving her feet into her shoes at the same time. Once she had the skirt fastened, she grabbed her jacket off a hook on the back of the door. In perpetual motion, she pushed him aside and went past, snatched her handbag from the top of the bureau, and flung open the bedroom door.
“Laura, wait!” He trailed her down the hall. Halfway across the living room, he hooked her elbow with his hand to bring her around. “Will you wait a damn minute? Talk to me.”
She yanked her arm free, wouldn’t look at him. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Only everything.”
“That didn’t happen.” She patted the air with both hands, emphasizing each word. “It did not happen.”
“It happened.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head furiously. “No, it didn’t. I—” She covered her mouth with her hand to catch a sob. “Oh, my God.” Spinning away from him, she walked quickly to the door.
He lunged after her, but she was out like a flash.
“Laura!” he shouted.
She didn’t look back.
F
OSTER WAS ON THE TELEPHONE WHEN LAURA CAME INTO HIS
office. She hesitated on the threshold, but he waved her in. Her arrival gave him a welcome excuse to conclude his conversation with one of the board members. It had begun to bore him.
Running the airline wasn’t as much fun as it used to be. Key personnel were so good at their jobs, they could do them without his supervision. From a management standpoint, it was gratifying to know he’d made wise choices in hiring them. But their reliability made him superfluous.
These days he often felt like the token handicapped employee.
He wrapped up his phone conversation with a promise to continue it soon. Laura was standing with her back to him, staring out the window. “To what do I owe this honor?” he asked. “You’re usually too busy to pay me a call during business hours. Or
is
this business? Are you here as department head or wife?”
“Wife. Do you have time for me now?”
“Always.”
She’d taken his rejection of SunSouth Select hard, harder than he would have guessed. Since joining the executive ranks of the airline, she had been overruled and outvoted on numerous issues, but she took those small defeats in stride and ultimately gave wholehearted support to the majority rule.
Not this time, and with reason. Although she’d given others credit for creative and informative input, Select had been her vision, and he had essentially squelched it. Judging from her mood over the past couple of weeks, she had regarded it as a personal rejection.
The subject had come up only once in the meantime. Last week during an executive meeting, Joe McDonald had mentioned Select in passing. Laura had shot him a warning look that said:
Don’t talk about that.
It hadn’t been spoken of again, at least not in Foster’s presence, and he didn’t think it was being whispered about behind his back. Nowhere in the building had he seen any of the materials Laura had used for her presentation. He got a sense that, since he hadn’t taken up the baton, everyone considered it a dead issue.
He had snuffed SunSouth Select while, actually, the prospect of offering alternative carrier service was exciting. Unbeknownst to Laura, he had been thinking about it himself and doing his own research into that growing market, assessing how he might claim a large segment of it.
He’d studied the new superlight jets and considered ordering a fleet of them with which to begin a top-notch charter service. He’d even given thought to doing as Laura suggested and starting an off-shoot of SunSouth.
But whatever form the innovation took, it would be his conception and his design. Not hers or anyone else’s. He would be the leader, not the crippled has-been.
He’d given her space and time to nurse her wounded pride, basically by pretending not to notice her dejection. Was this unscheduled visit to his office a sign that she was finally climbing out of her funk? One could hope.
He said, “You didn’t bring wine this time.”
She turned around and looked at him quizzically.
“Has it been so long ago that you’ve forgotten? You surprised me with lunch here in this office. To celebrate our three-month anniversary.”
“Four-month. And it was champagne.”
“Was it? What we drank isn’t the part I remember. However, I vividly recall dessert.”
She smiled and modestly ducked her head. “Fun times.”
“I miss them.”
After several beats, she raised her head and looked at him, all seriousness now. “We could still have fun times, Foster.”
“Not like that.”
“Not
exactly
like that. Different. But just as good.”
He gave a mirthless laugh. “Not from my standpoint.”
She held his gaze for a moment, then declared, “I’m not going back.”
“Back?”
“To the house. To Griff Burkett. I’m not doing it again.”
So. This was how she was going to pay him back for hurting her feelings. Keeping his expression impassive, he folded his hands in his lap, clasping them loosely. “Oh?”
“No.”
“Why this sudden—”
“It’s not sudden. I’ve thought about little else since…since the last time. I’m not going back.”
“You said that. I think I deserve to know why.”
“Because it’s wrong.”
“Wrong by what standard? How can it be wrong if I sanction it?”
“
I
don’t. It’s wrong by
my
standard.”
“I see. When did you decide it was wrong?”
She looked away, saying in an undertone, “When you first proposed it.” Then, more staunchly, she said, “I was against it from the beginning. I consented to it only because I love you and wanted to give you anything you asked of me. But I can’t do this. I won’t.”
“I thought you wanted a child as much as I do.”
“That hasn’t changed,” she exclaimed. “I
do
want a baby. I want that for us. Very much. But we have options. I can be artificially inseminated using an anonymous sperm donor.”
“You know how I feel about that.”
She hesitated, then said, “All right. I’ll make that concession. Since Griff Burkett is already in our confidence, we can use his semen. He suggested that at our first meeting with him, remember? That way he wouldn’t lose out on his money. We’d take his specimens to the doctor’s office and claim they were yours. No one would know the difference.”
“I’d rather not resort to that method.”
“I don’t see it as resorting.”
“I do. And, anyway, isn’t it too soon to go to plan B? It’s only been three cycles.”
“I know how many it’s been,” she said curtly. “But even if it was only one, I’m not doing it again.”
“Is it Burkett you find objectionable? Does he treat you badly?”
“No.”
“Rudely, roughly?”
“No.”
“Because if he does—”
“He
doesn’t.
”
“Okay.” He let that lie without further comment, giving her time to collect herself.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “My decision has nothing to do with him. This is about me. And the whole idea of it.”
“We discussed the idea for months, Laura. We went over every aspect of it, time and again.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“And you agreed.”
“Yes. But talking about it in the abstract and actually…” Suddenly she drew herself up to her full height. “I shouldn’t have to justify the way I feel. Or try to explain it. I don’t want to do it,” she said with emphasis. “That should be the end of it.”
He let several moments elapse, then said, “This surprises me. It’s not like you to leave a job unfinished.”
“True.”
“You’ve never walked away from a commitment.”
“No, and I didn’t plan to break this one. I thought I could approach it like any other challenge. But I can’t.”
“I didn’t think it would cause you this much emotional distress.”
“Well, it does.”
“Perhaps you’re taking it too personally.”
She looked at him aghast. “I’m your
wife.
I’m having sexual intercourse with another man. How in God’s name can it not be personal?”
“You’re becoming hysterical, Laura.” He cast a cautious glance toward his office door.
She hugged her elbows and turned her back on him. He rolled forward and back three times, then wheeled his chair away from his desk and moved up behind her. He reached out and placed his hands on either side of her waist. She flinched and tried to move away, but he held her firmly. “I miscalculated. I didn’t think it would offend your sense of right and wrong.”
“I hate disappointing you, Foster. I know how much this means to you. But there’s a moral ambiguity that I cannot get past.”
“I honor your feelings, of course. As well as your decision.”
She expelled a soft breath. “Thank you.”
He applied enough pressure to turn her around to face him. “You’ve been morose for weeks. I haven’t remarked on it, but I’ve noticed.”
“I admit I haven’t been myself. This has been weighing heavily on my mind. It was distracting me from work. Worse, it was creating a barrier between us. Knowing it would be a disappointment, I put off telling you, but had to before it was time to meet Burkett again. The dread of telling you has been nerve-racking. I’m glad to have this conversation behind us.” She gave him a tremulous smile, then leaned down and kissed his lips.
When she pulled away, he said, “It’s been fifteen days since you were last with Burkett, correct?”
She nodded.
“Then this discussion may have been for nothing,” he said with a bright smile. “You may be pregnant already.”
What if she’s pregnant?
It was the big what-if in Griff’s life now. Each morning he woke up wondering if this would be the day he’d get the congratulatory call.
Of course, that was their goal, wasn’t it? A fertilized egg would be the answer to all their troubles. It would make the childless couple happy, and make him a millionaire for the rest of his life.
But if Laura had conceived, he would never see her again.
Which was no cause for celebration.
“Griff?”
He was startled to find Bolly standing elbow to elbow with him on the practice field sideline. The sportswriter was looking at him strangely.
“Sorry. I was—”
“A million miles away. I had to say your name three times. Were you asleep?”
Griff removed his sunglasses and blinked against the blistering sun. “In this heat? Hardly. I was concentrating on Jason. He’s showing some good hustle out there today.”
“Thanks to you.”
“No, he’s applying himself. Credit belongs to him.”
“The boy is obsessed with football. Worries his mom.”
“How come?”
“She’s afraid he’ll go whole hog and get hurt.”
“Moms are like that.” He supposed.
“She’d rather he play badminton.”
Griff winced and Bolly laughed. “My sentiments exactly. Say, listen, I just got a call. I’ve been granted an interview with that new goalie the Stars signed yesterday, but it’s a narrow window of opportunity before he flies home to Detroit. If I rush, I can catch him at DFW before his flight. I hate to pull Jason out of practice. Would you mind driving him home?”
“Of course not.”
“I wouldn’t ask, but my mother-in-law had to go to the podiatrist, and my wife volunteered to drive her, so—”
“Bolly, go. Should I stay with Jason till you get home?”
“No, just see him into the house, make sure he locks the door. He knows the rules of staying by himself.”
“Okay. No problem.”
Bolly looked toward the field and picked out his son, who barely had time to hand the ball off to a halfback before being slammed to the ground by a tackle. But he wasn’t down for long. He was back on his feet in time to see the halfback make a first down. He jumped straight up into the air, raised his fist, and whooped with joy.
Bolly, still watching, smiled, but then a worry line formed between his brows. “Griff, on second thought, maybe—”
“You can trust him with me, Bolly.”
Bolly turned back to him and held his gaze for several seconds while silently debating the advisability of asking for this favor. Then he nodded. “I appreciate it, Griff. Thanks.”
When practice was over, Jason jogged off the field toward Griff, who gave him a high five. “Great practice, QB. Especially that last offensive series.”
“Thanks.” The boy was red in the face, and sweat had plastered his hair to his head beneath his helmet, but he was basking in the praise.
Griff told him about Bolly’s unexpected errand. “Which leaves me your ride home today.”
“You mean it?”
“Don’t get excited. My car’s crap.”
On the way, Griff pulled into a Braum’s. “I could use a milk shake. How ’bout you?”
As long as they were there, they decided they might just as well have burgers and fries to go with their shakes. They were seated in a booth, talking amiably about Jason’s team and the strengths and weaknesses of various players, when Griff became aware of a trio of construction workers. He’d noticed them when they came in but had given them only a passing glance before returning his attention to Jason.
Now he realized that he’d been spotted and recognized. The workmen kept their voices low, but the looks they directed at him sizzled with hostility. Others began to notice. Griff could feel a dozen pairs of eyes fixed on him.
Jason, who’d been chatting nonstop, barely pausing long enough to fill his mouth with food, became aware of the charged atmosphere. His chatter slowed down and then stopped altogether. He looked toward the three men, then across at Griff, his eyes clouded with concern.
“It’s okay, Jason.”
But it wasn’t. Because when the men got their carryout orders and were on their way to the exit, they had to pass the booth in which Griff and Jason sat. As the last one filed past, he said, “You suck, Burkett.” Then he hawked up a gob of phlegm and spat it at Griff. It missed, smacking into the vinyl upholstery inches from Griff’s shoulder.
Their departure left a vacuum. No one moved. Griff figured everyone was waiting to see what he would do. What he wanted to do was follow the guy out and kick his ass up into his hard hat. Had he been alone, he would have.
But with Jason there, he couldn’t. He didn’t mind the embarrassing scene for himself nearly as much as he minded it for the boy, who was sitting with his head down, his hands in his lap beneath the table.
Soon the clerks and other customers resumed their business. Everyone but Jason. “You finished?” Griff asked.
The boy raised his head. “It’s not fair!”
Griff was surprised to see that he wasn’t embarrassed but angry. “What’s not fair?”
“What that man did just now. What people say about you.”
Griff pushed aside his plate and propped his forearms on the edge of the table. “Listen to me, Jason. Spitting like that was disgusting. It only made him look like an asshole, but what I did five years ago was much, much worse.” He looked through the window at the three, who were climbing back into their utility truck. “How much do you think that guy earns in a year?”
Jason raised his shoulder in a disinterested shrug.