She moaned as his hand moved along her thigh, her weight suddenly shifted toward him. He braced, holding her up, kissing her still. He brought his hands back up, as he slipped her neat, trim jacket off, found her soft white blouse and started unbuttoning it. It took forever in his estimation. But she wasn’t one who would appreciate her clothes being ripped off in his hurry to strip her. Somehow he knew that, and it turned him on all the more.
He finally got the last button out and slid open her blouse to the flash of lace on her bra, and the smoothness of stomach in the line parting her blouse. He pulled the blouse off her, letting it fall to the floor. He looked down at her, in her trim, neat white bra, which looked almost virginal, against her professional looking skirt, nylons, and heels. The sight turning him on more than any lingerie he’d ever fantasized about.
She dropped her gaze. He wondered what she’d have to be shy about. She was long of waist, slim shouldered, and so pale and delicate she was nearly a work of art.
“Did I mention that I like the new haircut?” he asked, lifting her chin with his finger, running his other hand over the blunt ends of her hair cut.
“No. You seemed like you never noticed I was even a girl. But thank you.”
Proper always. He smiled. She’d cut thick bangs, and a sleeker length, it fit her face, her professional demeanor, but what she didn’t know was when it got mussed a little, like last night for instance, it made her look sexy and soft.
“You think I didn’t notice you? Were you not there when we danced? Light a match and a fire would have started between us. You didn’t notice that?”
“I noticed. But you acted as blasé about me, us, as you do every other hookup you have.”
He nearly grinned at the disdain in her tone and hearing Sarah Langston say
hookup
. Slang didn’t fit her.
“I’m not blasé about you.”
He slid his hands from her waist up to her bra, sliding his hand over the lace. He knew she was small, her bra nearly all padding. She grimaced. And he was sure it wasn’t from him touching her. She was worried about the padding. That’s what had her acting all shy and unhappy.
She made a face. “You’re lucky if you can tell the difference from my back to my front.”
He ran his hand along the strap of her bra over the edge of the cup, pushed it aside, his fingertips grazing over a pebble hard nipple, sensitive already to his touch.
“You think that’s a problem?” he asked leaning down to her ear, his tongue nipping at her ear lobe, her weight shifted toward him again. He’d never guess she would be so easily turned on, so pliant, so nearly putty in his hands. He liked it all, her sighs, her moans, her reactions, and her unexpected insecurities. He even liked her seriousness about those insecurities.
Yeah, he even liked how serious she was about sex. He hadn’t been serious about sex, in well, maybe ever, and with her he had to be, and he wanted to be.
He put his hands around her waist, and lifted her against him, groaning at the pleasure her body gave his bumping against him. She pushed at the towel at his waist. It fell to the floor behind them. He easily deposited her on his bed, sliding her nylons out from under her skirt. His hands ran back up the bare lengths of her slim thighs. She nearly came off the bed when he touched her. Felt her. Her skirt rode up high over her thighs. The sight of it pushed out of the way did unbelievable things to him.
He opened his night stand drawer and found the box of condoms he thankfully had. He grabbed one. He put one on, and then finally,
finally
he was sliding into her.
He was over her, she was writhing under him. He came into her again, harder this time, her thighs parted more for him, she moaned in his ear. He moved in her, kissed her, kissed her neck, her jaw, her breasts he’d finally exposed, dropping her bra out of the way. He slid in and out of her until finally she came and he soon followed. Her body arched to meet his, and then fell back exhausted on the bed, he over her. Their breaths mingled as their bodies were sweaty together.
He wondered now what he was going to do with her. He was afraid of her. Of hurting her. She had expectations, he knew that. And he also knew that he was no better than she thought he was. He might love her, he did want more with her, but she’d never know that. And it was better if she didn’t. It was better for her, and for him.
Still, it didn’t make it any easier.
****
He had nothing to say
. Sarah realized it as he got up, threw the condom off the bed, and casually looked down at her, sprawled over his comforter, naked but for her skirt up around her waist in a slutty display of her body. She sat up quickly and pulled at her skirt, scrambling for something to cover herself up with. There was nothing close. She rolled over on the bed toward his pillow.
He pulled the covers back and got in. She joined him even though it was no more than eight o’clock at night. At least he couldn’t throw her out because he felt an obligation to keep her safe from the person stalking her. He had the audacity to flick on the giant TV hung on the wall to a popular sitcom. She glared at his profile nearly open mouthed.
“Quit staring at me like that. Close your mouth before you hyperventilate.”
He said it without even glancing her way. How had he known she was nearly openmouthed fuming at him without even looking at her?
“It’s my fault, right? I know what you’re like.”
“I’ve told you what I’m like, but you still refuse to believe me. But this…it’s just a TV show, Sarah, it’s not like I brought another girl in here and told you to leave. I’m relaxing. It has been a stressful couple of days, wouldn’t you agree? You’re right I don’t feel like talking. I don’t feel like thinking. Why don’t you try it? Lay back on me and look at the TV. Don’t talk. Don’t think. Just relax. Just be here. With me.”
“Oh,” she said, surprised by his intent. Thinking it was almost the right reaction to what had just happened between them. Well…wrapping her in his arms and saying he couldn’t live without her would have been better. But lying there in bed together, cuddling was pretty good too.
He chuckled. “You ever quit thinking?”
About him, no, never it seemed. But thinking just then did feel like a lot of effort.
“Apparently, I do. I just had sex with you.”
He full out laughed. “It’s hard for you to admit that, isn’t it? That you just did something without thinking, without planning. And you had amazing sex with me, don’t forget that part.”
“Maybe you overestimate yourself.”
“Maybe. But I didn’t just imagine that.”
“No,” she said, her tone begrudging him his satisfaction.
“Okay, then watch the TV.”
She did. And her body finally relaxed, it did feel good to tune out of everything. She was beyond normal tired and worried. And to be cuddled against him, warm under the covers, but naked and touching felt heavenly. And most of all it felt safe.
Later she drifted off, and at some point he turned the TV off. She woke a few times to find Scott near, his arms around her, or his legs touching hers. A peace filled her she’d never experienced with any man before.
She woke once from a dream. A convoluted mess of her running through dark woods, a voice whispering toward her, to her suddenly pregnant and Angie’s age, and screaming during labor. She sat up.
“You okay?” Scott mumbled sleepily.
She gasped, and then leaned back onto the bed. “Just a dream.”
“Imagine that, with all that’s on your mind.”
“Do you think I’ll be okay?” she whispered softly.
He shifted bringing his arms out from under his pillow, to around her waist, shifting her closer. “You’ll be okay.”
“I’m scared,” she whispered. “Like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”
“Want to know something? Me too,” he said it quietly. She didn’t know if he meant because of her situation or because of them together. Then he asked, “Did the police ever catch whoever took your mom?”
“No.”
“You don’t think this could be related, do you?”
She shivered. “No. It was figured it was someone transient. There’s never been anything else like it in the area.”
“I looked up the newspaper articles.”
“When?”
“My lunch hour today. That’s why I was so hungry, I didn’t eat.”
She breathed deeply. Didn’t that say something that he’d go to such lengths for her? He knew then, or at least had some idea what had happened to her mother.
“It was pretty vicious,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, for your mom, you, your family.”
“Not me. It’s my mom’s pain. You know you see stories nearly every day on the news about violent crime. No one ever tells what the aftermath is like, or what it does to the rest of a person’s life.”
“Or her daughter’s,” he said gently.
“Okay, me a little bit. It was hard to live with.”
“Does your brother know?”
“No. I mean he knows something happened. But not the extent, not that he might not be my dad’s.”
“They never found out for sure?”
“No,” she said her tone harsh. “We all agreed he was never to find out. Can imagine what that would do to him?”
“Don’t you think he knows something is wrong? I mean your mother—”
“I know what she looks like.”
“I meant Sean probably sees the cut marks too.”
“How did you know?”
He ran his hand over her back, kneading her taut muscles. “I saw her forearms.”
“She only did that once,” Sarah said, not wanting to remember the night her mom had nearly succeeded in ending her pain for good.
“Is that why you have to be so successful? Take care of everything? Why you could never leave town?”
“They need me, and that’s okay with me.”
“I underestimated you for a long time. I’m sorry.”
“No. I lead people to do that. It keeps people from asking questions, or probing deeper. Especially about my family.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” he said quietly.
The next morning Sarah came down the Delano staircase feeling once again back to excruciating awkwardness. She could hear Scott, Vanessa, and Angie talking in the kitchen, moving around, getting ready for their days.
She came in. Scott turned and looked at her, his gaze hot on her black skirt. Was he picturing what he’d done to her last skirt? He raised his gaze to her face and then turned away and grabbed the coffee pot and poured it. She noticed his hand was unsteady. At least he wasn’t acting as uninterested in her that morning as he had Mindy after their night together. It might mean something. Vanessa was still in her short robe, standing at the stove, making an omelet that Sarah would admit was making mouthwatering aromas sizzle in the kitchen.
Angie was also still in her pajamas. Her belly now pronounced out of her long robe. She was drinking orange juice and glancing at a magazine.
“Hi, Sarah,” Angie said, cheerfully as if seeing her boss walk into her kitchen was as normal as discussing the weather for the day.
Scott didn’t look at Sarah again. He sat back down and read the paper. Someday she’d explain his devotion to his morning news was freaking annoying. Vanessa ran her gaze up and down Sarah with a satisfied gleam in her eyes.
“Good morning, Angie, Vanessa,” she said, and then waited a beat, “Scott.”
He finally glanced back at her. “Hey.”
Right back to his paper. At least this morning he’d acknowledged her. Well, almost. She should walk up and slap him on the back of his head. How could he be so right for her last night, say all the right things and then act like this the next morning? It was so typical Scott; she was starting to see this abruptness was Scott’s way of dealing with a situation he’d never been in before. And stranger still, she was beginning to find it kind of endearing.
With a start, she realized she was starting to find everything about him endearing. How could she not though? He wore jeans and a T-shirt with flannel shirt loose over it. How did he manage to always get out of bed before her, without her hearing him? And why had she ever thought professional men were attractive? Not compared to Scott’s look. He was so sexy she actually blushed after assessing him, to his back, of course, because he was avidly reading his morning paper.
“Here’s your stupid tea.” Sarah turned toward Vanessa’s voice and found a cup being held out toward her with a tea bag. She looked at Vanessa her eyebrows drawn. What the hell was this?
“Take the cup. I’m being friendly,” Vanessa said her tone anything but.
“Okay. Thank you. You didn’t poison it, did you?”
Scott peeked up, his hesitation clear. Vanessa flashed her a snide look. Scott glanced at each of them, apprehension clear in his eyes. “No.”
“Well, I appreciate it.”
“Uncle Scott told us you’re having more trouble with that guy again. You must be so scared. We’re just glad you can stay here.” Angie piped up. Had Scott also instructed Vanessa to act decent? Sarah wondered if that was one of the few perks she’d get for sleeping with Scott, maybe he’d finally defend her with Vanessa.
“Yeah, we know how Uncle Scott protects you.” Vanessa’s sarcasm was thick.
So much for that theory. Sarah started to respond when Scott suddenly got up, drawing all their gazes. “I’ve got to go. Angie will drop you at your shop. Walk me out.”
She nearly saluted him with a “yes sir” at his tone.
She followed him, ignoring Vanessa’s glare. He grabbed his brown coat off the coat tree by their front door. As he shrugged into it he said, “Be careful. Don’t let yourself be alone. I’ll pick you up after work again.”
Then he put his arms around her so quickly she startled at his contact. His mouth came down on hers in a quick, soft kiss that easily had her legs rubbery.
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” he said leaning his forehead on hers. So he didn’t totally ignore her in the daylight, just in front of anyone.
“I promise.”
“All right, see you.” He let her go, and turned toward the door still unsmiling. She nearly smiled at his gruff tone, his unease with saying goodbye to her. But he hadn’t just blown out of here without acknowledging them, or their sudden change in relationship status. Maybe it meant something. Maybe it meant a lot.