“Look at me,” he ground out.
She opened her eyes and saw him holding himself motionless above her, is expression dark and grim. Their gazes held as his hips began to rock.
Then, pumping, pumping, hard and fast. Matching his rhythm, the power and force of him filling her, surrounding her, holding every conscious thought at bay. Sometimes their gazes held each other’s, sometimes not. Sometimes they kissed fiercely, sometimes they didn’t. But the rhythm and the friction didn’t falter. The old iron headboard hammered the wall as he flailed into her, rasping, pressuring, thrilling.
“Come, again,” he growled.
She did, helpless not to give him all that she was, panting open-mouthed as she fell into a purple void, her deepest muscles milking him.
His jaw clenched. A vein pounded in his neck and she knew his climax was near. She gripped the headboard’s stiles and dug her heels into the backs of his thighs, pressed against him, her body taut and arched like a drawn bow, urging him, wanting him to know ecstasy equal to hers. His moment came, violent and powerful. He bucked hard, pounding into her deeply once, twice, three times. She hung on until his whole body stiffened and a ragged cry tore from him.
Even after he collapsed on top of her she hung on, unable to
bear letting him go. They were both sweating and shaking and still he held her tightly, at considerable physical cost, she suspected, after the release he’d just had.
“Awww, God,” he gasped at last, rolling to her side and pulling her with him.
They were drenched in sweat. The heavy scent of fresh sex filled the tiny room, but that wasn’t her concern. Something profound had happened. She’d had an orgasm that felt like it would go on forever, a first in her life.
“That was wild,” he whispered, his chest still heaving.
“I know.”
He stroked her hair back from her face. “You okay?”
No, she was not. He had touched a frightening place no one else had ever found. She had abandoned herself in a way she never had with any man. She opened her mouth to tell him, but she could see in his eyes he knew. Some kind of line had been crossed and he knew as well as she that neither of them would ever be able to go back to the safe haven they occupied just an hour ago. Still, she managed a tiny nervous laugh. “I think so.”
“God, Marisa.” He placed a wet kiss on her lips and she tasted her own essence. “You’re so—you’re just so good.”
“You, too,” was all she could say.
“Stay here,” he said and left the bed for the bathroom in the hall. When he returned and slid back into bed, he maneuvered both of them until they lay belly to belly and he enveloped her in a nest of furry limbs. The heavy scent of fresh sex filled the tiny room. His knee pushed between hers and she slung her leg across his hip. His hand found hers and entwined their fingers. His eyes, always intense, but now even more so, looked into hers. “Do you believe in fate?”
Not confident of her answer, she hesitated. “Sometimes.... Do—do you?”
“I’m starting to.”
If she had ever met anyone who wouldn’t believe in fate or karma or any kind of mystic explanation for feelings, it was Terry. “I do believe in a special chemistry,” she said softly. “I’ve read about it. I think I can see it in Tanya and Jake.”
“Yeah?” He cradled the back of her head with his hand and kissed the tip of her nose. “How come you’re so smart?”
“I’m not. But sometimes there’s no other explanation for why two people are together.”
“Us? Do we have chemistry?”
“I—I don’t know. It feels like it.”
He smiled and kissed the corner of her mouth. “I think so, too.” He hugged her closer. He was so good at hugging. “When do you have to go?”
She smiled and ran her instep up his calf, loving the idea that she could, and took their joined hands to her lips. “Soon. An hour maybe.”
He buried his nose against her neck. “I don’t want you to go. I wish we could stay right here.”
She wished the same. She knew of nothing that compared to
feeling small and protected as she lay against his big solid body. To drop off to sleep in his arms was an even greater temptation than making love with him in the first place. She snuggled closer, pressed her face to his armpit, wanting to permanently mark her senses with his every scent.
They lay in silence, their breathing audible, him holding her like she might bolt and escape. She wanted to say, A penny for your thoughts, but didn’t dare. He might ask her the same question and she could no more define her emotions at this moment than she could fly.
Just when she thought he had dropped off to sleep, he rolled on top of her and gazed into her eyes.
She laughed softly. “What? I thought you went to sleep.”
“If I’ve got just an hour, I’m gonna make the most of it.
She gave a low chuckle. “Go ahead. You’ll get no complaints from me.”
He chuckled, too. “I’ve got one more rubber.” His mouth moved down her body until he reached her gold navel ring. “This thing. It’s been driving me crazy ever since I first saw it.” He closed his mouth over the tiny gold orb and gently tugged, flicked her navel with his tongue and moved on down.
“Whoa!” he said, sitting back on his heels and she knew he had spotted her happy face tattoo.
He put his finger on it, his eyes drawn into a squint. “Where’d you get that?”
She lolled there, smiling up at him, feeling soft as a kitten, helpless as a lamb. “Dallas. A long time ago.”
“How?...And why?”
“July Fourth. Too much catfish. And maybe too much beer.”
“And after that, you quit what? Eating catfish or drinking beer?”
“Both.”
“I don’t like some tattoo character seeing you there.” He covered her mound with his hand.
She laid her hand on top of his. “He didn’t see me. I had on a bikini. Those guys are like doctors anyway. They put tattoos everywhere. He wasn’t turned on.”
“I still don’t like it. He saw a private part of you. He’s made a mark on you. That little part will be his forever.”
She gasped and laughed. “You’re jealous?”
He fell forward, braced on his hands, and kissed her hard. “You don’t know the half of it. Now that I’ve found you, I don’t want to share any part of you.”
A thrill coursed through her. She could think of worse things than having Terry Ledger feel possessive. She slid her hand up his arm and found his nape. “You’re my man,” she said, gazing up into his eyes. “Make love to me again. Give me something to dream about. As if you hadn’t already.”
They parted at midnight. Almost as an afterthought she told him Aunt Radonna would be coming on Tuesday.
Chapter 23
Terry knew no word to describe the euphoric state of mind in which he began his day. His steps felt more solid during his morning run. The sunrise seemed more golden. Even his coffee tasted better.
He had known instinctively that sex with Marisa would be good; he had not known it would be off the chart. He couldn’t stop thinking about how her body had responded to his every touch, how she had given him so much more than he expected. He had known they had a connection; he had not known it was so strong that he wouldn’t be able to put her out of his mind even to conduct his business.
He called the balloon company and made arrangements for a “romantic breakfast ride” on the coming Tuesday, then set Kim to finding a great place to stay in Albuquerque. When “Good Morning Beautiful,” came on the radio, he stopped studying blueprints, listened to the words and remembered the first time he had kissed Marisa. He thought again about how waking with her every morning would indeed make his days beautiful.
He willed himself to work. He discussed some changes in the home designs with Chick in Fort Worth. He discussed the test results on the water well with an engineer in Austin. The contractor who had given him a bid for demolishing Pecos Belle’s building called, seeking a commitment, but Terry put him off, unable to bring himself to cause Marisa or her mother any more hardship than they already faced.
At noon he found himself on his deck wasting time talking to the roadrunner as if it were a person. Ben shuffled over in sandals, wagging his guitar. “Don’t tell me you’re talking to spacemen, too,” he growled.
Terry looked at the musician’s rumpled clothes, his spiky hair, his unshaven jaw and concluded that he had already been enjoying his favorite beverage. “Just visiting with Hercules, here.”
The roadrunner cocked his head as if he understood. Ben coughed, cleared his throat and spit on the ground. The bird jumped off the deck rail and hopped away.
Ben dug a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit up. “I was afraid Bob had converted you. O’ course, it might be even crazier talking to birds than it is talking to spacemen.”
Terry laughed, braced his hands on the deck rail and looked down at the musician. “What’s going on?”
Ben propped his guitar against the deck steps, pulled a flask from a pocket in his khaki shorts and took a long swallow. He looked up, a squinty glare coming from his rheumy eyes. “It ain’t none o’ my business, but I seen your truck over at the cafe late. I seen lights in that apartment bedroom.”
There was no mistaking the edge in Ben’s voice. Terry felt his cheeks warm, felt himself withdraw, surprised at being confronted by the musician. He gave him a squint-eyed look right back. “You’re right, buddy. It’s none of your business.”
“I’m a friend of Marisa’s,” he said.
“So am I.”
“I wonder.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That girl ain’t never had a daddy. She ain’t never had nothing or nobody, but she’s never taken a thing off o’ nobody. She mostly gives more than she gits. I love her mother like a sister, but she didn’t win no prizes in the parentin’ department. Marisa pretty much grew up on her own. And she done a fine job of it.”
“I figured that out. Your point is?”
“I don’t wanna see anything hurtful happening to Marisa.”
Terry had come to like Ben Seagrave, but he resented his prying and resented being challenged. He was willing to tolerate Ben’s drinking and commentary only up to a point. “Are you threatening me with something, Ben?”
“Ain’t ever been a threat to nobody. I’m a lover, not a fighter. But I’m telling you straight out. I’ll look out for Marisa if it takes my last breath or my last dime.”
Terry doubted if Ben was capable of looking out for anyone, but he admired the man’s loyalty. Being a true friend to all of the citizens of Agua Dulce, Marisa naturally inspired loyalty. Embarrassed that his private evening with Marisa wasn’t private anymore, Terry cleared his throat. “Get a grip, buddy. I don’t intend any harm to Marisa.”
Ben cocked his head, his eyes still boring in. “Yeah?...I might be an old drunk, but I know a thing or two. I spent my whole life ‘round you slick types. The music bid-ness is full of ‘em. You don’t mean her any harm ’less it gits to be nesses...ness-a-sary....‘Less she gits in your way.”
“Go home, Ben. Marisa’s in no danger from me.”
His euphoria punctured, Terry turned and walked into his mobile and slammed the door, leaving his antagonist outside.
Fuck
. All of a sudden, he had that feeling of everything spinning out of control again. His Larson’s project had stalled, waiting for a decision from the top, progress on his subdivision suffered from lack of attention and he couldn’t keep his mind on work and off Marisa. Even his buddy Chick, in this morning’s phone conversation, had remarked about his absentmindedness.
He had thought that once he had sex with Marisa, the tension within him would settle, but he had been wrong. Now, it was worse. She was under his skin in a way no woman ever had been. Holding her, feeling her loving and giving, was like finding his way home after being lost in the desert. Sinking into her sweet body was like stepping out of a plane at ten thousand feet, roaring balls-out across a lake on his Jet Ski, hang gliding off Oahu’s North Shore. All he could think about was getting back into her bed again, of spending his every waking and sleeping moment with her.
He watched Ben shuffle across the RV park yard, headed for the café. Marisa serving lunch sprang into Terry’s mind.
You could wipe out me, Terry.
Not true. He would jump without a chute before he would hurt her.
You’re my man....Give me something to dream about.
If a woman had said that to him eight months ago, he would have run in the opposite direction. Today he wanted to give her every dream she had ever had. He wanted her blessing for everything—his plans, his projects, the very clothes he wore. He wanted to take her out of that café, wanted to see her work less and enjoy some of the luxuries of life, material things he could provide. He wanted the feel of her in his arms, in his bed every night. He wanted her respect. He wanted her...what?
As the music from the radio died away, he ran a hand through his hair. Christ, was it her
love
he wanted?
Was this the big
IT
? Was he in love with Marisa?