Authors: Kathleen Lash
Making her rest her head against his chest, he rubbed her back and shoulders.
“Jesus, you feel good,” he said. “Hold me, just for a minute.”
“I have sticky fingers.”
“I’ll lick them for you.”
“Tease,” she said.
He grinned. If only she knew how badly he wanted to lick her, she’d run. “Quick, look at me.” When she did, he kissed her and got the taste he’d be thinking about. Damn, it didn’t happen with some innocent gliding of lips either. It relayed how badly he’d missed her the last week. She indulged, letting him know she was every bit as hungry. It hurt to have the kiss end.
“Do you want me?” he asked. “You’re trembling.”
“Mmm.” Her cheek nestled against his chest.
“We’re adults. We could go upstairs, lock a door, and let the kids watch cartoons.” She chuckled and he loved the way it vibrated against his chest.
“I’ll never forget this. The holidays here,” she 158
Whisper
said. “I bet. You worked your ass off, spent days in bed with your first case of the flu, and ran yourself ragged chasing down some active two year olds for a few days. It’d be something I’d remember.”
“I’m being serious. This has all been like you scratching my back.”
He hugged her a little tighter. He really liked what followed the scratching on that stormy afternoon.
She sighed. “It’s a sweet spot in life I never expected to be in.”
“You’re in a good place here with me and the kids?”
“The very best. Sharing your home with us…”
“Stop it. You sound sad now, baby, and its Christmas.” He rocked her before he admitted something. “It’s like that for me too.”
“You asshole!” Mark yelled.
“Mark!” Keith bellowed, holding Whisper so she couldn’t leave. He didn’t want the kids ruining their moment.
“Corey took my chocolate covered peanuts.”
“Tell him there are more,” Whisper said.
“Whisper has more!” Keith called.
“He’s still an ass—” Mark began.
“Language, Mark!”
“Sorry!”
Whisper quietly laughed and he joined her. That sweet spot they found themselves in had a few kinks. All things considered, it wasn’t a bad place to be at all.
159
Kathleen Lash
The Monday after New Year’s, Whisper pulled into her drive in the worn out Chevy Malibu after dropping the kids off at school. She promised Keith she’d be over after a long, hot shower. She’d pulled a muscle in her lower back at work and reeked of liniment. That’d teach her for neglecting exercise.
She never guessed missing a few days would have such an effect.
After the shower, she combed her hair and entered her bedroom. Slipping into panties and a long tee-shirt, she started stretching. It alleviated much of the strain. Most days, she spent at least half an hour stretching and doing crunches. When she’d lived with Doug, the routine lasted two hours in their home gym. It became a form of avoidance and a way to work off tension. Between housework, cooking, cleaning, laundry and dancing, she didn’t seem to have an anxiety problem anymore.
With her legs spread wide while sitting on the floor, she brought her forehead to her left knee and grasped her ankle, holding the position until her leg and back loosened. After repeating the process on the right, she came forward and concentrated on making the muscles in her thighs relax. Her forehead touched the floor as she stretched her arms out. “Do you know who Gumby is?” The deep male voice startled her. Close to the floor, she replied, “Everyone knows who Gumby is.”
“Are you related?” Keith asked.
160
Whisper
“No,” she replied, laughing. She straightened and looked up. “Why?”
He shook his head, a disbelieving smile on his face. “That position isn’t natural. The human body isn’t meant to stretch like that.” Speaking of things people shouldn’t be doing brought a question to mind. “You’re not supposed to be walking around without crutches, are you?”
“Sure. They said I could lose them whenever I felt comfortable.”
“In a few weeks.”
“Yeah, well, I’m ahead of schedule.” She brought her legs together, stood and shifted her hips. Heat from the shower and stretching let her feel as good as new. When she walked by the dresser, she hit the power button on the small CD
player. Her mood couldn’t be better and she wanted to share some of her past with Keith. She might not tell him specifically where the music came from, but him listening would be a start.
A long, intricately styled guitar riff filled the room. The thud of the bass batter drumhead created a dark and delicious sound. The accentuated thumps delivered emphasis. Despite how bad things had gotten with Doug, she found music missing in her everyday life. The older studio recordings filled a void. When she’d been drumming, it gave her an outlet for stifled emotions.
She imagined Keith took the slippery walk across the street for a reason and asked, “Do you always break into your tenant’s homes?”
“Not before today. I’m pretty sure I’ve been missing something.”
Her craving for closeness and intimacy outweighed everything else. The look on his face guaranteed he wanted the same thing.
“A few minutes earlier,” she said, lifting the tee shirt over her head and tossing it on the floor, “and 161
Kathleen Lash
you might’ve caught me with less on.” She no longer hated having her breasts touched.
Keith taught her pain was involved only with a careless man. Keith wasn’t careless. His chilled hands touched everywhere, stroking, holding, and bringing her close before sliding her panties down and away. Skillful lips fit against hers before his tongue filled her mouth. They hadn’t been close in two weeks, and she was wild to end the abstinence.
She pushed the leather coat from his shoulders, and it dropped to the floor. She pulled at the black tee-shirt. Once she’d gotten it to his mid chest, he stripped it from his body. His fingers flew to his belt.
When he had it unbuckled, she took care of the snap and zipper. They both shoved the barrier away and he grabbed her.
Issues stood between them, important ones.
They could come together in one special way and she desired the union more than air. She needed him to see and feel and taste who she really was under all the secrets and half-truths.
“I need you. Want you so bad. All of you,” she said. “You sure?”
She nodded.
His mouth slanted across hers, first one way and then another, kissing, consuming, devouring. He tasted of peppermint, smelled of spicy cologne, leather and winter. She pulled away long enough to take his jeans and boxers off. Before she tossed them on the floor, he grabbed a condom from his wallet.
When she straightened, her insides turned to fire as he crushed her against his hot body.
“Tell me again, Whisper.”
“Everything. All of you!”
The drums grew louder. Vibrations rolled up her arms and legs, forcing her to anchor herself to the one man, who after getting close, never brought 162
Whisper
pain. She couldn’t wait to experience the ultimate nearness with him. The notion plagued her for weeks and she’d wholly succumbed to the driving hunger.
A pounding sensation filled her chest, stomach, and between her legs. Desire once stolen, resurfaced with a maelstrom of quivering, shaking need. Her mind spun. Her body strained against him. Full, hard muscles covered in warm skin slid against her.
Vicious, lustful feelings sank deep and took control.
“Now! Fill me, satisfy me.”
He laid her on the bed, smoothed the condom into place, hovered and pressed her down. She opened her mouth, her legs, hoping and praying he’d ease the torment. He grunted and apologized for stretching her too quickly. He tried slowing the searing penetration but she’d have none of it.
“I need you right now.”
He plunged and she reared beneath him, bucking and grinding, loving the fullness. Delicious, hot, and aching, she arched and exploded from the instant blazing climax. She cried out with a harsh, hoarse voice. “Keith!”
“Slow down, baby. Easy,” he said, before grunting, thrusting, and rewarding her with his own uninhibited lust.
“Oh, God!”
Her heels dug into the mattress, making their bodies thrash together. A hand flattened against the base of her spine so he could ravage her.
Breathlessly, he kept time with the pounding, throbbing pulses of her drums, nailing each beat, forcing her into rapture again and then again. The rush of his passion burst, filling her with the knowledge he’d found great pleasure in their union.
He stayed with her after, placing his lips over hers.
They gasped and tongued each other while the last tremors of ecstasy bled from their bodies.
163
Kathleen Lash
As with the studio session, the perfect place in time came to an end. Their panting filled the silent room. As she lay sprawled beneath him, the dream-like quality of the encounter slid away to expose the cold, stark reality of what she’d done.
A large, gentle hand rested against the side of her face. Tender kisses repeatedly touched her lips and she savored the additional moment, forcing down the word dancing through her mind.
Deceiver!
“I love you, Whisper.”
Oh, God, what have I done!
The urge to cling and weep raced through her before she forced it away. He didn’t even know her name. She would be damned for certain for what she’d say next. It wouldn’t matter, because she’d felt damned her entire life. She wanted him to know what lay in her heart, so when it ended and came crashing down, he might someday remember.
“And I love you.”
How can I love him when I’d
never loved the man I’d been married to?
“Don’t cry.” He wiped the tears as he rolled aside and gathered her close. “Jesus, baby, don’t cry.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Bitter, burning tears branded her face to let him see her guilt and shame. She’d taken his trust and love, and tarnished it by never giving him the truth.
She’d pretended to be someone else and managed to gain his affection. God, he’d hate her when he learned everything else.
“Whisper, stop. You’re shaking.” He could be so gentle. She’d never known gentle, or love. Not like his. “Please don’t hate me, please!”
“You’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong.” She forced the tears to stop before drawing in some ragged breaths. She should be thankful. She’d been truly well loved by a decent and caring man for the first time in her life. Her bottom lip turned down and she blinked away more tears. In the next 164
Whisper
instant, everything would change.
“I’m not who you think I am.”
The tension came, his body stiffening. The step he took away happened in his mind, but she felt it.
The pain following his withdrawal threatened to choke her.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve lied to you.”
“About what?”
“Most things. Important things.”
“Damn it!” he said.
She’d expected much worse. “I’m sorry.” He scanned her, looking for what he’d missed earlier. She felt the blood drain from her face as he tried to see beyond her average exterior to the vile, deceitful woman beneath. Doug could see the real woman. It hadn’t taken him long at all.
“Are you married?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t know!”
She swallowed. “I signed the papers. I think the divorce went through.”
“Did he leave the marks on you when I first met you?” He sounded distant, like he did all those months ago.
“No.”
“Who did?” The staccato, monotone questions relayed anger and mistrust.
“A man. Stranger. At work.”
“Did your husband ever hit you?” Feeling very tired, she closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see his.
“Did he?”
“Sometimes.”
Did it matter? He might still be her
husband.
“So you ran.”
She nodded.
For better or worse, in sickness and
in health
…
165
Kathleen Lash
“How long ago?”
“Seventeen months.”
An eternity.
“How long were you with him?”
“Eight years.”
“God, you were what…eighteen?”
“Nineteen. Barely. I’d known him since I was thirteen.”
He sat up, turned and leaned over her, supported by an outstretched arm and a hand resting on the bed next to her. “Whisper?” His cell phone rang. When he didn’t move to answer it, she said, “It’s one of the kids.” She rolled off the bed, retrieved his jeans and handed him the phone. He flipped it open. “Yeah?” He listened and said, “I’m on my way.” Closing the phone, he started dressing. “I need you to stay put, I might be a while. Mark had an accident at work and he’s at the emergency room.
Nomad’s with him.”
“How bad?”
“Nomad said a tire got loose in the tire cage and caught Mark. They think he might have some broken ribs.”
“I could go with you.”
“No. Get the kids from school if we’re gone that long. If you’re working tonight, and we’re not home by then, Corey can stay with Billy and Heather.
We’ll talk after Mark’s seen to. Get me?”
“Yes.”
He pulled the shirt over his head and stood. As he tucked it into his jeans, he stared at her. “We’ll finish this later.”
****
Whisper
to reach Mark after the tire flung him against the cage. In too big of a hurry to get the gate open, Nomad caught his hand in the wire and had a sprained wrist to show for his rash actions.
Not in the very best of moods, Keith had at least gotten them home at a reasonable hour. A hoard of kids, along with Whisper, greeted them at the door.
He released Mark’s arm and Christy helped him toward the couch. After everyone got inside, Whisper asked, “How bad is he?”
“Bruised ribs, slight concussion. He’ll live.”
“Nomad?”