Along for the Ride (7 page)

Not gentle
. Lauren was a woman of understatement, but Rafi knew to take her at her word. As he tasted her, plunged his tongue ever deeper within her mouth, he gripped her skirt and raked it up to her waist, found his place between her legs. And pressed himself against her.

She answered him with a cry of satisfaction, and then she wrapped her legs around him, tugging him on top of her. The long seat was ample, their privacy ensured.

Lauren thrust against him, a low hum in her throat, and tugged at his waist. Rafi hastened to help her.

“This is new,” he growled at her ear, “but I like it.”

“Hurry,” Lauren moaned. “Hurry, hurry.” She actually pounded a fist against his back, and Rafi realized he’d never been urged on by a woman this way before.

“It is a day of firsts,” he marveled, enjoying the sensation of murmuring into her exertion-dampened hair, allowing it to curl between his lips, nipping at the strands.

But Lauren did not appear to hear. Her hands found his loosened waistband and shoved, hard, and then he felt her hands enclose him, guide him. Before he had a chance to prepare she had pressed him to her cleft and thrust herself against him, managing to take the head of him within her.

He felt her hands taking hold of his hips, and he hesitated no more. Gladly he plunged within her and lingered there for a moment, buried to the hilt within her, blinded with the sensation.

“Yes,” Lauren moaned through clenched teeth. “Like that. Again. Harder.”

She kept up her staccato demands, urging him on, until words gave way to need. He had never before felt free to take his pleasure with a woman without tempering his movements with care, but Lauren stripped him of caution with her urgency. The harder he thrust, the more she demanded, until he joined her guttural cries with his own, the agony of his need mounting to a climax so explosive it shut out all other sensation and he rode the wave blindly, soundlessly, for what seemed like forever before he lowered himself, utterly spent, into her arms.

For a long time he rested there, his breath slowly returning, his fingers twined in her hair. He could feel her heart pound against his cheek.

At last he eased off of her, pulled her to a sitting position, folded her in his arms. “I’m sorry, Lauren.”

“F-for what?” she said, her breath warm against his skin. She fit so well against him, her chin tucked in the hollow of his neck.

“I couldn’t stop. I…lost control.”

Lauren didn’t respond, only ran her fingertips lightly along the buttons of his shirt, her face hidden from view.

“And, there is the matter of your own pleasure. You did not get to…”

His voice drifted off and she pressed closer against him.

“But I did,” she objected, her voice uncertain. “When…you did.”

This revelation stunned Rafi again, and he decided to keep quiet. He pulled her a little closer and absently strummed her shoulders, inhaled her scent.

Finally she pulled away and began tugging at her clothes. Rafi followed her lead and zipped his trousers.

Glancing out the window, he discovered that they had actually left the highway for the streets of Racine. They were nearly at their destination. He realized how close they had come to being discovered, but even that revelation could not dampen the euphoria he felt.

He studied Lauren, who had managed to compose herself. She was carefully applying lipstick in a hand mirror, her clothes straightened and aligned, her hair tucked back into place.

No evidence remained of their lovemaking—except for the little piece of black silk in his pocket.

“I hope,” he said gravely, “the course of treatment I recommended will prove beneficial to your migraine.”

CHAPTER SIX

Rafi gazed at the fiery jewels laid out on the counter, and realized he was in over his head.

Granted, the impulse had been a vague one. Emeralds. Green fire, like the depths of her eyes. Beyond that he had no idea.

He had a few pieces of his mother’s jewelry, but it was nothing like what American women wore. The gold was heavy, so pure a man could mark it with his teeth. Nevertheless, he imagined it on Lauren, how it would look against her creamy skin.

Another time, perhaps.

“Earrings are always a good choice.”

The saleswoman was kind. She no doubt assisted bewildered suitors all the time. The store was an expensive one, the best he knew. He had the money, from his savings. But it was risky. Something too fine, too much, would perhaps frighten her away.

More than anything he feared her contempt. The way she lay in his arms after they made love, it was easy to imagine they’d been created for each other alone. Their breath shared a rhythm, their hands found each other and twined together.

But he knew he did not mean to her what she had come to mean to him. He had proved a suitable distraction, but there were other men, with accomplishments to their name, with silver in their hair to match their platinum credit cards.

“And how does she wear her hair?” the saleswoman prodded gently.

Rafi returned to the present. “Up, sometimes,” he said, motioning clumsily. “But when it is down, it curls, like so, around her face.”

“Ah,” the woman smiled, betraying no judgment of his inept description. “These are classic.”

She lifted from the counter an emerald stone, cut in a many-faceted rectangle, set in simple gold prongs. As she turned it in the light, the stone flashed brilliant rays around the room.

“Yes,” Rafi agreed. “Those. I’ll take them.”

They were beautiful, but it was as much to end this uncomfortable quest as to select the specific earrings that he decided. He counted out bills, leaned against the counter with his arms folded as she wrapped the gift.

It was time to be decisive, he thought, as he left the store and joined the anonymous flow of downtown commuters pouring from high-rise buildings. For better or worse, he had to find out how this affair would end.

#

Lauren had almost stopped hoping when her cell phone rang while she was at work. It was Thursday, after all, and three entire days had passed since the trip to Racine.

She colored. Who was the woman she had become on that ride, demanding and claiming pleasure so selfishly, so insistently?

Rafi had been shocked, it was obvious. And why wouldn’t he be? She’d practically forced herself upon him after he’d already pleasured her, demanded that he make love to her.

But if she were to be honest, it hadn’t been lovemaking she was after. It had only been sex. Raw, animal sex. The thought made her cringe, but what else could she call it? Other, crude, words ran through her mind, and Lauren pressed her palms against her ears as though to drown them out.

There was no denying them, however. She had taken him inside her like an animal in heat, and what was he to make of her behavior? It had been obvious he had not expected it of her. Had he sensed her desperation, the end of a long dry spell, the salve for all those bloodless couplings with Philip? Was it pity that drove him? She knew there was a stereotype, older women longing for one last fling before accepting the onset of matronhood. Maybe she had become that without even realizing it. Was that what passed through his mind afterwards, as he dressed?

She’d busied herself with trying to fix her own appearance. Rafi, thankfully, had slipped out of the car and bid good-bye to the other drivers, letting the screen down only as they drove from Milwaukee to O’Hare. He did not invite her to join him in the front seat.

It was no wonder.

She’d replayed the scene a dozen times in her mind, wishing she could re-write history, attend to his needs rather than her own frenzied ones. Yet each time the heat of the encounter returned, it conquered even her shame, reminding her of how it had been to feel him rock her so deeply.

It was after lunch when the phone rang. Lauren was in the conference room, preparing for a meeting, setting up her equipment. She answered, trying to keep her voice capable and cool.

“Ah, Lauren. How I miss you.”

She sank down in one of the upholstered chairs, and took a deep breath. “Rafi?”

“Of course.” There was a note of amusement in his voice. “Do all your lovers call you at work?”

“No. No! I mean…”

“Lauren, I want to pick you up at the airport tomorrow.”

The words took Lauren off guard. After the let-down of not hearing from him last week, she’d come to assume that Monday mornings were the only time she would see Rafi, her sole entry in his date book.

“Yes,” she said hastily. As if he might take back his offer if she gave him a chance.
Yes
. Any time he wanted her, in fact, even as she squeezed her eyes shut in mortification at how she’d behaved during their last time together.

“Good, then.” Rafi sounded odd, his voice strained. “I’ll make the arrangements, don’t worry.”

“My usual driver—”

“Yes, I know him well. He won’t mind.”

There was a pause.

“All right, then,” Lauren said, suddenly unable to bear the lengthening silence. “Listen, I have to run—”

“Of course. Tomorrow then.”

The line clicked in her hand.

#

Armed with rag and cleaner, Rafi studied the apartment critically. He’d gone over it twice, and there was nothing more he could do; all the surfaces shone. Fresh flowers in a water glass covered a burned spot on the kitchen counter. A cloth covered the old table. Wine chilled in the refrigerator.

He had emptied a drawer in the vanity in the bathroom. A woman had her things, he knew—the myriad bottles and tubes of her ritual. Rafi longed to watch her at the sink, applying lotion to her creamy skin. He wanted to watch her brush her hair. Perhaps she’d allow him to brush it sometimes, and he would, with great care. He’d gather it in his hands, press its coiled length to his face. She would protest playfully, and they would scuffle, their play leading to lovemaking. That was the way he imagined it to be with couples, those who have been together a long time.

He would not ask her to move in with him; not until he had more to offer. A better apartment. Not until he was worthy. But he longed to wake up with her. He wanted to take his time, to please her, to spoil her. He wanted to ask her to be his and his alone.

Rafi knew it might never come to pass. A thousand things could go wrong. She might be put off by his desire to take things further. She might have already had her fill of him. She might not be able to bring herself to introduce him, her young lover, to her accomplished, professional friends.

But Rafi had already accomplished more than most men by sheer will. And now he would gamble everything for a chance to win Lauren.

He took a final look around the simple, sparse room. He would take more care with this place, fill it with good things, things of beauty. Perhaps someday he and Lauren would shop together, and his home would be a reflection of her presence in his life.

#

Lauren’s heart pounded as she walked along the jetway in the midst of the throng of business travelers. Every week she scanned the faces quickly, searching for her name on a card in bold black letters. She didn’t let her glance linger on the families, the women who waited for their tired husbands, the children craning to see the faces of their grandparents.

But today someone waited for
her
.

She smiled in anticipation, and then she saw him, and her smile became a grin, and she didn’t care. She hastened her step, nearly running. He was standing apart from the others, dressed in a soft chambray shirt, his hair combed carefully and his face freshly shaved. His mouth quirked up at the corners, and his eyes danced, a man who couldn’t believe his luck.

And then someone stepped between them. Lauren nearly collided with the man; she stepped back and began to apologize.

It was Philip.

Her words froze on her lips, and in slow motion she saw Rafi step toward her, hand outstretched, ready to steady her.

“Lauren.” It was Philip who spoke, Philip who oozed confidence, who held himself with the authority of a general, who was accustomed to barking commands, so that his voice had taken on a tone of self-assuredness that never wavered.

Rafi hesitated. Lauren glanced frantically from one to the other, wanting to propel herself into the safety of Rafi’s arms.

Philip took her arm, firmly, and pulled her in and deposited a kiss on her cheek. Stunned, Lauren touched the place where he had kissed her, stepped back.

“Lauren, we need to talk. I’ve left Cherie.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with me,” Lauren said, edging towards Rafi, who stood uncertainly with his arms at his sides. “You thought it best if we didn’t stay in contact, remember?”

Philip made an impatient motion with his hands. “I would like to ask you to forget that conversation, Lauren,” he said. “Look, mistakes were made. I was not myself. I know I have some making up to do, and I’m prepared to do it.”

“My driver is here,” Lauren said, then regretted her words. He had not been merely her driver for a long time, and the words tasted like an insult on her lips. She looked into Rafi’s eyes imploringly, saw the familiar sparks there. Danger. “His name is Rafi,” she added. “I need to go.”

Philip spared only a glance in Rafi’s direction. “I’ll take you home myself.”

“I have plans.”

“Just the ride, for God’s sake, Lauren! We can talk on the way. Make a call, get out of whatever you have to do. This is important.”

“I—”

“Look, I’m not asking you to make up your mind this second,” Philip said, picking up her carry-on. “Just hear me out. I think we both need to air our thoughts.”

Lauren watched helplessly as he tugged out the handle of her flight bag.

Then Rafi stepped closer. His eyes were clouded with fury, his jaw set like stone. “The lady said she has plans,” he said, steel in his voice.

Philip laughed. Lauren’s gut contracted with anger. “Look, Buddy, don’t worry, I’ll pay your fee.” He took out his wallet and peeled off a handful of bills. “Here. Take a hike, buy yourself a drink. Okay?”