Breaking the Silence (12 page)

Will grabbed for the soap again and did a fifteen-second scrub-down, his hands much rougher on his own skin than they had been on Jenny’s. Not bothering with shampoo, he did a quick scrub of his head—his hair was so short it was like washing his scalp anyway—and rinsed quickly. The water had become definitely cold now and he reached for the faucet, turning off the spray. He shook his head, throwing off the excess water. Jenny, waiting for him with a towel, laughed.

“You look like Rosie when you do that,” she said, briskly rubbing him with the towel. Drying his chest, she worked her way downward, her eyes on his cock, still erect even after his mini cold shower. Under her gaze, his erection swelled.

“You get all the washing during our next shower,” Jenny promised, tossing the towel to him. Will grabbed it, surprised.

“Let me just take care of this,” she purred, running one still-damp palm from root to tip, hardening him even more.

“You don’t have to do that,” Will protested, even as his cock eagerly bobbed in excitement.

“I know I don’t
have
to.” Jenny slid to her knees on the bathroom rug, slanting a look up at him. “I want to.”

She kissed the flared head, a chaste kiss except for the quick slip of her tongue that jolted him, almost making him lose his balance. He fumbled for a handhold, clumsy in his excitement, and ended up with one hand on the wall and the other knotted in her hair. He didn’t trust himself to not go all brutish with her again, trying to force himself down her throat, but he couldn’t keep his hand away from her head.

Licking her way down as if he were a Popsicle, she tortured him with tiny kisses and nibbles.

“Please,” he begged, pushing his hips toward her, trying to make her take him into her mouth. “Suck it.”

A lock of her hair fell forward and curled itself around his shaft, the cold wet of it shocking against the throbbing heat of his skin. He made a tortured sound, half moan and half growl.

He saw Jenny press back a little smile.

“What?” he asked gruffly.

She shrugged, still smiling. “It’s just funny how being on my knees makes me so powerful.”

He gave a pained laugh that turned into a gasp as she sucked her finger in her mouth and pulled it out slowly, watching him from beneath her lashes. Twirling the wet finger around his cock in a lazy spiral, Jenny teased him until he was trembling under her touch. Her mouth was so close to the tip of his erection that he could feel her breath in the beading wetness that welled from the tiny hole at the tip.

She traced a path with her slippery finger back to his balls, brushing them lightly. Will’s hips jerked and the tip of his cock brushed her mouth, yanking a moan from him. Her teasing finger slid to the sensitive skin behind his balls and his muscles tightened in his back and thighs as a faint uneasiness stirred behind his excitement.

In one move, she swallowed his cock to the back of her throat, instant suction pressing against his flesh. At the same time, she slid her finger into his anus.

“Wait…!” Will gasped out but the feelings were too intense—her mouth and tongue surrounding him, her invading finger stroking against an erotic spot, waking nerve endings he didn’t realize he even had. He was drowning, fighting to breathe, muscles clenching against themselves, making sweat pop from his skin and trickle down his body, mixing with the water still clinging to him. The pull of her mouth, the thrust of her finger—all his awareness focused on those two spots, as if the rest of him did not exist. Jenny’s hand followed her mouth up and down his cock as she swallowed him hungrily.

Reality and vicious memories mixed with his daydreams of her, overpowering him, stripping him raw until he was bare nerves and feelings, exposed. He watched her suck him, helpless in her hands and mouth, and he exploded into her, his release ripped from him in pounding jets.

He was crying. His breath sobbed from him like a baby, his legs shaking so much that he had to sit on the floor hard, naked and crying and not able to do a damn thing about it.

Wasn’t this a sitcom punch line?
he wondered viciously. Lame-ass guy who cries after sex? He wanted to leave—get up, exit the house, walk in front of a truck—but his muscles refused to work. His body, the body he had trained so hard to be strong, tough, obedient to his will, refused to do anything except sit on the floor of Jenny’s bathroom and shake.

She had watched his collapse to the floor with startled eyes and now knelt in front of him. Will couldn’t look at her. He didn’t want to see the pity or, worse, disgust—not from her, of all people.

“Will,” Jenny said, reaching out to touch him. He flinched away, just the tiniest jerk of muscle, but she must have seen it because she pulled back. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

She reached out again and brushed her fingers against his temple, stroked the side of his head. Will leaned into the touch—he couldn’t help it. He hated this intense need for her. All those years of not needing anybody and she had broken him in just days.

At his small movement, Jenny grew bolder and caressed his head with both hands, gently pulling him toward her until his face rested against her chest. He was still for a moment and Jenny held her breath, expecting rejection, but then he clamped his hard arms around her and burrowed his face deeper into the soft mounds of her breasts.

She held him, clutching him to her, trying to hide the fact that she was completely panicked. Jenny still wasn’t sure what was going on but she did know that she was in
way
over her head.

The two held each other, naked, on the bathroom floor. Jenny’s sense of humor was quickly reasserting itself—they were in the bathroom, for God’s sake. Not exactly a place for high drama. Her stomach was also chiming in, quite loudly in fact.

“Hey,” she said, giving his head a little shake. “What do you think about breakfast?”

He was silent for a moment and then, with his face still buried against her, said, “As a general concept?”

Jenny laughed, partially in relief and partially because that was a pretty funny answer. She grabbed his ears and used them to pull his head back enough that she could look at him.

“No, as in an ‘I’m starving and if we don’t get something to eat I might start considering cannibalism’ type of thought about breakfast.”

“Pancakes?” Will looked hopeful.

“Yep. I might even have some bacon in the freezer.”

At this, he looked almost blissful. Jenny untangled herself and started to stand up. Her legs had fallen asleep and she had to grab the vanity edge for support. “We worked off quite a few calories last night, I’m thinking. This is no cold cereal type of morning.”

“Afternoon.” Will pulled himself up as well.

“Shit, really? Oops.” Jenny covered her mouth with her hand. She usually tried to keep her potty mouth relatively clean, at least until she had known someone more than a couple weeks.

“Shit yeah.” He was almost smiling again.

“Okay then. Clothes and food.” Jenny walked on still-tingling legs toward the door.

Behind her, Will said quietly, “I can leave if you want.”

She glanced back, surprised, but his gaze was fixed over her shoulder, avoiding her eyes. The muscles in his jaw were tensed, ridging his skin.

“But who will I eat if I have to turn to cannibalism?” she asked, her voice light. His jaw relaxed a little and he finally met her eyes. She smiled at him and jerked her head toward the bedroom. “Come on, slowpoke, I’m starving here.” With that, she left the bathroom.

He heard her voice drift back to him. “And no distracting me with sex either—even a love machine needs fuel.”

Will felt something deep inside him release, a pressure he didn’t even know was there until it eased. He followed Jenny into the bedroom.

She had already headed for the kitchen, Will discovered. She had also stolen his shirt. He found that he really didn’t mind. The bed was a mess, covers and pillows strewn across the room, unopened condom packets scattered over the floor. After he pulled on his pants, Will tossed the bedding back onto the mattress and collected the rubbers, muttering, “We could have used you guys last night.” He jammed them back into his pocket.

Jenny’s bedroom was nice. Pretty and feminine and a little old-fashioned, full of light and girly touches—nothing too frou-frou, but wispy curtains and a delicate lamp, a few candles spotted around the room and an upside-down paperback on the nightstand that, judging from the flower on the cover, was probably not from the horror genre. Not that he read much horror himself—he’d had enough blood and pain in real life. He didn’t need it in his fiction.

“Will!” Jenny yelled up to him. “Get your ass down here and be my kitchen slave!”

Will grinned and headed down the stairs. He propped a shoulder in the kitchen doorway and watched Jenny as she leaned a hip against the counter, beating the pancake batter. Rosie lounged at her feet, watching the bowl hopefully.

All Jenny wore was his shirt. A single button had survived his removal efforts the previous night and that one fastener clung by a mere thread halfway down. Jenny’s whirlwind stirring pressed her breasts together and the blue fabric framed the white mounds. The shirt fell past her thighs but the front teased open and closed, revealing glimpses of the shadows between her legs.

Will was aroused
again
. It seemed to be a permanent state around Jenny.

“Sorry I took so long,” he growled. “I was looking for my shirt.”

Jenny grinned at him. “If you treat your belongings with disrespect, they get taken away from you. Want to be the pancake pourer?” She offered the bowl to him.

Will stepped over Rosie to take the bowl, closer to Jenny than he needed to be. He bent and touched his lips to the side of her neck, a light “good morning” kiss, and paused, his face close to the curve of her shoulder, smelling the sweet, fruity scent of her body wash. A jolting thought interrupted his pleasant moment.

“Do I smell all fruity now too?” he asked in dawning disgust.

Jenny laughed. “I like it—you smell like me now. It will warn all the other women away, lest I poke their eyes out and spit in the bloody holes.”

Will glanced at her sideways, the corner of his mouth tucked in as he pressed back a smile.

“Sorry, that was a bit gory for only,” she glanced at the clock, “one-thirty in the afternoon. Holy cow, it’s late.” Now it was her turn to look at Will from the corner of her eye. “It was a little possessive for this stage of the game too, wasn’t it? Sorry if I freaked you out at all.”

He almost smiled at that as he shook his head. He had thought of little else but her since the first time he had seen Jenny. Her idea of possessive was nothing compared to his. Will began to carefully pour the batter into the pan. Jenny watched him, smiling.

He paused. “What?”

“Your expression,” she explained, grinning now. “It’s so intent, as if making round, even pancakes is a life-or-death situation.”

“Oh.” A little flustered, he looked back down at the batter.

For a few moments, the only sound in the kitchen was the pop and sizzle of the cooking bacon.

“Um,” Will began, watching as bubbles began to form on the tops of the pancakes. “Do you want to do something tonight?” Was that too soon, too desperate?

He didn’t really care. He
was
desperate and it definitely didn’t seem too soon to him—he didn’t want to leave her at all. Will wanted to spend the day with her, and the next day and the next, going to bed together and waking up together, making years’ worth of pancakes and bacon.

“I can’t,” Jenny said regretfully, handing him a spatula, and Will’s stomach dropped. This was it. One night together and breakfast and then over forever. He stared at the pancakes so hard his eyes burned as he gripped the counter edge with his free hand, digging a groove into his palm.

“I promised Christian and Carrie that we’d go out tonight and I can’t bail on them.” Jenny slid Will a wry grin. “I’m sure they’re dying to ask all about you and they would draw and quarter me if I cancelled. We could do something tomorrow afternoon if you’re free?”

Will was able to start breathing again. “Okay.”

Jenny’s eyes lit up with a thought. “Could I see your house?” she asked eagerly. “You know I’ve been dying to take a look inside ever since I first saw it.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t care
what
they did, as long as he could be with Jenny. Although it would be nice if there was some sex involved. Will smiled a little at the thought—how quickly he had become addicted.

“Cool,” Jenny said, peering around him. “Not to be a backseat cook, but you’d better turn those unless you like your pancakes carbon-based.”

As he flipped pancakes, Will couldn’t stop smiling. He was in Jenny’s kitchen, in her
house
, he had just had lots of incredible sex and he was about to eat a bunch of pancakes and bacon. He was, Will realized with some surprise, very, very happy.

“Carrie’s baby has a cold and she is so pissed that she’s missing this,” Christian reported with some glee, snapping his cell phone closed. “It’s just you and me tonight, girl.”

“She’ll corner me on Monday and yank every detail out of me, I’m sure. It won’t kill her to wait a couple days to hear all about it.” Jenny took a sip of her rum and Coke, eyeing it with slight embarrassment. It wasn’t the most sophisticated of drinks, she knew.

Despite the fact that Jenny was only on drink number one, her interrupted sleep of the night before was catching up with her and she already felt pretty punchy. Christian, who must have been talking, snapped his fingers in front of Jenny’s face.

“Hey, wake up. As the one with the newest boy toy, you have a moral obligation to share all, so start sharing,” he demanded.

“Sorry, I’m a little out of it—sex hangover, you know.”

Christian groaned, covering his eyes. “Sure, rub it in. I haven’t seen any action in
weeks
and—”

“No fair!” Jenny thumped her drink down on the small bar table. “You just said you wanted to hear all the details—do you want vicarious sex or not?”

“Yes, yes,” Christian admitted meekly. “Tell all. So you really did the dirty with tall, blond and moody? How was it?” He leaned forward avidly.

Jenny fanned herself with one hand in memory and felt a goofy grin spread over her face. “Hot.” She considered for a second. “Intense. A little
too
intense at times, actually.”

“Too intense?” Christian asked, puzzled. “You mean like he wanted to get kinky?”

She shook her head. “No, more like emotionally intense.”

“Really? Emotions, huh? So this is more than just a weekend fling?”

“I don’t know.” Jenny blushed. “He cried.”

“What? You mean after sex? That’s so…gay! And not in a good gay way either. Did he say something about your souls becoming one?” Christian looked disgusted.

“No,” Jenny protested. “It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t like a romantic gesture or something. It was…ugly crying. You know—real. Like something broke in him when he came.” She shook her head. “I’m not explaining it right.”

“Hmm.” Christian considered that. “I think you’ve found yourself a Heathcliff.”

“Huh?”

“You know—dark, tortured, obsessive. That sort of thing. That’s fascinating. When I met him last night, I assumed he was a grunter.”

“Grunter?” Sometimes it seemed as if Christian had his own language.

“Hetero to the point of caveman.”

“Oh.” Jenny flushed again as she thought about their encounter on the stairs, and on the bed, and in the shower, and out of the shower. “Well, he can be caveman-esque sometimes and he’s a little quiet—”

Christian snorted. “A little? Girl, he said a total of five words last night.”

“But he’s so
focused
on what I’m talking about, you know? And when he does say something, he’s smart and funny and I can tell that he was really listening and his brain’s been working through everything that I was saying. Am I making any sense?”

Christian was watching her thoughtfully and, unusual as it was for him, seriously. “Actually, you’re making total sense. I just didn’t expect you to end up with a Heathcliff. I thought you’d finally settle down with someone simple and jolly and have lots of simple and jolly kids and they would just know me as ‘poor Uncle Christian, the cautionary tale’.”

“You make me sound like Mrs. Claus,” Jenny told him plaintively, not sure if she should be offended. “And one night does not an ‘end up with’ make. I’m not even sure if I want to end up with William. The thought scares me a little.”

“Scares you in a he-might-be-a-serial-killer way?”

“No!” Jenny laughed. “It’s just…it doesn’t feel like light, fluffy sex. There are feelings, really strong ones, and it freaks me out a little. It seems really early for it to be this intense, you know?”

Christian was grinning at her. “Jenny’s in lo-ove,” he teased. She laughed and threw a wadded-up cocktail napkin at him.

“Do not mock me now,” she warned, “for Karma is watching and will strike you down. Some cute little twinkie will steal your heart and then I’ll have the last laugh. It isn’t kind to make fun of those whose brains have been mushified by really great sex.”

“Great?”

“Wild.”

“How great?”

“Let me just say that there was much ripping of clothes and we almost didn’t make it off the stairs.”

“The stairs?” Christian considered this. “Ouch.”

Jenny grinned and shifted a little in her chair. She did have a few bruises, not that she had noticed at the time.

“This calls for another drink!” Christian gestured at the waitress. “You went without sex for so long, I think you became an official re-virgin.”

He raised his vodka cranberry in a toast. “To getting laid,” he pronounced solemnly. “It is a good thing.”

“I’ll toast to that.” Jenny grinned and lifted her almost-empty glass.

“Th’ thing is,” Jenny told Christian a few hours later, “is that he is very, very hot.” She thumped her glass on the table for emphasis.

Christian nodded owlishly. “I’ll drink to hotness,” he slurred, raising his glass. He peered at it, surprised to find it empty. “It’s all gone.”

“Mine too.”

They regarded each other in drunken sadness for a moment before breaking out in giggles.

Jenny stopped laughing abruptly. “Th’ thing is, that it doesn’t matter.”

“What doesn’t matter? Our drinks being gone?”

“No! His hotness doesn’t matter.”

Christian shook his head. “Hotness does matter,” he told her solemnly.

“But it’s less than a month away!” Jenny wailed.

“What is?”

“The day of evil and dis—despair.” Jenny flattened both hands on the table and leaned toward Christian. “You know I’m cursed.”

“Oh,” he said, realization slowly seeping into his alcohol-steeped brain. “Valentine’s Day.”

“’Zactly.” Jenny nodded once and then stopped when it made her dizzy. “I have never—not once—had a good Valentine’s Day.”

“That’s sad,” Christian pronounced. They looked at each other and started to giggle again.

“We’d better go, ’fore they kick us out for bein’ drunk and disord-er-ly.” He sounded out the words carefully. Jenny nodded in agreement and then remembered why she had decided to stop moving her head.

Stumbling to their feet, they weaved their way through the noisy crowd toward the door—or at least where Jenny was pretty sure the door had been.

“Come to my place, my Jenny friend,” Christian invited, starting down the street. Jenny grabbed his arm and circled him around until he was facing the right direction. Christian’s navigational skills, never that great during sober moments, disappeared completely when he drank. Finding his condo, which was less than two blocks east of the bar, would have eluded him for hours were he on his own. “We can have a slumber party and talk about boys.”

“We always talk about boys.” Somehow this struck her as funny. “Boys, boys, boys, boys!” She giggled, holding Christian’s arm for balance. She remembered the invitation and shook her head, which made the streetlights move in a very unnerving way. “No, I want to make a
booty call
.” Her voice lowered on the last two words to a not-very-quiet whisper.

Christian sighed wistfully. “I wish I had a booty to call.”

After patting his arm comfortingly, Jenny fumbled in her purse for her elusive phone. How could such a tiny, tiny bag hide her cell phone so well? “Ah hah!” she exclaimed in triumph, pulling out her prize. She flipped it open and squinted at the keypad.

“I put him on speed dial,” she said dreamily. “He’s number two.” She snickered.

“How old are you—five?” Christian asked loftily but ruined the effect by laughing and snorting, which made both of them laugh harder.

With great ceremony, Jenny pushed the button on her phone, raised it to her ear and waited. And waited. “Oh. I forgot to push ‘send’.”

They both thought this was hilarious and Jenny was still laughing when Will answered. His voice sobered her up a little.

“William.”

“Jenny.” He sounded wide awake and not at all upset at being drunk-dialed in the wee hours of the morning.

“Did you know that your voice makes me tingle?” Okay, so maybe it didn’t sober her up
that
much. Will was silent.

“Sorry. Was that inappro—probri—inapbo—” Jenny huffed an exasperated breath. “Not good to say?”

“No. That was fine to say,” he rumbled. Jenny’s eyes slid closed at the sound and she almost walked into someone’s fence. Christian snatched her away just in time, pulling them both off balance.

“Christian and I had a few drinks,” Jenny informed Will. “We’re walking to his place now.” She paused and glanced around. “Oops, we’ve passed it. Christian! Chris, this way!” They turned in a wide circle and started back toward his condo building.

“Are you staying at Christian’s?” Will asked.

“Actually, I was wondering…” Okay, so she wasn’t drunk enough not to still be a little shy. “Well, it’s been
hours
, so—”

“Give me that.” Christian wrestled the phone from her. “What Miss Coy is trying to say is that she wants your big—”

“Hey!” Jenny snatched the phone back. “This is
my
booty call!” She spoke into the phone. “Will?”

“Yeah?” He sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

“Don’t listen to anything Christian says. He’s drunk.”

“Okay.” Now he was definitely trying not to laugh. “Do you want me to pick you up?”

“Yes, please.”

They were at the door of Christian’s building and he was struggling with his key card. Jenny reached for it with the hand not holding the phone. “Here, you have it in backward—”

Christian jerked it out of her reach. “I’ve
got
it,” he said huffily, holding it above her head. Jenny jumped for it but it was out of her reach.

“Jen?” Will asked.

She jumped for the card again as Christian grinned smugly at her.

“Jenny!”

“Oh sorry,” she panted, remembering that Will was on the phone. “It’s just that stupid dummy Christian thinks he’s so great just because he’s tall. Stupid Christian,” she muttered sulkily, turning her back to him. “What were you saying?”

“Where are you?”

“Christian’s house, silly,” Jenny giggled. “I told you.”

“Where is that?”

“Oh. Sorry. It’s right at the end of that street with the big tree that always has those annoying things that fall off it in the spring and it’s the big building with the brown whatchamacallits outside.” She looked around. “By the white house.” Another pause. “With two drunk people outside because one of the drunk people can’t get the card key to work because he won’t let the other drunk person, who actually knows what she’s doing, help.” At that, Christian managed to get the door open and gave Jenny a superior look. “Okay, forget the part about the two drunk people. They’re not there anymore.”

“What? Jenny, just give me the address and I’ll find it.”

“Address?” Jenny heard Will sigh.

“Ask Christian what his address is.”

Jenny complied and parroted the information to Will.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” He hung up.

“Okey-dokey. No hurry. We’ll just… Will? William?” Jenny stared at the phone. “Chris, wait up!” She trailed after him toward his condo door. “I think something’s wrong with my phone!”

Thanks to his car’s navigational system, Will found Christian’s building easily. When Jenny had called, Will had been staring at his bedroom ceiling, his thoughts running around his brain and his cock hard. The sound of his cell had startled him a little, not the noise of the ring but the idea that he had been thinking about her right before she called, like he had conjured her up or something. Although, since he thought about her almost constantly, Jenny calling him at the same time she was in his brain was no great miracle.

He buzzed Christian’s condo and a few seconds later, the electronic lock disengaged on the outside door. Will was a little surprised that they had the presence of mind to let him in. He wouldn’t have been shocked if they had forgotten about him completely in the fifteen minutes since Jenny had called him. She and Christian had both sounded a bit wasted.

Will knocked on the condo door and Jenny let him in. He was barely inside the door when she pushed him against it, slamming it closed, and pulled his head down for a kiss. She tasted of sugar and rum, her body soft and relaxed as she leaned against him.

Heat slammed into him in a rush and he was instantly hard. Will pressed his erection into her belly, rubbing against her as he rediscovered her mouth. Her slight weight collapsed against him and he pulled away from the kiss. Jenny’s eyes were closed and, if Will was not mistaken, she was falling asleep.

“Sure, torture the pathetic, dateless loser.” Christian’s mournful wail came from the couch. “Why don’t you just screw each other’s brains out right in front of me and show me what I’ve been missing for almost
nineteen
days!”