Every Other Saturday (22 page)

She was oddly beautiful, Dave noticed, as he finished the last coat on the front wall. Julia sat on the edge of the living room carpet by the stairs, one arm draped across her knees, holding her roller and assessing the wall for missed spots. Next to her was her half-cup of wine, complete with green thumbprint.

His dab of green paint was still on her nose. She looked young. They had turned on every light in the small downstairs as they worked, and Julia’s blue eyes reflected the warmth of the green walls in a vivid, unearthly aqua. Her skin glistened; little wisps of her dark hair had escaped the bandanna. Maybe it was the overalls? No, more than that. Despite the heaviness of their conversation, she looked happy. Content. It was pretty on her.

He located his own cup—balanced on the ladder shelf—and stood next to her, appraising. “Did we get them all?”

“I think so.” She looked critically. “It’s so hard to tell when it’s wet.”

“Then, I guess we should take a wine break and let it dry.” He took the roller from her, put it in the sink, and then returned to collapse next to her and admire their handiwork.

Julia gave him a tired smile. “Thanks so much for doing this. You
really
didn’t have to.”

Dave held up his cup for her to clink hers against. “It’s my pleasure. You would’ve been up all night doing this by yourself.” On impulse, he reached up and wiped the paint off the end of her nose with the back of his knuckle. “You look pretty in seafoam green,” he said softly.

She met his gaze, her face more open and lovely than he’d ever noticed before. “It’s sage,” she insisted, just as softly.

Later, when he was kicking himself for doing what he knew was a bad, bad, dangerous—but admittedly kind of awesome—thing, this was the moment he would look at as the turning point. When he should have said good night to the PTA president, gotten in his truck, and driven home.

But he didn’t do that, idiot that he was. He leaned toward her, as though the bright aqua eyes were some kind of tractor beam pulling him in, away from sane choices and sensible behavior. He paused, when the distance between their faces was just at the point of possible misinterpretation, to see whether Julia would pull away or turn her head. She didn’t. He felt her take a deep breath as though in expectation, or maybe nervousness.

He could see the edge of the rose tattoo, barely visible at the edge of her neck. That reminded him of the hidden tattoo, the little Cheshire Cat—surprising and weirdly sexy. And
that
reminded him in a visceral way that Julia had skin under this ridiculous painting getup: soft, pale skin, lighter and smoother than his own. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to get her out of those bulky clothes. The image of Julia formed: passed out on her bed, her long, muscular arm hanging over the side of the bed and that damn lace camisole revealing her tattoo. Why was he obsessed with her tattoos? Because technically Jews weren’t supposed to get them and it was forbidden fruit? Or was it just like everything else about Julia: slightly different, a little
off
in a way that made him desperate to understand her?

He inched closer, and he could feel Julia’s breath catch; her eyelids drooped just a bit. Dave still hadn’t touched her yet, but at this point that was a technicality. It was too late. He had to touch her, let the consequences be what they would. Her breathing was shallow and fast, her lips full and wet, and lightly stained with wine. He ran his right thumb across her bottom lip, and her mouth opened slightly in response. G-d, she was beautiful. How had he never noticed before?

“Seafoam green,” he whispered, and leaned in to kiss the spot his thumb had just been, painfully slowly, as though he might break her if he moved too quickly. She sat absolutely still as he did this—not rigid, exactly, but tensed. Like some kind of animal in the moment before it pounces on its prey. He kissed her top lip next, just as softly, and she responded with the barest of movements, the softest sigh.

Dave pulled back, wanting to see her reaction. He had the sudden, all-consuming desire for those deep blue eyes to be focused only on him. He wanted to be the one putting the light there; he wanted those lips to smile just for him. In this moment, he had never wanted anything so badly. And she did. Julia smiled. It was a sheepish, vulnerable thing, as though they were two fourteen-year-olds who’d just gotten their braces locked in the back of a movie theater.

He didn’t feel fourteen. As much as he was enjoying the vulnerable side of her, his thoughts about Julia Mendel were very, very adult at this moment. With the same torturous slowness, he pulled the bandanna from Julia’s hair, taking down her ponytail in the same slow gesture. She shook her head lightly to free her onyx locks, which fell haphazard on her shoulders. He wrapped one curl around his finger. “Is this okay?” he asked, focused on the dark curl rather than her eyes. He was not entirely sure what question he was asking her, and not entirely sure he wanted the answer.

“Probably not.” She sighed, the smile never leaving her face. “But I have a feeling we’re going to do it anyway.”

That was it. He released the curl and grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her to him. He kissed her hard, reservations and doubts evaporating like steam. Dave found suddenly he couldn’t get close enough to her fast enough. It was as though some part of him had been quietly wanting this. Clamped down tight for weeks, it had grown under the pressure without his knowing. Now that the door was open, Dave felt an exhilarating terror that it would be difficult to close. But for now, he wasn’t going to try.

He searched her mouth with his own, deep and wanting. Julia kissed him back urgently, not tentatively as he once would have expected. He moved to face her, getting to his knees so that he had to bend down to keep kissing her. Her hands ran through his hair, electrifying him, stimulating every follicle on his scalp. This made the rest of the hair on his body seem to stand on end, along with everything else. She tugged at his lower lip with her teeth, repaying his attentions with interest. Her mouth tasted like wine and Chapstick and she smelled like both paint and something clean, like soap.

She pivoted and got to her knees, mirroring his pose. In the process, her glasses bumped his nose. He lifted them off for her, tucking them in the large front pocket of the overalls. Julia let out a soft, throaty moan when he kissed her neck; Dave thought this meant promising things for all the other places he wanted to kiss her. Her pale skin rippled in goose bumps under his mouth, and this made him want to see every inch of her skin, immediately, to see whether it had the same effect.

She kissed and gently bit his ear, as he bent to unfasten her overalls. “This might be the sexiest outfit you’ve ever worn,” he said.

Julia was quiet for a beat, and Dave worried he’d offended her.

“You like it better than the little witch skirt?” she asked, her voice teasing.

Dave groaned. He’d forgotten the Halloween outfit. How was that possible? He tossed the overall straps behind Julia and reached both hands inside to find her underneath the t-shirt. Her skin was warm and smooth, her hips ample and inviting. They rounded beneath his hands, the sturdy hip bones covered with a firm layer of flesh—he was surprised at how much this turned him on. He gripped her waist and pulled her closer, wanting desperately to bring her down on top of him, to feel her weight on him and get into a better position to get those ridiculous clothes off her. His curiosity about Julia had been growing ever since he’d first met her—her intensity, her weird clothes, even her mild bitchiness drew him in. It all made him want to know more about her, to find the chinks in her armor.

She melted into him, kissing him and leaning forward against him. His erection strained against the old jeans, which were old enough to be a little small for him to begin with. He liked—really liked—the feel of Julia against him and her warm mouth against his throat, but needed to get his knees out from under him before he strained something. “Hang on,” he said, stroking her hair.

“Don’t say it,” she groaned, resting her forehead against his chest.

“Say what?”

“You think this is a mistake. Because of…the kids…and everything.” She talked into his shirt, and the sensation of her breath there combined with the logic of her words were confusing him. Fuzzily, he thought she might have a point, but he did not want to think about it.

He turned her head up to face him, her blue eyes dewy and soft and so beautiful. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

Dropping his hands to hold hers, Dave shifted back to a seated position and pulled her down toward him, finding the uncertain look on her face inexplicably erotic somehow. He kissed her again, deeply, just in case it was the last one. “Do you want to stop?” he asked.

Julia bit her lip enticingly, and then gave a long, slow shake of her head.

“Thank G-d,” he said. “Or…whoever.”

She grinned at him and they collapsed together back onto her living room carpet, his head narrowly missing the television she’d pulled out from the wall. Dave did not care. With a skillfulness he’d forgotten he had, he shimmied the baggy overalls down her full, graceful frame, and she kicked out of them with her bare, painted toes. Dave couldn’t resist running a light finger up the side of her ivory thigh and over her hips, causing Julia to shudder and let out a squeal. She reddened and ran her own hand under his shirt in revenge, pinching his nipple with playful malice. He was in danger of exploding. It had been so long since he’d slept with anyone, even longer since he’d been with someone he actually liked.

He nudged her onto her back and sat up by her knees, excited by her alternating ferocity and willingness to move at his touch. She was wearing plain white cotton panties, sexy in their simplicity. Something primal churned in his belly, and he had to resist the temptation to rip the panties off with his teeth.
Not yet. Not yet.

“Take off your shirt,” he said to Julia, hoping the commanding tone in his voice was erotic, not offensive. He had never spoken to a woman like that, but something about Julia made him want to wrench away control of the situation, and then offer it back to her in return.

Julia glared at him in a way that made his dick throb, and then with that same malicious grin, said, “You first.”

He did as she said, dismissing the momentary concern that his thick, dark chest hair would turn her off. Julia looked in his eyes, and kept grinning at him as she pulled the t-shirt over her head to reveal large, soft, bare breasts with pink nipples standing firm.

He stated the obvious. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

“No.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t know that earlier. I might not have finished the paint job.”

“I fully expect you to finish every job you start,” she said, in that imperious PTA tone he used to hate.

Dave growled in response, and leaned over to cover her mouth with his right hand. She feigned outrage, but he kept it there, steadying himself on his left hand as he took one of the perfect pink nipples into his mouth. He sucked it gently so it became even more firm, and then blew lightly across it; Julia gasped beneath his covering hand. She grabbed his hand then, but did not push it away, instead taking his middle finger into her mouth, licking and sucking it in a way that made him wish she had another part of him in her mouth instead. But he was determined to outdo her, circling her nipples with his tongue in patterns that alternated between fast and slow, occasionally pausing to flick them gently with his left hand while she devoured his right hand in her beautiful mouth. In the meantime, he felt her hips arching up toward him invitingly with each change in his movements.

Dave pulled his hand from Julia’s grasp and he pulled himself on top of her, still wearing his jeans but enjoying the enticing wet heat radiating through the cotton panties. When he moved again, he felt something slick and sticky under his left hand, near Julia’s shoulder. At first he was confused by this; when he realized what it was, he laughed.

“What is it?” Julia looked concerned.

Dave showed her his hand.

She squinted at it. “Oh, shit.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “It was just the lid.”

He pushed the paint can lid farther aside so Julia wouldn’t roll into it. Inspired, he took the hand that was now covered in wet paint and traced an outline around both Julia’s nipples, and then made a long, slow streak down the middle of her breasts and over her little round belly, right up to the edge of the panties. “Now I’ve marked you,” he said territorially. “Like a dog.”

She laughed. A real laugh, deep and resonant—with her head thrown back so that he could see the muscles working in her fair throat, her ample breasts moving with her, definitely in a good way. As desperate as he was to be inside her, Dave wanted even more to make her do that again—to see her throw her head back and watch her body shake even more, because of what he had done. Damn. He really was a dog right now, wanting only to make this woman happy.

He looped his thumbs through either side of her underwear and slid it down Julia’s legs, aware that her eyes were focused intently on him. He wiped the rest of the paint from his hand on the panties, shrugging at her. “Sorry.”

She scowled dramatically at him but said nothing, biting her lip. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that Mia Mendel’s Mom was actually
nervous
. This made Dave the happiest of all. He gently pushed her legs apart, trying to ignore his own pressing erection for the moment, and kissed the inside of both knees lightly. She made a sighing sound, and her legs trembled a little. Dave gripped them more firmly, reassuring her, and then planted slow, light kisses down the inside of each thigh. He paused and hovered in the middle, inhaling the scent of her—musky and a little sweet—and letting his chin rustle her thick, black hair.