Love's Little Instruction Book (23 page)

There had been plenty of times over the past few weeks when she’d gotten hot and heavy with Dave — making out in the back seat of her car on “The Night of the Lobsters,” cuddling with him on the couch in his apartment, even a couple of quick stroke and gropes in his office while “Bohemian Rhapsody” was playing on the air. Every time, she was the one who had called a halt to the proceedings before they advanced to the stage where clothing was removed. Dave was always compliant, if somewhat less than thrilled. Dear God, he was a patient man. He never complained. He never pressured her. He never asked her what the problem was. He’d just stroke her hair and kiss her, then let her go.

In a lot of ways, she was afraid of sex. Because she used the birth control patch while she was married, she’d made love to Jason without a condom. There was little doubt in her mind that he’d been having unprotected sex with the skank he’d been sleeping with on the side. He always insisted that condoms “impeded his performance.” Would that she had impeded it years ago. It was all too easy to remember the terror she’d felt, waiting in the doctor’s office for the results of an AIDS test. It had been negative, thank god, but the experience was all too fresh in her mind. After that, she’d been in no hurry to go back to being sexually active again.

But lying here in the darkness, Denise had to wonder: what would it be like to make love to Dave?

She thought he would be a careful, considerate lover. She thought that he would be different from Jason. She thought that he would never take her for granted. She sighed. Would it be so awful if she and Dave were lovers? He wasn’t physically unattractive to her. And they’d been seeing each other for weeks now, with no end in sight. If she did take Dave as a lover, it wouldn’t be a fly by night coupling. Lying here in the dark with him, listening to his breathing, feeling his warmth, smelling his scent, knowing that he’d always been so good to her, she couldn’t help but imagine that he’d be a careful, caring lover. She drew a long breath. She wanted to take care of him the same way he took care of her. Would Dave want to make their relationship a sexual one? She snorted. Even though he never argued when she pulled back at the end of their make out sessions, she’d seen the way he looked at her. If she was ever willing, he wouldn’t turn her down.

She lay back against the mattress and sighed. It had been a very long time since she’d had sex and there were times, such as this, when she really missed sex. Lying here in the darkness with Dave, feeling his warmth, breathing in his scent, and knowing that he wouldn’t turn her away, she stared at the ceiling and wondered.

• • •

Dave’s eyes flew open as he snapped into blazing consciousness. Holy Mother of God, her was in bed with Denise. She was lying in his arms, her back pressed against his chest, asleep.

The part of him that was always half aroused when he woke up roared to throbbing attention as the thinking part of him started to panic. Had he done anything during the night that she — and consequently he — was going to regret? His heart slowed just a little as he remembered turning out the light and climbing into his own side of the bed. Lifting his head, he glanced around the room and let out a relieved breath. He was still on his own side of the bed. Denise was the one who had moved over in the night. Relieved, he settled his head back onto the pillow and tried to relax. He finally had Denise Johnson not only in his bed, but in his arms. There was no way he was going to get up before he had to.

He closed his eyes and tried to memorize every sensation he was experiencing. The way his arm was draped over her ribs and her arm was draped over his, as if they were enfolding each other, keeping each other close even as they slept. The way her body heat warmed him even through their layers of clothing. The gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath his arm. His toes were pointed toward the foot of the bed as they pressed against the backs of her calves and her hair lay just inches from his face.

He thought of a production of
Hamlet
that he had seen in high school and how Hamlet, having ripped through Ophelia for her supposed treachery, turned as she lay face down across the bed crying and gave her a most longing look, then approached her silently, lifted a lock of her hair and kissed it tenderly before leaving her for good. He remembered being impressed by that gesture. It meant nothing to Ophelia. She hadn’t felt it, never knew; but it revealed a lot about Hamlet and the anguish he was going through. Dave opened his eyes and looked at the smooth, shining darkness of Denise’s hair. She need never know. Carefully, he lifted his head, leaned forward, and kissed her hair where it lay just off her neck.

“What time is it?” she whispered, as he lay his head back down.

Dave panicked. Had she felt it? He wasn’t sure. He raised his head and looked over at the glowing red numbers on the clock. “A little after ten o’clock. Have you been awake long?”

“Not long,” she said, turning beneath his arm so that she lay on her back looking up at him. She smiled apologetically. “Looks like I went a-wondering off my side of the bed,” she noted. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” he told her honestly. He still had his arm around her, reaching across her front. He noticed that she had kept her arm over his as she had rolled to face him, so that her arm still held his against her. She moved her hand to cover the back of his and laced her fingers between his. His eyes shot to the shadowy form of her face and he searched from some clue as to what she was thinking there. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmm,” she murmured, nodding. “Amazing what a fourteen-hour work day can do for one’s sleeping habits. You?”

He nodded. “Today won’t be as bad,” he told her, trying to discreetly pull his hips away from her without seeming obvious about it. “Just twelve hours or so.”

“I’m glad that it’s you who was here with me for this,” she told him, still whispering. “Thank you for staying on.”

“I like being with you,” he whispered back.

“I like being with you, too,” she told him. Lifting her head up off the pillow, she kissed his lips softly, then pulled back and looked up into his face in the darkness. She stroked his arm as it lay across her. Dave kept very, very still, thinking that she was sending him a message, but afraid to act on it, in case he was wrong. Then, Denise put all doubt to rest by asking softly. “Do you believe in casual sex?”

He caught his breath. Was this a trick question? Here he was, fully aroused with the woman of his dreams in his arms
. Hell, yes!
he wanted to scream at her. But he hesitated. This was Denise. This was important. Too important to alter their relationship just for what would probably be the most mind-blowing sexual experience of his whole life. Casual sex? No. Not with her. Sex with her could never be “casual.”

“No,” he whispered at last as he peered down at her. “Sex should never be casual. It’s too important. There have to be hearts involved.”

Denise hesitated. “So you wouldn’t want to make love with me?” she asked.

He chuckled without humor. “Sweetheart, I want to make love to you. God! You’re probably the most attractive woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and lying here next to you has got me about as horny as I’ve ever been in my life, but you’re Denise. And you’re important to me. I don’t want to do anything stupid to jeopardize our friendship. I don’t want to disappoint you or hurt you ever, but I also have to make sure that I don’t get hurt. And if we did what I think you’re suggesting and it didn’t work out … ” He shook his head. “Darlin’, there are hearts involved here, and one of them is mine.”

• • •

Denise stayed very still for a long moment, digesting what he was saying. Some of what she was suggesting was just to satisfy a physical urge. It had been a long time since she had been intimate with anyone this way, not since her divorce, and she wanted that kind of physical pleasure and intimacy again, to feel desirable and wanted, and sated. But she also wanted to feel safe. Not like a sex trophy or a slut. She felt safe with Dave. She knew that he wouldn’t hurt her, and she sensed that it was her self that he was interested in, not just because of her face or her celebrity. He seemed like a perfect choice as a lover. Except that he was right, hearts should be involved, and not just his.

Denise had been so sure that he would be a willing sexual partner, but he was right — their relationship was too important to alter just for a brief moment of physical satisfaction. And he was right about the rest, too, damn him. Hearts should be involved. They both deserved no less. But did she love him? Of course she did. Maybe not in the obsessive, passionate, Hollywood kind of way, but she truly cared about this wonderful, sensitive, funny Irish-Italian guy. But she didn’t want to be “in love” — when you gave your heart like that, you risked getting hurt in a way that you never quite got over. Being in love was to look at the other person and see no flaws, and to feel a high that didn’t last. It wasn’t what she wanted with Dave. She wanted to take care of him, to return all of the kindness and steadfastness that he had shown her ever since they had met. “I’m not ‘in love’ with you,” she said at long last, “but I do love you. Is that enough?”

• • •

Dave’s mind reeled. What the hell did that mean? He sure as hell was in love with her. He was in love, in like, in lust, in heat … Still, she had done it. She had admitted that she loved him. That should be enough, shouldn’t it?

He drew in a long breath. “I don’t want to get hurt,” he told her.

“Me either.”

He blew out that same breath. “I love you, too.”

She smiled in the darkness and gave his hand a squeeze. “That can be enough for now then,” she relented. “Without the sex.”

Without the sex? A bazillion quarts of testosterone surged through him, protesting this latest shift in circumstances. Still, Dave managed to keep his voice calm and even. “Sex should be a sign of trust between a man and a woman. Can we trust each other to continue caring about each other in the same way even if we introduce a physical aspect to the relationship?”

“I trust you, Dave,” she said.

“I trust you, too,” he whispered, pushing himself up on his elbow. “With all my heart.”

He leaned down then, to place a long, slow, lingering kiss on her lips as she reached for him. Gently, sweetly, he brushed his lips against hers again and again. Her lips were soft and slightly parted, and he shuddered to feel her warm breath against his lips. He pulled back and opened his eyes to look down at her in the shadows, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. This was a moment he had always dreamed of, but never really believed would happen. He couldn’t believe that this was finally the moment that Denise would be his.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

Denise nodded. “Come here, lover.” He could hear the smile in her voice. Her beautiful, sexy, come-hither voice.

He covered the top half of her body with his own and kissed her again, then nuzzled against her neck until she tilted her head back, giving him access to her long, elegant throat. He felt his whiskers brush against her tender skin and winced. “I should have shaved,” he apologized.

“It’s all right,” she told him, cradling him in her arms.

“Oh, God!” he moaned suddenly.

“What is it?”

He let his forehead fall against her shoulder. “I don’t have a condom.” He looked up at her. “Are you on the pill?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I stopped wearing the birth control patch after the divorce.”

He let his head fall back to her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

She turned her head and kissed the top of his head, then reached up with one hand and gently stroked his curls. “It’s all right,” she told him.

He raised his head. “I’ll take care of you,” he told her. “We just can’t … ”

She reached up and pressed her fingers to his lips. “It’s okay,” she promised him. “I have a condom.”

He froze. “You do?”

She got up and went to her overnight bag, pulled out her wallet and withdrew three conjoined foil packets of condoms. She pulled one off, then got back into the bed and handed it to him.

“I love you,” he sighed. “You have got to be the greatest woman I’ve ever known.”

She laughed softly. “Mother always said, ‘Don’t leave home without it.’ Shall I put one on for you?”

He hesitated just for a moment, stunned. “Oh, baby, yes.”

She opened the small foil packet by tearing it with her teeth and slipped the small circle of latex out, then reached for him, stroking his upper arm as he sat facing her. “I’m glad it’s you,” she told him softly. Then, keeping the rolled condom in her hand, she reached for the hem of his T-shirt. He held his breath as she pulled it up and off him, then blessed the darkness that kept hidden that which he had tried so hard to conceal that day on the beach. She reached for his waistband, then, tugging at first to urge him onto his knees, the slipping the material down over his buttocks and thighs. With her hands on his shoulders, she pushed him back down and he stretched out his legs, so that she could quickly remove the impeding garment, sliding it down his legs, over his feet and dropping it onto the floor. Then she hesitated.

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” she told him shyly.

He understood. “Am I the first since … ”

“Since Jason, yes.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m honored.”

“I want to do this,” she told him. “I do! It’s just … ”

“You feel vulnerable?” he asked quietly. She nodded.

He picked up her empty hand and kissed it. “You’re safe with me. I won’t hurt you. Ever.”

“Pretty silly, huh?” she asked him. “You’re the one sitting here naked and yet I’m the one who’s vulnerable.”

He kissed her hand again, then set her palm upon his most intimate part, which throbbed and pulsed beneath her hand. “No matter what happens next,” he told her, “I will still love and respect you afterwards. It’s not about perfection or how well either one of us does it, but it’s about two good friends sharing themselves and helping each other to feel good. All right?”

She nodded in the darkness, and he reached for the hem of her T-shirt. She released him and he pulled it over her head, his hands just skimming her rib cage and the sides of her breasts as he did so. Then without stopping to survey what lay beneath, he grasped the elastic waist of her sweat pants and skimmed them down her legs, neatly hooking her panties with his thumbs as he did so to render her completely, elegantly nude.