On Any Given Sundae (14 page)

At that, Rob laughed a little and brought his
lips to hers again for another long, slow, involving kiss that sent
her soaring far away from Wilmington Bay, above the trees, over
Lake Michigan, across the country and toward the ocean, while all
the time embracing her firmly on their little plot of pavement and
keeping her safe on the ground.

“Get a room,” some snotty teen boy in a
passing car shouted. Rob didn’t even look up.

But, eventually, the summer heat grew too
warm for them, even at nearly midnight, so he tucked her into his
car and sped them over to her apartment.

“Show me to thy sofa, woman,” he whispered in
her ear.

The heat in his voice made her body ripple
with waves of wanting. She did as he asked.

“Where were we yesterday like now?” He tugged
off her shoes and laid her down on the cushions. He brought his
face up close to hers. He looked at her expectantly. “You’re
supposed to kiss me. You’re missing your cue,” he reminded her.
“Hurry up.”

Although she’d been kissing him virtually
nonstop since they’d left Tutti-Frutti, she obliged. But, oh, there
was something about this horizontal position that performed devious
stunts on her weak flesh.

Her blood pulsed differently, sending shivers
of longing spurting through every vein and artery and bodily
extremity.

Her lips tingled with desire for more of him.
More firm lips. More hungry tongue. More joining of their two
beings.

Her vision clouded over, like a kind of fog
screen or hazy filter between them and the harsher outside
world.

“You n-need to keep doing this all night,”
she told him. “I won’t let you stop.”

“Okay by me.”

And so the fever continued, with a furor of
warring nerve fibers that were unable to decide where to
concentrate sensation. There was so much to feel, so many points of
contact where her body and Rob’s intersected. If only she could get
rid of these restrictive clothes, there would be even more locales
where their merging would be possible.

She yanked his shirt free from his
Levi’s…taking Step One in a recipe she’d never made. She lifted it
over his head and tossed it on the floor. Step Two. She unfastened
his belt buckle—with some difficulty—and snapped open his jeans.
Step Three. She wrenched them down over his narrow, sexy hips. Step
Four.

He unbuttoned her blouse…unlatched her
bra…pulled off her slacks…and had his fingers poised at the
waistband of her ivory panties…in a record-breaking Step Five.

When they were underwear-to-underwear, he
pressed his erection against her. She gasped, never having felt
anything like
this
before, and his gaze flew up to meet
hers.

“Oh-oh,” he said, his voice thick. “I bet
I’ve crossed some uncrossed boundaries already.”

“Ah-huh. About five more than have ever been
breached.”

He grinned. “Can’t say I’m sorry, Lizzy.”

“Elizabeth,” she told him, then she snapped
the waistband of his smiley-face boxers.

“Ow. That was so not nice of you,” he
murmured in her ear before he nipped at her lobe. Then he traced
the outside of her ear with his wicked tongue, shooting sparks of
need from that one tiny corner of her body all the way down and
around to everywhere else. And, as if that weren’t enough
sensation, he ground his hips into hers a second time.

“Oohhh, Rob.”

Then he did it again and again, and it
occurred to her that this extreme level of awareness might
overpower her. That her longing for him could get so strong that
her flimsy underused circuits would overheat and shut down. That
she could
die
from this degree of wanting.

He surged against her another time and she
almost broke. “Oh, Rob. I-I can’t—”

She tried to say,
I can’t take it anymore,
I’m about to ignite
, but Rob took her at her literal words,
clenched his jaw and pulled himself off her.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said.

She reached up to try to pull him back. To
explain how he’d misunderstood.

“You’re right to wait for someone special,”
he said. “Someone who’ll love you and stick by you and be here for
you next month and next year.”

She let her arms flop down on the sofa. She
wished she could cover her ears without offending him. She knew for
sure she wasn’t going to want to hear what was coming next.

“I want you like a crazy man tonight,
Elizabeth, but you know Chicago is home to me now. You know after
our uncles come back next week I’m going to have to leave.”

Her throat was dry and unresponsive, so she
just nodded. Yes, yes, she knew he’d leave.

“And you’ve waited for so long. I don’t—I
don’t want you to waste this gift of yourself, of your first time,
on me.”

Oh, how she wanted to tell him he was wrong.
That with him it would never, could never be a wasted offering.
But, as usual, her voice didn’t cooperate.

“Or,” his expression turned hard, “on some
random waiter at a bar, okay? Your moral courage is inspiring. I
don’t know many women who would wait until they were twenty-seven,
almost twenty-eight to—”

“Shhh,” she said finally, her voice raspy
with the burden of unfulfilled desire.

Oh, God, she wanted him
in
her.

Her shocked body ached for him. Her heart,
too. How could she explain aloud that her current state of
virginity had much less to do with “moral courage” than with good
old “lack of guts”?

Besides, what did it matter? In the end, he
didn’t want her long term. Maybe it was better this way—stopping
now. Maybe. Maybe not. But he’d taken the choice away from her.

She watched as he slipped his shirt over
those great shoulders and picked up his jeans. He eyed them
apprehensively.

“Um, getting myself back into these is going
to be too much of a task in my current…condition.” With the merest
flush of embarrassment, he glanced down. One of the smiley-faces on
his boxers had a nose like Pinocchio’s. “I just—well, could I grab
a quick shower?”

She got him a towel and, fifteen minutes
later, he was out the door, promising to pick her up tomorrow
before his opening shift so she could retrieve her car.

His parting kiss was so tender, though, she
almost called him back. “Stay with me,” she whispered to the empty
hallway. “Don’t ever go.”

But even she knew there was a time when
fantasy stopped and reality hit full force. She’d just had her
first collision with it.

***

Elizabeth combated the earthy elements of
grogginess and lust the next morning. She told herself she could
deal with whatever the day threw at her, but fear crept in and
curled into a ball in her stomach. It was The Morning After—or, at
least, the biggest Morning After she’d ever had so far. How would
Rob greet her? With friendliness? With heightened sexual hunger?
With avoidance or shame?

But he surprised her because she hadn’t
guessed it would be…with warmth and a bouquet of flowers.

“Thank you,” she said, accepting the pink
roses.

He said his “You’re Welcome” to her by
collecting her in his arms and kissing her without a breath for
ninety seconds at least. He pulled a couple of inches away and
pointed at her with a stern index finger.

“You weren’t just dreaming last night, got
it?” he said, narrowing his eyes in a mock threat. “It was all
real. And I don’t want to hear any talk from you that you ‘aren’t
sure’ of what happened or what didn’t happen, understand?”

As if she could forget. “I got it,” she told
him and gave him her best morning smile. He beamed at her in
return.

Oh, she loved this playful side of Rob. Loved
it in him. Loved that he brought out something similar in her.

“But I
was
dreaming,” she added,
amazed at the evenness of her own voice. “After you left, I dreamed
this very handsome Italian-American businessman visited me and took
me out for an ice cream. A really large sundae with three ice cream
flavors, loads of whipped cream, hot fudge sauce and a big red
cherry on top.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, yes.” She offered him her sweetest
smile. “He said he’d personally make it for me. In my dream.”

“C’mon.” He put his arm around her and nudged
her toward the door. “We’d better make this frozen fantasy of yours
come true before Gretchen gets there. I’ve got a feeling both of us
are going to be in front of the firing squad today after our quick
departure last night.” He gave her a pointed look. “Your friends
aren’t afraid to shoot their toughest questions at a guy, you
know.”

“I know.”

So, to Tutti-Frutti they went.

“Did that ‘handsome Italian-American
businessman’ select the three ice cream flavors for you, or did he
ask you what you wanted?” Rob said to her, his lips upturned and
looking rather smirky. “In your dream.”

“He asked me which ones I wanted, of
course.”

“Okay. Which ones do you want?”

“I want
your
top three favorite
flavors. Please.”

His brow wrinkled.
“My
favorites?”

“Yes. And any other toppings you think are
good.”

He shrugged and loaded the sundae bowl with
Pistachio Paradise, Chocolate Brownie Chunk and, finally, the sweet
shop’s namesake.

“Tutti-Frutti is one of your favorites?” she
said. “Why?”

“You disapprove?”

“Not at all. J-Just curious.”

He leaned across the counter and kissed her
on the nose. “Because I like stuff that’s kind of complex. That has
little surprises in it.”

He ladled spoonfuls of hot fudge sauce over
the ice cream, made another layer with caramel, then slathered her
entire sundae in whipped cream. He added a couple of fat fresh
strawberries to the massive dessert along with the big red cherry
she’d requested, plopping it right on top. Then he pushed the
concoction across the counter toward her, followed by a napkin and
a spoon.

“May I have another spoon please?” she
said.

“That one’s not dirty, is it?” He reached to
grab her spoon back, but she did something she never done before.
She put her hand on his and stopped him.

“No. I m-meant, I wanted one for you.”

He stared down at her small hand resting on
top of his for a moment, then he brought her fingers to his lips.
Still holding her hand, he pulled out another spoon and dug into
the giant sundae. But, instead of eating it himself, he offered the
first scoop to her. Amazing. The man, not the ice cream.

Well, the ice cream, too.

She filled her spoon up and rubbed it against
his bottom lip so driblets of hot-fudge sauce clung to that manly
mouth. So luscious.

“Mmm,” she said, watching him eat it.

He reached toward the sundae, snatching a
strawberry and using it as a decorating tool to dot her nose, chin
and cheeks with whipped-cream freckles. Then he kissed them off one
at a time and fed the strawberry to her. Her heart slammed hard
against her chest.

Or, maybe, it was the door that slammed.

“My, isn’t this…cozy,” Gretchen said, her
voice registering an odd combination of amusement, surprise and
suspicion. “Customers will be here in ten minutes, though. Maybe
you two should take this…this
activity
into the
backroom…provided it’s consensual.”

Elizabeth turned to look at her good friend,
whose blue eyes were wide and questioning and whose body language
indicated she could just as easily throw her arms around them in a
bear hug of congratulations as she could throw a hard punch that
might knock Rob over.

“I-It’s okay, Gretch. We’re, um, we
both—”

Rob cleared his throat. “What she means is
that we’re giving you the morning off today. Elizabeth’s going to
work this shift with me.” He stared at her until he’d forced a nod
out of her. Gretchen raised her eyebrows and shot them both dubious
glances, but Rob continued, “You’ve been working real hard and
probably have better things to do than watch the two of us make
fools of ourselves for the rest of the morning. We’re going to be
pretty self-involved here.”

A smile played on the far corners of
Gretchen’s lips. “And who’s going to tend to the customers?”

“We sincerely promise not to ignore them,” he
said. “Not much, anyway.”

“Elizabeth?” Gretchen asked.

She nodded at her friend, knowing darn well
she hadn’t been able to keep the wonder and delight off her own
face.

Oh, the victorious thrill of love!

Gretchen’s smile broadened. “You sure you
don’t need a chaperone?”

Elizabeth shook her head at the same time Rob
said, “Look, Gretchen, Elizabeth and I have only got a week left to
be together before our uncles come back from Europe. We’re just
enjoying the little time we have before I return to Chicago.”

Oh, the defeating agony of reality.

Some of the remarkable animating force that’d
kept her running hot these past ten or so hours, drained out of
her. A chill took its place.

“Alrighty, then.” Gretchen swiveled on her
robust heel and marched to the door. She flipped the sign from
“Closed” to “Open” and called over her shoulder, “Play safely,
kids. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Well, neither did Elizabeth, but preventing
it was impossible. She waved her friend off and returned her sole
attention to Rob, who was holding an ice-cream-covered spoon two
inches from her lips again. He’d managed to get some of every layer
of the sundae on it, plus, he dangled the maraschino cherry by its
stem just above it.

“Open up, Lizzy,” he said.

She got as far as “Eliza—” before he dropped
the sweet fruit in her open mouth and followed it up with the spoon
of ice cream.

“That’s a good girl,” he said. “Just like
that.”

She tugged the cherry off its stem and
chewed, appreciating the sensation of being fed for the first time
since she was three. He made her feel giddy and childlike and not
at all like the serious adult that she had the reputation of being.
Bless the man.