On the Ropes (15 page)

His green gaze held a note of warning when she looked down her body at him. It said
I’ll stop, and you won’t come
.

She wanted so badly to come, so she did what he said and put her arms over her head. She grabbed one wrist in the opposite hand and pressed her fingernails against the flesh as a reminder.

Don’t. Move.

He went back to his work, fingering, sucking, licking, until she couldn’t even feel the dig of her nails—couldn’t feel her face because she’d been holding her breath.

There was so much pressure, and so much
pleasure
, that she wondered if she’d already missed it. If she’d missed her own orgasm in the haze of sensation. Pity that that would be, it wouldn’t be unusual. She never really expected a big bang or even a little explosion, but more a tickle that spread through her core.

Had she missed it?

She gasped when Stephen pulled back her clit’s hood and massaged the sensitive bud all the while fucking her so hard with his fingers that her teeth started chattering.

Tightness built in her core—a rippling squeeze all the way down to her thighs that had her clamping hard on him and screaming out his name.

She let go of everything to make room for the pleasure, and it was like nothing she’d ever experienced.

She’d never been
here
before.

It was a
eureka
moment. It was why some people thought sex was a dirty thing. It made women feel powerful in that moment of explosion, like they were holding the universe in their wombs.

He let down her shaking legs, and once more she looked at him, though embarrassed now.

There was wetness on his cheek and chin, more than what should have rubbed onto him from mere contact.

His lips formed a sly smirk.

“What?” she asked.

Had her wax technician missed a spot?

He rubbed the back of his hand across his face. “Now I’ll have to try to make you do that again.”

“Do what?”

“You don’t know?”

“Stephen, what did I do?” The orgasm? She knew damn well that wasn’t the first one he’d caused.

“Well. Let’s just say that some women trickle, but you…erupt.”

She covered her face and groaned behind her hands. “Oh, my God.”

“Don’t be ashamed of that. From where I’m sitting, it’s pretty flattering. Come on. I think it’s my day to make breakfast. You can crack all the eggs for me.”

Was he fucking kidding her? No way was she just going to pick herself up and walk out there as if she hadn’t had the most humiliating sexual experience of her life. If that was what a real orgasm was, then from now own, she’d have to keep her lover above the waist.

Lover
. She groaned again. At the current rate, Stephen would never be that.

He gave her a nudge, and she felt the bed shake at the end as he tipped himself off it. “Gotta get moving. We need to check on what that storm is doing and get the house battened down if we have to.”

The storm.
She dropped her hands and watched him pass through the bathroom doorway. “Do you think we’ll have to evacuate?”

“Doubt it. Besides, you’re a Bermuda girl. You should be used to storms.”

“I am, but I don’t know all the protocols here.”

“Oh, they’re pretty simple. Meg and I tend to stay put unless the storm is still increasing in strength upon approach.” He turned on water at the sink. “Unless we think the roof’s going to get blown off or services cut due to damage, we stay. Sometimes it’s fun.”

“Like luxury camping, I bet.” She muttered it as she reached over the end of the bed to grab her pajama bottoms, but he heard it anyway.

“Kind of, but slightly more sanitary,” he said around a full mouth. Probably had his toothbrush in it. “There was one tropical storm we didn’t evacuate for that knocked out every damn thing. Satellite, phone, electricity…even water.”

He spit.

“Couldn’t flush, and we had to use what we had in the gallon jugs. That’s why we have the rain barrels now. And Meg always insists we fill up the tubs as storms approach.”

“I think that’s a sound strategy.”

“Yeah. Meg’s definitely the kind of woman who never gets caught in the same sort of disaster twice. She learns her lesson pretty well the first time.”

As he showered, Jan rooted through her suitcase for attire, and wondered what was an appropriate wardrobe for
battening down the hatches
. Probably just shorts and a T-shirt. Maybe she didn’t need to try so hard. These people didn’t seem to expect anything from her. Stephen certainly didn’t.

Stephen walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and squatted in front of his own bag. She stood dumbfounded for a moment, staring at the shadowed gap between his thighs.

You’re acting like you’ve never seen a dick.

She was just so damned curious. She carried her clothes into the bathroom with her, shut the door, and locked it. It was doubtful Stephen would walk in on her, but she wanted no surprises. It’d be just her luck he’d poke his head in while she was shaving under her arms.

She’d expected him to have gone into the kitchen when she stepped out of the bathroom dressed, but there he was in the rocker furrowing his forehead at his phone’s display.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing to worry about. Someone from work trying to get in touch with me. Whatever it is can wait.” As if to drive the point home, he tucked the device into his back pocket and gestured to the door. “How do omelets sound?”

“They sound great, but they always stick for me.”

“We’ve got a really good pan.”

“Then let’s do it. I like that you ask my opinion about things.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m just…” She sighed. She didn’t want to tell him yet another pathetic thing, but she was tired of it all bubbling to the surface and having to tamp it all back down once it started to seep. “I’m used to my options being of the
take it or leave it
variety.”

“That’s a very black-and-white way to live.”

“It’s the way my father lives, and I suppose I developed a habit of thinking the same way myself. It’ll take a long time to undo.”

“Well, I’m happy to help you consider all those shades of gray. Come on.” He looped his arm through hers and they strolled into the family room. It seemed they were indeed the only ones up, but that probably wouldn’t be the case long with the wind being as aggressive as it was. The shutters had started to rattle.

“Listen.” Stephen opened the fridge and pulled out of the cartons of eggs along with milk, cheese, and butter. “I wanted to offer in case you didn’t feel comfortable to ask, but if you want someone to go with you to see your mother, I wouldn’t consider it an inconvenience. Let me do something for you.”

He’d go with her? She wrenched her hands and shifted her weight. Try as she might, she couldn’t think of a single reason to tell him no—nothing that held water, anyway.

“I’ll even stay in the car if you’d prefer to have your moral support from a distance.”

She absolutely wanted him there—for once, to have someone to prop her up while she endured some gut-wrenching thing, but even though her brain said, “Yes,” her stupid-ass mouth said, “I’ll think about it.”

He looked at her for a few heartbeats. Any other man would have pushed for resolution, but he didn’t.

In fact, he
never
did.

He nodded and pulled a copper skillet down from the pot rack. “All right. What do you want in your omelet?”

Stephen had noticed long ago that Toby made an excellent judge of character. He had been from the time he was a baby, though that likely had something to do with the fact that Meg was never more than three feet from him until he learned to crawl. He rarely let anyone else hold him, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing in his father’s case. As he got older and more independent, his style of snubbing changed. He’d hide away and not respond to people talking to him, or in the case of one particular preschool teacher, he’d turn his back and leave.

While it was true Toby had some tendencies toward rudeness that needed correcting, very rarely did anyone in the family scold him for simply not trusting someone because he needed to know how to trust his gut.

So, it didn’t surprise Stephen that Toby hung on Jan like a koala on a eucalyptus tree. Fortunately, she seemed quite tolerant of it because it looked like they’d be stuck indoors for a while once the storm hit.

“Come on.” He tugged her arm and leaned toward the deck doors. “I want to go outside.”

“Toby, the sand blowing around is going to get into your eyes and chafe your skin.”

He pouted.

“I know…” She squatted down to join him at eye level. “How about we go up into the loft and play a game.”

Toby’s eyebrows crept up. “Any game I want?”

“Staunch negotiator. I wonder who you get that skill from.” She cut her gaze over to Stephen, and he shrugged.

“Probably get it from my mom’s side,” Meg called from the downstairs half-bath where she was filling up trashcans with water. “Dad is pretty passive.”

Stephen didn’t want to think about negotiating or anything related to it. One of the promises made to him when he became a partner in the firm was that he’d have adequate, and
competent
help. What he’d gotten was a steady stream of green interns and unambitious legal aides who were just biding their time to retirement. He had one rock star paralegal who dotted all her I’s, crossed her T’s—and all of Stephen’s, too—but she wasn’t enough. He was the most junior partner, and his workload was the most onerous. He spent up to eighty hours per week working, so how fucking dare they ask to send him
a little work
to do on his first real vacation in a year? It was barely Monday. Of course, he’d said no. Well. Except for that one stack he’d brought down from Boston.

Groaning, he layered more lunchmeat onto the roll-up sandwiches Toby favored. He hated saying no, and in a totally different way from how he hated saying no to Jan.

Seth came up from the parking pad stairs carrying a hammer and several sheets of plywood. “Apparently, the same company that coordinated our housekeeping also contracted out for maintenance. There’s a small hole in the roof they told me they were going to fix three months ago.”

“Do
not
climb up to the roof!” Meg shouted. “Are you crazy? Call a handyman. It’s way too windy for you to be out on a ladder.”

Seth took a steadying breath. “Kitten, it would be just as dangerous for a handyman, and I’m certain the homeowner’s insurance company would prefer for my neck to be broken rather than someone whose name isn’t on the deed.”

Meg shut off the water and came out drying her hands on her muumuu. Stephen’s little sister may have been the only person outside of Polynesia who could pull off that look.

Before she could open her mouth, Seth said, “Kitten, I have a PhD in physics. I’m pretty sure I can figure out how to position a ladder for stability. I’m not going to fall off the roof and leave the children fatherless.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Meg mumbled and walked away.

Seth looked at Stephen.

Stephen put his hands up. “You should be used to it by now.”

“Nope. I don’t even try to guess what she’ll say.” Seth shrugged. “Makes life more fun.” He strode to the deck.

Stephen placed Toby’s sandwich on the table along with a glass of milk. “There you go, bud. Lunch first, then you can haggle with Jan about board games. I’m going to walk over to the neighbors and see if they’re home and if they need anything.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jan said.

“Meg?” Stephen called out.

“Heard you. Toby, stay in that chair until I come out there.”

Toby blew a raspberry and picked up his roll-up sandwich.

Jan preceded Stephen to the door and stepped into her sandals. “I’m so curious about the house right next door. I mean, you’ve got to be a certain kind of person to paint your house periwinkle.”

“Oh, they’re interesting, all right.”

He managed to keep his hands to himself for a full ten feet, and then his right hand somehow found its way to her shoulder. He pulled her to his side as they walked toward the Emersons’ side door. With some women, there was an indefinable awkwardness with their proximities. No matter how sweet they were—no matter how solicitous—Stephen had always felt a bit like a repelling magnet. He’d try to get comfortable, but it didn’t feel natural. It was different with Jan. Not only was he drawn to her, but he wanted to fill in her gaps, too. You couldn’t really get closer than that.

Couldn’t come apart once you’d done it.

They reached the screen door, and he knocked. He didn’t see Bob’s truck and the wind chimes that were always up when the Emersons were home hadn’t been hung.

“They might not be here,” Stephen said, and knocked once more. “I don’t see Mel’s wind chimes, and Bob didn’t uncover the grill. I wonder if they’re traveling or something.”

“I hope that’s the case. Aren’t they elderly?”

“Shit, you and that memory of yours. Yes, they’re around seventy. We can keep an eye on the storm’s progress and check back a bit later. Let’s see if the Moores are home. They’re the sprawling one-story house right next door.”

“Okay…” She didn’t move immediately, though. Her forehead furrowed and she turned her right ear toward the Emersons’ side door. “Might be the wind, but I’d swear I hear someone calling.”

“Screaming?”

“No, it’s plaintive, but…frustrated. Hold on.” She reached tentatively for the door handle, and pulled it. The screen door was unlocked, and when she tried the inner door, that one was unlocked, too.

Now Stephen could hear it. Mrs. Emerson called from deep inside the house, “Wait! Wait, don’t go!”

“You all right, Mel? It’s me, Stephen.” He pulled Jan by the hand into the mudroom.

“Thank heavens. Listen, I broke my foot and I’m slow getting up and down the stairs. Bob should be on his way back from the store. I’ve been trying to get this window closed, but the handle is cranky, and I can’t balance right.”

“I’ll get it.”