The Art of Appreciation (16 page)

When he turned back, she had already returned to her previous position, this time clothed in just her tank and underwear. She kept her eyes trained at the floor ahead of her raised foot. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting…” She giggled. “Well, at least I didn’t expect there to be cameras involved.”

Matt laughed as well. “No, not what I was imagining either. Ready?” Abby nodded, and he started moving around her, framing his shots to highlight areas he hadn’t been able to closely observe previously. The gentle curve of calf muscle as it diminished into delicate anklebones. A sweep of long thigh as it curved inward. The secret darkness in the bend of a knee. Matt resolutely banished thoughts of strength and softness in her legs, trying to keep the same objectivity that he maintained with any other model even as the white lace that stretched across Abby’s hips tantalized him with both what it revealed and what it covered.

Conversation died as the tension between them rose.

Crouching to get a close-up of her shin and the top of her foot, Matt glanced up to find Abby’s gaze trained on his hands before it roamed up his arms and over his shoulders. Her intensity stopped him short, and he lowered his camera to stare at her face, frozen by the desire written there. Abby’s eyes locked with his, and she whispered, “Am I doing this right?” Matt nodded once. “Then finish.” Abby grasped the hem of her shirt in both hands and pulled it over her head. Dropping it to the floor, she unclasped her bra, and it joined the small pile of cloth near her feet. With shaking hands, she gathered her hair into an untidy pile on the top of her head, assuming the position of her sculpture.

“Abby…” Matt murmured, standing before her with his camera hanging at his side.

“Take the pictures,” Abby said. Her mouth curved into a slight smile. “This might be your only chance, because I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She tilted her head to look at him as he raised the camera. “Your statue is beautiful, and it needs to be right.” Her head returned to the correct position.

Matt moved around her, clicking the shutter or correcting positioning with a gentle touch on arm or leg. After just a few shots, he realized that he wasn’t feeling the familiar itch to shape clay with tools or fingers, but an ache to caress the skin of the woman in front of him.

He began to pack away his camera.

“Are we done? Did you get all the shots you want?” Abby lowered her foot to the floor. She released her hair, and it tumbled down to caress her shoulders.

Matt turned his attention to the photographic lights. “I’m done. And not even close.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I got the pictures I’ll need. Want is a whole other thing. It’s time to quit when I can’t look at you as a professional anymore.” With the last light extinguished, Matt was across the space in two swift steps, one hand clasped around Abby’s hip to crush her against him and the other cradling her head as he kissed her with hungry intensity. The frustrated passion of the night before combined with the tension between them made his kisses rough and desperate.

Abby met his strength with softness, cradling Matt’s face with gentle hands before trailing them over his neck and shoulders, stroking his chest and stomach and drawing a low, needy moan from deep in his throat. Rather than clash against his hard form, her body molded to his, offering softness where he had angles.

His restless hands skimmed her back before cupping the comparative roughness of the lace that covered her behind. Stumbling toward a low table, he set Abby onto her bottom and yanked his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side before leaning over her and caressing the gentle swell of her breast with his palm. His brain stalled, caught in the biological imperative to have, and to take, and to enter. Only Abby’s softness and warmth mattered, and the aching need within his own body.

Abby’s squeak as cool wood met heated flesh jerked Matt back to awareness of his surroundings. He rested his head against her shoulder, breathing heavily, listening to the clamor of his heart. “I’m sorry,” he said. He turned his head so his ear rested on her chest, gratified to find that her heart was slamming along at a pace to match his.

“
I’m
not sorry. That was hot.” She laughed, and Matt joined in.

He nibbled at the curve of her breast with his lips. “If you think that was good, you should see what I can do with a comfortable space and a little time.”

“Show me.”

“I plan on it.” Pushing himself to his feet, he helped her upright. He cupped her face in his palms, lowering his head to hers in a slow, soft kiss. As much as he wanted her, and as difficult as it was to still hands that itched to stroke her body, Matt felt that he had to give her another chance to back out. “Are you sure about this? No pressure, remember.”

Abby closed the gap that he had created between them, running her hands over his chest and shoulders and twining her fingers in his hair. “I’m very sure. I don’t want to waste any more time.” Matt felt her hands against his stomach as they worked at his waistband.

“Right,” he said, and then his mouth was on Abby’s as he backed her into the hallway. He pushed at the soft lace that covered her hips, tearing one side in his haste to feel all of her heat and softness, and when that slight barrier was gone, he cupped her behind and lifted, backing her against the wall as her calves twined around his thighs. Taking a hot, hard nipple between his teeth, Matt bit down. The sound of Abby’s low moan called an answering sound from his own chest and made him not entirely sure that they were going to make it the few short feet into his bedroom.

Only the need to hold her up and his corresponding inability to rid himself of his jeans brought him back to hazy comprehension. He lowered Abby, relishing the feeling of her skin sliding against his, until her feet touched the floor. They were both breathing heavily, and Matt no longer tried to still his hands. He stroked Abby’s shoulder and arm with one hand, cupping her breast as he braced his other arm against the wall next to her head. Abby’s hands moved against him as well, fingering through the hair that lightly covered his chest.

“Damn, Abby,” he joked breathlessly, “what are you doing to me? All my smooth moves went right out the window there.” He glanced down at the scrap of lace at his feet. “Sorry about your panties.”

Abby laughed, her breath stirring his chest hair. “Stop apologizing. I haven’t had this much fun in years. Though I’m generally a comfort girl.”

Matt pushed away from the wall and took her hands in his, raising them to brush his lips against her sensitive wrists. “Then it’s about time this ended,” he said.

“You can’t seriously mean quit now. That’s just cruel.”

Matt grinned. “By ‘this,’ I meant wall sex, woman.” He started backing her toward his room, dropping kisses wherever he could reach. “While that has its time and place, I want to take my time and enjoy, and that requires a bed.” The backs of Abby’s legs hit the edge of his bed, and she sat abruptly. “Like this one. Are you good with that?”

Abby scooted back until she could stretch out on the mattress, her arms above her head. She watched Matt shed the last of his clothes. “Very good with that,” she said. “What’s your plan?”

He paused for a minute, enjoying the view before him and wishing for an instant that he could take a picture of Pretty just like that, lying on his bed with her hair in a wild halo around her face. Instead, he used his artist’s eye to impress every line deep within his brain. When he was sure it was indelibly set, he slid onto the bed. “Abby,” he said, drawing his tongue along the tendon at the side of her neck and swirling it in the hollow under her ear as she arched against him. “My plan is to touch every inch of your body to begin with.” His hand caressed her breast, traced the gentle curve of her waist as it flared into slim hips, and ended up between her legs.

“I plan to pay special attention here,” he murmured.

“Smooth moves, huh?” she asked breathlessly, whimpering as he sucked her nipple into his mouth.

“Mmm hmm…” he hummed, smiling as the vibration against her hardened flesh drew another gasp. “I have years of practice to draw on.”

“I love the sound of that,” Abby said, fisting her hand in his hair and drawing his head up to kiss him fiercely.

Matt lost himself in her then, his senses overwhelmed by her tastes and smell and sounds, by the feeling of the curves and planes that he’d been thinking about for weeks. He rolled onto his back and eased Abby on top of him, freeing his hands to caress her even as his mouth explored. Her body responded to his touch like it had been made to do so.

Abby’s hands against him were sure; she seemed to know where to touch him and when to move on, keeping him at the knife’s edge of pleasure without sending him over the edge. Every kiss and lick and touch he gave her was returned with interest, their exploration aided by the knowledge of when and where to guide each other. Moving together slowly at first, kissing and touching hair-roughened skin and velvet softness, they learned each other’s bodies.

Eventually the tight coil of need deep within Matt became too much, and he moved to the nightstand, plucking out a foil pouch. He watched Abby as she watched him roll the condom over his length. He took in her heavy-lidded eyes and swollen lips as she moved restlessly against the sheets, and he had to push down an urge to plunge into her right then. “How do you want me, Abby?” A flush covered her body, and her quick breaths raised and lowered her chest.

“I want to feel you all over me,” she whispered, spreading her legs so he could rest between them. “I need you…”

Her tiny gasp turned into a moan as he held her hip and slid into her in one stroke, dropping his head to cover her mouth with his. Pulling her leg high, Matt felt her tighten around him. Her soft sighs and whimpers increased in volume and sharpness as the tension inside him built and he moved harder and faster. The feeling of Abby’s body against his, the pleasure in her response, stilled Matt’s mind, and he was want and need and fill; Abby’s answering want and give and open made her his perfect match, and words gave way to sighs and groans and the sound of flesh against flesh.

When he could think again, Matt found himself curved around Abby, his head lying against her chest as he gasped for air. Gentle fingers smoothed through his hair as Abby’s own rapid breaths began to slow. Matt stroked her stomach with a shaking hand, tracing the curve of her hipbone with a fingertip before settling it on her still-trembling thigh. “Abby, that was…” he began in a husky voice, and then trailed off.

“I know,” she answered, a smile in her voice.

His eyes drifted closed. He settled his head more firmly against her chest and wrapped his arm around her hips. “Do you mind?”

Abby’s soft laugh was cut off by her own yawn. “Not at all. You need your rest for later.” She stroked his back with a languid hand before dropping a kiss on his head. “And there will be a later. I promise you that. I’m sure you still have a few smooth moves to demonstrate.”

He chuckled. “More than a few,” he mumbled as he drifted off.

J
UGGLING
A G
LASS
O
F
I
CED
T
EA
, a book, her iPod, and a blanket, Abby hooked the French door with her toes and pulled, closing it behind her. After a late night and a morning of fishing Play-Doh out of little mouths, she was ready for some solar therapy. Picking her way down the beach, she dropped her armload on a chair before shaking out the blanket and lying down in the shade of the umbrella. A smile crept across her face when she stretched and all the delicious aches from the night before settled into her limbs.

“Don’t do that! Don’t you
do
that!”

Abby tipped her head back and watched Sarah tiptoe across the hot sand with her own armload of goodies. “Do what?”

Dropping her things, Sarah plopped down onto the sunny side of the blanket and shook her finger in Abby’s face. “That! That! You’ve been grinning and giggling all morning, and it’s driving me crazy. Where’s your stupid phone, Abby? Did Matt have to surgically remove it from your hand last night?”

Abby shot her the finger but realized that she hadn’t thought of the museum in days. Sarah shoved a Styrofoam container forward. “Here—eat your lunch.”

Balancing the container on her stomach, Abby propped herself up on one elbow and opened the box. She lifted out a piece of sushi, and after taking a bite, she closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure. “Good stuff.”

“Yeah, well, it better be,” Sarah said around a mouthful of rice and ahi. She chewed quickly and swallowed, grabbing Abby’s iced tea to wash it all down. “I had to hide from Tyler and his band of flying freaks twice before I got back to the car. That guy in the surf shop thought I was insane when I ducked behind the sailboards. That’s the second time this week. At least I didn’t knock them over this time.”

Abby laughed at the image, drawing another glare.

“Don’t laugh! That kid’s persistent as hell. Too bad I don’t date tadpoles.”

“Well, maybe not date…”

“I hate you. I really hate you,” Sarah whined. “I didn’t do that, either—thank you very much, by the way—unlike some people I could mention.”

“Jealous?” Abby popped another piece of sushi into her mouth.

“Hell, yeah!” Sarah picked a piece of rice off her stomach. “Oh yeah…and I ran into Surfer Dude II—you know, the blond? He was picking up sushi too. He wanted me to pass a message.”

Abby closed her empty container and reached for her glass of tea. “Chris? What did he have to say?”

Sarah nabbed the glass first and took a swig before passing it to Abby. “He said to tell you he’s really sorry about this morning, and he should learn to keep his mouth shut, and he wasn’t hinting at all, and…” She thought for a minute. “That’s about all.” She settled her sunglasses over her eyes and stretched out in the sun, adjusting her bikini. “He turned bright red—did he see your boobies?”

“Not even. I was fully dressed when I ran into his drunk butt outside the bathroom at about three o’clock this morning.” Abby adjusted her own suit but stayed in the shade. “Secondhand tequila is a smelly thing.”

“Assy jet fuel, I told you. So why the Walk of Shame? Seems a little silly when you’ve spent a whole Sunday in flagrante delicto. Did Matty-boy give you the cold shoulder? Make you sleep in the wet spot? Fail to live up to the promise so clearly defined in the wetsuit? Call you the wrong name? What?”

“If you’d shut up for a minute, I’d tell you. Your answers are: no, no, hell no, and he calls me the wrong name all the time—Pretty.” They laughed. “No shame involved—it just felt like time to come home. I learned a lot about Matt yesterday, but not how he feels about sleepovers. Not from him, anyway.”

Sarah lifted her head and raised her glasses to squint at Abby out of one eye. “The plot thickens. I take it this is where Chris comes in?” Abby nodded, a smile playing at the corner of her lips as she raised her head to take a sip of tea. “Well? Spill it, girl!” Sarah demanded, and then observed, “You have tea running down your arm.”

Abby poked her tongue out to catch the errant drop, and the memory of Matt’s tongue trailing along her skin made her shiver. “Chris congratulated me on being the first woman he knows of to breach the…what the hell did he call it? Inner sanctum? Cave of wonders?”

“Sounds deliciously dirty, whatever it was.” Sarah lay back down. “Girl, you know what he meant. You’re the Christina Columbus of that casa. You discovered a whole new world. And by invitation, too. Lucky bitch.”

“Thank you.” Abby grinned, popped in her earbuds, and grabbed her book. Before long, though, it was lying beside her. Her attention was too scattered to get anything out of the words. No matter how cool she’d sounded when relaying the basics of the conversation with Chris to Sarah, every time she thought about it, she felt a clutch of butterflies take wing in her stomach.

After Chris’s slurred compliments, Abby had considered staying. Now she was grateful she’d called a cab. It would have been all too easy to forget that little issue of time. No matter how often her brain pointed out that this was the age of Skype and texting and unlimited cell minutes, her gut told a different story. Two months together was not substantial enough to give a long-distance relationship a hope of surviving between face-to-face visits; those would be few and far between if she was paying for travel. If Matt even wanted that. She’d rather have a perfect summer relationship—no strings attached—than wake up thinking it was more and find out she was wrong later.

“Can I make a suggestion, Abby?” Sarah’s voice cut into Abby’s ruminations.

“Sure. What?”

“Two things, actually.” Sarah swiped sweat off of her brow. “First, finalize Jason. While you were off cavorting with Clayboy, Bikeboy showed up here, and I entertained him.”

Abby leaned up on her elbows. “Jesus, Sare. I’m so sorry.”

Sarah waved her hand dismissively. “No probs. Not like you wouldn’t do the same for me. Just be clear, okay?” She sat up and swiped at her face. “I think we need an Independence Day party, babe. You can celebrate…whatever is going on with you and Matt, and I feel the need for many drinks and beach music.” She leaped to her feet. “I’m melting here. An ice-cold beer and the AC sound good to me. You coming?”

“Not quite yet. I’m enjoying the sunshine that I’m not lying in.” Abby laughed. “The water and the breeze are nice too.”

“You’re crazy, but I suppose that’s why I love you.” Sarah gathered up her things and the empty lunch containers and headed up the beach toward the house. “Have fun slow-roasting.”

Abby rolled onto her stomach and opened her book. Hearing the door to the cottage open, she remembered that Sarah had mentioned two suggestions. “Hey! Sarah!” she called, waiting for her friend to turn. “What was the second suggestion?”

Sarah smiled. “Don’t over-think this,” she called back. “Enjoy the summer. Change, baby. Carpe-freaking diem.” She leaped up the back steps and enclosed herself in the air-conditioned house.

Settling down after a sip of tea, Abby lost herself in her book. Eventually, though, the heat and her late night caught up to her, and she laid her head on her arms, letting her mind drift off with the music.

A whisper-light tickle on her stomach brought her swimming to murky half-consciousness. She brushed sleepily at the fly and encountered instead soft hair. She stiffened with a gasp but relaxed again as she glanced down. She popped out her earbuds. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, you,” Matt replied, tracing the curve of her waist with a finger as he crouched beside her. “I was running by and saw you sleeping in the sun. Not a great idea.” His palm caressed her stomach before settling on her hip.

Abby shifted so the contact was firmer. Matt’s lips quirked into a smile. “I was under the umbrella, I swear. The sun’s shifted.” She lifted her head and looked down. “Did I burn?” Sliding one hand down her stomach, she rolled the waistband of her bikini bottom down so she could check for a color difference.

Matt groaned. “That was just cruel.”

“Speaking of ill-advised moments in the sun, what were you doing running at this time of day?” Abby asked.

“I had Zoe in this morning—bloodthirsty thoughts every time I had to reposition her. I decided to say bye-bye. I’ll use educated guesses for whatever I didn’t shoot.” Matt grinned down at Abby. “It wasn’t nearly as much fun as yesterday’s photo session.”

Abby felt a deep blush descend from her hairline.

Matt caught her downcast gaze. “Hey. Don’t. Don’t be embarrassed. Yesterday was…” He trailed off, searching for words. “It was pretty damned incredible.”

Abby’s lips began to turn up. “It was, wasn’t it?” She stretched up to kiss him. “So, how does that relate to you killing yourself by running in the sun?”

“Needed to blow off some steam before my second favorite person shows up this afternoon.”

Abby laughed. “What did Jason ever do to you?” One side of Matt’s mouth crooked up into a smile. “Don’t be such a guy,” she admonished, squeezing his arm. “Do you have pictures of him too? You might need them…he showed up at the cottage last night. I’m going to talk to him later.”

“I thought that was taken care of.”

Abby slid her arm around his waist. “I haven’t told him anything about you, Matt. I was thinking that it might be easier…and you’re his boss…” She sighed. “It was the best I could do at the time. You might lose your model now.”

“I’m sick of both of them anyway.” Matt looked at his watch. “Playtime’s over.”

They got up, and when they reached the porch steps, he folded Abby into his arms, kissing her with slow intensity and thoroughness as his fingertips ran up and down her spine. He chuckled at the tap on the door and a muffled “Get a room.”

“Is she always like that?” he asked.

“Sometimes she’s worse.” Abby aimed a kiss at his chin. “You’d better move it, mister. You’ll be late.”

Matt grumbled, but he nodded. His expression became serious. “About what Chris said this morning—he meant it as a compliment…a statement…” Matt brushed a hand through his hair. “He didn’t mean for you to leave, Abby.”

Abby smiled. “I didn’t leave because of that, Matt. Please. I’m an adult.”

“Then, why…”

“Because we hadn’t discussed how to handle the morning. I know better than to assume. And because you already took an entire day away from work for me.” Abby saw the protest rising to his lips and reached out to cover them. “Okay?” She kept her hand in place until he kissed her palm.

“Okay. Just, next time…” There was conflict in his eyes. “Wake me up and say goodbye.”

Abby refused to let disappointment show on her face. “Next time? What makes you think there’ll be a next time?”

Matt smiled. “Oh, there will. I predict a lot of next times. And you’ll love every one.” He kissed her again and murmured against her lips, “I like you, Abby Reynolds.”

“I like you too. But you’re a cocky bastard.” She kissed him firmly. “Get going, mister.”

Abby watched him run down the beach, slow at first, but then faster, until he settled into a ground-eating lope. She admired his form and grace until he passed beyond her view. Then she turned with a sigh to enter the cottage.

“That looked fun,” Sarah observed.

Abby reached past her friend to grab the phone. “No, this is the fun part,” she said ruefully. She only had to wait through a single ring before Jason answered.

A few days later, Abby toted another cooler out the back door. She surveyed Sarah’s party preparations, including the improvised fire pit. “Sarah, are you sure you can have a fire on the beach?”

“Pretty sure I can’t,” Sarah answered cheerfully, plopping a case of beer on top of a cooler. “But we’ve invited all the neighbors, and we won’t light it until full dark. By the time the beach patrol shows up, it’ll be late. Then I’ll argue whether the pit is on my property or on the public beach, which doesn’t matter, but they’ll be so worried about scaring off the tourists that they’ll play nice and argue quietly. By the time they get pissed, I’ll be ready to evict people anyway.” She pushed her hair back from her forehead and grinned. “It’s a win-win situation.”

Abby shook her head. “You scare me. You really do.” She looked around critically, noting the mostly empty food tables. “Are you sure everyone was okay with pot-luck? Doesn’t seem like the neighbors’ style.”

Sarah draped red, white, and blue cloths on the tables. “Grab that cake, would you, Abby? Our oh-so-wealthy neighbors were…‘tickled pink’ is what I think Mrs. Bowman called it. Old lady Drake said it was ‘delightfully Bohemian,’ too. I figure if we play oldies for the first couple of hours after dinner, their Metamucil will have kicked in, and they’ll all toddle off home, happy to have been asked to party with the youngsters.”

“Youngsters?”

Sarah waved her hand dismissively. “Comparatively speaking.” A frown creased her brow. “Now, if the fireworks show nicely over the water and the real youngsters stay away, my night will be perfect.” She gave Abby a sideways glance and an evil grin. “Again, comparatively. Though not quite as nice as yours, I’d imagine. Tired today?”

“Shut it. I was home before dawn, and you came rolling in just a few minutes before I did. Don’t lie—you had shoes on, and you never wear shoes inside for longer than five minutes.” Ignoring her friend’s whispered “Damn,” Abby changed the subject. “Wow. Now that you mention it, I think this is the first time we’ll have missed watching the fireworks over the Harbor since…forever. David won’t know what to do with himself.”