What the Lady Wants (17 page)

It was so unfair. Other women got great love scenes. She got the Keystone Kops.

Then she heard someone pounding up the stairs, and there was a quick rap on the door, and then Mitch was in the room with her.

She sat up as if she'd been catapulted and slid to her feet, stunned to see him there in the flesh. She blinked. Really in the flesh. He didn't have a shirt on under his jacket.

He closed the door behind him and stood looking at her. "Hi."

Mae blinked at him again. "Hi."

His eyes traveled down her body, and she smoothed her satin robe nervously. "You look really nice," he said.

She swallowed hard. "Thank you."

He closed his eyes. "Mae, if you've changed your mind, just tell me now so I can go kill myself."

Relief washed over her and she laughed, the sound bubbling up from inside her, and she felt her whole body soften with her laughter, and all her need for him came back. "If you don't make love to me, I'll die," she said, and he came toward her, shaking his head and laughing at himself as he stripped off his jacket and dropped it on the floor.

"You don't know how long I've wanted you," he said as he slid his arms around her, and she shuddered as his body touched her.

"Kiss me," she said, and he did, and every fear and doubt she had evaporated as his mouth touched hers, supple and hot and intoxicating. She opened her lips to taste him, and he touched her tongue with his as she slumped against him, her hands gripping the corded muscles in his back while the heat in her rose and made her dizzy. Then he was pulling her toward the bed, and she undid the belt to her robe and let it fall open. He closed his eyes when he saw her, sliding his hands under her robe, up her sides to cup her breasts, and she dug her fingernails into his shoulders to stop herself from moaning. He pulled her onto the bed on top of him, rolling until she was under him, and moved his mouth to her breast, and then she did moan, lacing her fingers in his hair to pull him closer. His lips moved up to the pulse of her throat, and then to her mouth, and she swelled under him like a wave, stroking her hands up his back, tasting every inch of him with her fingertips.

"Oh, God, Mae, I have wanted you," he murmured to her, and she opened her eyes to see him gazing down on her, his eyes black with desire. And when he bent to kiss her again, she stopped him, her hands cupping his face.

"Let me look at you," she whispered. "I can't believe it's you. I can't believe it's us."

"I wanted you from the first moment I saw you. From the first minute you came in my door." He smiled at her. "In that damn pink suit." He closed his eyes and put his forehead on hers. "I can't believe it's us, either."

"Make love to me," Mae whispered. "Make love to me all night."

"Whatever you want," Mitch whispered back. "Whatever you want, Mae. I swear."

He kissed her then, a long deep kiss that went into her spine and made her body curve around his, fitting against him, and his hands moved, too, molding her to him. "What do you want?" he whispered in her ear, and his breath made her body tighten and arch. "Whatever you want, you can have."

She ran her fingers through his hair and pushed his head down to her breast, gasping a little when his tongue caressed and teased her nipple and then moaning when he took her breast in his mouth and sucked hard. She felt the pull in her groin and arched up under him, and outside, the thunder rolled in the distance, and the wind blew the curtains back away from the window she'd forgotten to close. He moved to her other breast, dropping kisses into her cleavage, and then she felt his tongue on her again as his hand came up to stroke the dampened breast he'd abandoned. Mae gave up any pretense of sanity and just lost herself in his touch and the heat that was everywhere. She arched up again, and then she wrapped her fingers in his hair and pushed his head lower.

She felt the weight of his head on her stomach, his hands stroking down her sides to her hips, and then he licked inside her. Her hips spasmed, and he trapped her there, his hands imprisoning her against his mouth. Outside, the storm began in earnest, blowing the cold storm breeze through the open window and across her burning body, and her skin tightened under the double onslaught of the wind and his mouth. She grabbed blindly behind her to clutch at the pine headboard as he slowly, rhythmically, inexorably stroked his tongue inside her, probing and sucking and driving her out of her mind. Her moans were drowned in the thunder, and all she knew was the heat of his mouth pressed against her and the chill, rain-thick air tightening her body. Then she lost even that in the pressure that welled up inside her, making her twist against him, and then it all exploded, and her body jerked over and over again as she sobbed in her release.

Then he was kissing his way back up to her, nibbling and biting her sweat-dampened flesh, and she wrapped her legs around him, feeling his muscled thighs between her soft ones. "I want you inside me," she said through her clenched teeth, still shuddering with the aftershocks of her climax. "I want you inside me
now!"
and he said, "Wait I want you, too. Wait" He kissed her, his mouth hot on hers, and she thought that she could spend the rest of her life in that kiss if she had to. Then he finished fumbling with the condom and pulled her to him, and then he was inside her. She writhed at the intoxicating shock of him filling her, and outside, the thunder crashed again, and the lights went out The lightning flashed into the room like a strobe light. She looked up into his craggy face, and her blood boiled with the fact that it was him, that it was them together, part of the storm. He rocked into her once and moaned into her neck, and then he rolled so that she was on top, and he was hard against her, and she lost her place in reality for a moment because he felt so good. The roll brought them too close to the edge, and they slid off the bed, still joined, on the thick comforter. The impact of their landing thrust them closer together, and Mae gasped, and Mitch held her tighter and said, "Are you all right?" and she breathed, "Don't
ever
stop."

She flexed her hips to roll them away from the tangle of the comforter and found herself on top of him again, on the rug, and Mitch started when he saw the open jaws of the bear next to his head. "It's polyester," she said, laughing softly in his ear, drunk with lust and love and the storm. Then she pushed herself up, straddling him, and he stroked his hands roughly across her breasts. The rain lashed at them both, cold rain on hot skin, and she rocked against him until he closed his eyes and drew in a deep ragged breath. She felt it start again deep inside her, the tightening and fire and the crackle in her veins, and she stopped, clenching herself down on him. His hands gripped her hips and pulled her tight against him, and she gave herself over to him and felt everything in her body rise and explode and crash with the thunder as the spasms came again and again until she fell sated against his chest.

They lay there on the rug, trying to breathe, clutching each other as rain fell on them through the open window, and then Mitch kissed her forehead, and whispered, "Mabel, it's raining," and she smiled, and let him roll and pull her to her feet and lead her back to the bed. And when they were wrapped in the comforter and in each other's arms again, listening to the pounding of the storm, Mitch gently smoothed back her wet hair and said, "Thank you for calling me. I damn near killed myself to get here, but you were worth it."

Mae laughed into his neck. "Thank you for coming."

Mitch laughed, too. "Anytime."

She tightened her arms around him. "I never knew anything could feel as good as holding you." When he didn't answer, she pulled back to look up at him from the dim light of the window. "Mitch?''

"I'm here." He traced the line of her face with his fingers, smoothing them across her lips, and then bent to kiss her before he whispered, "I'm amazed at us, but I'm here." He held her tighter. "This is so good it's scary."

"Then don't think about it." Mae snuggled back against him.

"I don't want to think about anything else," he said into her hair.

She held him, listening to the beat of his heart and the patter of the fading storm, and they were both almost asleep when the lights came back on.

Mitch jerked awake, and Mae patted his chest "I'll get it." She rolled away only to feel his hand move down her back, his fingers playing over the bumps of her vertebrae. "Don't." He pulled her back against him, his breath warm against the back of her neck. "I like looking at you naked."

Mae snuggled back against him, her rear end curving into his hips. "I don't know. You know what this sort of thing leads to." She captured his hand and brought it to her breast.

"Your problem is you're shy." Mitch nibbled on her neck and made her shudder with pleasure. "Good thing I'm an optimist and brought spare condoms."

"Hey, I'm prepared, too," Mae said, pulling away in mock indignation only to fall back against him when his hand recaptured her breast. She stretched and yanked open the drawer and handed him one of Armand's foil-wrapped packages. "So there."

Mitch took it and made a move to toss it back on the table, but then he stopped, moving his other hand off her body and rolling away from her.

"Mitch?" Mae sat up. He was staring at the package, holding it up to the light.

"Lie back a minute, will you?" He pressed her gently onto the pillows, bending over her to stare at the package as he held it to the lamp. Then he looked down at her. "Mabel, you don't have a biological clock you forgot to tell me about, do you?''

She struggled to sit up. "What are you talking about? I'm thirty-four." He was watching her naked struggle with interest, and she stopped. "What are you looking at?"

"You're a very distracting woman. And we're definitely going to make love again, but not with this condom. It has a hole in it."

"What?" Mae sat up, grabbing the sheet at the last minute and holding it over her. "Give me that."

Mitch held it out of her reach. "Let go of the sheet first."

Mae tried to look stern. "Let me see that condom."

Mitch shook his head. "The sheet first."

She lunged for the condom, and he yanked on the sheet, and they both fell over, intertwined, Mae laughing in spite of herself.

Mitch licked his tongue over her breast. "You know, arguing with you is going to be a lot more fun from now on."

Mae shoved his head away and held the condom up to the lamp. Dead in the center was a tiny pinpoint of light. "You're right." She dropped the condom, rolling to open the drawer.

"I'm always right." Mitch trailed his hand lazily up her thigh as she stretched to gather up the other condoms. "You know, you really do have a world-class ass."

"Thank you." Mae rolled back over and dropped the condoms on the bed, picking up one and holding it to the light. Another hole, dead center. "How did you notice this?"

"You can feel the hole in the foil." Mitch picked up one of the other packages and held it to the light. "This one, too."

"They all have holes." Mae slumped back against the pillows.

"I'd complain to your druggist." Mitch scooped up the last of the packets and leaned over Mae to toss them on the table. Since he was there, he bent to kiss her on the neck.

"They were Armand's."

Mitch jerked his head back. "What?"

"They were in the box we found the key in. There were dozens of them, remember?"

Mitch hesitated and then nudged her hip with his. "Come on. Let's go look at the rest of them."

"Now?" Mae said, but he was already bending over her, reaching for his pants.

"What good would it do for Armand to get Stormy pregnant?" Mae asked Mitch where he sat next to her on the floor of Armand's bedroom.

"It could be Stormy poking holes, you know." Mitch tossed the last condom back in the box. "Maybe she thought she'd trump Barbara if she had a baby."

"No." Mae's voice was positive. "Armand didn't like kids. The only reason he kept me was to..." Her voice trailed off.

"To keep June," Mitch finished. "Would Armand knock Stormy up to keep her from leaving when he married Barbara?"

"Well, it's low enough for him." Mae sounded doubtful. "I just don't see Armand poking holes in condoms."

"Looks like I need to read another diary. What else is in here that we missed?" Mitch stirred his hand through the items in the box.

Mae yawned. "Mitch, it's the middle of the night. Can we do this in the morning?"

"No. We're going to be too busy making love in the morning." He held up a handful of lip balm sticks. "Your uncle had a bad Chap Stick habit, didn't he?"

"So this is how it ends," Mae said sadly. "One minute making love like crazed animals, the next minute discussing Chap Stick."

Mitch shoved the box away. "I'm a professional, ma'am. My professional instincts have been aroused."

Mae blinked at him, trying hard to look sad and vulnerable. "I liked it better when your other instincts were aroused."

"Fine." Mitch grabbed the back of her robe and yanked her to the floor, rolling on top of her.

"This is good." Mae bit him on the neck.

"No, it isn't." Mitch winced away from her teeth. "The only condoms we have without holes are back in your room." He kissed her once, hard, and then let it melt into a longer, softer, tongue-tangled kiss.

When she spoke again, Mae's voice was a lust-drunken murmur. "Let's go back to my room."

"Whatever you want, Mabel," Mitch said. "Whatever you want."