A Slow Boil (20 page)

I listened to the gradual restoration of his heartbeat while I
brushed my fingertips through his light chest hair.

“You’re so beautiful, Sylvia, so beautiful.”  His arm
tightened around me.

I dug my face into his chest and found my voice.  “You’re the
beautiful one, Mr. Hunter.”

“Call me Adam when we’re like this.”

“Adam.”

“Say it again.”

“Adam.”  I kissed his jaw.  “Adam.”  I kissed his
ear.  “Adam.”  I kissed the side of his neck.  “Adam.”  I
kissed his lips.

He ran his hand down my back and cupped my ass, closing his eyes,
and pulling me against him.  “I’m sorry if I was too rough.”

I got a burst of energy and clambered on top of him, straddling
his waist.  “You were perfect.  You can make that up to me any time.” 
I leaned down to kiss him, then sat up, running my hands over his chest and his
flat stomach, his shoulders and arms.  He kept his hands on my ass,
letting out a quiet moan when I leaned down again to nuzzle his neck and flick
my tongue over his nipples.  Now that I finally had him naked in front of
me, I wanted to taste every inch of his skin, kiss every spot I could reach.

“Sylvia, it’s been so long since someone touched me.  Don’t
stop.”

“I’m never going to, don’t worry.”  I kissed my way down his
chest, my hair trailing over his ribs, and made my way to his stomach, so flat
and taut, his muscles twitching as I kissed lower, and lower yet.  He was
getting hard again and I took him in my hand, stroking lightly.  It was
his turn to throw his head back and groan.  I kissed the tip of his penis
and then licked the whole length.  It was in beautiful, perfect proportion
to the rest of his long body, and when I wrapped my mouth around him, he only
fit half way.

“God, oh god, get up here.”  He pulled me back up to straddle
him and I eased myself down, slowly taking him in inch by inch.  He
watched me silently, his hands on my waist, letting me seat myself completely
before closing his eyes and groaning again.  He reached for my breasts and
I arched my back, pushing them into his hands, leaning my weight back with my
hands on his thighs.  I started moving up and down, the sensation from
this angle so different, not as completely overwhelming but almost more intense
as I could feel every inch of him inside me.  I threw my head back and
moaned.  He grabbed my ass again, helping me move on him.

“God, Sylvia, I’m going to come again already.”

“Me, too,” I managed to gasp.

He was clutching me so tightly, his fingers squeezing and releasing
in rhythm to my motions, his hips beginning to thrust up to meet me, my orgasm
taking longer to build this time but finally coming with a sweetness that
brought tears to my eyes.  I clamped down on him, my head thrown back and
thrashing from side to side as the pleasure washed over me.

He curled up to me as he came too, his arms wrapping around me,
pulling me back down with him in a tight embrace.  I was trembling and
panting and incapable of moving any of my limbs.  I kept my eyes closed
for a long time, listening to his heart beat, listening to his breathing,
wishing I could somehow burrow into his body and get even closer to him,
wishing he and I could lay here like this forever.

I felt him kiss my hair and managed to move my fingers lightly across
his chest.  “I could lie here forever.”

He tightened his arms around me.  “Good, because that’s my
newest rule.”

I smiled into his chest.  “You’re so bossy.”

He kissed my hair again.  “You’re so perfect.”

At some point Sunday morning I finally regained
consciousness.  I stretched and smiled, not bothering to open my
eyes.  I didn’t care what time it was.  It didn’t matter. 
Nothing mattered but that I was here, in this bed.  I never wanted to get
up and I decided that I never would.  My new job would be to lie naked in
Mr. Hunter’s bed all day.  And all night.  I’d work for free. 
He could use my salary to hire someone to bring me meals.  No, he could do
it himself.  I didn’t want any strangers in my kitchen.

I rolled over.  I was alone.  Of course I was; Mr.
Hunter probably couldn’t sleep in late any better than I napped.  Mr.
Hunter, I sighed.  Mr. soft-haired, long-fingered, strike that – 
magical
-fingered, Hunter.  I had a
whole new list of adjectives to describe him after last night, a whole new
dictionary.  Tender, demanding, gentle, ferocious, insatiable, satiating …
I was sure I could come up with all the words while I laid here today.

My stomach growled, loudly.  Turncoat, I thought, as I rolled
back over, trying to ignore it and stay committed to my new job.  It
growled again and I remembered that I hadn’t eaten anything last night except a
few bites of salad and bread.  Mr. Hunter and I had finally gotten out of
bed around seven and I’d fixed us a salad, but we hadn’t eaten much, our
appetite for each other stronger.  “It’s okay, stomach,” I said, taking
pity on it, “I’ll feed you soon.  Let’s just lie here a little longer,
okay?”

“Who are you talking to, Miss Lane?”

“My stomach.”

“Of course.”

Mr. Hunter had snuck up on me again, this time with a tray of
something that smelled delicious.  My stomach sat up and took notice, and
then the rest of me did.

“Look at you,” he said quietly.

I quickly pulled the sheet up.

“No, no, none of that.  A little late for modesty, isn’t it?”

I let the sheet drop.

“Much better.”  He sat down next to me and put the tray on my
lap.  He’d brought me scrambled eggs, toast, and best of all, a cup of
coffee.  I picked it up and took a sip, looking up at him from under the
rim.  He looked like he always did, which was perfect.  Perfect with
a healthy dollop of satisfaction and maybe a hint of apprehension.

He pulled my pillow up again the headboard and I leaned back,
bringing my coffee cup with me.

“I was just imagining this.”

“Imagining what?”

“You bringing me meals, while I lie here all day.  I think
it’s a good idea.”

“It’s an excellent idea.  Anything that keeps you in my bed.”

“Just try to get me out of it.  I’m not leaving. 
Ever.”  I stretched, arching my back.

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes.”  I smiled, sitting back up.

“Well, then.  Let's get you fed.”  He smiled, too, and
lifted up a forkful of eggs, the apprehension gone from his expression.

Two hours later we were arguing in the kitchen.  I’d had to
break my promise when nature eventually called.  I then took a long, hot
shower, enjoying the new but wholly welcome aches and pains in my limbs. 
Eventually I made my way downstairs to look for Mr. Hunter and I found him in
the kitchen peeling an orange.  I hugged him from behind and he handed me
a segment.

“Are you polishing your skills for dinner tonight?”

“No, my girl, I’m taking you out.”

“Oh, no, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.  That was the deal.  I’m in charge of one
night on the weekend.”

“But I thought you were going to cook.”

“I’d rather treat you to a meal you deserve.”

“You’re too generous as it is.  You can’t make me go.”

“Actually, I probably could.  You’re not as good a fighter as
you think.”

“I wasn’t fighting you last night.  You still don’t know how
good I really am.”

“The idea of carrying you kicking and screaming to the car isn’t
entirely unappealing to me.”

“Not just to the car, into the restaurant as well.  And I’ll
throw food at you during the meal.”

“Such bad manners.  It’s not too late to enroll you in a
finishing school.  I’ll look into it this afternoon.”

I slapped him playfully on his arm.  He caught my hand and
lifted it to his lips, kissing the back of it, then turning it over and kissing
my palm.  He looked up at me as he slowly kissed each finger.  My
resolve melted.

“You’ll be ready to leave at six, my dear Miss Lane?”

I could only nod in acquiescence.

We spent most of the afternoon together in the library.  I’d
settled in my chair to read for a while and he joined me with his laptop. 
I tried to concentrate on my book, but found myself constantly stealing glances
at him.  Now that I knew how good-looking he was everywhere
,
 it wasn’t only his face that was
distracting me.  The only sound in the room was his typing.  I need a
finger fix, so I got up and came around to the left side of his chair and knelt
down on the floor next to him.

I watched him type for a few minutes, then lent my head against
his leg and returned to my book.

At five I went upstairs to get ready for dinner.  I dug
through some of the clothes I’d bought in
LaPorte
,
and decided on a light blue sundress that kept my shoulders bare and fell to
just above my knees.  I didn’t know where we were going and this would
work for either fancy or casual.  I fixed my hair, brushed on a little
makeup, and put on my necklace.  Britt had insisted I get some shoes to go
with the dress, so I rummaged for the sandals I’d stuck in my closet, never
believing I’d have an occasion to wear heels.  They were only a couple of
inches high, but that was a lot more than I was used to, and I took a few
practice steps until I was sure I had my balance.  Mr. Hunter might send
to me to finishing school after all if I stumbled and tripped all evening.

I pulled a light sweater out of my closet and went
downstairs.  Mr. Hunter was in the living room watching TV, but he turned
it off and stood when I entered.  He put one hand on his hip and made a
motion with his other for me to spin.  I did a slow turn for him.
 While he looked me over, I did the same to him.  He was wearing slim
black pants, belted, with a solid blue dress shirt, no tie.  If his shirt
were just a few shades lighter, we'd almost match.

He walked up to me and cupped my face, smiling down.

“Here’s my princess.  You look lovely.”

“Thank you.  You look nice too.”

“Shall we?”

“I’m ready if you are.”

“You’re going to come willingly?  I don’t need to haul you
over my shoulder?”

“Not this time,” I grinned, remembering him taking me upstairs
yesterday.  I was beginning to think he liked carrying me around.

“Then let’s go.”  He held my hand on the way to the car.

We ate at one of the nicest seafood restaurants in town.  I
mentioned during dinner that I’d been here once before.

“Oh?  Was it a special occasion?”

“It was a date, actually.  A guy in one of my classes last
fall asked me out.”

“Did you see him for very long?”

“No, that was our only date.  He was nice, but we didn’t have
that much in common.”

“You don’t have to have a lot in common with someone to start a
relationship.  Not if there’s an attraction.”

“That’s true, I guess.  But there wasn’t an attraction,
either.  Alas, no sparks.”

“Too bad for him.”

“You don’t sound the least bit sorry.”  I smiled at him over
my wineglass.

“I’m not.  I don’t like the thought of someone else touching
you.”  He smiled back, but I noticed his jaw tighten just a fraction.

“Don’t worry, not many have, and not in a long time.  And no
one’s touched me the way you have,” I added.

He reached for my knee under the table.

“Good.”

“What about you, Mr. Hunter?  I’ve been wondering since I
started working for you how you can possibly still be single.”

“Really?”  He sounded genuinely surprised.

“Yes, of course.  I mean, look at you.  You’re fairly good-looking,
moderately successful,
somewhat
well-mannered. 
Surely you could have lured some poor unsuspecting female into sharing your
life with you by now.”

“Maybe that’s what I’m doing with you,” he smirked.

“Maybe,” I laughed.  “But there’s no way I believe I’m your
first victim.”

“No, but you’re the first in a long time for me as well. 
I’ve had a few girlfriends over the years.  Some serious, some not. 
The period of my life after my parents died, I was a little wild.  I told
you I’d made some mistakes, and the last relationship I was in was one of
them.  It ended badly, and I swore off women for a while.  Then I
moved here and I guess I never met anyone who interested me.  I don’t get
out that much, you’ve probably noticed.”

“So no crazy ex-wives?”

“God, no.  No, I’ve never been married.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“I thought I was once, when I was about your age.”

“Let me guess, you were too young to know better?”

“Very astute of you, Miss Lane.”

“What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I don't mind.”  He paused, his face growing pensive. 
“She was very pretty, very smart. A lot like you actually.”  He smiled at
me.  “Unfortunately my parents didn’t approve of her.”

“Why not?”

“My family was quite wealthy and my father especially was very status-conscious. 
She didn’t meet his standards.”

“That’s sad.”  I couldn’t even imagine my dad telling me who
I could or couldn’t date.

“I thought it was unforgivable.”  He paused again, lost in
his thoughts.  “I wanted to run away with her,” he finally added.

“How romantic.”

“How young.  Luckily, she refused.”

“Why?”

“She’d gotten a full scholarship to the art school we attended and
she said she couldn’t walk away from that.  At the time, I felt like she
didn’t care for me the way I did for her, but in retrospect she clearly made
the right decision.”

“I guess I can understand how she must have felt.  A full
scholarship is a big deal.”

He nodded in agreement, taking a bite of his dinner.

“I’d have been sorely tempted, though, if it had been me,” I
smiled.

“Would you now.”

“Well, maybe.  You already knew how to play the piano?”

He smiled back at me and nodded, picking up his wineglass and
taking a sip.

“Then it would have been a difficult choice.”

He put his wine glass down and reached across the table to tuck a
strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering.

“So, no torrid affairs in your past, Miss Lane?”

“No.  Like I said, boyfriends have been few and far between.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true,” I shrugged.  “I dated a little in high school,
and in college I had a couple of boyfriends but nothing serious.  When I
started here last fall, a few guys asked me out, but none of them interested me
that much and I figured I was only here for the year, so there wasn’t any
reason to get involved with anyone.”

He turned his eyes down to his plate and was silent for a minute,
fiddling with his dinner.

“Well, at least it sounds like I don’t have to worry about one of
your peers snatching you away from me.”

“No, you have to watch out for other men your age.”  I made a
dismissive gesture with my eyes, letting him know how absurd he was being.

“And if someone thirty-nine comes along and catches your eye?”

“He’d have to have two pianos.”  I smirked at him.  “And
a bigger library.”

After dinner we strolled for a while through a nearby park. 
It was about eight, but the sun was already starting to go down and the air had
finally cooled.  Mr. Hunter helped me put my sweater over my shoulders,
giving my waist a quick squeeze as I straightened the hem, and keeping his arm
around me afterward as we walked back to the car.

The drive home was quiet.  I was full, not used to eating a
whole entree for dinner, let alone two glasses of wine, and feeling very
relaxed.  I leaned back against the headrest and watched Mr. Hunter’s hand
work the gear-shift.

“Thank you for dinner, Mr. Hunter,” I finally remembered to say.

“You’re welcome, princess.”

We parked in the garage and he helped me out, keeping hold of my
hand as we entered the house.

He flipped on the kitchen lights, dropped his keys on the counter,
and pulled me into an embrace.

“You have no idea how difficult it was for me not to touch you
tonight,” he murmured, running his hands down my back, past my hips, squeezing
my butt and using his hold to pull my hips closer to his.  I knew from
last night how much he really did appreciate my behind, and I arched my back,
lifting it into his hands.