Beyond the Quiet: Romantic Thriller (17 page)

“Sweet Lisa,” he murmured, his voice ragged, “that’s good, so good.”

When he entered me, I was ready for him, and it wasn’t long before I felt the first complete release of my life. Then he stiffened and collapsed on top of me.

Chapter Twenty

Breathing heavily, Terry stretched out on his back, pulled me to him and kissed me. It wasn’t a kiss of passion, but one of affection, of love. He kept an arm around me, and it felt good, comforting. I thought it amazing how one person’s simple action could deeply affect the other. Even though our bodies were separate, I still felt connected to him, still wanted by him. My body still tingled and I should have been exhausted, but I felt wonderfully alive. I never i
magined sex could be like that.

Best of all, I hadn’t once thought of Mac. It was as if my life with him had miraculously been delegated to the past, as if, for the first time, I’d been shown how it felt to
be loved. And it felt glorious.

I studied the man next to me, his straight nose, the full lips that had given me such pleasure. His dark brows had strands of gray and
I thought the combination sexy.

He gr
inned. “What’s so fascinating?”

“You.”

He laughed and I admired his straight, white teeth. Everything about him seemed perfect. His arms tightened, and I felt the beginnings of his erection brushing my thighs. But I needed a shower. I threw my legs over the side of the bed.

“You going somewhere?” he asked,
propping his head on his hand.

That was strange, I thought. Mac had never touched anything, including his own body, until he’d washed after sex. I never fully realized until this mo
ment how that had made me feel.

“To the shower,” I told him.

“Great. I’ll join you. I hope it’s big enough for two.”

Oh, no! Now I wished Mac hadn’t remodeled the master bath to include a separate shower stall. Even though Terry and I had just made glorious love and he’d seen every inch of my body, I didn’t think I could handle standing totally nude opposite him under the bright, harsh bathroom lights where he’d be able to see the droop of my breasts, the rounded tummy and stretch marks. I couldn’t let him be repelled
just yet. Oh, please, not yet.

“I’ll go first,” I mumbled, sliding into my rob
e and dashing for the bathroom.

Usually I loved soaking in a tub of warm water, but a shower would be quicker, and maybe I could get through and slip into my robe befor
e Terry came into the bathroom.

Quickly running the soap over my body, I was rinsing under the warm water spray when I glanced through the frosted glass door and saw Terry walking toward me. I grabbed the washcloth and covered my breasts, but realizing how ridiculous that was, I pulled it off and sucked in my tummy. He opened the door an
d stepped into the tiled stall.

“I hoped you’d need help,
” he said, brushing against me.

My first instinct was to cover my breasts with my hands. He, in turn, appeared to have no such inhibitions as he faced me, lathering his large male body with soap, then stepping around me to rinse. I wanted to be that way—oh, how I’d love to feel so gloriously free, as I never had with Mac.

“Here, let me.” Terry lathered his hands with soap and began running them over my breasts, then down to my stomach and thighs. Instantly my nipples puckered, but I backed away.

He glanced up at
me, his blue eyes questioning.

“What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t speak. I covered my breasts with my arms and began to cry.

“Did I hurt you?” He wiped away the tears and tried to hold me. I wanted him so desperately, yet, stiff and unyielding, I kept my arms folded over my breasts. What was the matter with me?

Terry was clearly puzzled. “Is something wrong? Do you want me to leave?”

Tears leaking down my face, I shook my head.

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know,
” I managed. “I just...can’t...” He regarded me for a few, long, miserable minutes.

“Okay, honey,” he said, “I have an idea. Here. Let’s rinse off and get out.” He opened the door, stepped out, and offered his hand to help me. As if I were a child, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around me, briskly drying my skin and placing the towel over my shoulders. He took another to use for himself. “If you need to pee, you’d better do so now. We’re going to be a while.”

I must have looked frightened, because he chuckled and held me.

“Don’t worry, I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

“I’m thirsty,” I told him, more because I didn’t know what else to say than for any other reason. But once we were in the kitchen, I discovered that I was starved. And so was he.

After a snack of hot tea, buttered English muffins with peanut butter and some fruit, I relaxed and enjoyed Terry’s chatter. We were still in towels and we didn’t talk about anything major, just the house, the view in the daylight and his apartment in Redlands. After Terry wiped his mouth with the napkin, he stood and took my hand.

“Now to the bedroom.”

I followed, intrigued and a little nervous, although not as bad as before. Once there, he turned on both bedside lights, the rose glass one on the vanity, and even flipped the bathroom switch. Bright light flooded the bedroom. Irrationally, I thought of the sheets and was glad I’d changed them yesterd
ay to a lavender floral design.

He took his towel to the bathroom. I wasn’t ready to give him mine. Then, back by the bed, he held out his hand to me.

I eyed the well-lit bed. “I’m not sure...”

“Do you trust me?”

I nodded.

“Well, come to me. It’ll be okay.”

When we were standing together by the bed, my heart raced. I didn’t know why I felt so frightened.

“You remind me of a frightened little girl,” he said, brushing the hair away from my forehead. “What in God’s name did someone do to you?”

I could only shrug. I’d never been abused, so I couldn’t tell him why I felt so uneasy.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Do you believe that?”

“I believe you.” I wanted to tell him I wasn’t afraid he’d hurt me, but I couldn’t tell him why I was so apprehensive.

He sat on the bed, then lying back, he stretched out in the middle and opened his legs. “I want you to look at me.”

Surprised, I must have made a sound.

“Take your time and really look,” he said. “I want you to know every inch of me.”

I hesitated, but once on the bed, I made sure my towel was snug around me and got to my knees. Determined to overcome any embarrassment, I began my scrutiny, looking at Terry like I’d never done to Mac in our twenty-five years together.

Starting with his face and head, I worked my way down to his broad chest and his shoulders and arms, still muscular, I imagine from years of hauling equipment for the fire department. He didn’t have the form of a body-builder who pumped iron all day; instead, he looked natural, like a man who worked hard and enjoyed life. He smile
d and ran his hand down my arm.

Feeling a little more at ease, I returned his smile, patted his tummy, then ran my fingers through the mat of hair on his chest. I played with his nipples, wondering if, as a man, he felt anything. Mac had said more than once that he didn’t like me touching his. A waste of time, he’d said.

“You’re torturing me.” Terry pulled me down on top of him and kissed me. “I think if you’re going to look,” he said through clenched teeth, “you’d better do it now.”

Quickly glancing at his erection, I smiled, suddenly aware I had power over his body. I liked that feeling. “Well, it’s your own fault. You pulled me down on top of you,
remember? I was quite content—”

“Ah, there's my girl, sharp-tongued, as usual. I was wondering what happened to you.” As he relaxed, his erection softened, althou
gh it didn’t totally disappear.

“Tell me about your marriage,” Terry said. “Were you happy? Did your husband abuse you in any way?”

“Mac was very good to me. He wouldn’t dream of abusing me. I was the one who failed him.”

“In what way?”

Thinking about his questions, I continued exploring his body. His penis lay on a nest of hair, the white strands curling with the darker ones. His legs were long, his thighs thick and calves rounded. They reminded me of a dancer’s legs, long and well-shaped. It was strange how much I liked looking at him. I even thought his little belly was cute.

“Why do you think you failed your husband?” Terry gently prodded.

It was obvious he wasn’t going to let it slide, so, folding my legs under me, I sat back. I didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to tell him what a total failure I’d always been as a woman. But whether I’d wanted him to or not, he meant a lot to me and I wanted to be open about everything.

He propped himself against the headboard and pulled me up next to him, clearly prepared to let me tell everything in my own tim
e. Hesitantly, I began talking.

I told him everything about my marriage, the dismal sex life, how I never could relax. I explained that we’d tried everything, including wine. And how, each time, I just wanted to get through it.

“I don’t understand,” Terry said. “You felt something with me just now. I know you responded.”

“I can’t explain that. I never liked sex.”

“You can’t say that now.” Terry turned to me and took my left nipple in his mouth, and I felt that same throbbing need zing straight to my toes. I flooded with moisture. Had I turned into a wanton? He was already hard and I clutched his shoulders. He gentle slid me down the bed, then bent low to kiss my tummy. When he moved lower, I froze inside and drew my legs together.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“That’s okay, honey,” he said, stretching out beside me. “But what happened? I know you were ready just then.”

Having been married all those years, I knew what an effort it must have been
for Terry to stop so suddenly.

“I need a shower,” I said,
so humiliated I wanted to die.

“You just showered, didn’t you?”

“But it’s not the same—”

“Listen to me.
You’re supposed to trust me. Remember?”

I didn’t want to do it, but I relaxed my legs. Terry dipped his head and I felt nothing but terror. We weren’t locked in a passionate embrace in which we forgot everything. He was going to be turned off by me and I couldn’t bear it. Not after everything wonderful that had happened before.

He opened me with his fingers. I couldn’t help it—when I felt his warm, wet tongue, I moaned with pleasure. Then I felt a different sensation. I looked down and saw the strangest thing. Terry was rubbing his chin and face in my pubic hair. I propped myself on my elbows.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m loving you, every bit of you.” He opened me again with his fingers. I almost bolted off the bed, but he ignored me. “Your smell? Yes, you have a smell. We all do, and yours is all woman. I love it, and I wouldn’t want you to douche it away.”

I stared at him. “You
like
it?”

“Like it? Honey, I could get lost in your smell.”

I burst into tears.

Instantly he rose and took me in his arm
s. “What is it? What did I do?”

“My husband never liked to, to do that. He didn’t want to get near me unless I’d just
cleaned myself.” Then I told him how Mac would never touch anything until he washed after touching me.

Terry’s arms tightened around me. “And you said you weren’t abused.” He sounded angry. “I don’t think the question is why you didn’t enjoy sex; I think it’s what the hell was wrong with your husband. Honey,” he said, turning me to face him, “we’re human. We all smell at times, we won’t always brush our teeth before kissing, and we won’t always have the opportunity to bathe first. But remember this. I love you, I love your smell. It gives me an instant erection. Everything that’s womanly about you calls to the man in me.”

I suddenly felt so gloriously free. When his arms tightened around me, I joyously gave myself to him. We made love again, our juices mingling, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

When I woke around noon, we were under the covers. Terry must have pulled them over us some time during the early morning. He was lying next to me, his mouth slightly open and softly snoring. Listening to his breathing, I smiled and felt as though my entire body was smiling. When I reached down and touched his penis, he stirred and woke.

“God, you wake fast,” I said.

“All those years of training at the station, I guess.” He pulled me to him and we kissed. I wiggled against him, pushing my breasts against his chest.

“And I thought I didn’t like sex,” I said, still smiling.

“Oh, I knew you’d come around.”

“Just how did you know that?”

“Men just have this natural radar.”

“Oh? Tell me.”

“I can’t tell you anything right now,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose. “I’m an old man, you know. I need food, some kind of nourishment if I’m going to kee
p a wanton like you satisfied.”

“Wanton?” I grinned, and threw my legs over the side of the bed. “Okay, old man
.”