Crossing the Lines (29 page)

She spread her legs, and he applied himself to the task of bathing her with thorough, gentle motions. The way he cared for her seemed almost ritualistic. “Why do you do that?”

“Bathe you?” Continuing his work, he glanced up and she nodded. “Do you dislike it, my dear?”

“No.” Dislike the soothing comfort he offered? God no. “I just wondered. I mean, I could do it myself.”

“You could, yes. But you’ve granted me any number of rights to your person, Alice. You may be sore and uncomfortable. If I send you off alone to wash up, what message does that convey, hmm? That what we’ve shared is something dirty or shameful? That whatever occurs afterward is your responsibility to bear alone? That you matter nothing beyond your ability to induce an orgasm?” He shook his head. “If instead I make a ritual of your comfort, it encourages me to be mindful of your physical and emotional health. It extends our contact. It deepens our bond, the understanding of the roles each of us will play here.” He smiled at her, suddenly less serious. “And, of course, it pleases me to touch you.”

“Was it your teacher, I mean, the woman you, um, did she make you do it for her?” Smooth. Someday she’d graduate to complete sentences.

“Not specifically, no. But we talked a good deal about scene dynamics. She believed the most satisfying scenes came from a place of comfort and trust.” Henry nimbly folded the washcloth into a square. “Short-term liaisons like the experiences one often finds at clubs provide it only in the most superficial way. Building a long-term association makes the experience more gratifying for both parties.”

Her curiosity grew stronger than her nerves. Perhaps his touch made her bold. “Would you take me sometime? To your club? Not, not for…just to watch? To see the superficial rituals?”

The expanded contract, what he’d called less freedom and she’d called more, diminished her fears. She wasn’t replaceable. He’d initialed the blueprint for their relationship. Her right, her responsibility, to seek him out and ask for what she needed. His right, his responsibility, to determine her readiness for it. Need prodded her to understand what drew him to the club. To discover how it differed from what he shared with Jay and with her.

He traced the seam of her lips with what seemed thoughtfulness rather than intent to arouse.

“Soon, Alice. The social club I attend has more stringent codes for behavior than those to which you’re accustomed. And there are other considerations.” He bent over her and chastely kissed the line his thumb had traced before he sat up. “But we were speaking of our own rituals, my dear.”

“What makes them different? More…” What was the word he’d used? “Gratifying.”

“The nature of the rituals depends upon the individuals, in some ways.” Moving his hand to her thigh, he stroked her skin and met her gaze.

“You enjoy a comforting touch, a reminder that you have not been forgotten once you’ve satisfied your partner, perhaps? I expect because your previous partners lacked even the courtesy to be certain you were satisfied, never mind providing emotional stimulation. Jay, on the other hand, enjoys verbal affirmations that he has done well and pleased his partner.”

Henry had a reason for everything he did. They needed different things from him, and his gift was understanding the nature of those things. He liked that. Needed that?
“You usually send him to fetch the washcloth.” She’d assumed Henry wanted to be certain Jay understood his place as the junior partner, but maybe the action held more meaning.

“Interpersonal dynamics, my dear. It allows me to stay and provide you with the comfort of my touch—”

“—and when he returns, you can praise him for a job well done.”

“I knew you were a quick study, Alice.”

“You haven’t said where he is.” In all the months they’d been playing, tonight marked only the second one she’d spent alone with Henry.

“He is, rather unhappily, I might add, owing to having to miss a lovely time with you, participating in another ritual tonight. I’m certain his mood will have lifted by now.” Henry pushed himself up and off the bed. “He and his siblings organized a special dinner for their parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary.”

“Fifty years?” Unbelievable. Her own parents had been married thirty years, and even that seemed impossible. For half that time, they’d been unhappy. “How do you know you’ll be happy with someone in five years, let alone fifty? That’s a lot to live up to.”

“I suppose it might intimidate someone considering marriage. Though it might also inspire.”

His intent stare had her retracing her words. Shit. He’d given her an inch on developing a relationship, and she mimicked a woman taking a mile. A marriage mile.

“For Jay, I mean. If he ever wants to marry someone.” Right. Because flirty, immature, man-child Jay screamed ready for marriage. As if. But adorable, vulnerable, hungry for affection Jay…yeah. He might want the security of marriage.

Why hadn’t Henry asked him? Even if their marriage wouldn’t be recognized in every state, it would here. Except now she’d thrown Jay under the bus.

“Not that he has to. Or is thinking about it. Or isn’t. I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything to me.” Christ. Could she fit any more feet in her mouth?

“No proposals?” Henry’s lips twitched.

She bet the volume of laughter in his head rivaled the roar of a jet engine.

“It’s quite the relief to know the two of you won’t be eloping. Though you’re good with him and for him. Kind. Patient. Playful. Forgiving.”

He seemed to frown as he left the room, but no sign of one remained when he returned a moment later without the washcloth. The clock on the nightstand insisted it was ten minutes to midnight.

He lay beside her, pulled the covers over them both and wrapped his arms around her back.

“Comfortable, my dear?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Good.” He grazed her throat with his lips. “You’ll stay the night, Alice.”

A demand she endorsed, even if tonight he merely missed Jay. His touch woke tingling hunger in her skin. Snuggling closer, she encouraged his renewed attentions. “Not expecting Jay home?”

“He’s staying the night at his sister’s home in New Hampshire. It’s late, and he’ll have been drinking.”

“You told him he wasn’t allowed to drive home tonight.” Henry set limits for Jay. More than he did for her, but maybe Jay needed them more. Or maybe wanting them was a trait she and Jay shared.

“For his own safety, yes. It’s a long drive, and he has already made it once today. I won’t have him falling asleep at the wheel.”

That was why. Not because she and Jay couldn’t set those limits themselves. They were capable, when they wanted to be. But every time Henry set a limit, he showed them their importance to him. That he cared. If only she’d seen that sooner.

He kissed her mouth, and she leaned her body into his. He wasn’t hard yet, but he would be soon.

Sleep took a long time coming. Exhausted and entangled, they stumbled toward it together in the hour before dawn.

11

Despite their talk, the next time Henry invited Alice out, they didn’t visit a sex club. His invitation was much more dangerous. An art opening. For his show. As his date. His and Jay’s. Publicly.

Had he shared his plans before she’d knocked—seven PM precisely—she might’ve turned tail and run. But the way Henry had introduced the idea, every step seemed perfectly reasonable until the moment he asked Jay to go start the car.

Henry answered the door himself, Jay nowhere in evidence, though the patter of water on tile escaped from beneath the bathroom door as Henry led her to his bedroom. His hands lingered on her skin as he stripped her. He murmured approval at the citrus scent her shower had left behind. She’d chosen it with him in mind, to mimic his scent on her.

He stood behind her as he peeled her shirt away.

“You smell delectable, my dear. Alas, it’s not in the script for the evening to eat you right up.” He took teasing bites of her neck between his words. His hands, smoothing over the red silk of her bra, hardened her nipples as they passed. “I’ll have to allow time for it later. I find myself quite hungry indeed.”

She shivered at the promise in his voice, the low tone that crawled through her like an electric current. The slide of her pants, a controlled fall in his hands, sharpened her pulse’s thumping rhythm between her legs. His proximity as he knelt behind her curled her toes. He’d bade her leave her sandals by the door. When he lifted her feet and pushed her pants aside, she stood before him in bra and panties, the red set he’d given her.

“A bold palette this evening, Alice.” He stood and pressed himself against her, a brief tease of his erection through his black linen slacks. “Feeling daring, were you? An auspicious beginning. Suitable. We’ll see what we might match with it, hmm? Wait here, my dear, just as you are.”

He stepped away. She waited, unmoving. He’d ventured into the closet, from the sounds behind her. A zipper lowered. His? No, the sound went on too long.

Henry returned and knelt in front of her, holding a circle of charcoal-gray fabric open for her. “Step in, please, Alice.”

She followed his instructions to the letter, her arousal growing as he carried out every action himself, from sliding her arms into the sleeves to running a hand up her spine as he zipped the back closure. Pressure on her shoulder demanded she turn to face him.

Stepping back, he tipped his head. He motioned, a command for her to twirl. The sheath gripped her tight, stretching with her as she moved.

“Mmm. Not tonight, I think. Your curves are delightful, my dear, and tonight I desire to see fabric slide over them like water and imagine my hands following its path.”

He unzipped her and removed the dress. More noise from the closet. More distantly, the sound of the shower cut off. Henry had closed the bedroom door behind them. Maybe her dress would be a surprise for Jay.

The unpredictability of where the game would go, of what would come next, excited her like nothing else. Henry never failed to take advantage of it on their nights together.

Their pantomime repeated with a second dress, though this time Henry paused to kiss her thighs before he raised the fabric over them. “Such exquisite beauty. It’s almost a shame to cover you, my dear.”

When she twirled, the hem flipped out and spun with her in a flirty dance. It continued swaying after she’d stopped, brushing high on her thighs where Henry’s mouth had touched her. His quiet growl raised the tiny hairs on her neck and arms.

“I
will
take you in that dress, Alice.”

Exultation entwined with giddy fear. She had no control here, none. He’d take her however he liked, whenever he liked. Her legs shifted without any urging. He could strip off her panties and take her now. She’d be ready for him.

“But not tonight.”

Frustration gnawed at her. He enjoyed teasing her, getting her too worked up to think, putting her in the state of needy, wanton desire he’d declared he found most attractive on her.

Swift hands stripped the second dress from her body, though not so swift he didn’t find time to swipe his fingers over her panties. She struggled not to squirm and press into his touch.

He stepped into her, allowing her to feel the strength of his undiminished erection. She moaned. He desired her with equal ferocity. He wouldn’t make her wait long.

He kissed her cheek, as polite as if he greeted an acquaintance at afternoon tea, and stepped away. “You’re such a good girl, Alice. So very enticing. I’ll have trouble keeping my hands off you tonight.”

Part of the game? He might make her come without touching her. If anyone could, it’d be Henry.

He brought out a third dress. Flowing red silk with a mandarin collar, sleeveless, knee-length, though the sides had slits cut higher.

He nudged her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck as he zipped the dress. His hands fell to her hips, stroking up and down over a few short inches of territory. Christ yes. Like sitting astride him, his cock buried inside her as she rose and fell in satisfying rhythm.

“Mmm. Perfection, dearest. This is the one.”

Guiding her to the bench in the corner, he pulled a pair of matching red shoes from underneath and slipped them on her feet. Strappy sandals with a wedge heel.

He helped her stand, his fingers curling beneath hers as if he’d asked her to dance, though he stayed silent. The wedge brought her almost to his height. She flashed a bold look at him, a dare to take her now, on the bench. The dress rucked up around her waist, her knees along the outside of his thighs as he sat, his pants shoved open, her panties pushed aside…
yeah, just like that, harder—