Finding Sarah (20 page)

She let go of his belt, unable to
speak. He couldn’t have changed his mind. Not now. Randy put his hands at her
waist and shifted her down toward his knees.

“You’re making me … I’m so … I’m
not sure I can … Oh, God, Sarah, I don’t want to spoil it for you. It shouldn’t
be this quick.”

She slid off his lap and ran her
fingers across his lips. His breathing was rapid and shallow. She extinguished
the candles and extended her hand. “We said we were going to do this in a
proper bed. Will you take me there?”

Randy got up from the couch.
Sarah found herself lifted off her feet. Putting her arm around his neck, she
kissed him again. She nestled her head into his chest and he nuzzled her hair.
His strength sent a feeling of peace through her as he carried her to the
bedroom. There was a dip as his elbow hit the light switch, and a lamp on a
night table across the room came on.

He lowered her to the bed and
knelt at her feet. She waited as he unbuttoned the top three buttons of his
shirt and pulled it over his head. His bare chest sent another quiver through
her body and she longed to run her fingers through the mat of silken hair. When
she reached forward, he grasped her hands. “I haven’t … been with a woman … in
a long time,” he whispered. “And I’ve wanted you so much. Give me a minute.”

“Do we need the light?”

“I want to see you. All of you.”

The tenderness reflected in his
eyes obliterated any self-consciousness. She removed her sweater and let it
fall to the floor along with her bra. “It’s been a long time for me, too.”

Randy stood at the foot of the
bed for a long moment, his eyes moving up and down her body.

“I want to look at you, but I
prefer the moonlight,” she said. She pulled back the covers and went to the
bedside table and switched off the lamp. Eyes locked on his, her hands moved to
the button of her jeans.

“Wait,” he said. “Come here. Let
me.”

Sarah stepped around the bed and
stood poised before him. Her knees quaked. “I’m yours.” She stared into his
eyes, those brown-flecked-with-hazel eyes that melted her insides. His
trembling fingers released the button and zipper of her jeans, slid them down
past her hips.

His delicate touch sent another
thrill though her. He lowered himself to his knees once again. She tried to
control her ragged breathing as he planted kiss after kiss on her body. Any
more and she would have to sit down. She tried to reach for him, but he refused
her touch.

“Not yet,” he said. His kisses
continued down her legs as he slipped her jeans to her ankles. Every nerve
ending fired pleasure to her brain. He lowered her panties an inch at a time,
still kissing in their wake and his strong fingers played along the back of her
legs. She clung to his shoulders to keep from collapsing with delight.

His kisses moved back up her
body. She tried to catch her breath while he shifted from his knees to a
sitting position on the edge of the bed. His hands were hot velvet at her waist
as he positioned her between his knees. Lightning coursed from her breasts to
her loins while his tongue played over her nipples. And then his fingers
stroked between her legs and she forced herself away from his touch.

“Please, Randy. I want all of
you.” He met her eyes and lowered her to the bed beside him.

Trying to catch her breath, she
watched as he reached for his belt buckle. The rasp of his zipper sent a
magical thrill through her. He rose and finished undressing, flashed her a
smile as he took a strip of condoms from his nightstand drawer. He ripped off one
packet and dropped the rest beside the lamp. She took a moment to absorb the
sheer beauty of his form. His sculpted torso outshone the live models in her
college art classes. The way his muscles flexed as he moved had her pulse
thundering. She shifted to the center of the bed, and he lay down beside her.
He stroked her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders. Every touch made her moan with
pleasure.

She pulled him to her, guiding
his head back to her breasts. The gentle suction of his kisses launched new
surges of excitement directly to her center. Her pelvis arched toward him. She
twisted his hair in her fingers, drew his head harder into her chest as she
lost herself in the growing heat of his touch. His hands played up and down her
body, traced her contours, sent shudders in their tracks. Kisses followed, the
warmth of his breath and the gentle tickling as his hair brushed her skin,
brought goosebumps of delight. His fingers probed, brought her to the edge and
she ached to be one with him.

“Please. Now,” she panted,
pulling him to her.

He rolled away and her heart skipped
for a moment and by the time she realized he was putting on the condom, he was
back, poised above her. She guided him into her, slowly, as long-unused muscles
adjusted to his entry, and they gasped in unison.

“Oh, God,” he said. “You feel so
good.”

She rocked gently beneath him and
lost herself in the pleasure of feeling complete. Her hips, unbidden, arched
higher, moved faster, as she sought release.

“No, you don’t,” Randy said, half
withdrawing. “Not yet.”

She dug her nails into his
buttocks, but he waited. Counted to ten.

“Largo,” he whispered. “Slowly.”
Rhythmic strokes dizzied her with pleasure.

“Adagio. Andante.” As his passion
grew, so did his tempo, until Sarah begged for fulfillment.

He pulled back once more. “Pausa.
Rest.” Fifteen counts before he began again. This time, the tempo quickened
much faster and she could stand it no longer.

“Oh God, Randy. I can’t wait.
Now. Now!”

And her entire being focused on
that one tiny part of her. The universe collapsed to encircle them. Suddenly,
there was no Sarah, no Randy, only a glorious sensation that throbbed through
her very being. Randy gave one final thrust, gasped her name, and a wild
crescendo filled her.

When she could think again, she
found him propped above her. She took a shaky breath. There was enough light
from the not-yet-full moon to see his face, eyes barely open, a smile on his
lips. He kissed her.

“I’m sorry. I wanted that to last
a little longer,” he said between kisses. “A lot longer.”

“No apology needed.”

He rolled beside her. She curled
on her side and pulled his arm around her, tucking his hand under her chin.
Snuggled back into his body, she felt herself descending toward sleep.

“Why the music terms?” she
mumbled.

“Leftovers from my music lesson
days. Trying to keep things slow. For all the good it did.”

“Any slower and I might have
died.” She sighed. “Music lessons. Remind me to ask you about that when my
brain starts functioning again.”

Randy drifted through half-sleep,
aware of a feathery touch through his hair. Sarah.

He opened his eyes. The moon had
moved along its nightly course, leaving the room in semi-darkness The faint
glow from a distant street light shining through the bathroom window cast just
enough light to reflect a glow in her eyes.

“Are you awake?” she whispered.

He managed something between a
grunt and a groan. God, he wanted to lie here, semi-conscious, and enjoy having
a soft, warm body next to him. He pulled her to his chest.

With her head resting in the
curve of his collarbone, Sarah moved her hand to his neck, shoulders and down
to his chest, tracing the outlines of his musculature. “Can I touch you yet? I
love the feel of you.”

Fully awake, he reached over to
embrace her, but she shook her head, stroking his biceps.

“No,” she said. “You lie there.
No moving. It’s my turn.” She ran her fingers behind his ears. Her lips
caressed his throat. The scent of her peach shampoo, the delicate tickle of her
hair as her lips moved down his chest, the soft sounds she made as she kissed,
and he was more than ready.

“You’re driving me crazy.” He
moved to flip her, but she grabbed his hands.

“I said it was my turn.”

Her fingers ran down his chest,
past his navel, to his thighs, behind his knees like so many butterflies. She
hadn’t touched his erection, but he throbbed with desire. She moved back to his
throat, this time nibbling, scraping, tasting her way down his body. His body
responded as if it had been months, not an hour, since he’d shared himself with
her.

“Sarah. Oh, God.”

“Quiet.” She covered his mouth with
hers, as if to enforce her command. He relented.

She stopped long enough to find a
condom and tear open the foil. “I’ve never actually done this before.”

“Let me help,” he whispered and
guided her hand as together, they rolled it over his erection.

“You’re mine now. Hands off.” Her
magic fingers went back to work, driving him to a frenzy. She straddled him.
Found his cock. Wriggled against him, taking him in, drawing back, then
allowing him another inch, until he was buried inside her. Her breasts hung above
him, round and soft, and the memory of the taste of them, the feel of them
beneath his fingertips had him twisting the sheets at his side.

“All right?” She started to move,
riding him, rocking, clamping around him until he balanced on that razor edge
of control. He looked at her, poised above him, back arched, head thrown back
and a smile of utter pleasure on her lips. Sweet God, she was going to send him
over. He reached for her, seeking the spot that would carry her with him.

She took his hands. “No,” she
said. She shifted, leaned forward and gazed into his eyes and in that instant
he understood. Right now, she was in charge, not at the mercy of everything
life had thrown at her. “For you. No holding back. Let go.”

He’d give her that power—as if he
had a choice. She moved again and he felt the pressure gather and his mind
disconnect. And that marvelous moment of total release.

* * * * *

Shortly after dawn, Sarah awoke
and found Randy leaning on one elbow watching her. She turned and smiled at
him. “Hi,” she said. She felt like she’d been waking up next to him forever.

“Hi, yourself. You want some
breakfast? I can cook.”

“No argument there.” She turned
on her side and placed her palm against his chest, tracing lazy circles with
her forefinger. Her hand roamed lower, fingertips barely making contact with
his flesh. His eyelids lowered and his chest expanded as he drew in a breath.
She paused at his navel before continuing down his torso, only half-surprised
to find him aroused. “But maybe breakfast can wait. It would be a shame to
waste this, wouldn’t it?” She moved her hand to the small of his back and squeezed
herself tight against him.

This time, there was no urgency.
Their bodies found the rhythm of that eternal dance, touching, exploring,
learning. Fulfillment came gradually, building in ever increasing swells until
together, they rode the crest and slid down into sweet oblivion.

Some time later, Randy spoke. “It’s
almost eleven. I think we’re talking about brunch now. I can make French toast.
I might have some bacon, too.”

“Mmm. Yes. I think I could eat
now. Can I clean up first?”

“Sure. Towels under the sink.
Help yourself to anything you need.” He kissed the top of her head and put on
some sweats before leaving the room.

Sarah gave a longing look at the
biggest bathtub she’d ever seen. Room for two, even if Randy was one of them.
Maybe later. She showered quickly, borrowing some of Randy’s shampoo. He’d have
to forego the peach scent today. In the bedroom, she opened a dresser drawer
and found a long-sleeved gray jersey with a large blue number seventeen on the
front. The shirt hung past her knees. Good, because she didn’t think her jeans
would be too comfortable this morning. Tenderness was a small price to pay for
the joy and peace Randy had given her. She rolled the sleeves up enough to give
her the use of her hands, rubbed her hair with a towel, and went out to the
kitchen.

The aroma of frying bacon
tantalized her nostrils and she realized she was ravenous. “Smells fantastic,”
she said and crept up behind Randy who was removing the strips from the pan to
a paper-towel lined plate. She put her arm around his waist.

“Careful. This spatters.”

“You make an excellent shield.”

He turned and looked at her, gave
a grin of approval. “That shirt doesn’t look half as good on me,” he said.

“I’m glad you don’t mind. I
wanted something comfortable.” She helped herself to a strip of bacon from the
plate. She saw the kitchen table set for two, with a heaping platter of French
toast in its center. “Looks like you cook in the kitchen, too.”

His laugh, natural and full of
joy, was almost as rewarding as their lovemaking had been. It was obvious he
was relaxed. Comfortable. At peace.

Randy brought the bacon over to
the table and pulled a chair out for her. “Sit. Eat.”

“You sound like Maggie.” Sarah
giggled.

“Ah, but would Maggie do this?”
he asked and lifted her up to his waist and kissed her.

Sarah wrapped her legs around him
and returned the kiss. He smelled like bacon and coffee, with some sex, sweat
and a little of her own scent mixed in. “Put me down. I’m hungry.”

* * * * *

“Do you play?”

Randy took his eyes off the
basketball game long enough to see the sparkle in Sarah’s eyes as she gazed up
at him. Her head in his lap was starting to affect him again, and he shifted
her to a sitting position beside him on the couch. “Play what? Basketball?” He
took a slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table.

“Piano. I saw one in the other
room.”

“Now and then.” He avoided
looking at her, pretending to concentrate on his pizza and the game. Sarah had
a way of digging up things he’d thought were well buried.

“That’s what you meant by music
lessons, right? Are you any good? Would you play for me?”

Damn, he couldn’t resist her
enthusiasm. He glanced at the score. No way Duke could blow their lead. He
stood up and extended his hand. Sarah took it in both of hers, sliding her
fingers over his.

“I thought your hands looked
artistic. I can see them on a piano.”

He helped Sarah to her feet. “Let
me wash the pizza off, and I’ll play for you.” Randy led her to the spare
bedroom, pointing to the chair by the window. “Make yourself comfortable.”

As Sarah eased herself into Gram’s
chair, images he’d buried shimmered around her. “Be right back.” In the
bathroom, he took a deep breath. It was time to deal with it. When Sarah was
around, all thoughts of Gram were pleasant memories, not painful ones. He dried
his hands and went back to Sarah.

He opened the cover of the
keyboard and sat down, felt the cool ivory beneath his fingertips and let the
familiar wave of calm wash over him. He played a few arpeggios to warm up. It
was time. He stood and opened the seat of the piano bench, found the yellowed
sheet music, and set it lovingly on the stand.

It had been more than eight years
since he’d been able to bear even thinking about playing this, Gram’s favorite.
He remembered how she would sit beside him, insisting he go over and over the
difficult passages until he thought he would never, ever want to hear the piece
again. And then, one day, it was no longer notes, but music, and the beauty
brought tears to Gram’s eyes and to his. Whenever he played it, she’d sit in
her chair, her eyes closed, to listen.

Randy looked first at Sarah, then
at the page, put his fingers to the keys and let the music resonate through his
soul.

When he finished, Sarah came and
sat beside him. “What was that? It was wonderful.”

He blinked hard and swallowed before
he spoke. “Beethoven.
Pathetique.
Gram’s favorite.”

“Do you only play classical
music?”

“Nope. Gram laid the foundation
with the classics, but she loved all music. I worked my way through college
playing in hotel lobbies, lounges and piano bars. The tips were good if you
could play the requests, so I kept on top of things. Once I got into the police
academy, I stopped adding to my repertoire, but I have a good ear. If I know
the tune, I can fake it.”

“How did your Gram manage to get
a kid to study classical music? I’d have thought you would have wanted to play
the popular stuff you heard on the radio.”

“Cartoons.”

“What?”

“We’d watch television on
Saturday mornings and after lunch, Gram would play the melodies from the
cartoons. There’s a lot of Mozart in Looney Tunes, you know. And Wagner.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“It worked. I thought I was
playing cartoon music. By the time I figured it out, I was hooked.”

Sarah named songs, lyrics and
composers. Randy met every challenge, enjoying the music as he hadn’t in so
long. Maybe the audience made all the difference.

“I can’t believe you can play
this stuff off the top of your head,” Sarah said.

“After a while, the notes are in
the muscles. The brain hears the melody and the fingers follow along. It’s
turning the notes to music that takes practice—’letting your soul through’, as
Gram used to say.”

“I’m glad you’re talking about
her.”

He kissed the top of Sarah’s
head. “I am too.”

* * * * *

They stood outside the door to
Sarah’s apartment, fingers entwined. “I’d invite you in,” Sarah said, “but I’m
afraid we both might be late for work tomorrow.”

“Can’t have that. Now that we
caught your Gertie, I’ve got a little more elbow room to dig. I’ll be busy, but
maybe we can get together after work?”

“I’d like that.” She stood on
tiptoe, tilted her head up in invitation.

Randy gave her a kiss that
reached her toes. “Good night. Be careful.”

“You, too.” She locked the door
behind him, the taste of his kiss lingering on her lips.

Wonderful as the day had been,
she had things to do. As she navigated the back stairs with her trash, the
night chill stiffened her nipples against the fabric of her—Randy’s—shirt and
she thought of his touch. Smiling, she walked to the alley and set the bag down
while she wrestled with the heavy lid of the Dumpster.

A shadowy form appeared from
behind it. Her heart raced. The lid fell with a loud clang as Sarah turned to
run. She hadn’t gone three steps before an arm wrapped around her chest.

“I said I’d take care of you. You
didn’t listen, so we’ll have to do it this way.”

She squirmed away from his grasp,
but he was too strong. A cloth covered her mouth. When she took a breath to
scream, she inhaled a sickly sweet smell and then blackness engulfed her.