Petite Madeleine: Drew's Story (Meadows Shore Book 3) (12 page)

The waitress brought a dish of plump little dumplings with golden, crispy skins. “These tiny suckers are amazing. Close your eyes,” he said carefully lifting the plumpest dumpling off the plate with chopsticks, and giving it a quick dunk in the sauce.

“Close my eyes?”

“Yeah. Everything’s better with your eyes closed. Your sense of smell, and all the sensations on your tongue, will be heightened.”

She leaned toward him, resting a hand on his thigh. “Are we talking about dumplings? Because I remember that you liked me to keep my eyes open.”

His groan sent a shudder, a powerful surge through him that nearly dislodged the dumpling from the chopsticks and sent it toppling into her lap.

His throat bobbed, and he leaned closer to her. “We’ll try it both ways, first with your eyes open so I can watch you come apart, and then you’ll close them, and I’ll use my imagination when you begin to tumble…” He leaned in even closer. “But I’m not sure if I can trust you not to peek, we may need a blindfold to keep you honest.”

She gulped softly, and a small moan escaped from her lips.

He smiled. “Just remember, I’m not the one who keeps steering the conversation in that direction. Now close ‘em,” he commanded, bringing the succulent morsel
to her mouth.

“
Mmmm
,” she moaned again. “It’s delicious.”

* * *

When she opened her eyes, he was gazing at her through heavy lids, a look she’d seen so often she’d recognize it anywhere. She also knew exactly what came after that look, and it made every inch of her flesh burn.

They shared several small plates, alternating between feeding each other and feeding themselves, until neither could eat another bite.

“Are you game to walk off some dinner? It’s a good distance back to my place, but we can find a cab when we get tired of walking.”

“I’d love to walk. I haven’t spent a lot of time in Boston—it’ll give me a chance to get a feel for the city.”

“Boston feels more like a small town than a city to me. And when the Blues are on a losing streak, it can feel too small.”

“Tell me about how the team’s doing. I read the papers, but what’s the real scoop?”

“Can I trust you not to call the Yankees’ front office?”

“Since you fed me such an amazing dinner, I think so.”

He dragged her in, tight against him. “Sounds like you can be bought easily, too easily. Never knew that about you.”

She wondered if she’d overstepped. If maybe he didn’t want to tell her about the team, shouldn’t tell her. “I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable position. I completely understand about team secrets.”

“I was teasing. I don’t need to keep secrets from you, Cassie. I trust you implicitly, and, to be honest, it’s nice to have someone to bounce stuff off. Someone who’s not too close to the action, but who’s smart, with good judgment.”

“I’m all ears, anytime you need a sounding board. I’m honored you’d think I’m up for the task.”

“More than up for it.”

He squeezed her hand. “The Blues are a young team, with a boatload of talent, and a lot of heart, but we’re still waiting for leaders to emerge. Although Joe Jacowski, Ski, is a very experienced manager who knows more about team building than anyone I’ve ever met, and he gets the best from his young players. Hiring him was the best move I’ve made since I’ve been here. We may not be playoff contenders this year, but next season will be a totally different story.”

He pulled her closer. “We’re not too far now. You still okay to walk?”

“Yes. Look,” she said tugging him across the street. “Satin and Lace, that’s where you got me that gorgeous lingerie.”

“Mm-hm. It’s where the robe’s from too. I also picked up a couple of other things in there.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Really?”

“They sell a few other sexy things, besides lingerie.”

“Will we need the soundproof room?”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Not for this stuff.”

She looked in the widow, hoping to get a peek of what else he might have picked up. “They have some beautiful things—maybe I’ll check it out tomorrow while you’re at work.”

“Aren’t you coming to the game?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it. But I don’t need to be there as early as you do. I might do a little shopping on my way over.”

As soon as they got back to his place, she slipped off her shoes and curled up on one end of the sofa facing him, and he sat smack in the middle, tucked into the elbow.

He knew she was going to tell him every last thing that had happened to her while they were apart. Everything that she hadn’t already told him, and he could tell she was anxious to get it over with. That’s how she was, she ruminated some, but once she made up her mind she went full steam ahead.

She’d indulged him, and herself, with dinner, but he knew he was about to hear things he didn’t really want to hear right before bed, things that would keep him up and give him nightmares. And when he woke up in a cold sweat, he’d be alone, because she wouldn’t be lying in his arms tonight offering comfort. And that’s how it needed to be.

“You’re humming.” He slid closer to her and lifted her legs onto his lap, massaging one calf down to her Achilles tendon and then the other. “We can do this tomorrow.”

“I’ve kept this from you for too long. I don’t want it between us anymore.” She smiled, not a happy smile, but a lost, tentative curl.

“I was scared, so scared when the doctor called me with the results, and everyone around me was terrified, too. And anyone who wasn’t terrified was horrified. They’d say things like, ‘It’s all going to be fine, you’re going to beat this,’ or ‘there are advances made every day in the field.’ But the look on their faces said something different, something very different. Even the medical people.”

Her legs were still on his lap, and although he kept working his fingers into the muscles, they were getting tighter and tighter.

“Reece had just left on a two-week cruise. She’d used some of her signing bonus to take her mother on the trip of a lifetime. Even if I could have reached her, I wouldn’t have tried. So I kept my feelings to myself, tried to shut them down, to control them, because I didn’t want to freak everyone out more than they already were. Especially my parents.”

He glanced down,
Jesus!
His overzealous massaging had left angry red imprints all over her legs.
She hadn’t even noticed. With gentle strokes, he tried to soothe the inflamed skin.

“Cancer is a grim word—we associate it with death, even though there are plenty of survivors. People I’d known my whole life began to avoid me, and I know it was mostly because they didn’t know what to say. Others began to separate from me because they were sure I was dying. I found myself comforting my friends, my parent’s friends. On top of everything else, it was exhausting.”

She burrowed further into the corner of the huge sofa, letting the frame fully support her small body. “One day I was healthy as a horse, and the next everyone was treating me like I was sick. Like I’d always be sick … until I died.”

“You’re not sick now, Cass.”

She shook her head. “It seemed like all I talked about for a year, all I did, was cancer-related. It was my whole life. How depressing is that? I tried to keep a positive attitude, because it’s vital to recovery. At least that’s what everyone kept telling me. Positive thoughts will help you survive.

“But in the beginning I was afraid, deathly afraid, especially late at night, when doubts would creep in and I’d be too tired to push them away. I’d imagine myself lying in a casket surrounded by a sea of floral arrangements lined up in tiers, or buried underground, until I could barely breathe. I had this reoccurring nightmare where I was trapped in a casket, and they were shoveling dirt over my body, and I was pounding until my hands bled, screaming, ‘I’m alive, I’m alive.’ But no one could hear me.

“There were days when I didn’t let myself fall asleep until the sun began to peek through my window, as though the daylight would save me. Eventually the surgeries, and the worst of the treatment ended, and I began to heal and get stronger. I could eat breakfast, shower, and get dressed without stopping to rest in between.”

He pulled her onto his lap because he couldn’t take it anymore, and he didn’t want her to see the tears that were about to spill down his cheeks.

“I worked with a therapist, went to a support group for young survivors, and learned how to meditate.”

“Meditate, huh?” he said gruffly, struggling mightily with the emotion.

“My peaceful place, the place I’d always go when I meditated, was Meadows Shore. To the night we sneaked down to the beach with a blanket and made love on the sand, hidden by the seawall while the moon made shadows dance on the water. The sound of the waves lapping on the shore lulled me to sleep so many nights. That and your warm breath on my skin, your strong arms wrapped around me, keeping me safe while I slept.”

He tightened his grip on her. “You’re safe now, baby. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
Except cancer, I can’t do a fucking thing about the cancer
.

“When I packed up your room after you left Brown, I kept one of your T-shirts. I never washed it. When I got sick, I slept with it near me so often that eventually my smell was mixed with yours.”

His head was about to explode. What a poor excuse for a man he was, a goddamn failure—she’d needed him desperately, and he hadn’t been there for her. His heart was crumbling again. Since she’d told him about the cancer, it had broken so many times that there had to be pieces missing. Large chunks that could never be put back in place.

“After my final reconstruction surgery, I celebrated by getting drunk and picking up a guy—a complete stranger, in a bar, and I had sex with him. I wanted to see if he’d notice, if he’d be repulsed. I wanted to try out my new body with someone who didn’t matter… After the love that was always part of even our edgiest sex, that one-night stand was the most dehumanizing experience of the whole ordeal. Like a capstone project, it was the culmination of every indignity, readying me for the next phase of my miserable life.”

“Cassie,” he pulled her tighter against his chest and rocked with her on the sofa until they both were breathing normally again.

“Then I went to work for my dad, and that’s when I met Ned. Some days I could scarcely believe a decent guy wanted me… You know the rest.”

Yeah, he knew the rest, but there was one more piece, one enormous piece. The elephant was still in the room, sprawled out in the corner, taunting him, taunting her, and taking up too much valuable space. He wanted it out, banished forever. Not just for him, but for her too.

“Cass?”

“Hmmm?”

“Will you let me see your breasts?” he asked quietly, and she tensed in against him. “You’ve shared so much with me tonight, please share the rest. Do it for both of us.”

They sat on the sofa, with her in his lap, for a good five minutes, maybe longer. It felt like five hours. Neither of them spoke, neither of them moved.

Then with unsteady hands, she began to fumble with the top button on her shirt. But her fingers were thick and heavy, and she was on the precipice of tears again.

“Will you let me help?” he whispered.

She nodded.

And with hands almost as unsteady as hers, he gently moved her to the plush rug in front of the fireplace, and he lay down beside her. Kissing her, caressing her face, her arms, and her back with shaky hands.

He met her eyes, and with her face awash in trust laced with fear, she nodded again.

His clumsy fingers finally freed the first small button, and his lips found hers. He captured her mouth again and again while each button was slipped from its tether. His tongue stole into her mouth, exploring, distracting, leading them both to a safe, familiar place.

He brushed his hand over her damp forehead. “Sweetheart, this isn’t a prelude to sex. It’s about getting comfortable together after a long time apart.”

She nodded, but he could feel her fear, smell it seeping from every pore.

She hadn’t been this scared the night he took her virginity, and more than a small part of him wanted to stop, button her shirt, and simply hold her for the rest of the night. Hold her for the rest of his life. Save her from the embarrassment, save himself from the pain. But their relationship wasn’t going anywhere until they’d moved past this difficult moment, and they were so close he could see daylight on the horizon.

Nothing about this was about the physical—it was all emotional. She needed to know that he wouldn’t reject her, and he needed to know he was a man, the man she needed. Her breasts had become the physical manifestation of all their fears, all their worries.

“Do you remember the first time we made love? When I promised to go slow, that I wouldn’t hurt you?”

She nodded. He was acutely aware that she hadn’t uttered a single word since he’d asked to see her breasts.

“Did I keep my word?”

She nodded again.

“I had no freakin’ idea what I was doing.” He kissed the bridge of her nose. “My self-control is better now, and I promise we won’t do anything that hurts you. Anything you don’t want to do. You stop me if it gets to be too much.”

Before he opened her shirt, he pulled his off. “We both need to get to know each other again. My body’s changed too.”

He gently pulled aside the fabric, and trailed barely-there kisses over her neck, moving slowly to her décolletage where it met the tops of her breasts. In no hurry, he allowed his tongue to linger, gliding over the tender skin until her hips lifted off the floor.

When she shrugged the shirt off her shoulders, signaling him to continue his exploration, he gasped at the intricate purple lace covering her breasts, gently tracing the contours, first with his finger and then with his tongue. He rested his index fingers over the tiny clasp in front, placing a small kiss there before meeting her eyes.

She nodded, her expression was becoming more relaxed, and he saw a faint light in her eyes beginning to break through the clouds.

His heart was beating so fast he was practically panting. Struggling to control his breath, he ran the point of his tongue over the sensitive skin surrounding the tiny clasp before freeing it.

He kept his eyes locked on hers while his fingers eased the clasp open. Deathly afraid of doing something that would hurt her, upset her.

When her bra fell open, he lowered his head to reach one firmly beaded nub, and with a feather stroke, he circled his thumb around the other. Alternating between her mouth and her breasts, he lavished attention on every inch of flesh.

Tasting.

Lapping.

Arousing.

Soothing.

Her heart galloped wildly while he ran his tongue over the scars, accepting them, loving them the way he loved the rest of her. Her eyes were closed, but a small tear found its way out the corner and slid down her cheek toward her ear.

“Am I hurting you?”

Shaking her head, she finally spoke. “It’s numb there, around the scars. But your touch feels so good, so unbelievably good,” she whispered, arching her back slightly off the rug.

Her nipples puckered, like greedy buds, rewarding him for his attention by growing harder and tighter. He pulled himself back to admire her—tousled hair, red, swollen lips, lying with him while he enjoyed her. The groan that escaped came straight from his belly. He felt the tightening in his groin, the contraction that pushed the rough sound up through his throat, propelling it into the air between them.

“Cassie, you’re beautiful. I can’t believe you’re here, like this, with me. If I’m dreaming, please don’t wake me. Don’t ever wake me.” He skimmed his fingers over her ribs toward her belly, remembering the promise he’d made earlier in the week. The one he’d reminded himself of ever since. They wouldn’t make love this weekend.

“I need to stop.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, and immediately saw the trepidation in her eyes. She began searching his face for answers, wondering if he wanted her. He took her hand and held it over his erection. “Can you feel the throbbing, feel the need?”

He brushed his lips over hers. “There’s your answer, sweetheart. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted you, if that’s even possible.”

The light was back.

She moved her fingers, massaging, rubbing his cock through the worn denim.

For a minute he forgot all about promises, all about cancer, and pushed himself into her eager hand.
God, it felt so good.
With a low growl, he grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth, caressing the smooth skin. “Not tonight, sweetheart. We’re still getting comfortable again. I promised myself we’d be smart about this, careful.”

“Let me sleep in your arms tonight.”

He let his head fall back, giving his self-control a chance to kick in. “I can’t baby. I won’t be able to stop. We need to talk some more, I still need to tell you my stuff, and you need to tell me more. If we—it’ll get all jumbled, make everything more complicated. I don’t want to take any chances—you’re too important to me.”

They clung to each other, skin resting on skin, feeding the desire, and pushing his control to the outer limits.

He got up off the floor, and lifted her, carrying her to the guest room, where he laid her gently on the bed. “I love you, Cassie, too much to give in to the physical need. I want us to finish with the past so we never have to spend another night apart.”