Something Fierce (4 page)

His hot breath on her cheek, he said, “You make me crazy,” but said it like crazy was a good thing. And…
he was trembling.

She looked back at him and this was a new moment. He didn’t seem to know that he’d taken this thing from her, tore it right out of her grasp and was the one in control here and since he didn’t know, she could take it back. “Not here,” she said, still fearing his reaction, but making eye contact again.

“Right,” he said, glancing out the steamed passenger window, like they’d just landed here and he was surprised to see where they were. “I’m sorry.”

Her heart was slowing. “How far are we from where you live?”

“Too far,” he said, smiling, Professor Hotness…between the lines. “Twenty minutes or so.”

She asked for the neighborhood and when he told her, she insisted that she knew a shortcut that required getting back on I-90. It wasn’t a shortcut; it was in fact, the long way around, but I-90 would work better than surface streets for her. He didn’t argue and she was sure he’d have no complaints about the extra miles when they arrived at his place.

They were unable to stop touching, his hand moving from the gearshift to her leg at every stop, kisses at red lights. As soon as they got onto 90, she leaned over the console and kissed his cheek. He smelled so good and she could feel his whole body responding to her.

He gave her a sideways kiss while trying to keep his eyes forward and on the road. Then another, and another. “Okay,” he said. “We have to stop. I don’t want to get us killed.” But his right hand was rubbing up and down her thigh, squeezing. She loved it, watching him trying to concentrate but being unable to because of his longing
for her
. For her and her alone. She was the only woman in the world to him right now and nothing made her hotter. Each touch of his lips, each flick of his tongue tingled through her, not satiating the hunger, but intensifying it, making her braver, bolder, putting her back in control of the situation.

She brushed her cheek along his, lightly kissing the corner of his mouth. His breathing was getting deeper. He shifted in the seat. He let out a groan and the wicked look she’d seen in his eyes earlier seeped into his voice. “Behave,” he demanded, but everything else about him was saying
don’t stop!

And so she didn’t, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. “No,” he said but didn’t try to stop her, catching his breath as she wrapped her cold hand around him. The Ford jerked and swayed as he swerved into the right lane. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Taking the next exit.”

“No! Let’s go to your place.”

“I need a full-on kiss
now
.”

“A kiss?” she asked. “Is that what you need?”

“Among other things, yes, I do.”

She looked at the approaching exit. “There’s nothing here. Keep going. Please.”

“Okay. But…”

“But what?” she asked, noting that there was just enough space between the steering wheel and his hips for her head.

He put his hand on hers and gently pulled it away from his crotch. “You have to behave. Just until we get there. Nothing spoils the mood like a car accident.”

His wicked look and tone were ever so slightly beginning to fade and she didn’t like it. “You really want me to behave?”

“Our first time…shouldn’t be…”

She laughed and nuzzled into his shoulder, leather and that manly cologne she’d never smelled on anyone before. “You are so sweet!”

“Yeah, I’m a real humanitarian…on my way to have sex with a student half my age.”

“Former student,” she said, kissing his cheek, and taking him in her hand again. She whispered in his ear, “Welcome to Cleveland,” and began her descent.

S
eth Hardy was half
asleep
but he was smiling and felt so incredibly good that he was almost afraid to wake up. As he drifted toward consciousness, he realized that the past twenty-four hours had either been nothing more than a wonderful, sexy dream—which would be a little disappointing—or he was in a bit of a pickle. When he opened his eyes, he and Kerri Engel were on opposite sides of the king-sized bed, naked, he on his back, she on her stomach, like they had been caught up in and discarded by some great storm. Still asleep, Kerri looked too innocent—save the rug burns on her pert, round ass—to be the vixen he’d met at Coffee and Books yesterday. The sheets and blankets were on the floor. He gathered them and covered her, gently tucking them around her shoulders. She stirred a little and without opening her eyes or waking up, sighed, “I love you, Seth.”

Definitely a pickle.

He put on a well-worn, blue robe and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, wondering what he had in the house for breakfast. He knew she was a vegetarian but wasn’t sure what variety. He had eggs, which she may or may not eat, bacon which was clearly out, pancakes, which were a pretty safe bet, and coffee which she loved and claimed to be somewhat of a connoisseur. He decided to start there and went down the hall and up the stairs of Dr. Robert Jarrell’s four-bedroom house.

In the kitchen, he moved aside his everyday coffee and broke the seal of an expensive, gourmet blend he thought she might enjoy. Spooning it into a filter, he had that same feeling he had awoken to. While yesterday and last night were incredible, the morning reminded him of all the things there were to be concerned about here: her age, the troubled past she’d confessed during last night’s conversations, the staggering speed with which things were moving, the irreversible fact that their last coupling had been without a condom.

He walked into the adjoining living room in a kind of daze, his bare feet on the shiny hardwood floors, his hands shoved into the pockets of his old robe. He stood by the wall of windows. Last night’s snow had added another several inches to the four that had already been on the ground. The day was bright and clear and calm. The branches of the giant pine trees drooped under the weight of the new snow, the fire pit wasn’t visible at all and the chairs surrounding it appeared as miniature hills, sparkling and pristine in the morning sun.

“Ecstasy,” he mumbled, recalling his one and only experience with hard drugs. It had been a couple of years ago with Megan, the great love of his life, in Los Angeles. Their four-year relationship was ending and it was killing them both. Not only had they been lovers and partners, they’d also been friends. Their experiment with the drug was a distraction during the inevitable split and one of the last adventures they had as a couple. He had never had any interest in drugs and was resistant to the idea at first, but his curiosity got the best of him and swallowing the pill had been the point of no return.

The first part hadn’t been pleasant. He’d felt nauseous and clammy. Trying not to panic, he remembered mumbling a prayer for guidance which seemed to be answered as he passed through the bad feelings like a dark tunnel and found heaven on the other side. All of his senses had been turned up. It was as if all the boundaries and limits that he accepted in everyday life were gone. Anything was possible, nothing was taken for granted. He could feel every individual blade of grass under his feet in the backyard of the mansion they’d been house-sitting at the time. The trees surrounding the place, the flowerbeds, the pool, the sky, the stars were so overwhelmingly beautiful that he could hardly stand it; he and Megan had spent hours contemplating them. And of course, they had rediscovered each other’s bodies and made love again and again.

That’s what yesterday and last night with Kerri were like, he thought, still gazing out the window at the unbroken snow. It was like taking Ecstasy. Even now, the morning after, he felt very much like he had then. He was grateful for the experience, but sort of out of it, drained, not just physically, but emotionally and mentally too. Like he had been some place amazing but a place that wasn’t quite real, a place he didn’t belong and that he would be wise to never return to.

He sat down on the leather chair. The coffee maker grumbled and let out its final sigh. Seth looked toward the kitchen and remembered lying on the tile floor last night with Kerri on top of him, moving herself into position. He should have stopped, should have insisted on going downstairs for another condom. “I’m on the pill,” she’d said, her long hair falling into his face, her warm breath tickling his ear, “I’ve been on it for years.”
Pregnancy isn’t the only issue
, he meant to say, but for some reason, didn’t.

They had the “so-who-else-are-you-sleeping-with?” talk, but it came after the kitchen floor. He didn’t have a current lover to confess and volunteered that he hadn’t slept with a woman since arriving in Ohio five months ago. Kerri found this astounding for someone that she knew was “a freak in the bedroom”—supposedly a compliment—the moment she’d laid eyes on him. But she understood, claiming that she was very picky herself and that she hadn’t been with a man in over a year. It troubled Seth that he didn’t believe her. When he had been this intimate with a woman in the past, he never questioned her integrity. He just knew she was telling the truth. But with Kerri, he wasn’t sure. Nor did he know why he doubted her. Maybe it was because things were happening much too quickly and intensely. Or maybe it was because…she was lying.

As it turned out, she too was a freak in the bedroom as well as in the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, and on the stairs. She liked it rough. “If you are going to spank me,” she growled into his ear after he had impulsively slapped her ass in the midst of their second go around, “then
spank me!
” She also liked to have her hair pulled, her nipples pinched. And she liked to bite.

His robe had slipped off of his knee and he noticed that the Persian rug had left a rash on it matching the one he’d seen on Kerri’s ass earlier. He opened his robe the whole way and surveyed the rest of the damage. The other knee was red too. There was a purplish bite on his chest. The flesh covering his pelvic bone was sore. He pressed the area lightly with the pads of his fingers. It was bruised. He lifted his penis which felt raw and looked a little swollen.

“We didn’t break it, did we?” Kerri asked from behind Seth.

“I sure hope not,” he said, covering himself and getting to his feet.

“Do you mind?” she said, indicating the button-down shirt she was wearing, one she had taken from his closet.

“Not at all,” he said. “It never looked better. Ready for some coffee?”

“You’re a saint!”

“Yeah, right,” he said, heading for the kitchen.

“No kiss?” she asked, moving in front of him.

He laid his hands on her hips and kissed her softly. She smelled like sex and he noticed that she wasn’t wearing anything under the shirt. He started to stiffen, a sensation that was almost more painful than pleasurable at this point.

“It’s still working,” she whispered, indicating his growing erection.

“Overtime,” he whispered back.

“No kidding. Is that all you think about?”

“That’s not what I’m thinking,” he said. “That’s just my physical response to you.”

“What
are
you thinking?”

“In a word?” he said. “Chafe.”

Kerri burst out with the loudest laugh he’d heard from her yet, covering her mouth, like she’d done when he met her at the coffee shop yesterday, like she’d done many times during last night’s conversations. He wondered where she had picked up the habit. Maybe as a girl with braces, hiding them when she laughed. Her teeth were so straight and white that it would seem likely that nature had a little help. “I know!” she said, “I came up the stairs bow-legged.”

“We’re an explosive combination, Kerri. I think there’s something wrong with us,” Seth said, taking two mugs from the cupboard. “This isn’t natural. It can’t be healthy.”

She was still laughing. “So you’re not always like this?”

“No, I generally like to stop well this side of…black and blue. Yourself?”

“Hell, no!” she said. “Not even close. I didn’t know it was possible to have that much sex in one night.” Seth handed Kerri a mug of coffee and sat out milk and sugar. “You’re supposed to say,” Kerri continued, “me neither!”

“I’m twenty years older than you, remember.” He covered his face with his hands. “Oh God! I’ve become a dirty old man.”

“Don’t start that again.”

“A cradle-robber.”

Kerri rolled her eyes.

“A creep.”

“Do you want to wear this coffee?” she asked.

He sighed and looked at her. “There’s no way around it. You are really young.”

“In years maybe,” she said. “Not in experience. Age is relative. It’s a number. We’ve already had this conversation. A couple of times.”

They had and Seth had admitted that Kerri was far from a typical twenty-year-old. She was as experienced as he had been at twenty-five or twenty-six. And if he hadn’t known better, he wouldn’t have guessed her a day under that. “Do you like eggs?” he asked.

“If they’re scrambled,” she said, “but I don’t usually eat breakfast. Just the coffee is fine, which by the way, is incredible.”

“I’m glad you like you it. Humor me on breakfast,” he said. “I never get to cook for anyone. So you like scrambled eggs. How about pancakes?”

“Pancakes are good. Can I help?”

“Nope. Relax. Let me serve you.”

“My, my, Mr. Hardy, aren’t you the perfect host?” She lifted her shirt in the back and twisted around to study her behind. “I have red marks all over my butt.”

“That would be the Persian rug,” Seth said, covering the counter with bowls and utensils. He pointed to her legs. “Got them on your knees too.”

She looked down. “Holy hell. We were bad.”

“Yes, we were. All over Dr. Jarrell’s rug. He’s very proud of that rug. I hope we didn’t leave it any worse for wear.”

“So what’s the deal with him again?” Kerri said, pulling up a bar stool. She sat crossed-legged on it and nestled the mug of coffee in both hands.

“He’s a professor at Northeast. On sabbatical for the year. In Germany, I think. His wife passed away; kids are all grown. They couldn’t offer me much money, but when Dr. Jarrell threw in his house for the price of utilities, I jumped on it. It’s a win-win. He gets someone to take care of his house while he’s gone and I get,” Seth gestured grandly, “all this.”