The Girl of Sand & Fog (35 page)

It is hard to comprehend that this is Bobby
talking so passionately about his work. When we were together his life pretty
much consisted of surfing and me. This is a new side of him: this confident,
take-charge, passionate man. It’s totally unfamiliar…but totally a turn-on.

We’ve walked almost to the truck and I didn’t
even notice where Bobby was taking me.

“Do you have time for a glass of wine before I
take you back to the city?” he asks.

I’m not going back to the city
, my
body screams.

I smile and nod. “I might even be convinced to
stay for dinner. It’s getting late. I’m hungry.”

Bobby laughs. “There’s not much here to make for
you. I still can’t cook.”

I smile up at him hopefully. “We could order in.”

The smile tugs at the corners of his lips and I
want desperately to kiss him. “If you want.”

I stop, tired of the careful talk and holding my
heart at bay. “I want, Bobby. I want very much to stay. To get to know each
other again. To reconnect with my best friend.”

I brace myself to look into his eyes to see how
that one hit him and the expression on his face takes my breath away.

“Did we ever disconnect, Kaley?” Bobby asks. This
time he steps into me and takes my hand. “Stay, Kaley. Stay the night with me.”

His mouth lowers to me. I ease up on my tiptoes
to him. His fingers spread wide to hold my cheeks and then Bobby is kissing me
with starving purpose and remembered sweetness.

More emotion than I ever thought possible pulses
through my veins and the weight of two years without him shrinks to
nothingness.

Even though this is far from our first kiss—heck,
I gave myself first to Bobby when we were in high school—there is a luscious
freshness, a newness to it all, thrilling because it is also blending with all
that I remember and have always felt for him.

Our tongues swirl in a knowing dance, and a groan
of pleasure vibrates from his lips into mine as I mold my body into him,
letting him lead us in this mating ritual, this gentle prelude to lovemaking,
so much richer because there is no need for words. We know each other
intimately and our bodies know the dance.

Being here with Bobby like this is every fantasy,
every dream I’ve conjured for the past two years, and I’m not about to let
anything end this. Feeling him start to ease back, this time I step in, kissing
him.

To hell with the food. I want him now.

Against my lips, he whispers, “Is that a yes? You
are staying the night with me?”

I’m about to whisper, “I’m staying forever,” when
I am suddenly pushed back by a barking, free-running dog. It starts pushing up against
me with its massive body and I’m more than a little afraid because the dog is
huge and looks determined to separate us. This pit bull looks so much bigger
outside a cage.

I keep a watchful eye toward the ground and press
full length into Bobby. It looks very protective of its owner.

His laughter swirls in my curls. “She won’t hurt
you, Kaley. Tiki is very jealous. She’s not used to having competition for my
attention.”

Flushing and more than a little pleased with
that, I say, “Glad to hear it. Now can you have her give me a little space?”

“I would never let anything happen to you. You’re
perfectly safe so long as you stay close to me.”

Bobby’s smile is a touch seductive, a touch
teasing, and a touch amused. I want to laugh and hit him, but that is not a
good idea right now, especially with the way Tiki is staring at me.

“I’d be more than happy to stay close to you if
you get her to stay
not
so close to me. Is she this jealous with all
your dates?”

“I don’t know. I’ve already told you. I haven’t
brought anyone to the house.”

My heart sings with happiness over that.

Bobby steps back from me. “Down, Tiki. Sit.”
Bobby’s voice is commanding even in his usual wonderful, gentle tone.

The dog immediately obeys.

Bobby smiles. “It’s all right, girl. This is Kaley.
She’s a friend.”

I watch him scratch Tiki’s head and am reminded
of how marvelous his touch is and that we were—or at least, what I hoped before
the interruption—on our way to bed and reconciliation.

My smile suddenly turns into a frown. “Just a
friend?”

He grins at me. “If I tell her more she may not
want to accept you into the pack.”

I laugh. “Then don’t tell her more. I want very
much to be welcomed here.”

Bobby’s smile shoots straight to my heart. “Why
don’t we go inside for the wine?”

He holds his hand out to me and I take it. He
opens the screen door and I precede him into the comfy living room. Something
brushes the back of my leg and I look down to see Tiki close to me instead of
Bobby.

I look back at him just as he steps through the
door and the image of him surrounded in sunshine makes my body throb with
anxious want. Everything about him is gentle and good, male and perfect. I
savor the sight of him and can’t believe that I chatted to a stranger that he
was the perfect imperfect guy.

Bobby is the best man I’ve ever known. Beautiful
inside and out. And I can’t believe that I am here, again with him, and very
soon about to get to kiss and touch every speck of that glorious man.

The screen door make a little slap as it closes
and I shift my eyes to see Bobby studying me.

“Keep staring at me like that, Kaley, and you
won’t get the wine. Two years is a long time.”

There is nothing I can do to keep the smile from
my face. I used to dream this moment and now I’m here.

“That’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” I
whisper.

He pulls me against him, claiming a fast, heated
kiss, and then his laughter fills up the quiet house. “Then I’ll grab the wine
and you get into bed.”

How wonderful it is to hear the sound of his
laughter again. I want to lie in bed with him, stroll the aisles of a grocery
store, learn to love these dogs, and be forever with him and his laughter.

I watch him disappear into the kitchen. I take in
the lovely arrangement of the living room.

“Where did you get the money for all this?” I ask.

I hear laughter from the kitchen. “Kickstarter
campaign. Donations. I board some dogs. I hold training classes and I’m
thinking about releasing a book.”

“A book?”

He moves through the kitchen doorway, a bottle of
chardonnay and two glasses in hand. “I’ve got an outline and four thousand
words done. It’s about our foundation, our rescue operations, and the world of
illegal dog fighting. When it’s finished I’d like you to be the first to read
it. Everyone says the key to success is to market in multiple channels.”

He’s talking as though what we’re doing is not a
one-time thing and my heart takes off racing again. Still, I feel a little
worried that we haven’t covered any of our issues, not our breakup or
that
night
or details of exactly what this is.

I watch as he sets the wine on a table and puts
Tiki into her cage.

“Why are you caging her?”

“She likes it in there. It’s her safe zone and,
like I said before, she isn’t used to sharing me.”

I laugh and roll my eyes. “You don’t have to
pretend you haven’t been with anyone else since we broke up. I’m a big girl. I
can take it.”

Bobby steps closer to me and starts to speak, but
then his mouth is on mine before I can take in air. I am suddenly lost to
everything but the feel of him and he is moving us toward the bedroom. He
plunders deeply in my mouth and I find myself opening all parts of me to him.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed that.” He
kicks closed the bedroom door behind us. “We can talk as much or as little as
you want later. I’ll tell you anything, everything you want to know. But I am
not going to bed one more time without you.”

He is staring at me with hungry eyes and I am
just as anxious to make love to him and to kick from the room anything that
might interfere with us loving each other forever.

I lean in closer as he starts to unbutton my
dress. It may be the wrong time, wrong moment, but I can’t stop myself and I
say, “I love you. I may have made a mess of us, but I have never not loved
you.”

My dress is gone and Bobby sweeps me up into his
arms. “I’ve always loved you and I’m going to love you the rest of my life.
That’s what I figured out in two years without you.”

“Me, too,” I whisper, kissing his neck and
feeling myself being lowered onto the bed. “Make love to me. I can’t wait
another moment.”

And then we are not waiting, we are naked in bed
together, my flesh pressed to his flesh, my lips are being devoured by his, and
the urgency of our bodies is capering in the air and making the room electric.
All my parts awaken at once. How have I managed to survive two years without
this?

The bed smells of fresh washing and Bobby, and
the two scents together are rightly so. Fresh sheets. He planned this.
Everything below my waist begins to throb madly. He wanted me even before I
followed him here.

His kisses run over my mouth, my cheeks and neck
as if he’s reclaiming the feel of me and I am just as frantic to reclaim the
feel of him.

He turns me beneath him on the bed and lowers his
mouth to flick at my nipple. A violent shudder rolls down my limbs and I moan,
arching into him, filling my hands with his soft, chestnut waves. I move
against him in aching demand, feeling his hardness against my urging softness,
and wanting him inside me without delay.

My body is boiling and I don’t want to come
before he’s inside me. Later, we’ll take each other with leisure, but this
yearning I feel is too greedy for play right now. His lips move from my
breasts. His thumbs gently stroke my nipples as his kiss roams downward to my
navel, his tongue swirling the acutely receptive flesh there. My muscles below
clench and Bobby moans, moving downward, always downward in his kisses.

“I love the way you feel against my fingers and
my lips,” he whispers, knowing exactly how to tease, tempt and get me to beg.
“I love the way you taste.”

I arch upward on the pillow. “Then taste me,
Bobby, and get in me fast.”

His laughter vibrates against my lower abdomen.
“Not a chance. I’m taking my time with you. Having you my way.”

With lips and hands he lowers to that spot
desperate for release. A light blow against me. A kiss near and not there. My
flesh is burning, I am throbbing and ready for him. I want to jerk up and force
him to that part of me aching for him. I hold myself back, letting him guide me
there. This time I’m going to let Bobby take me his way…

Something
pulls me from sleep—a cell phone?—and I slowly give myself over to waking when
all I want to do is snuggle deeper into the sheets and sleep. Every part of my
body is limp and sated for the first time in two years.

Bobby’s way was slow, glorious, torturous, and
magnificent. I’ve always been the more eager and aggressive one, and Bobby’s
preference for slow savoring of the senses used to make me secretly wonder if
his leisurely self-control meant he wasn’t really turned on by me.

How paranoid and insecure I used to be at times.
I always wanted a frenzied rush to orgasm as confirmation that he was totally
into me. If the guy fucked me hard and fast it meant he couldn’t contain his
desire for me.

Boy, did I get that one wrong. His unhurried,
sensual play is more potent and erotic, more deeply connecting than anything
I’ve ever known with Bobby. The man made a symphony out of making love to me.
All of my senses have been blissfully fed and I am consumed by my love for him
in a peaceful intensity that is so very right.

I pull a little more out of grogginess and
realize that Bobby is talking on the phone. I open my eyes. The bedroom is
dark, it’s night, and the light is on in the adjoining bathroom. I check the
clock: 2 a.m.

I pick up my panties and his shirt from the
floor, pull them on, and am just about to go into the bathroom to see what’s up
with that middle of the night call when Bobby steps into the bedroom.

My eyes widen. The call has ended and he’s
dressed. OK, what’s up with that? He crosses to me and plants a fast but
fevered kiss on my lips.

He smiles. “I’m sorry that I woke you. I need to
go out for a while. I shouldn’t be long.”

I sit down on the bed as Bobby sinks into a chair
and begins to pull on a pair of hiking boots.

I frown. “Where are you going?”

He doesn’t look up and continues to lace. “It’s
no big deal. Just something I’ve got to do.”

I tense. Why isn’t he just telling me? He’s
purposely not being specific and I don’t like that, not one bit. Bobby never
withheld anything when we were together before.

“You’re not going to tell me where you’re going?”
I ask, beating off the rising temper and suspicion hopefully to a point where
he can’t hear it in my voice.