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Mel stroked his back, tasted his mouth, her body still quivering from a thundering climax. She felt the muscles of his shoulders and back at work as he held himself up enough to keep from crushing her with his weight. When he released her mouth and looked into her eyes, she saw in his a smoldering fire that was not even close to being extinguished. She put her palm against his cheek. “Oh, Jack,” she said, breathless. His name on her lips brought him such pleasure, he felt himself expand somewhere inside his chest, as if his heart grew just a little bit. He lowered his lips and sucked gently at hers. “Are you all right?” he asked softly.
“You were right there. You know exactly how all right I am,” she said. “It’s been a long, long time.”
“It’s never going to be that long again,” he whispered. “Not ever again.”
He began to move down her body with his lips and tongue, kissing and nibbling, tasting in slow, delicate strokes. He ran a tongue around each nipple until they were hard little pebbles, perfect for his mouth. He slid lower, until he had moved down over her flat belly. He gently parted her legs and buried his face in her, hearing her gasp above him. No longer delicate, he went to work on that prominent, erogenous knot in her center. He felt her moving her hips against his mouth and when her breathing became rapid and labored once more he rose, slowly kissing his way up her body.
“God, you’re sweet,” he whispered against her lips. “You taste like heaven.” He slid into her again, filling her, moving in long deep strokes that became powerful thrusts that brought her to yet another shattering climax. Again she cried out and he covered her open mouth with his. Swept away, she couldn’t be quiet, and that thrilled him. Every sound, every wild cry gave him joy. He held her as she collapsed beneath him, spent.
Jack felt her small hands on his back, her lips on his neck, and her breathing inevitably slowed and came under control. To his surprise he heard the sound of her soft laughter. He raised above her and looked at her smile. “You lied to me,” she said.
“You are a machine.”
“I just wanted to make you happy,” he said. “Are you happy?”
“I’ve been happy a couple of times. What can I do so that you can join me?”
He laced his fingers through hers and holding her hands, stretched her arms up above her head, holding them there. “Baby, you don’t have to do anything but be present.”
He lowered his mouth to hers, kissed her deeply and began to move inside her once more, pumping his hips. She lifted her knees and tilted beneath him, bringing him deeper, and he could feel her begin to move in concert with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he followed the rhythm she set in place. He rocked with her, slow and steady, deep and long, hanging on to control until he heard her moaning and sighing rise again, her tempo increased, and finally the noises she made, already familiar to him, already beautiful to him, told him she was reaching for yet another orgasm. He had expected her to be passionate, but the heat and power of her passion amazed him, and it filled a need in him. And this time, when she clenched around him and pleasure stole her breath away, he let himself go and matched her. Surpassed her. For a moment, through the powerful pulsing, he felt light-headed. His eyes watered. And he heard it again. “Jack!”
“Ah, Mel…Ah, baby,” he whispered, kissing her, loving her. He gently caressed her as she calmed. “Jack,” she whispered. “I’m sorry…”
“What do you have to be sorry about?” he asked in a whisper.
“I think I bit you.”
He laughed, a deep throaty sound. “I think you did. Is that a habit of yours?”
“I must have been a little out of control…”
He laughed again. “I take the blame,” he said. “That was all part of the plan.”
“Ohhhh,” she said. “I might’ve lost my mind there for a while.”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I love it when that happens.”
“You were taking a big chance, driving an already crazy woman out of her mind like that…”
“Nah, you were in good hands. You were always safe.” He kissed her softly. “Would you like to rest now?”
“Maybe for a little while,” she answered, her hands gentle on his face. He gathered her close to him, holding her. Their naked bodies entwined, they spooned. He kissed the back of her neck as she lay on his arm. His face rested against her soft, fragrant hair, one arm over her and cupping her breast. Very soon he could hear the sounds of her even breathing, her sleep. He closed his eyes and relaxed with her in his arms, finding sleep himself.
Sometime in the dark of night he opened his eyes to find she had rolled over to face him, her hands boldly caressing him. He kissed her and asked, “Have you slept?”
“I did,” she said. “And woke up wanting you. Again.”
“I guess it’s pretty obvious, the feeling is mutual.”
Mel woke in the early morning and to her surprise, there was a song in her head. She was humming along with Johnny Mathis in her sleep. “Deep Purple.” Her music was back.
She rolled over to find the bed beside her empty. She could hear the sound of Jack splitting logs in the backyard. She rinsed her mouth and rubbed his toothpaste against her teeth. A light blue, long-sleeved denim shirt hung on a hook in his closet and she put it on, sniffing the collar, smiling at his scent on it. It more than covered her; she was drowning in it. She went to the back door and stood watching him heft the ax and bring it down. Thwack. The air was clear and sharp; the rain was gone and the huge trees were washed clean. She watched him heft the ax again, and bring it down. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbows and his biceps rippled under the weight and force of the ax.
Then he looked in her direction. She lifted a hand toward him and smiled. He dropped the ax at once and came to her. As he stood before her, she put her hand on his chest. He ran the back of a knuckle against her pink cheek. “I think I roughed you up a little with whiskers.”
“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I like it. It feels right. Natural. Good.”
“I love the way you look in my shirt,” he said. “I love the way you look out of my shirt.”
“I think we have a little time,” she said.
He swooped her up into his arms, kicking the door closed behind him, and bore her gently to the bed.
Chapter Eleven
T he morning air was cool and foggy as Mel drove to her cabin. The front door was open, letting in the crisp June morning air. She kicked off her muddy boots on the porch and when she went inside found Joey sitting on the sofa, a quilt wrapped around her, a steaming cup of freshly brewed coffee on the table beside her. Joey lifted a side of the quilt for Mel and Mel went to her, cuddling beside her, resting her head on Joey’s shoulder. Joey pulled the quilt snugly around them both. “You okay, baby sis?” Joey asked.
“I’m okay. I lost it last night.” She turned her head and looked up at her older sister.
“Why didn’t I see that coming? You did.”
“The anniversary of deaths has a reputation,” she said. “Even if you don’t remember the exact date—it’ll sneak up on you and knock the wind out of you.”
“It sure did,” she said, lying her head back down on Joey’s shoulder. “I knew what day it was. I just didn’t expect such a dramatic event.”
Joey stroked Mel’s hair. “You weren’t alone, at least.”
“You just wouldn’t have believed it, even if you’d seen it. I was completely out of control, standing in the rain, screaming. I screamed for a long time. He just held me and let me. He kept telling me to let it out. Then he took care of me like you would a stroke victim. Undressed me, got me into dry clothes, gave me a brandy and put me to bed.”
“I think Jack must be a very good man…”
“Then I invited him into bed with me,” Mel said. Joey said nothing. “We made love all night long. I’ve never had so much sex in my life. I mean—never.”
“But you’re all right,” she said, and it was not a question.
“When I lifted the blanket for him, all I could think was, this will numb me. Rub out the pain, give me escape.”
“It’s okay, sweetie.”
Mel looked at Joey again. “It didn’t exactly work that way,” she said. “Maybe if he’d been average, I could’ve closed my eyes and just gone to a happy place. But he’s not average. Holy shit, he’s astonishing.”
Joey laughed a little, sentimentally. Sisters. They had talked about sex since they were teenagers. Laughed about it, told dark secrets about it. With Mark’s death, Joey had feared these kind of talks would never happen again.
“All he wanted was for me to have pleasure. Wild, blinding, crazed pleasure.”
Again Joey laughed. “Did it work?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said in a breath. Then she turned and looked at her sister. “Do you think he just felt sorry for me?”
“Well, you were there. Do you think that?”
Mel smiled. “I don’t care,” she said. “I just hope he feels sorry for me again, real soon.”
Joey smoothed the curly hair away from her sister’s pretty brow. “I’m glad you have this in your life again.” And then she giggled, and so did Mel.
“How did this happen, Joey? That I went from wanting to die, to wanting Jack?
Wanting him so much I was almost a maniac? Wouldn’t you think that would be impossible? That I wouldn’t be able to even think like that?”
Joey took a breath. “I think when your emotions reach a pitch like that, it follows suit. You just feel everything more intensely. I think it makes stupid sense, actually. Haven’t you ever noticed that some of the best sex seems to follow a big fight? I’m pretty sure I conceived Ashley on the same night I told Bill that if I didn’t just leave him, I’d at least never speak to him again.”
Giggles.
“I haven’t even asked you how long you can stay,” Mel said.
“I can stay as long as you want me to, but a truly kind sister would pack up and get out of your hair right now.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve missed you so much.” She smiled. “It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for you.”
Joey hugged her close. “A few days, then. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“Mel?”
“Huh?”
Joey revisited a topic from their earliest discussions on this subject, reaching back to their high-school and college days. “Do you think there’s any truth to that old wives’
tale that you can tell from the size of a man’s foot?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So. What size boot do you think Jack wears?”
Giggles.
“Twenty-seven,” Mel said.
Mel took Joey with her to Doc’s that very morning. Joey cozied up in the kitchen with a book while Mel and Doc saw a few patients. The three of them had lunch together at the house, then the girls went to Grace Valley where they visited June and John at the clinic. There were no patients scheduled for the next day and Doc wore his pager while he went to the river to fish, so Joey and Mel drove all the way to the coast, having lunch in the adorable little Victorian town of Ferndale. They visited the shops—there were things that Joey thought would be perfect for Mel’s cabin—a throw for the sofa, some accent pillows, a wall clock, colorful place mats. They stopped off and bought a small barbecue for the yard and wooden salad bowls. A vase that would complement the table. On the way home they went to the market and bought some groceries and fresh flowers.
It seemed like a quick beer at Jack’s was in order and they went into the bar arm in arm, laughing because Mel had whispered, “If I catch you looking at his crotch, I will slap you.” Which almost guaranteed Joey was going to find the temptation irresistible. Then they invited him to come out to the cabin for dinner, and he not only eagerly accepted, he brought a six-pack.
