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I laughed breathily and didn’t answer, but oh, I agreed with him. Without that strip of fabric between us, his hands could move more smoothly across my skin. I would welcome the heat, the roughness... I arched my back. “Lower back?”
His voice came out deeper than usual. “Aren’t you supposed to say please?”
I twisted around so I could see him and ended up closer than I’d anticipated. We were nose to nose, and if I stood on tiptoes, I could kiss him. My voice matched his in huskiness. “Please.”
Abraham’s eyes, so close to mine, lit. His hands slid across my body, trailing warmth, until they encircled me and dug slowly into my lower back, working the knots as I faced him, pushing my body closer to him. It felt amazing. Everything felt amazing. This close, the air was filled with his clean musky scent, and my skin tingled, and I started to ache for his touch to be everywhere. My breathing quickened.
Abe groaned deep in his throat, then crushed his lips to mine. I wrapped my legs around him, and then we were on my bed. The move was so fast, so sudden, that I just lay there staring up at him with my heart in my throat.
He paused for a moment, looking down as though he was memorizing everything about me, and then his lips descended to mine. They devoured me, firm and sure. I’d never felt so desired in my life, and my lips parted under his.
My Skype ringtone went off.
I froze like a paralyzed animal, like a teenage boy caught by his mother, like a twentysomething girl caught by her’s. “It’s my mom.”
“Don’t answer it.”
That would have been logical, but I didn’t ascribe to logos in my dealings with my mother; we were strictly pathos. I was strictly pathos with Abe, too, so I scrambled to my feet and said, “Hide!”
He looked around my room in befuddled amusement. “Hmm?”
I realized how dumb that was. “I mean, don’t come into the camera’s path.” I angled my computer toward me and smoothed my hands over my hair. “Do I look okay?” I straightened my shirt.
He grinned wickedly. “Ravishing.”
I dealt him a look, and then clicked the green answer button. “Hi, Mom!”
“Hi, sweetie. Oh, hmm, is your camera working—wait. Wait. There you are!”
I waited for a moment as my mom adjusted her camera. She’d cut her hair since last week; a short, dark bob that looked good on her. “I like your hair.”
She reached for it automatically. “You do? You don’t think it’s too short?”
“No, it looks great. What did Dad say?”
“You know your father. His opinion can’t be trusted.”
This was because my dad adored my mother and thought everything looked great on her. She was right; his opinion couldn’t be trusted. But it was always welcome.
Dad must have been in the same room, or at least nearby, because I heard him shout, “Dad also got a new haircut, but did anyone notice? Nope!”
He walked into the picture. It was possible his balding locks were cropped slightly closer to his head, but difficult to tell. “Wow, Dad, looks great.”
He sat down on the couch next to my mom. “You’re such a suck-up.”
I laughed, and then jerked upright when Abe landed on the bed next to me. In the tiny box in the corner of the screen that showed us what my parents saw, he grinned and waved while my eyes and mouth formed circles. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Rosenfeld!”
My parents, drat them, broke out in smiles and waved back. “Abe!” Mom said. “So nice to see you! What are you doing there?” She gave me a meaningful look as though Abe would somehow miss it.
“Just helping Tamar wrap up her party. I made your chocolate babka, Mr. Rosenfeld.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Now who’s the suck-up?”
He spread his hands. “Just being honest.”
“I love that babka.” Dad looked at Mom. “How come you never make me any babka?”
She ignored him. “What party?”
