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“I know why—”
“Do you?” she interrupted, understanding the hardness that came over him, but hating it anyway. “Do you know why one person is battered by emotion and another has more control? You know all about a mother’s love that was so desperate it convinced itself that everything was in the best interests of the child? And what about a child’s love? How do you explain all the uncomfortable and frightening events Kelsey put up with just to see her mother? How do you explain loyalty? Yours to Susan, to your job, to yourself. Mine to my best friend, my job, myself and Kelsey. Kelsey’s loyalty, which fell between her mother and her father and what she knew was right…”
His grin was slow in coming and more wry than humorous. “You’re right, I don’t know why.”
“And that’s okay.”
“Is it?” His eyes searched hers. She told herself to turn her head. Safety came in looking away. And she needed to be safe. At least for a while.
“Yes.”
His eyes darkened. “What’s okay about it?”
“It’s trust in the deepest sense,” she said, surprised by how right it felt to be having this conversation with him. A week ago, she’d never have dared—recognizing the lost cause it would have been. “The not knowing.”
She felt his hand slide against her thigh, taking hers.
“It’s like Truman,” she said, referring to the movie they’d seen together. “His only way out was to trust his heart because everything—every single bit of external stimulation, everything tangible, every person he knew, every bit of his belief system and even a lot of his knowledge, wasn’t real.”
Mark was silent for a long time. He sipped his wine. Glanced around the room. And the longer he sat, the edgier Meredith became. She was a friend of his. Friends didn’t sit holding hands.
They didn’t fantasize about those hands.
She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t noticed Mark’s hands—or remember when she’d first thought of them against her skin, holding her breasts, his thumbs against her nipples, making her…
He was watching her. “What?” She tried to cover her lapse with bravado.
“Can you feel what I’m feeling right now?”
Hell, no, she was too busy dealing with her own emotions and reactions. And then, suddenly, she understood.
“You, too?”
Surprise flashed across his face and she realized what she’d inadvertently admitted. “I need to kiss you.”
She nodded. Understood. Couldn’t think.
And his mouth touched hers. Just once, she told herself. To say goodbye.
Closing her eyes, feeling herself slipping into him, too, she promised herself it would be quick. She was tired. Had spent two days berating herself for not tuning in to Kelsey sooner. And Mark felt so good. His desire felt so good.
“You have the most beautiful mouth I’ve ever seen,” he whispered, his breath tickling her lips.
“It talks too much.” She sucked in a breath—telling herself the kiss was over.
“Every time I look at it, I am possessed with an urge to do this to it,” he groaned, and leaning over, pushed her back so that he was lying half on top of her as his lips opened hers and his tongue explored her thoroughly.
Heart beating a warning, Meredith explored back, lost in a divine moment as she tasted him—and sensed that she’d found what she’d been meant to find.
“I’ve needed this for so long.” His voice was hoarse. He shifted, lifting his pelvis on to her thigh and Meredith raised ever so slightly, applying pressure. Her whole body ached, and buzzed, overwhelming her with sensation. She needed release, tears, love.
Her need of this was so much stronger than any reason she shouldn’t have it.
When Mark’s hand slid to her breast, covering it through her blouse, she cried out, pressing herself against him.
“My bedroom,” Mark groaned, pulling her with him as he started to stand.
We never make love at his house. Susan’s words came to her. He won’t because of Kelsey.
