Page 81 of Rainshadow Road

“No. No…” Flooded with desire, steaming, Lucy gripped his hips, urging him more tightly against her. “Please don’t stop.”

Sam began a deliberate rhythm, making her squirm and arch as if she were on a torture rack.

She rocked upward in silent demand, but there was no altering his slow and relentless pace. The tension coiled, her inner muscles clenching against the delicious invading hardness. His thrusts canted deeper, and she moaned every time he drove inward. It was all too much, the big, driving body over hers, the teasing brush of his chest hair against her nipples, the strong hand urging her hips upward into every measured lunge. She felt the pleasure break into ecstatic spasms. Sam caught her sobs with his mouth, and pushed deep, letting her shuddering body work him, drain him.

For a while, neither of them moved or spoke, only breathed in labored gusts.

Circling her arms around his neck, she kissed his jaw, his chin, the corner of his mouth. “Sam,” she said drowsily, her voice thick with satisfaction. “Thank you.”

“Yes.” He sounded dazed.

“That was amazing.”

“Yes.”

Close to his ear, she added, “And just to make you feel safe… I don’t love you.”

Judging from the rustle of laughter in his chest, that had been the right thing to say. Sam leaned over her, his lips grazing her smiling mouth. “I don’t love you too.”

***

When Sam was able to move, he gathered up their discarded clothes and took Lucy upstairs. They lay together on the wide bed, conversation temporarily banked like coals beneath a layer of cool ash.

Sam felt a thrill of unease, as if his body knew he’d made a mistake even though his brain kept coming up with all the reasons why he hadn’t. Lucy was a grown woman, able to make her own decisions. He hadn’t misled her, hadn’t presented himself in any light other than what he was. She seemed happy with the situation, and God knew he was satisfied, replete, in a way he’d never known before.

Maybe that was the problem. It had been too good. It had beendifferent. The question of why it was like this with Lucy was something he should think about. Later.

The outline of her body in the semidarkness was slightly blurred like the penumbra of shadow in a painting. Moonlight from the window brought a faint luminosity to her skin, as if she was a magical creature from a fairy tale. Sam gazed at her in fascination, running his hand along her hip and flank.

“What happens at the end?” Lucy whispered.

“The end of what?”

“The movie. Which guy does Katharine Hepburn marry?”

“I’m not going to spoil it for you.”

“I like spoilers.”

Sam played with her hair, letting rivers of dark silk spill through his fingers. “Tell me what you think happens.”

“I think she ends up with Jimmy Stewart.”

“Why?”

“Well, she and Cary Grant were married once and they got divorced. So it’s doomed.”

Sam smiled at her prosaic tone. “What a little cynic.”

“Marrying someone for the second time never works. Look at Liz Taylor and Richard Burton. Or Melanie Griffith and Don Johnson. Andyoucan’t callmea cynic—you don’t even believe in marrying someone the first time.”

“I believe in it for some people.” He continued to sift his fingers through her hair. “But it’s more romantic not to get married.”

Lucy lifted up on an elbow, looking down at him. “Why do you think that?”

“Without marriage, you’re only together for the good times. The best part of the relationship. And then when it goes bad, you cut loose and move on. No ugly memories, no soul-killing divorce.”

Lucy was silent, considering. “There’s a flaw in your reasoning.”

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