Page 85 of Midnight Valentine
He breaks away from my breast and takes my mouth in
a hard, possessive kiss. He makes an animal sound deep in his chest that’s incredibly erotic. He’s close to his climax, and he’s falling apart.
I fall apart first.
With the initial hard contraction deep inside me, he groans. On the second contraction, I start to thrash, losing control of my body. I find my voice and moan, loud and long, the hard, rhythmic clenching and unclenching of muscles and the aching throb of pleasure breath-stealingly intense.
He comes in a hot swell, jerking and gasping as I writhe beneath him. His fingers twist in my hair. His unshaven jaw is a welcome rough scrape against my skin as he moves against me.
When it’s over and we’re both wrung out, sweating and panting against each other, racked with tremors and utterly spent, I burst into tears.
I curl against Theo’s chest and sob like a baby.
He strokes my back and hair, gently kisses my cheek and neck. He holds me tight, his arms like a vise, and throws one heavy leg over me so I feel cocooned, safe and snug in the small slice of heaven we’ve created in the moonlit shadows of my room.
When the worst of it is over and I’m quietly hiccupping in his arms, I whisper, “Do you still think we can never be friends?”
He cups my face in his hand and tilts it up so we’re gazing into each others’ eyes. Then he kisses me with such depth of feeling, it brings fresh tears to my eyes. I break away first because I can barely stand how much it hurts, and hide my face in his chest.
We stay like that, locked in each other’s arms, until I fall asleep to the sound of his deep, even breathing.
In the morning, he’s gone again. Once again, fresh sweet peas sit in a glass of water beside my bed. But this time, there’s something else. A haiku, handwritten and left on my pillow.
Isn’t it simple?
Whatever we are, or not,
There is only you.
I read it over and over, my eyes filling with water. Then I tuck the poem carefully in my wedding album and pick up the phone to call Suzanne.
It’s time I find out where Theo lives.
23
“Well, well, if it isn’t Usain Bolt,” says Suzanne drily when she hears my voice.
“Hi, Suzanne.”
“That was a world-class sprint you made out of church, girlfriend. You training for the Olympics?”
“Yeah, my bad. I’m sorry. But in my defense, I told you I wasn’t a big fan.”
She snorts. “Had I known not being a fan meant you’d start cackling like a psychopath and burn rubber the second the poor pastor started talking, I’d never have brought you!”
I knew I’d have to eat some crow, so I apologize again, hoping to unruffle some of Suzanne’s highly ruffled feathers. “You’re right, I was completely out of line. It was disrespectful and uncalled for. I’m really sorry.”
“What you should be sorry for is all the gossip you started. Now everyone thinks you’re a nutcase!”
“Everyone is right.”
Suzanne doesn’t even pause to draw a breath before she answers, her voice dismissive.
“Oh, please, honey, you’re not crazy. Besides, if you were, you wouldn’t think so. The truly insane think they’re completely normal and we’re all off our rockers. Trust me, my uncle Roy was locked up in the loony bin because he was such a nutter. Screaming bloody murder about government surveillance and spiders coming out of his skin. Compared to him, you’re a shining example of sanity.”
I start to laugh. “That makes me feel so much better. As long as I’m not as nuts as Uncle Roy, I’ve still got a chance.”
“Exactly. Everything’s relative, babe.” Her voice sours. “Now here’s the part where you apologize for not calling me back for almost an entire week after I left you a bazillion messages.”
