A Place Called Home (29 page)

Mitch’s voice had a rough edge but the timbre was soft. “You know what I want, Thea?”

“I have a pretty good idea,” she whispered.

He shook his head, his mouth relaxing enough to curve in a deliciously wicked grin. “You don’t have a clue.” He lowered his head and kissed her just once, then he said against her mouth, “I want to hear you
scream.
”

She had no chance to catch her breath. He rocked against and in her. Pushing. Lifting. The thrust was powerful. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders and she felt the rise and fall of his body against hers, urging her without words to match his need. Thea’s throat arched as her head was pressed back against the mattress. She felt his lips on the curve of her neck. His breath was hot. Moist. His tongue flicked her skin and he said something she could not quite make out, but that sounded so erotic in his low, sweetly rumbling growl that Thea nearly came right there.

Her hands trailed restlessly to the small of his back and up the length of his spine again. She plunged her fingers into his thick hair when he raised his face and held his head just there, above hers, watching his darkening eyes and the flair of his nostrils while his body surged between her thighs.

She contracted around him each time he withdrew. Her arms. Her legs. Her vagina. Mitch groaned softly. For the first time ever, Thea understood her capacity to give and receive pleasure. It was not merely that she felt she was supposed to touch him, but that she wanted to.

His skin was warm under her fingertips and fairly vibrated with tension. He was smoothly muscled, long and lean, with two small dimples at the base of his spine and the perfect swell of tight butt and taut flanks just below. The sensitive, aching tips of her breasts abraded his chest. Her soft flesh gave with the pressure of their contact. His did not.

Thea liked that about him. That, and the way he made her forget about being quiet and reserved and discreet. He made her want him so much, and want everything that he was doing to her even more, that when she heard her own ragged little moan she didn’t flush pink with embarrassment. The emotion that put color under her pale skin was something else, something that ...

It came upon her quite suddenly. One moment she was moving with him, aware of her skin, her breathing, the immediate response of her body to everything he did and then she was shattering. There was no fall as if from a great height, no teetering on a precipice. It was just that for a moment she was whole and then she was not. If it was not quite a scream that accompanied Thea’s climax, then it was a good approximation. Her slender frame lifted in an arc. Her head was thrown back, her mouth open. She offered herself up in a single motion, a beautifully taut thrust that exposed every sculpted line and curve of her body.

The strength of her orgasm took her by surprise. She flung one hand above her head. Tension uncurled; her body shuddered. Mitch found the hand that was still at the small of his back and raised it to join the other. He stretched out, holding her slim, supple wrists in place. Her thighs no longer held him so tightly and he felt the sole of her foot slide along his calf as her leg began to unfold. He shifted slightly and changed the center of the pressure he was bringing to bear and the rhythm of his thrusts. His fingers tightened on her wrists. Her breasts rose and her abdomen retracted as she sucked in her breath.

Then she felt it again, the little catch of pleasure each time he moved, each time his weight bore down in a certain way, and her eyes widened and her heels pressed hard in the mattress and her hands sought purchase but were contained by his. She was a single nerve ending, stretched tautly from the tip of her opalescent toenails to her flushed brow. Pleasure skittered across the surface of her skin. It rolled in waves, pounding, roaring, then crashed and curled deeply inside her and finally dragged her under.

This time she screamed.

It was all Mitch needed. His own hoarse shout, part laughter, part exhilaration, pushed him over the edge. He came hard, his hips pumping quickly and shallowly, then not at all. His body vibrated in the aftermath and he lay heavily on top of Thea for a moment, insensible of everything except profound contentment.

His fingers opened on her wrists and he lightly brushed the slender pulse cord with the ball of his thumb. She didn’t jerk away or try to lower her arms. They remained above her head and she remained still beneath him. Mitch drew himself up slowly, resting most of his weight on his forearms, and looked down at her. “Breathe,” he told her gently, then he watched, fascinated, as her generous mouth puckered slightly and she sipped air as if through a straw. Delicate. Precise. Refined. It made him smile.

Thea stopped breathing. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

She didn’t press. Coherent thought was still difficult and he’d only told her to breathe, not think. She continued sipping air.

Mitch lifted his hips and eased himself out of Thea and from between her thighs. He rolled on his side, sliding one leg over hers and propping himself up on an elbow. Her skin was almost incandescent with a fine sheen of perspiration. He realized the room felt cooler now and he found the sheet twisted beneath him and after a little tussle, yanked it over his hips and across Thea. She lowered her arms and took the finished edge of the sheet in her hands. She fingered the hem but didn’t lift it. The dark material lay against her skin just under the curves of her breasts.

Thea’s eyes darted once toward Mitch then refocused their attention on the ceiling. “Some scream, uh?”

Mitch didn’t miss the quiet self-mockery in her tone. “It embarrassed you?”

“Not just at that moment ... but now ...” She nodded. “I’ve ... ummm, I’ve never ...”

One of Mitch’s brows lifted. “Never had an orgasm?”

Thea’s mouth curled to one side in wry amusement. “Of course I’ve had an orgasm,” she said.

There was no “of course” about it, thought Mitch, though she would have him believe that were the case. A hint of defensiveness in her tone made him wonder what she wasn’t quite wanting him to know. His gaze narrowed, studying the face that she wouldn’t turn in his direction and the dark green eyes that were apparently still captivated by his ceiling fan. “But ...” he prompted, fishing.

Just considering what she might say brought a rush of color to Thea’s cheeks. “Oh, God,” she moaned softly, squeezing her eyes shut. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Her hand fell to one side and she groped blindly for one of the pillows. When she caught one downy corner with her fingertips she clutched it like a lifeline and yanked it hard over her face, holding it in place with her forearms. “Bup nop wif somwom.”

Thea’s rose-tipped breasts were still very much visible so Mitch looked at those. “Yeah?” he asked. His fingers walked lightly up her rib cage and climbed her left breast. The aureole was puckered and the nipple stood erect. Good little soldier. He made his index finger circle it. The little guy practically saluted.

“Stumpf dat.”

Mitch gave the same attention to her right breast.

Thea’s smothered voice rose again from under the pillow. “Stumpf dat.” This time she swatted his hand with one of hers.

“Oh,” he said pleasantly, undeterred.
“Stop that.”
He let his hand fall still at the level of her waist. “Your pillow talk needs a little work.”

She groaned softly.

Mitch grinned. He could imagine her rolling her eyes. “So what was that other thing you said? About all those orgasms you’ve had?”

“Ah fad—”

Mitch lifted one corner of the pillow.

“I said,” she repeated a trifle impatiently,
“but not with someone.”

It still took Mitch a few moments to understand the gist of what she was telling him. She’d had orgasms before, but not with someone. The sudden vision he had of Thea stretched out alone on her own bed, one hand caressing her breast, the other in finger play between her thighs, rendered him speechless. His cock even stirred a little, and after the workout he’d just given it, it was a tribute to the powerful clarity of the image in his mind’s eye.

“Whoa,” he said softly, letting the pillow fall back in place.

Thea came out from under it slowly, dragging it forward so that it covered her neck and chest. Her face was warm and she knew it didn’t have a lot to do with the fact that she had just tried to smother herself. She glanced at Mitch, her eyes wary. “More than you wanted to know, right?”

His smile was a trifle lopsided. “No way. Guys always want to know. Women won’t usually tell us.”

She bit her lower lip. “Yeah, well, I’ve never been very good at the postcoital wrap-up.”

“Oh, I think this one is going pretty spectacularly.” He pointed to the light fixture in the ceiling fan. “Smile for the camera.”

That made Thea laugh. She poked him lightly with her elbow.

Mitch accepted the nudge, then took the security pillow away from her and tucked it under her head. “Better,” he said. Cupping one side of her face, he bent his head and kissed her. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Like what? You want to know if I use toys?”

The elbow that was propping Mitch up actually collapsed. His head thudded to the mattress. The leg that was lying over hers fell away as he rolled onto his back. “Don’t tease me,” he groaned feelingly. “That’s not right.”

Thea turned on her side to look at him. She drew her knees up, bumping his thigh under the covers. He had a great profile: well-defined jaw; squared-off chin; angular cheek. From the side she could see a faint rise at the bridge of his nose. His hair had fallen away from his brow. There was an indentation at his temple. Thea could just make out the regular beat of his pulse. She stared at it.

Mitch’s head swiveled to the side and caught her out. She didn’t look away, which he liked. “So do you?”

Thea gave him an enigmatic smile and said nothing.

“You’re killing me, you know that?”

She nodded. Their eyes locked. Thea’s smile slowly faded and Mitch’s half grin disappeared. “I’m on Depo-Provera shots,” she said quietly, seriously. “Every three months. You don’t have to worry about a pregnancy, but—”

“Yeah,” he said, sighing, “I blew the condom. I’m usually more careful.” He’d always been with Gina. She couldn’t use birth control pills or take the shots, so she had been using a diaphragm for as long as she had been sexually active. Condoms were part of the ritual with her and Mitch had never failed to remember. He hadn’t even thought about it with Thea. “If it helps, I’ve been tested,” he said. “Gina, too. There hasn’t been anyone else ... until you. Until now.”

“What about Gina?”

Mitch exhaled softly. “Gina and I haven’t been together for weeks. We’ve talked on the phone a few times since the night we went out with you and Joel, but we haven’t slept together since ... well, that’s not important. I don’t have any reason to think that Gina was sleeping with anyone else. She was the one who insisted on the testing in the first place so she’s cautious.”

Thea slipped one arm under her pillow, raising her head slightly. “Joel was the one who was adamant about it. I wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask him, so I suppose it was good that he raised the issue. He hated condoms. He’d been married for thirty some years when his wife died and he’d never worn one in all that time. When he started seeing women again, started sleeping with them, the world had changed. He realized he had no choice but to use one if he was going to be responsible—and Joel is all that.” She made a small shrug. “Sometimes I think he wanted to be in a monogamous relationship because it just made the sex details easier. It was his idea that I get the shots. No fussing with pills or a diaphragm. Spermacides. Jellies. He didn’t want to have to think about any of it, and he was clear at the outset that he didn’t want more children.”

“That was all right with you?”

Thea hesitated before she answered. “I thought it was. I told him I felt the same and I believed it when I said it.” Her expression softened. “Then Gabe and Kathy died and the children he didn’t want were ones I knew and cared about and then I wasn’t sure about much of anything any longer.”

“Including you and Joel.”

“Especially me and Joel.”

Mitch ran a hand through his hair, nodding faintly. “I found your engagement ring in your purse.” He didn’t miss Thea’s eyes widening. Before she accused him of something, he pressed her memory. “At the urgent care, remember? I was helping you register?”

“Oh.” Her smile was a trifle lopsided. “I remember. You were holding my purse. It was kind of sweet.”

He pinned her back with a narrow glance and a scowl. “Don’t push it, lady.” His expression relaxed. “So when did you take it off?”

Thea thought back to her conversation with Rosie. “A few days ago,” she said. “It wasn’t a last-minute decision, but just before I got out of the car, I was trying to decide if I should put it back on.”

Mitch wondered who had helped her work it out. “Who were you talking to then?”

“You saw me on the phone?”

That was an easy admission and he nodded once. What he wasn’t prepared to tell her was that he had been waiting impatiently on the other side of the window, slowly crushing a can of Dr. Pepper in his fist. “Was it Joel?”

It surprised her that he would think that. “No. It was Rosie. My sponsor.”

“Rosie.”

“Mmm. I needed to talk to her. I was ... well, I was nervous about coming here ... about seeing you.”

“Nervous.” Although he said the word flatly, Mitch still managed to imbue it with meaning.

“Anxious,” she clarified. “More than fluttery. Like I wanted to come out of my skin.” Thea sighed and said bluntly, “The precursor to a panic attack, and the kind of feeling that usually had me reaching for the Ativan or Valium.”

“That’s what I do to you?”

Thea shook her head. “No,” she said firmly. “That’s what I do to myself. Rosie’s like a coach. She reminds me to breathe. To think. She reminds me that I’ll live through it, whatever it is that’s uncomfortable or scary.” She took a little breath and exhaled slowly as her eyes roamed Mitch’s still features. “You probably guessed already, but I’ve never been with anyone without taking something first. Ever.” Her short laugh held no real humor; rather, it mocked her. “Wanna fuck? Sure. Let me find the Xannies in my purse. That’s how I approached it, like something I had to get through. The pills dialed down the intensity of everything I was feeling. Mostly it dialed down the fear. Fear that I’d do something wrong. That I wouldn’t be good enough. I could never figure out how to handle being in the moment. There’s always a next thing, isn’t there? I’m pretty much scared to death of the next thing. It wasn’t about the sex. Not really. It’s about being so close to someone. Physically. Emotionally. I’m mostly still a mess, Mitch, and that’s
with
therapy. You shouldn’t forget it.”