One Night in the Ice Storm (6 page)

They’d
sat that way for hours that one summer, talking, watching television, just
being together.

He
was rearranging the blanket over them both, and the tension was so palpable
that Rachel thought she would drown in it. In an attempt to break it, she said
lightly, “This is just a sneaky way to share my blanket, since you’re too lazy
to get your own.”

He
laughed, soft and low. She loved how it sounded and how it felt. “Guilty.”

She
huddled against him and soon she stopped shivering.

They
were both staring at the fire when David returned to their previous conversation.
“The things you call stubbornness in me are not really that. It’s
self-sufficiency. It’s important to me. And it’s a different thing.”

“Why
is it so important to be self-sufficient?” It was a genuine question, since her
previous anger had almost entirely vanished.

He
didn’t answer.

She
turned her body slightly to look up at him. His face was just a few inches from
hers. “David?”

“I
don’t know,” he admitted, sounding uncomfortable and not looking her in the
eye. “Just a way to prove myself, I guess.”

“Prove
yourself what?”

He
didn’t answer directly this time. Instead, he said in a different tone, “You
know how it was for my mom. This is a small town, and people are…judgmental.”

“People
are judgmental in cities too. They’re just not in your face quite so much.” She
exhaled. “I know people judged your mom. My grandpa did, and he was…terrible
about it. But not everyone here did. And no one has ever judged you.”

“Haven’t
they?”

His
body felt tenser than it had been before. She knew he was feeling something
deeply, and her heart ached for him. “Who judged you? You were always popular
at school, and everyone in town thinks you walk on water now.”

“I
had a long way to climb.” The words were soft, uninflected, not bitter, just resigned.

“David,”
she said, feeling strangely urgent and emotional. She turned over so she was
facing him—and also practically lying on top of him. She wanted to see his face,
though. “Who judged you? What are you talking about? We never did. Me and Brad
and Mom. I swear we never did.”

“I
know you didn’t.” His eyes were strange—somehow soft and urgent all at once.

“We
all thought you were…we thought you were great.” Her voice wobbled at the end,
since the past tense was so crushing.

She
would have still thought he was great—the best man she knew other than Brad—had
he not treated her so heartlessly eight years ago.

She
still didn’t understand. It just didn’t seem to fit.

“I
knew that. You have no idea what it meant to me.” His arms were still around
her, and one of them tightened deliciously. The other hand slid down her spine
until it pressed against the small of her back.

It
felt like they were embracing, and Rachel wanted to feel it even more.

Her
mind a befuddled tangle, she managed to recover the thread of their earlier
conversation.

“So
if it’s so important for you to be self-sufficient, why do you call
my
self-sufficiency stubborn? Why can’t I be self-sufficient too?” Her voice got
strangely hoarse on the last words, and it wasn’t because she wanted to cry.

He
lifted the hand that had been caressing her back and cupped her cheek with it
instead. “Because I’m here,” he murmured. “Because
I’m
here, and I want
to help you.”

Her
lips parted unconsciously at the tenderness of the words, and maybe he took it
as an invitation.

He
drew her head down toward his until their lips met. It wasn’t demanding or
intrusive—just gentle and almost needy.

She
couldn’t help but respond as feeling and sensation swelled up inside her with
the brush of his lips.

She
shifted enough to bring one hand up so she could stroke his face, loving the
texture of his bristles against her palm.

He
deepened the kiss slowly, sliding his tongue along the contour of her lips and
slipping one hand down to rub the small of her back and then lower to her
bottom.

She
shifted in pleasure, opening her mouth to feel him more deeply and rubbing her
breasts against his chest.

“Rachel,”
he said thickly, when he finally pulled away but just to press soft little
kisses on the corners of her mouth. “Rachel, how’s your ankle?”

The
laughter hit her so suddenly she giggled helplessly against his mouth.

He
smiled into one last brief kiss as his arms tightened around her. “Despite how
that sounded, I wasn’t intending to change the subject. I just meant I don’t
want you to do anything to hurt your ankle.”

“My
ankle isn’t acutely involved in this process.”

With
a huff of amusement, he turned them both over so she was on her back and he was
on top of her. “Good.” He leaned down into another kiss.

Rachel
shifted beneath him as their embrace intensified, and, when she’d freed one of
her legs, she wrapped it around his hip, needing to feel his hard body against
the delicious ache between her legs.

She
heard him make a rough noise low in his throat, and he broke from her mouth to
bury his face in the crook of her neck. “Rachel,” he murmured, mouthing the
throbbing pulse at her throat. “Rachel, if you’re going to stop, please let me
know now.”

Her
head spun and her body pulsed and David was the only thing in the world that
she wanted.

She
knew it was wrong. It was foolish. It would make everything so much harder.

At
the moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She
adjusted until she found the bulge at his groin and rubbed herself against it
shamelessly. “I’m not going to stop.”

Rachel still had all
her clothes on, but she couldn’t remember ever being so aroused in her life.

She’d
been completely into it when she and David had sex the first time, responding
easily to his touch and his kisses, but she’d also been really inexperienced
and nervous—both things distracting her a little from pure enjoyment of her
physical responses. She’d had sex since then. Not with a huge number of men,
since she’d only ever had sex with men she was dating seriously. She’d had
plenty of decent sex, though. Even really good sex.

It
had never felt like this—like if she didn’t have David right
now
she
would actually implode.

He
seemed to feel the same way, since his mouth and his hands became immediately
more demanding. She loved how strong he was, how much tension she could feel in
his lean body. She squirmed against it, seeking stimulation wherever she could.

With
a hoarse gasp, he broke out of the kiss and edged his body up away from hers
slightly. “Hold on a second,” he rasped.

She
made an impatient sound and pressed against his erection again. “I don’t want
to hold on a second.”

He
groaned almost helplessly as she ground herself against him. “Me either. But we
need a condom, don’t we?”

She
cursed under her breath and controlled herself enough to relax her body and
lower the leg that had been wrapped around him. “Yeah. We better.”

“I
don’t have any with me. Are there any in the house?”

She
doubted it, since Brad didn’t live here anymore, unless he’d hidden some away
in a dark corner back in high school. She kind of liked that David didn’t
habitually carry condoms around with him, since it seemed to indicate he wasn’t
in the habit of having sex at the drop of a hat. Plus, his lack of preparation
didn’t matter since she already had it covered. “I have one in my purse. In the
mud room.”

Her
ankle hurt, she was really turned on, and she didn’t want to leave the cozy
couch next to the fire, so she was relieved when David eased himself off her
and stood up.

She
snickered, however, when she saw how stiffly he moved.

He
slanted her an aggrieved look.

“Self-sufficient,
remember?” she teased. “You have to go get your own condom, hard-on or not.”

He
laughed breathily as he disappeared into the kitchen, which connected to the
mudroom, and he was still smiling when he returned a few seconds later.

He
handed her the black designer purse, and she found a foil condom packet in a
side zipper pocket.

“Do
you always carry condoms around?” he asked.

She
felt herself blushing, although she was sure he couldn’t tell because she was
already so flushed from the fire and from excitement. “A lady is always
prepared,” she said primly.

She’d
never once used a condom she had stashed away, but he didn’t have to know that.

“An
excellent philosophy.”

She
leaned over to put her purse on the coffee table before she was uprooted from
her position by David.

He
lowered himself back onto the couch and pulled her in his arms once more,
rolling her onto her back so he was above her again.

“Damn,
Rachel,” he said thickly, his lips just above hers. “I want you so much.”

His
tone and the words made her chest hurt. Her pulse fluttering, she tried to
sustain their light banter, since it felt so much safer than this growing intensity.
“I know that. Sweatpants don’t hide much, you know.”

He
was giving her little kisses—pressing his mouth onto her lips, the corner of
her mouth, and her cheeks. But he chuckled at her words, causing his breath to
blow against her skin. “Sadly, I know that all too well.”

“But
the good thing is there’s no sense in hiding what is so very impressive.” She
squeezed her hand between their bodies so she could wrap it around his erection
through the fabric.

He
grunted in response.

She
was so pleased with his reaction—the idea of having that kind of power over
such a strong, controlled man—that she squeezed him again and then started to
stroke him through his pants.

He
closed his eyes, but she tried to take note of what he seemed to like the
most—what made his breath hitch or his body jerk.

Finally,
he opened his eyes. “Okay. Not that I’m not appreciative of the kindness, but
any more kindness of this kind and I’m going to lose it.”

He
readjusted above her as she giggled, and then he pulled her sweatshirt off over
her head.

He
frowned at the long-sleeve fleece top she wore under it. “Are you warm enough
for me to—”

“Yeah.
I’m not really cold anymore.”

She
helped him get the top off and laughed delightedly at his aggrieved expression
when he saw she was wearing a ribbed t-shirt beneath it. “How many tops do you
wear?”

“I
was cold,” she explained. The laughter had relaxed her and made her less aware
of the significance of what was happening. Her breath caught in her throat,
however, as he pulled her last shirt off and stared hungrily down at her bare
breasts.

“You’re
so beautiful.” He leaned down to kiss her, cupping one breast in his rough
hand. His mouth trailed down her neck and then further down until he could take
a nipple in his mouth.

She
arched up as he fondled her with his tongue, the sensations so intense they
surprised her.

He
caressed her until she was almost writhing, her hips moving restlessly, trying
to seek some sort of relief from the pulse of her desire.

“David,”
she gasped, “This is getting torturous.” She pulled on his shoulders, trying to
get him to raise his head from her breast.

He
was smiling, almost predatory, when he lifted his head to gaze down on her
hotly.

She
stuck out her tongue at him, the way she had when she was six and he and Brad
wouldn’t let her play with them.

His
shoulders shook with laughter, but he leaned down to kiss her hard. “You
shouldn’t tempt me like that,” he said over her mouth. “Especially when you’re
wearing those braids.”

She
sucked in a sharp breath, breaking out of the kiss, her hand flying up to one
of her long braids. “Shit. I forgot I was wearing these stupid things.”

She
pulled out the bands and started unbraiding her hair.

David
laughed again. “I don’t mind—”

“I’m
not having sex with my hair in braids.” She managed to get the braids undone as
David used the time to take off his sweatshirt and t-shirt.

The
last time she’d seen his bare chest, he’d been nineteen. It had been impressive
then, but it was even better now.

“You’re
beautiful,” he said, his eyes soft on her face as she finger-combed her hair
free. “Braids or not.”

She
felt a little like melting, so she desperately searched for a witty response. Any
sort of response that might distract her from the look in his eyes.

She
couldn’t think of anything.