The Heart's War (5 page)

How dare he make me feel attracted to him at a time like that!

Still, my righteous anger couldn’t slow down the quick tempo of my heart, or cool the sudden wave of heat that seemed to flow up through my body through some point low in my stomach.

He let out a nervous laugh.

“She’s left us alone in here. Can you believe it? Has she ever left us here like this, before? How wicked of her,” Jeff said.

I sat up straighter, a realization widening my eyes. My fingers squeezed the armrests.

Could it work? It could. It would. It needed to! My whole body positively tingled. I kept telling myself that it was to keep him here, to keep him safe. Not to satisfy some sinful urge.

I had to work up more saliva so that I could actually get the words out. My heart wanted to burst from my chest.

“Yes. Do you know what would be even more wicked?”

“What?” he replied, distracted, his eyes peering at the wall but looking at something much farther away.

“If we went to your bedroom,” I said.

That did get his attention. He looked at me. “Ellie… if she came back and caught us…”

“So you’re saying that you’re man enough to go fight a war, but not to show a room in your house to the woman you love?”

This earned me a snort and a shake of his head. Rubbing at his stubble, looking at me cock-eyed, a slow grin spread across his face. He stood and offered me his hand. “Come on, then. Though I’m not sure what you’re so interested in seeing up there.

The polished wooden stairs creaked beneath our feet. He tried to let go of my hand at the bottom of the stairwell, but I didn’t let him.

He’s going to stay, he has to stay! I remember thinking that with each step. He wouldn’t refuse me. He couldn’t, not after he accepted what I wanted to give him.

Upstairs, we went straight to his bedroom. Jeff threw up his door with a flourish.

The open curtains showed a window looking out onto Victoria Street. The sun coming in showed a few particles of dust floating through the air and bathed his small, tidily made bed opposing the window. A few shelves built into the walls held his collection of pulp magazines and adventure books, and a wardrobe against the other wall held his clothing. A small desk with an inkwell was just enough to make the space feel slightly cramped.

But the fresh air helped alleviate that sensation. The fresh air and my inability to think about anything but what was going to happen next.

“As you can see, there isn’t really anything to see,” Jeff started, “Now how about we go back downstairs and start some tea…?”

“Kiss me, Jeff,” I said, looking up into his face.

I’d wanted to save myself until we were married, like was proper. But wasn’t potentially saving his life far more important than some tradition of modesty?

I wanted him to take me up in his arms, to crush me against him. My body ached for it, every fiber and nerve seeming to tug me closer to him.

“Ellie, are you certain you’re feeling…”

“Kiss me! I need you to kiss me!” I said. I began shaking, the frustration of unrealized desire boiling over within me. How could he be so blind?

His eyes took in my face, travelling down my neck to my heaving chest and then back up. He swallowed heavily, his Adam’s apple sliding beneath the
stubbled skin on his throat.

Without further prodding from me, he grabbed me up and pulled me close, his arms encircling my waist and his fingers grabbing at the back of my dress.

We’d kissed before. But never like this. I didn’t know a kiss could be like this. His mouth burned against mine, his lips pressing against mine with urgency and desire.

I slipped my hands in under his jacket, my whole body trembling with
anticipation, fear, desire, and a dozen other sensations. Part of me couldn’t believe what was happening, another part exalted in the knowledge that it was working. He couldn’t deny me anymore, he couldn’t go over to the war. Not after this.

His lips left mine, then, leaving my mouth tender and almost numb from the force of his passion. Then he kissed my neck, his lips soft on my skin and his stubble rough.

My body writhed against his, our hips rubbing. I felt him, then. Felt his desire for me. I couldn’t stop thinking about how hard it pressed against me.

“I need you, Jeff…” I said, “Stay with me. Be with me…”

“You’re so beautiful, Eleanor. You taste so good… and the way you smell… it maddens me!” he said.

His hands dipped lower, cupping my bottom through my dress. He
kneaded my flesh, pulling me with greater urgency against his desire. I don’t think I could have stopped if I’d tried. Even if I’d wanted to.

Unable to help myself, I glanced back over my shoulder out the window. Still plenty of light left. Plenty of time to do what needed to be done.

As though he could read my thoughts, Jeff scooped me up in his arms. His hair was all disheveled, his face flushed to match mine. He carried me over to the bed and set me down on it. The frame creaked beneath our weight, and the pillow cushioned my head.

“My buttons… Can you help me with them?” I said
, rolling onto my side to show the row of them holding my dress closed. Jeff undid them, his trembling fingers fumbling several times. When he finished, I lay back down. Jeff sat on the side of the bed, his legs hanging off the side, his hands on either side of me.

Never breaking eye contact with him, I slid the straps of my dress down to reveal my breasts. The air and the excitement had my nipples erect, like little nubs.

“My God, Ellie. You’re so beautiful…”

More heat flowed through me at the compliment, and a nervous smile spread across my face. I’d never shown another living person my naked body before. I needed him to like me.

He looked at me for what felt like a long time. Long enough for me to feel the beginning tendrils of fear. Did he not like me? Was there something wrong?

“Jeff…”

Before I could get another word out, he reached out, his fingers shaking. I sucked in a breath through my teeth when his fingertips brushed my breast. Slowly, his hand enveloped it, my stiffened nipple pressing into his palm. He squeezed, gently. It was enough to make me gasp.

Leaning over, he kissed me again, his fingers squeezing my flesh with greater insistence. This time, when his lips slipped down from mine, they encircled my other nipple. It was an incredible sensation. Warm and wet. And when he sucked lightly on me, my back arched up. How was it possible to feel this good? Why did people not want others to do this? Did they hate the thought of people making each other feel this way?

I knew that neither of us had ever been with someone before. Not like this. Our inexperience showed, and I worried that I might not be doing something right. Nervous, I reached out for Jeff, wanting to touch him and make him feel this good, too.

But he stopped my hand.

“I love you, Ellie,” he said.

“I love you, too, Jeff.
So much. Won’t you let me show you?”

But then Jeff stood up. Cold fear rushed through me, then. I had done something wrong! He was leaving!

“Jeff… What’s wrong?” I said.

He didn’t leave, though. He went over to the window and drew the inner curtains, leaving the heavy drapes open so that the sunlight could still make its way in.

Then he disrobed, shrugging off his jacket and folding it neatly over the back of his desk chair. He did the same with his undershirt and his trousers. I got a hitch in my throat when he slid out of his shorts, his desire finally free/ My stomach tightened at the sight of it, and I felt slickness between my thighs.

He was a well-built man.
Broad shoulders, a chest deep enough to betray his athletic nature. My eyes drank in the clean, masculine lines of his body. I hoped he liked the feminine curves of mine. It was quite the contrast, his hard lines to my soft ones.

Climbing back onto the bed, he lay on his side beside me, his hand cupping my breast again before shifting up to gently stroke my cheek. It was like fanning flames.

When he began helping me the rest of the way out of my dress, folding it over top of his clothes, I again worried about doing things the wrong way. At the same time, desire and anticipation thrummed through me.

He moved down to the foot of the bed, gently parting my legs. I squirmed at the sight of him. God, that slickness was getting worse. And now he could see it! I had to fight the urge to put my hands over my nakedness.

“I’ve thought about being with you like this for so long, Ellie,” he said, “You have no idea how many nights and days I spent thinking about it. About how you might look. And do you know what? You’re far more beautiful, more perfect, than in my most intense fantasies.”

I don’t know if he said that because he saw my nervousness, or just needed to tell me. Whatever the reason, it worked. I relaxed, insofar as I could. That urge to hide myself from his eyes disappeared, replaced by the need to feel him there, inside me.

Slowly, he slid up over me, supporting himself on his hands. When he smiled, I couldn’t help but smile back. When he kissed me, I couldn’t help but let my lips part against his.

When I felt him against my opening, I couldn’t help but let him slip inside me.

My body stretched to accommodate him, the pain of it sweet. It was a good thing I was so slick. He pressed against my maidenhead for a moment. Our kiss grew more passionate.

He thrust forward, taking my flower. I was lost in the decadent pleasures of physical intimacy. I could feel his heat and his hardness. The more I felt it, the deeper it plunged into me, the slicker I became. I could feel his hot breaths of exertion. When I slipped my hands down to his bared bottom, I could feel his muscles flexing with the effort of it.

Without having to be told, I wrapped my legs around his back, locking my ankles.

Our bodies writhed together as we explored each other. Sometimes his lips found
mine, sometimes they found the soft skin of my throat. But always, the heat and hardness of his desire was deep within me. I wanted him to get lost in me, to never leave.

When he began to slow, I used my legs to urge him back into me.

“Ellie…” he said, his teeth gritted, his eyes scrunched shut.

His voice just urged me on. I pulled him back in, harder and faster. My grip on him grew tighter, and something deep inside was building. Every thrust brought me closer and closer to it.

Jeff forced himself all the way into me, then, crying out wordlessly. He filled me, pouring his seed deep inside. The heat of it put me over the edge.

If the swirling of sensations before had been a storm, this was a maelstrom. I couldn’t help crying out as well. Dimly, I knew that I’d locked my legs around him, holding him buried all the way inside me as his body jerked in the throes of his ultimate pleasure.

Simultaneously, we both relaxed, Jeff rolling off me and collapsing at my side. Our bodies trembled. My hand sought his, and our fingers intertwined. I stared up at the boards making up his ceiling without really seeing them.

What had that been, at the end, that incredible concentration of sensations and pleasures?

But I couldn’t think about that. Not then. It wasn’t the time for it.

“Don’t go over. Tell the draft board you can’t. Please, Jeff, for me,” I said, not looking at him. If I looked, I would tear up. I could already feel my eyes moistening. Why did I have this urge to cry? I felt the exact opposite of sad. What reason was there for tears?  Had I really been that overwhelmed?

He squeezed my hand. “I have to. I can’t back out of this.”

A fat tear rolled down out of my eye, making its way towards my ear. Jeff intercepted it, wiping it away with the ball of his thumb.

“You don’t have to. You can back out…”

“I can’t, Ellie. I have to do this. I have to.”

Chapter 5

Sunday came and went so quickly that I hardly remembered the sermon the minister read at the service that day. I'd attended that day with mother, Marie, and Jeff. He'd dressed in the same suit as he'd worn to win me back on Saturday. It was a little dusty on the legs from all our walking, with an almost invisible wrinkle along one side under his arm from when I'd clung to him.

No one seemed to notice, though. The older men patted Jeff on the back, offering him cigars. Many of the women cooed over him, touching his arm or standing close to whisper words of encouragement.

While Jeff laughed and shook hands and generally basked in his sudden rise to fame, no one noticed the women sitting in the back row of pews. The church had twelve rows of the long, deep-stained benches. Hymnals (many in German) rested along sm
all shelves along the back of each pew for the occupants of the people sitting behind it to use.

I squinted to see into the shadows. It was Shelley Clarkson and another woman, older. Shelley had a black dress on, as well as a dark bonnet. Shelley had a sharp face, with a pointed nose that always reminded me of a bird's beak. Her lips were bloodless, and she had her hands clenched together into a tight ball on the backrest of the pew in front of her.