The Very Thought of You (18 page)

Regan, Caleb's sister, continued. “Hmm…girl, you're right. Boys who want to play with cards and talk about being bachelors.”

Caleb's aunt Brenda laid down the trump card like a sista playing spades.

“Oh, and George,” she said coolly. “You can keep your player's card and I hope it keeps you company tonight because this woman needs a man, not a boy.” That comment led to a crushing defeat. Raising their hands and throwing out their imaginary player's cards, the men offered their unconditional surrender.

 

The rest of dinner was filled with women swapping stories, gossip, dating advice and beauty secrets while the men talked sports teams, stock options and 401 K. After the meal was finished and dessert consumed, everyone helped to clear away the dishes and the music was turned on.

Relinquishing her glass of wine, Miranda allowed Caleb's father to lead her into the living room and join the other couples on the impromptu dance floor. Their dance was interrupted when Miranda had to take a phone call. After the call, she reclaimed her glass and took a seat on the sofa. Closing her eyes, Miranda savored the dry warmth of the wine as it trickled down her throat and relaxed at the sound of Luther Vandross telling her what love was all about.

Minutes later, she heard his voice. “I hope you're not falling asleep yet.”

Startled, she opened her eyes to see Caleb seated comfortably next to her. “No. I'm just enjoying the music.”

Smiling, he stood up and reached out his hand. “Good. I've waited all night for a dance.”

She placed her hand in his and followed him out onto the floor. Curling her arms around his neck, she sighed and laid her head upon his chest. Miranda could feel the strength in his arms as they slowly encircled her waist and rested lightly upon the middle of her back. He touched her as if she was too fragile to be held tightly and too precious to let go. In that manner, they danced or swayed to the music.

They say that people are born to conform to culture. However, there are many things that go beyond culture—race, language and ethnicity—to encompass basic human nature. One of those fundamental things is the need to touch and the need to be touched, connect with another person by physical contact. Tonight, her skin rejoiced in the feeling of being touched; and the warmth of being held filled her soul.

“You're not falling asleep on me are you?” Caleb whispered.

She raised her head from its nice spot on his chest and replied, “No.”

“Good.” He grinned broadly. “I'll take you home.”

 

Minutes later, when Caleb pulled to a stop in his driveway, Miranda barely managed to hide her smile. “I thought you were taking me home.”

His gaze never wavered. “My home, for now. One day it might be our home.”

Her heart skipped a beat. It wasn't as if he hadn't talked about getting married when they'd first met. In their ideal futures, Caleb would have continued to practice medicine and Miranda would have been a working mother to a tribe of Daddy's little girls. Shaking off the memories, she removed her seat belt.

“So I guess we're having our own little slumber party, after all?”

“I can make a tent out of my sheets if you really want to have a little campout.”

“I always like the outdoors,” Miranda said as she entered the house via the garage doors. “But I like indoor bathrooms a lot better.”

“Good. How about I show you to your bathroom while I slip into something more comfortable.”

Miranda laughed at the devilish expression on his face. “Isn't that something the seducing woman would say?”

“Work with me, sweetheart. I've been thinking of how to get you back in my bed since I woke up alone Wednesday morning.”

“You could have asked.”

“Too easy.”

He led her up the stairs. “I'll be right down the hall if you need me.”

She crossed through the guest bedroom and into the bathroom. The light stone-colored room with sand-colored inscribed tiles was a woman's dream. The frosted windows and recessed lighting softened the room and warmed the hardwood floor.

A large marble sink stood by itself next to a white painted wood vanity tower. The glass-framed shower stood separated from the bath. Miranda had only seen bathtubs like that one in movies or in designer magazines. Its deep polished inside spoke of long soaks with low lights and burning candles.

She smiled seeing herself with a green oatmeal avocado facemask and hair covered by a towel, sitting in the tub with her eyes closed. In the silence of the house, Miranda heard what sounded like singing. Curious, she went back out in the hallway and walked toward the master bedroom.

As Miranda stepped into Caleb's domain, her jaw dropped.

“I'll make love to you…”

The deep voice, as rich as dark chocolate, was raised in song. Miranda nearly laughed aloud.

Caleb was singing!

Caleb was singing in the shower.

The man who lip-synced at church was singing.

Caught in a snare of compulsion, she reached out and carefully pushed the door open a few more inches. Now she could see the shower stall. The glass was only slightly filmed with soap and water. She could not attribute all of the moisture on her skin to the steam that filled the small room. Nor could the steam account for her rapid breathing and a tingling in her breasts as her nipples tightened.

Maybe he heard the creak of the door opening or maybe he sensed her presence, but the water stopped.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asked. After drying himself off, he exited the shower stall with only a short towel wrapped low on his hips.

Toying with the hem of her skirt, Miranda unabashedly watched as he swaggered toward her. “Very much. I didn't know you could sing.”

“Only in the shower.”

“I'd love to get a private serenade,” she said in a sultry tone.

His lips brushed hers, gently teasing the edges of her mouth until she opened and kissed him back. The urgency of why she'd wanted to speak with him slipped from her thoughts, replaced by the heat of his kiss.

“I want you,” he murmured into her mouth, his tongue flickering against her lips. Miranda moaned and sucked his bottom lip, pressing her body against his.

“Same here,” she whispered just before she deepened the kiss, tasting his mouth, caressing his tongue.

“I've been waiting all night to get you out of that dress,” he groaned, pulling her hips tight against his. Through the cotton towel, Miranda had no doubt that he was as aroused as she was. But even though she was practically attacking him, he wanted to be certain she was ready.

She anchored her hands on his bare shoulders and stood on her tiptoes. Getting as close to his ear as possible, she nipped the lobe, and traced the edge with her tongue. “You're not the only one who's been thinking about getting naked.”

He moved to suckle her neck and squeeze her rear. Miranda's knees buckled, leaving her clutching his shoulders. Her head spun with the scent, the taste and the feel of him against her. Her hands skimmed down his sides, sculpting the smooth torso and stomach.

 

Once in the bedroom, Miranda didn't know who moved first or how it happened but before she could say anything else, he'd slid the straps off her shoulders, and the dress fell, pooling at her feet. Self-conscious, Miranda moved to slide under the covers, but Caleb stopped her and sat down on the bed. She resolutely kept her eyes on his. He slid his hands down her arms, from shoulder to wrists. And then he laid her back carefully and let his eyes roam over her as she had done to him earlier in the evening. The weight of his regard was enough to make her nipples contract and her whole body tense.

His hands soon followed the path his eyes had scored. His fingertips started at her ankles and then he ran them slowly up her body, stroking and teasing the skin as he went. Miranda was writhing by the time he'd made it up to her thighs and completely breathless when his fingertips captured her breasts.

Her eyes traveled over the planes of his face and the perfect curve of his lips, down to the hard muscles of his shoulders and chest to his stomach and the faint line of hair that she'd always found fascinating. Some women loved shoulders, muscled arms or bottoms. But Miranda had always loved Caleb's chest. She loved his clean, hairless and perfectly sculpted chest with toned muscles and long waist. His body was wonderful, like a fantasy come to life. His sex was equally as impressive.

Yet it was only the space of one breath to the next when he'd move to position himself on top of her. Everything seemed to tighten as her flesh came into contact with his. Caleb was so hot. He was like a flame and she wanted to burn beside him.

“I will love you with every breath I take,” he vowed. “And kiss you—” his fingers unclasped her bra “—lovingly—” they moved to her back and easily undid her bra strap “—slowly—” they moved forward to cup her breasts, thumbs gently kneading the flesh “—over every inch of your skin.”

She fought to clear her head, but then his lips claimed hers in a kiss that burned all the way to her toes. “You are so beautiful, sweetheart.”

Then he dropped his head and began to kiss, nip and suck on her neck. She felt the heat of his hands on her breasts. “So soft, so perfect.”

He rested his weight on his knees and lowered his head. Her body quivered as his lips kissed a hot path down her collarbone toward her breasts. His mouth was hot and demanding, sucking and nuzzling with passionate urgency. When he took the tip of her breast between his teeth every muscle in her body tensed and Miranda forgot to breathe. She clutched his shoulders and rubbed the ridges along his spine. He worked one hand between her thighs and found her damp and ready. Caleb peeled off her silk panties. She spread her legs. He blew gently, stirring the silky dark hair with his breath. He used his fingers and tongue to bring her to the edge of climax, slowly, teasingly, until she was writhing and clawing at him.

“Caleb! I need you now!” she panted, waves of electric current rolling down her spine.

“Not yet,” he said moving upward to suckle her breast while sliding a finger deep into her, pressing the sensitive nub with his thumb.

Her orgasm exploded through her causing her back to arch, her heels drummed on the mattress, her fingers clutched his shoulders for purchase as a hoarse cry escaped her throat. The initial shock-wave passed, but Caleb fastened his mouth on the sensitive curve of her neck and his finger pressed deeper relentlessly wringing a second orgasm from her. This time she shrieked, flinging an arm over her face to muffle her cries.

He moved to lie beside her. She could do little more than gasp and whimper for several minutes, but he did not seem rushed. He tenderly touched her face. It took several heartbeats for her mind to begin functioning. But as she looked down at Caleb's erection, Miranda realized that he was more concerned about her pleasure than his own, and would be satisfied even if they stopped now. When they'd been together in college, he had been a wonderful lover. He had never been selfishly concerned with his release, or determined to prove something. But this was different and she knew that this older, more mature Caleb had a depth of caring that she had never experienced before. She realized that her brother had been wrong. He was not merely attracted to her. Caleb loved her.

This realization brought tears to her eyes. Alarmed, he started to speak, but she silenced him with a finger pressed to his lips. He kissed the saltiness from her cheeks.

“You are incredible,” she whispered.

“You are beautiful,” he replied. “And you're mine.”

She kissed him, a long sweet kiss, caressing his face. “Am I yours?”

“No doubt.”

“Then you're mine, doctor.” She rose up on one elbow and looked at him, so wonderfully featured and handsome.

She kissed him again, with more passion this time. The aftershocks of her two devastating climaxes had passed, and though she normally would have been exhausted, she was eager for more. When he tried to sit up, she pressed him down and began playfully trailing her hair across his body. She showered kisses on his chest, his thighs. He clenched his fists in the blankets when she reached his stiffness and felt him jump gently under her hands.

“I need to protect you,” he gasped.

Well aware of what her hand was doing to him, Miranda's lips curved into a seductive smile. “As a doctor I'm sure you have something for emergency situations like this.”

“Emergency?” he groaned hoarsely.

“Life-threatening crisis.”

“Nightstand,” he gasped as her hand caressed his manhood.

Miranda moved quickly to retrieve a condom. “Perfect.” Biting her lower lip in concentration she returned her attention to the perfect male specimen lying in the middle of the bed. Mustering every bit of concentration, she leisurely rolled the condom down while watching the play of emotion cross his face. Once finished, she shifted her weight, kneeling over him, with her hands braced against his chest.