Wolfe Watching (7 page)

Tina managed to maintain an indignant expression for all of fifteen seconds, and then her own throaty laughter pealed forth to mingle with his.

“Okay,” she said when their mutual bout of hilarity subsided to an exchange of grins. “What, then?”

Squashing the urge to voice the desire that immediately sprang to mind, Eric swept the room with a quick glance, noting with a surge of satisfaction the stereo components on a table in one corner.

“How about some music?”

“Music?” Tina revealed her incomprehension with a blank frown. “Yes, of course, but—”

“If we shove the sofa back a little,” he interrupted her to explain, “we could clear enough space to dance.”

“Dance?” she echoed. “Here? Now?”

“Sure. Why not?” Eric said, prudently refraining from telling her the type of horizonal dancing he’d prefer to engage in with her, while consoling himself with the hope of at least holding her in his arms if she agreed to the vertical form of erotic exercise. “I’ve been wanting to dance with you since Friday night at the tavern.”

“But you never said a word about dancing,” Tina said, frowning. “Did you?”

“No.” Eric grimaced. “Hell, you could barely make your way through that mob, let alone dance.” He indicated the floor with a flick of his hand. “In comparison to that floor in the tavern, this is a veritable ballroom.” He gave her his most appealing smile. “What do you say?”

Tina hesitated, but only for a moment, and then she shrugged. “Well, all right. What kind of music would you like?” she asked, rising to walk to the stereo system.

The dirty-dancing kind, Eric answered to himself. “What have you got there?” he countered aloud, easing the footrest back into position against the chair, then getting up to attend to the business of moving the sofa.

“Well, I lean toward the classics,” she confessed in warning, almost apologetically.

“Do you have any Rod Stewart?” he asked, “Tonight’s the Night” in particular springing to mind.

“No.”

“Phil Collins?” Eric suggested, holding out hope for “One More Night”...or one night, actually.

Looking woeful, Tina shook her head.

“Well, we can hardly dance to Beethoven’s
Fifth,
” he said in exasperation. “What do you have to dance to?”

“I do have some Mantovani.”

That stopped him in midsofa shove. Eric blinked, then stared at her in sheer disbelief.

“Mantovani?” he asked in laughter-choked amazement, after long seconds of dumbfounded silence. “My mother and grandmother have Mantovani.”

“So do mine. I grew up listening to Mantovani. What’s wrong with Mantovani?” Tina demanded. This time her indignance was definitely unfeigned.

“Nothing, nothing, Mantovani’s fine,” he said soothingly, bidding a sad farewell to dirty dancing. “It’s kinda waltzy, isn’t it?”

“Hmmm...” Tina murmured, nodding and giving him a droll look. “Violins, you know.”

“Yeah, okay,” Eric replied, returning his attention to the sofa.

A few moments later, just as he was straightening from the moving task, the strains of “Fascination” swirled in the air. Eric’s pulses leapt as Tina waltzed across the cleared floor space and directly into his waiting arms.

Hey, this Mantovani guy’s all right, Eric reflected, adjusting his steps to hers. Holding her in his arms was wonderful...even with the inches of space separating his body from her swaying form.

Eric wanted to pull Tina to him, to feel each movement of her body against his, but he fought the urge. Don’t rush it, Wolfe, he cautioned himself. She had come into his arms willingly enough, but he could feel her uncertainty in her tense muscles. Take it slow, he warned himself. Don’t blow it by coming on too strong.

Deciding his self-advice was excellent counsel, Eric raked his mind for a conversational gambit designed to relax her, ease her obvious trepidation.

“Oh, by the way,” he began, struck by sudden inspiration brought on by the reminder of Friday night, “I liked your friends.” Excluding Ted, he tacked on silently.

“I’m glad,” Tina said, blessing him with a smile that stole his breath, and the majority of his wits. “They’re a great bunch, genuinely nice.” She laughed; the sound of it went straight to his senses. “Even when they’re being idiotic.”

“Nothing wrong with a little fun,” Eric said, laughing with her. “They’re okay.” And he knew, he thought wryly, thanks to his accommodating brother. He only hoped that her friends’ good character was a reflection of hers.

His voiced approval of her regular companions had a loosening effect on Tina. She readily responded to Eric’s expressed interest in her business, laughing with him over her descriptions of some of the more exotic, and a few outright erotic, flower arrangements she had been asked to create.

On the fourth cut of the compact disc, the tempo of the music changed from waltz time to something dreamy. Conversation ceased. Their steps slowed. Eric’s arms flexed, drawing Tina’s pliant form closer to his own. Surprisingly, even with the considerable difference in their respective heights, her body fit snugly, sweetly, into his.

The violins swelled...and so did Eric.

Dirty dancing—of a sort—was possible to the music of a hundred and one strings, Eric conceded, thrilling to the expectant ache.

With a murmured protest against the intimate contact, Tina took a step back.

“Sorry,” he muttered, inwardly cursing the too-eager response of his flesh. Gazing down at her, he offered a rueful smile with the apology. “But I really don’t have a hell of a lot of control over my body’s reaction.”

Tina gazed back at him, wide-eyed and solemn. “I know, but then, most men don’t.”

They had stopped dancing and were merely swaying to the music. The occasional brush of their bodies brought an attractive flush to Tina’s cheeks. Heat flashed through Eric. The heat of desire from the tantalizing touch, and the heat of anger stirred by her remark.

“You’re an expert on men and their reactions?” he asked in a deceptively cool voice, incensed by the thought of how she had gained that expertise.

“No.” Tina’s hair swirled with the shake of her head. “But I
was
married to one.”

Eric felt slightly stunned by the power of the feeling of relief that washed over him. He was so shaken by the unique sensation he had to draw several steadying breaths before attempting a reply.

“That’s right,” he said, his hand gliding up her spine to her nape, as if unable to resist the magnetic pull of her shimmering hair. “For a moment, I forgot.” He speared his fingers into the silky strands, gently tilting her head back.

“What are you doing?” Tina’s voice was soft, a whisper on her trembling lips.

“I’m going to kiss you.” Curved over her smaller body, Eric lowered his head as he answered.

“Eric.”

“Hmm?” he murmured, brushing his mouth over hers.

Tina gasped, then asked in a breathless rush, “Aren’t you uncomfortable?”

“A little,” he admitted, once again brushing his lips back and forth against hers.

“But— Oh!”

“But?”

“You’re going to strain your back.”

“Who cares?” he murmured, preventing further comment by sealing her lips with his own.

W
ithin seconds, Tina didn’t care, either, about anything, except for Eric’s mouth moving on hers.

The music faded. The room faded. The world faded.

All that remained was Tina, and Eric, and the unbelievably heady sensations created by one pair of lips in contact with another.

Eric’s lips were incredibly gentle in their exploration of the contour and texture of Tina’s mouth.

The absence of urgency, demand, in his kiss soothed the flutter of uncertainty that had flared to life inside Tina when Eric boldly stated his intention to kiss her.

Eric held her carefully cradled in his arms. Just as his mouth did not attack, so, too, did his hands refrain from groping, probing, taking liberties Tina had not offered.

Time stood still. Time didn’t matter. Time did not exist.

For Tina, existence contracted into two mouths, one instructing, one learning. After an initial hesitation, she eagerly sought the tuition, welcoming the new experience, unrestrained in her response.

Slowly, tentatively, Tina parted her trembling lips in surrender and acceptance of Eric’s superior knowledge of the subject matter.

Eric’s response was immediate. Unfettered desire blazed forth; sensation after delightful sensation rippled through her, stealing her breath and strength, while conversely filling her being with a newfound power.

Tina’s imagination soared on the shimmering wings of sensual awareness, transporting her into a realm of glittering erotic possibilities.

With a suddenness that made her gasp, Eric’s mobile mouth sparked tiny shards of pleasure throughout her body, inducing a hunger that would not be denied.

Driven by the rampant force of a sexuality set free of the bounds of self-imposed repression, Tina clung to Eric and gave unbridled expression to the voracious needs clamoring for appeasement inside her.

Tina was an apt pupil, swiftly applying the tenets of her master tutor. Her lips softened beneath the hard pressure of his, her tongue joined with his in a tantalizing duel of parry and riposte, thrust and retreat. When he tightened the fingers he had coiled in her hair, she reciprocated by spearing her fingers into the tawny gold thickness of his. And when he lowered his arm from her waist to her bottom to draw her up and into the curve of his long form, she accommodated him by arching her body into the hard evidence of his arousal.

Eric reacted with a quick sureness that set her mind and senses whirling. While maintaining his hold on her bottom, he slipped his hand from her hair to her back and, straightening, swept her off her feet, literally and figuratively.

His mouth fastened to hers, Eric unerringly strode from the living room and along the short hallway to her bedroom. No words were spoken; none were needed.

Actions spoke louder than words.

Their lips parted to explore closed eyelids, cheeks, ears and jawlines, then returned to fuse together once more, each successive joining more desperate.

Their hands fumbled with buttons, tugged at hems, smoothed material from heated, trembling flesh.

The bed was a bower, a soft haven for their passion-weakened limbs. They fell onto it, into it, with murmured sighs of relief; at last the difference in height was nullified—they fit together perfectly.

Fit together, and yet were not joined together.

Eric did not attempt to overwhelm Tina with proof of his desire and prowess. Displaying another facet of his expertise, he proceeded to seduce her, mind, body and soul.

His hands stroked, caressed, memorized every curve and flare of her soft feminine form, while he murmured exciting sounds of encouragement for her to trace the angles and planes of his hard masculine physique.

His tongue drew a slow, moist trail from her nape to the base of her spine, then lingered to delve into the hollow he found there. In her turn, Tina delicately reciprocated the caress, her tongue dancing along his spine.

His fingers circled her eyes, her mouth, the tips of her breasts and the mound of her femininity, while enticing her to a tactile examination of the outline of his eyes, his mouth, the flatness of his nipples and the silky-smooth length of his manhood.

Inhibitions banished, Tina replied in kind to Eric’s every touch, every taste, glorying in every delirious delight derived from sensual play and erotic exploration.

The pleasure went on and on, tension curling, spiraling. Eric’s kisses grew harder, hotter, more daring, on her lips, on her skin, on her breasts, on that most secret place on her body, until, writhing, mad with desire for him, Tina cried a plea to him to set her free.

Drawing back, he turned away for scant moments, reaching into the back pocket of his discarded jeans. And then, at last, Eric settled between her thighs, his hair-roughened skin sensuously abrading her satiny flesh.

Tina eagerly lifted to him, rejoicing in the fullness of him expanding to fill the emptiness inside her. With wild abandon, she embraced him with her legs, matching his unleashed passion, riding with him into the fountainhead of bliss.

* * *

“Are you all right?”

Eric’s low voice intruded into the warm pool of satisfaction enveloping Tina. How long had she been floating inside that shimmering aftermath of ecstasy? she mused. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? It didn’t matter, for it had been...

“Wonderful.”

“Yes, you are.” His hand lightly stroked her side from breast to knee; his soft voice caressed her emotions.

She smiled and opened her eyes. “So are you,” she whispered, too drained to move let alone speak in a normal tone. “I’ve never, ever...” Her voice drifted away on a sigh of utter repletion.

“I’ve never, either.” Eric smiled with tender understanding. His stroking hand wandered up the inside of her thigh. “Do you think it would be possible to repeat?”

Tina blinked, gasped, then parted her legs for his seeking fingers. “So soon?”

“Crazy, isn’t it?” Eric said by way of an answer, lowering his head to her breast. “But there it is.” He moved his hips against her thigh to prove his claim.

An instant ago, Tina had wanted nothing more than to drift off to sleep. Now she was wide-awake, aware, aroused, shivering in response to the myriad sensations rioting inside her from the draw of his lips on the tip of her breast and the piercing play of his fingers.

This time there was no hesitancy, no slow ascent into passion. Eric
was
passion, desire incarnate.

His fingers continuing to wreak havoc upon her senses, Eric slipped between her legs, his body taut with readiness, a column of searing fire, igniting an answering flame of wanton hunger deep within her.

And this time he was not gentle; Tina refused to allow gentleness. Grasping his firm buttocks, she pulled him to her, arching her hips high in blatant demand.

“Now, at once,” she commanded.

Making a growl-like sound in his throat, Eric bowed his muscle-rigid body and thrust into her, only to withdraw and thrust again, and again.

In the grip of the sudden onslaught of unbearable tension, Tina sank her nails into his flesh, urging him deeper and deeper into her, wanting more and more and yet more of him.

His teeth clenched and bared, his taut muscles quivering with strain, Eric drove himself and her relentlessly, striving for the ultimate pinnacle of simultaneous release.

The harsh sounds of their ragged breaths beat against her ears. Sweat slicked their bodies. And still they continued to hammer remorselessly at one another.

Tina was barely breathing when the gathering tightness inside her pulsed a warning of imminent release. Eric’s increased efforts signaled his understanding.

A final breath, a strangled gasp, and then Tina shattered into a million thrilling pieces of cascading completion. At that exact same instant, she heard Eric’s cry of triumph, and shared the throbbing attainment of his pleasure.

“Whoa,” Eric murmured, levering himself away from her to flop onto the mattress beside her. “That was...” He paused, as if groping for words.

“Incredible?” Tina supplied, dragging quick breaths into her oxygen-depleted body.

“Yeah,” he said on an exhaled breath.

“Tremendous?”

“Yeah.” He turned his head to smile at her.

“Fantastic?” She smiled back.

“Oh, yeah, in spades.” Eric would give her that much, but no more. The experience had been, still was, too new, too intense, too mind-blasting, too never-before.

He would need time, time to think about it later, to ponder the nuances of the emotional and mental effects...if he dared to think about it at all.

Time. What time was it, anyway? Eric frowned and swept the room with a searching glance. His gaze fastened on the illuminated numbers on the digital clock on the nightstand next to Tina’s side of the bed.

Tina’s side of the bed.

The thought repeated itself in ringing tones inside Eric’s head. In thinking about it as Tina’s side, was he therefore assuming territorial rights to the side of the bed his exhausted body now occupied?

Eric mentally backed away from that idea—it contained overtones he didn’t care to contemplate.

What time was it? Although he had looked, was still looking at the clock, he had not registered the time. Focusing, he peered at the dark red digits.

It read 11:16 p.m. Four hours since dinner.

His stomach rumbled.

“I’m hungry.”

Tina had drifted into a light doze. Her eyes blinked open at the abrupt and decisive sound of his voice.

“After all you ate for dinner?” she asked in tones of amazed disbelief.

Eric shrugged. “In case you haven’t noticed,” he drawled, “I’m a big man.”

Pulling a droll expression, Tina skimmed a glance the length of his sprawled body, before coming to rest on the most masculine section of it.

“I’ve noticed,” she replied, in a voice every bit as droll as her expression.

Laughing at the rejoinder he had left himself wide open for, Eric pushed himself upright. His laughter ceased abruptly when he saw her shiver. It wasn’t until that moment that he became aware of the cool air in the room chilling the perspiration drying on his skin.

“You’re cold,” he said, swinging his long legs over the edge of the bed and standing to stretch luxuriously. “C’mon, a hot shower will warm you up.”

The look Tina leveled at him was less than enthusiastic. “So would a blanket,” she retorted.

Eric gave her his most lascivious smile. “Yeah, but it wouldn’t be half the fun.”

She shut her eyes and grasped the blanket with one hand to pull it around her shivering body. “I’d rather sleep— Oh! Eric, what are you doing?” she cried as, laughing, he slid his arms under her and swept her off the bed.

Not bothering to answer, Eric tightened his hold on her, to share his body warmth with her, but also because he loved the silky feel of her next to his skin.

“Eric, put me down,” Tina demanded, curling her arms around his neck.

Eric caught a rough breath when her reaction caused her breasts to rub against his chest. Savoring the sensation of her nipples poking into him, he carried her into the bathroom. Kicking the door shut, he reluctantly set her on her feet, sliding her body sensuously against his.

“You are a tyrant,” Tina said, but didn’t protest when his encircling arms drew her closer to him.

“You feel good,” he murmured into her hair. “Smell good, too. Like a woman who has been thoroughly loved.”

Tina pulled her head back to give him a look of distaste. “You mean I smell like raw sex.”

“Yeah.” Eric grinned. “Turns me on.”

“Big deal,” she retorted. “Even with my limited experience of you, I’d say it doesn’t take much.”

“Now that’s where you’re wrong,” Eric said, looking offended, as he reached inside the shower to turn on the water taps. “I’m not easy, you know,” he went on, in a voice raised above the sound of gushing water.

“At the moment,” she drawled, blatantly staring at a point below his waist, “I’m forced to admit that you are really very hard.”

“And getting harder by the second,” Eric confessed, his grin turning wicked. Testing the temperature mix, he coiled an arm around her waist and, hauling her with him, stepped into the tub, beneath the spray of water.

“Eric!” Tina screeched, sputtering as the spray filled her mouth. “Do you want to drown me?”

“No.” Eric chuckled and reached for the soap. “I want to lather you...all over.”

Tina gave him a militant look. “Okay, but on one condition,” she said adamantly.

“And that is?” Eric arched one tawny eyebrow.

Her brown eyes gleamed with inner laughter. “That I get to lather
you
all over.”

“You drive a hard bargain, woman, but you leave me little choice.” A contrived frown creased his brow as he held up the single bar of soap. “The only problem now is—who goes first?” he asked in a tone of consternation, marveling at the intensity of excitement the silly byplay was stirring inside him—and outside, too, come to that.

“Me.” Tina made a grab for the soap.

Eric straightened his longer arms, holding the bar aloft, inches above her reach, laughing while at the same time thrilling to the feel of her wet body sliding against his.

How could this be? he asked himself, confounded by the strength of his body’s response. He was thirty-three years old, for pity’s sake. After the double workout he and Tina had put each other through, Eric would have thought he’d be flat on his back, physically and mentally exhausted, not stimulated, ready and eager to repeat the exercise.

Yet here he was, renewed life surging inside him with each stroke of his lathered hands on Tina’s water-slicked body, quivering in response to the glide of her soapy hands on his aroused flesh.

It was unreal. But it was fun.

The baffling question was...was it the circumstances, the availability of the woman? Or was it the woman herself? Eric had a scary feeling that it was the woman herself.

But, damn, the woman herself felt wonderful, every slippery, slidy inch of her.

Despite the confining enclosure, and the awkward positioning, the pleasure mutually derived from the erotic encounter was bone deep and infinitely satisfying.