Firefly (61 page)

He could use both hands to unbutton her blouse and he did.  Even through the soft blue fabric his touch aroused her and made her breath rasp in her throat.

"I had known love, Julie," he explained.  "I had parents who loved me and never hesitated to show it.  My sister took in laundry to put me through school and almost lost her fiancé because of it.  And Amy followed me joyfully from the comfort of a wealthy home in Cincinnati to this dusty furnace and never once complained, all because she loved me."  He couldn't wipe away the tears that squeezed from his own eyes at the memory.  "You had never known love like that, and I think it frightened you.  I know it scared me to death."

"You?"

"Hell, yes, me.  Especially when it hit me the first time."

"With Amy?"

"No, I mean the first time I realized I loved you."

"Don't go giving me any love at first sight nonsense."

He laughed, then finished unbuttoning her blouse and pulled it free from her waistband.

"The first time I saw you, on the porch in front of McCrory's, you were a scrawny, dusty stick in clothes too big for you, with spectacles sliding off the end of your nose.  All that hair was tied up on top of your head and you almost looked bald.  And I was a pickled mackerel, too drunk to see straight anyway."  He paused only long enough to help her pull her arms from the sleeves of the blouse and then she took it to hang it in the wardrobe, too.

"But a few weeks later, when you'd got me sobered up a little and I was coming back to life, I woke up one night from a dream about you, and I was in a state I hadn't been able to achieve in years.  I had thought I was beyond that forever, emasculated by my grief, yes, and my guilt in Amy's death.  But it had all made me think it was for the best, that you were safe from me, and I from you, even though I had already started feeling things for you I knew I shouldn't."

She took his shirt from him and tossed it negligently onto the chair.  Then her hands went to his belt, drawing a groan from him that closed her eyes for a moment.

"Oh, God, Julie, don't do that."  But when she tried to pull her hand away, he clasped it to him once more.  "No, don't stop, either."

Long, deep breaths of enjoyment settled him so he could continue, but his voice was more ragged, his words slower.

"And then one night I went to Leif's for supper and Lorraine waited on my table."

"Lorraine?  The redhead?"

She made a descriptive gesture with one hand in front of her own chest.

"Yeah, the one with the big tits."  He laughed at her blush.  "I stared at her, Julie, and I tried to conjure up the same reaction, but I couldn't.  And there was another time when I wanted you so badly I couldn't stand it and I even thought of going over to Nellie's, but I knew that wouldn't work either.  I didn't just want a woman; I wanted you."

There were no more words for a while.  Julie fumbled with the trouser buttons while Del untied the strings of her camisole, but then they reached an impasse.  He had to sit down on the bed to let her pull off his boots, and then he stepped out of the trousers.  When he tried to draw the almost sheer undergarment over Julie's head, a sharp pain shot through his arm, too sharp and too sudden to ignore. 

"Damn it," he swore.  "A man should undress his wife properly on their wedding night."

"There will be other nights," Julie comforted as she pulled back the sheets and silently ordered him to lie down.  He crooked his good arm behind his head and watched her.

If he couldn't undress her, he could at least enjoy watching her do it herself.

Perched on the edge of the bed beside him, Julie pulled the camisole up and over her head.  With her arms raised, her breasts lifted and the tight nipples caught the lamplight in sharp relief.  Del reached to touch one, but she evaded him and stood to remove the rest of her clothes.  The black skirt fell to the floor, and she did not pick it up.  Soon the muslin petticoat and underdrawers, too, lay where they fell.

"Is there a graceful way to take off shoes and stockings?" she asked uncertainly.

"I don't care if you pull them off with your teeth."

He watched every movement, not just of her fingers with the shoelaces, but the play of muscles in her shoulders revealed between strands of hair that would not stay where she tossed them down her back.  And the way her head twisted on the smooth column of her neck so that the lamplight cast changing shadows on her face.  He felt his desire grow just watching her bend her knee and stretch her ankle to remove a black cotton stocking.

She stood, her feet still warm and the floor cool.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Julie didn't answer.  She walked to the lamp by the door and blew it out, leaving only the one by the bed lit.  Then, knowing Del's gaze followed her naked body with loving adoration, she returned to the bedside and snuffed the other flame.

It would be a minute or two before his eyes fully adjusted to the dark, but he didn't need to see to know that she walked to the dresser where she picked up a brush and began to pull it through the long strands of her hair.

"Come here," he whispered.  "I need you."

"Oh, Del, what about your arm?"

"Damn my arm.  Tonight is our wedding night, even if it isn't much of a honeymoon."

"But how can you--"

"I can't.  So you'll have to make love to me."

He couldn't quite reach her until she turned to face him and then, by stretching his good right arm as far as it would go, he caught her hand and dragged her closer.  She stumbled and almost fell onto the bed, her hands landing on his chest.  Laughter and desire rumbled from him, and he pushed one of those hands down under the sheet.  When her fingers found him, he couldn't control the surge of need that arched his back and made him clasp her whole body to his.

He could see now, though only through the bridal veil of spun-platinum that cascaded over both of them.

"Ah, Firefly, light of my nights," he sighed, combing his fingers through the shimmering strands.  "Make love to me, Julie.  Now."

He threw back the sheet, revealing the strength of his ardor, and wordlessly he guided his bride atop his hungry body.  Then that instinct which he had earlier aroused in her took over.  She found him, covered him, took him inside her with a long sigh of delicious pleasure.

Author's afterword

Thank you for reading
Firefly
, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.  This was truly a "book of my heart," a story that came to me whole, in a single bright moment of inspiration, and almost wrote itself.

For those readers who aren't familiar with Arizona, allow me to explain a little bit about the setting.

Author's Afterword

I hope you've enjoyed reading about Del and Julie. 
Firefly
was a fun book to write, especially because it was the first story I wrote set in my adopted state of Arizona.  Yes, for those who are wondering, that is the Mammoth Saloon at Goldfield Ghost Town on the cover.  Goldfield is about six miles from where I live in Apache Junction.

When I wrote
Firefly
in the 1980s there was no Internet to do quick and easy research and so I got a few details a little bit wrong, not because I was lazy or didn't care but because I simply didn't have access to the research resources.  Most of those errors have been corrected in this new edition.