From Here to There (22 page)

 "I haven't touched it in years."

 "You play and sing beautifully." She felt herself melting into his arms, the strength of his arm against her back, the feel of his roughened hand under hers. She turned his hand over to look at the palm. "Blisters," she observed.

 "Mmmm. This cowboy business seems to have a lot of manual labor attached to it."

 "You should put something on them."

 "Yes, ma'am," he drawled, a teasing light in his blue eyes. "Now, put your arms around my neck."

 She did as he ordered, hardly knowing why. She felt his own hands slide down her back, coming to rest at the top of her hips as he pulled her tightly against him.

 Something was happening between Helene and this man who held her so sensually. The night was casting a spell she couldn't fight. She didn't know how she felt about it, but she could no more turn away from the feelings than she could grow two inches taller or soar up to the ceiling of the room.

 She knew she danced again with both Phillip and Wes. A line dance had them all laughing as they tried to learn the steps, but she was only truly aware and alive when she was in Phillip's arms. He said little, but his body spoke for him, more eloquently than the most passionate of words could have done. She was caught in a spell from which she had no desire to pull away.

 As they drove home, the sky seemed filled with stars, the road a road leading to a fairy castle. The night had taken on a dreamlike quality and even Wes's presence couldn't take away the magic.

 At the house, Wes said good-night, his voice reflecting his disappointment when she didn't suggest he linger. When she opened the kitchen door, Hobo came to check on her, then disappeared back in his bed. Helene didn't turn on the light but knew Phillip had followed her into the darkened room. The moon lit the room with only enough light for her to see the gleam of his eyes. She waited by the table, uncertain of what was to come next.

 "Do you want me to leave too?" he asked huskily.

 "I... I don't know. I never imagined..." She stopped, unsure of what she did want, except that no part of it was having Phillip leave her.

 She saw his teeth flash in a smile. "I can wait until you do know." Before she was aware of what he'd done, the door had opened, closed, and she was alone.

 Bemused, Helene walked to the window and watched Phillip's tall form as he walked down the slope to the bunkhouse, the nearly full moon casting a long shadow. What did she want? She wanted Phillip. Suddenly she wanted him more than anything she'd ever wanted in her life. Nothing seemed to matter, not tomorrow, not promises, not problems. Nothing but to be with him tonight, to not have this evening end, to feel his arms around her.

 Making little more noise than he had, she too opened the door, shutting it on commonsense, on practicality, on logic.

 When she opened the bunkhouse door, Phillip turned swiftly, his shirt in his hand, a look of surprise on his face--a look that quickly became a faint smile, his eyes heavy-lidded with the expression she'd seen earlier.

 "I..." She again felt the lack of words. How could she explain what she'd come for when she didn't know herself. She looked around the sparsely furnished room. "You've fixed it up," she said inanely. He'd put a long table in one corner of the room and on it resided a computer.

 "I'm getting a phone line in next week. That is if the telephone company ever gets around to it," he said, pointing to a fax, "and then I can reach my clients from here."

 She swallowed. "The modern electronic world is unbelievable," she said after a moment. She knew he was watching her, his eyes intently on her, the thoughts behind their blue depths unreadable.

 "I can reach anyplace in the world from here," he said, throwing his shirt onto the bedpost. A faint smile still on his lips, he crossed the room to her.

 "It's simply amazing," she whispered as he stopped only inches from her.

 "With a computer and fax," he murmured, bending and kissing her neck, his hands not touching her body, "I can communicate whatever I need-- almost." His lips were warm, their touch sent a tingle down her spine.

 "Communication, yes." She lost her train of thought as his lips moved along her jaw and she tilted her head to give him better access.

 "I believe in communication." His words were a breath against her skin, a teasing, lilting promise of something more, something beyond her experience. "For instance," he said huskily, "there's the way we're communicating now."

 "Oh yes," she sighed, approving completely of that type of communication. She reached up and put her arms around his neck. Stretching to her toes, she kissed the juncture between his shoulder and neck, running her lips down the muscle to his breast.

 There were no more words as he reached out and drew her into his arms, his lips coming down on hers with a demand and possession she remembered so well but with something more, a promise of more to come. There was none of the angry possession, but it was a claiming that could not have been more passionate. His lips were soft as he thrust his tongue against hers. She opened her mouth, allowing him access, half crazed by his tasting and feeling of her.

 Helene had never been kissed by a man the way Phillip had kissed her their wedding night, how he was kissing her. She had never felt the primitive urgings that seemed suddenly so natural, so impossible to resist. Tentatively, then with more confidence as she heard his groan of pleasure, she thrust her tongue into his mouth, running it around the edge of his lips, then exploring more deeply. His mouth was warm, his tongue hot against hers, arousing feelings throughout her body that had little to do with the kiss and everything to do with the hard masculine body pressed against her.

 Phillip lifted her off her feet and carried her to his single bed. He sat down, not breaking the embrace. She felt his hands stroking down her back, unfastening the decorative belt, then pulling up her shirt to touch bare skin. She allowed her own hands to play over the muscles of his back, stroking and touching, caressing and learning as she moved down his back to where his belt blocked further explorations. She was only faintly aware as he unbuttoned her blouse, opened her bra, then bared her above the waist.

 "Phillip," she whispered his name as she felt his lips claimed her breast. It seemed only right to reciprocate, and she bent her own head to his chest. She heard him groan as she circled the flat, brown nipple with her tongue, half surprised to see it grow as erect as her own. Moving across his chest, she paid homage to the other side, her hands moving down his torso, stroking over muscle and sinew, unprepared for the strength of the feelings being aroused in her body as she touched and tasted him.

 "Is this what you want?" she heard him whisper as his hands caressed her, teasing and playing with her body until she thought she'd go mad.

 "Mmmmm." She didn't want it, she had to have it, couldn't live without it.

 "Are you sure?"

 "Of course not," she murmured, her hand reaching down his flat, ridged belly.

 He laughed, the sound a husky caress. When he had stripped her, she reached over and with trembling hands unfastened his belt buckle. It seemed to take forever, and she knew she was clumsy, but finally she had him as bare as she was.

 They lay back on the bed, their hands free to touch wherever they chose. It was like a dessert course, one she'd never felt she dared select, rich and unbelievably luxuriant. Everything about him was delicious and so intensely masculine.

 "Lord, Helene," he whispered against her neck, his breath a teasing temptation, "you're perfect. Your body's so beautiful. Better than I dreamed." He claimed her lips with another kiss that left her with no breath or will to answer.  She wanted something, something she'd never had. Her body needed something, but she didn't have the words to tell him.

 She kissed his chest, her lips and tongue moving down across him. She had never felt a man this way, never had the desire to do so, not until now, not until this moment with the man she'd married, the man she had thought she knew and was coming to realize she had never known at all.

 Exploring his body, learning what he liked, seemed to arouse her as greatly as his caressing her body, the heat of his hand stroking and awakening those places that had never come alive until this moment.

 "Wait," he managed to groan, pulling back, leaving her.

 "You're not--" Before she could form the words of her complaint, he was back.

 "Just this," he said, a smile in his voice, "a little protection for the lady."

 "A boy scout," she whispered as she watched him open the small packet.

 He smiled. "Not always." His lips were again claiming hers, possessing her as she wanted the rest of him to do, as she needed so badly. She'd read, of course, all about what was to happen next but words hadn't prepared her.

 He levered himself over her, as she spread her legs to receive him. She felt pressure, then he stopped as he came up against the thin barrier. "Helene?" Whatever he'd been about to say was lost as she thrust up against him, making him lose all control, all thought of whether or not he was going to hurt her. She wouldn't let him turn back.

 Their bodies joined, they were caught in the age-old rhythm, the oneness men and women have found from time immemorial. And she finally understood the unheard rhythm that had been drawing her toward him.

 She knew she was making sounds, sighs and moans, knew he was murmuring her name, groaning, but nothing seemed real except the growing sensations, the yearning for something more. When it came, the burst of pleasure, the fulfillment of her body, she cried out, her words caught by his lips as he found his own release.

 "I didn't know you were a virgin," Phillip whispered as they lay together afterward, their arms around each other.

 "Did it matter?"

 "I don't know," he said, a faint smile in his voice, "I just didn't expect it."

 "Well, it's not exactly something a woman advertises."

 "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

 "I didn't think it was."

 "Why?"

 "Why wasn't I ever with anyone like this before? I don't know. It just never seemed right, and I couldn't imagine doing it without..." She stopped and realized what she'd been about to say. She couldn't imagine doing it without love, but she wasn't at all certain Phillip wanted love from her. She didn't know what he did want or even what she could offer. None of their basic problems had been resolved even if she did feel a more pleasant lassitude in her limbs than she could never remember experiencing. That wasn't sufficient to make a relationship work.

 "At least annulment's out now," he said with a smile.

 She sat up abruptly, nearly yanking the covering quilt from him. "Was that what this was all about?"

 He laughed, pulling her back down against him. "Surely even you, as a recent virgin, know it would take more than that for a man to... uh, rise to the occasion."

 Still suspicious, she subsided against him. His arms felt hard, yet somehow comforting in their strength as they encircled her. "You know though," she managed to say despite the distraction of his hand moving over her body, "we've settled nothing."

 "I know."

 "I mean there are still all the problems."

 "True." He was kissing the crown of her head.

 "All right then. We're agreed."

 "Mmmm." He teased her neck with light kisses, kisses that made her arch her back and forget that he'd never really answered her. In another moment she forgotten what she'd felt so concerned about.

 When Phillip woke, Helene was gone. For a moment he questioned if she'd ever been in his narrow bed. Had it all been a dream? A little blood spot and her scent lingering on the sheets was the only proof he had of the night they'd spent.