Leaving Normal (35 page)

"Yes. I want to lie down on the bed with you, hold you in my arms, and I want to feel all the damn stress inside you leave. I'm not getting up until you let it go."

"I'm not that stressed," she lied.

"The hell you aren't." He moved away from her. "Sit down."

He nudged her toward the foot of the bed and made her sit. He took off her shoes, then he sat and took his off, as well.

Tony lay back, brought her with him as he scooted up onto the pillows and fit her into the crook of his arm. She lay there, tense and anticipating something more. But nothing else happened.

He settled in, rested on his back with her tucked next to his side. She gazed at the ceiling fan above the bed, thought about the summer months when it rotated slowly and kept her cool. The room was warm right now, the heater tripping on in the house. Outside it was quiet, a hazy darkness having settled. Her blinds were closed.

Natalie put her hand on Tony's chest, amazed that he could control the beats of his heart to slow, normal and steady. His ability to relax with ease was something she envied. She closed her eyes, willing herself to do likewise. She felt the pressures slipping away from her.

No sex bed…

It was okay. It was all right. She was happy like this. Just lying next to him as she had on his sofa. There was an infinite peace that came with lying beside someone— the right someone. She defined it as a comforting strength, a contentment that wasn't there when she was alone.

Again, she wondered if it was because Tony was a fireman and he represented heroic qualities, or was it Tony himself? She had a feeling it was both, but more so the man.

Tony was more than just any man. He was someone she could fall for if she let herself. If she didn't think about the future, if she put the past behind her and she only thought about right now, this second, this fragment in time—she could let her heart open up and take him inside.

So she let the thought drift, let her muscles slacken. She swallowed, feeling herself relax. He stroked her hair, her shoulder; he touched her in a soothing way that rose gooseflesh across her skin, at her nape, on the soft surface of her lips.

She found that dormant place within her that trusted, that didn't need explanations or validations or reasons.

She smiled, thought it felt great to know herself once more. To feel a sense of belonging. She hadn't realized how much she had wanted this, but she hadn't known how to get it.

Tony must have known. He took her there with a touch, without a lot of words. Just being here with him, holding him close, not falling into the sex bed with her—that had been what she needed.

Her smile deepened, her heart lightened and her body released the last fragments of tension.

She slept.

It could have been minutes or hours, but Natalie woke to the steady cadence of a heartbeat beneath her palm. As she roused to consciousness, she realized her hand was on Tony's chest. He lay on his back, her body fitting snugly next to his strength.

The length of her left leg rested between his, the angle of her pelvis pushed against his hip. She stirred slightly, felt the pressure between her legs and grew aroused in a drowsy way that had long been dormant in her.

Darkness bathed the room, lit only by the LCD reading from the bedside clock and streetlight filtering in through the blind slats. Tony slept, a deep and sated sleep—or so she thought. He moved, very slightly. It was almost like a twinge, maybe a dream that flitted through his mind with lightning speed. Whatever it was, she brought her hand to his face to give him comfort.

He didn't readily wake.

She felt his jawline and the bristle of beard. He was rugged and so very masculine. He was all male, sculpted by hard contours and smooth planes of flesh. Even through the heavy fabric of his shirt, she could tell his arms were ripped with muscles.

She wondered what he'd look like without clothes.

That thought hovered within her, giving her pause… had her closing her eyes and imagining. It would be far better to see. To feel. To touch and discover.

In that span of time just after midnight Natalie made a decision. She didn't come to it lightly nor quickly.

Slipping out of bed, she rose to her feet. Tony stirred slightly, a soft rise and fall of his chest. She went into the bathroom and got a book of matches. Going from candle to candle, she lit them until the bedroom flickered with low light from flames.

She was glad he didn't wake as she undressed down to her new bra and panties. Her pulse beat, her skin cooled from the room temperature even though the heat was on.

Leaning over Tony's legs at the end of the bed, she began to slowly crawl toward him until she straddled his legs and gazed into his face.

His hands came around her waist before he even opened his eyes.

Once open, he stared at her with a sleepy expression on his face and a smile curving the corner of his mouth.

"Hey," he said, his voice low and whiskey-smooth.

"Hey," she whispered, lowering herself on top of him so she spanned the length of his body.

His arms slid down her back, keeping her close. She loved the feel of him, the hard muscle that pushed into her breasts. There was no time to feel self-conscious in the underwear she'd chosen.

She'd bought pink lace, next-to-nothing panties with a matching bra. They were satin with ivory trim. The panties were French-cut with lace panels. She felt sexy-feminine in them.

Tony's hands moved down her spine, cupped her behind.

"I can't see what you're wearing. Stand up."

The notion of modeling what she'd bought for him sort of gave her a brief panic. While she wasn't overweight, she didn't have a flawless body. After all, she'd had a baby eighteen years ago. What used to be firm and perky was now softer and more pear-shaped.

"Stand up," he said once more, his tone scratchy— not from sleep but from a desire that heated his skin. She could feel it. He was hot to her touch.

She backed away, took a step from the bed and stood there. It took all her willpower not to cover herself with her hands. Having a younger man examine her was new and unnerving.

Tony's body was perfect. She didn't have to see beneath his clothing to know he wasn't carrying an ounce of extra weight. She'd felt the ridges of his abs when she'd lain on top of him, the swell of his pectorals.

His eyes traveled her body, from her breasts to waist, her pubic area, hips and legs. "You look great."

The words of affirmation made her smile, relax a notch. "Thanks."

"Really sexy."

"I wouldn't go that far, but I appreciate the comment."

"Natalie," he half snorted. "I never bullshit anyone. Especially not you. Come here."

She went back to him, stretched out on top of his hard body and he kissed her.

He bunched her hair in his hand, keeping her head close, his mouth locked over hers. He had the nicest lips. So soft, smooth and warm. He knew how to master a kiss, to apply just the right amount of pressure. Not too wet, not too dry.

Explosive currents raced through her, a drugging sensuousness that gave her courage to let herself go. Be herself.

The kiss sent fire through her blood. Its mood changed from sweetly soft to devouring, urgent, exploring.

She felt his body flex, perhaps an involuntary response.

Her head rose; she gazed into his eyes. He had a mask of control on his face.

Spoken with resonant tightness, he said, "I want you, but I want more than you just for the night. You know that."

"Yes. But I can't promise anything but right here and right now."

"I understand. That still doesn't change the way I feel."

"I know."

She didn't want to argue the point with him, nor try and reason. She just wanted. Wanted him.

Maybe it was stupid to dust details under the rug, but she'd never felt this desired or felt this excited to be with someone.

Sharp need rose through her. She trembled for him to touch her, to fit himself inside her heat. She imagined locking her legs around his waist, taking every inch of him and having him fill her up and move steadily within her.

He was gorgeous. Just looking at him could suck the breath right out of her.

Getting off the bed, she stood, knowing what she was about to do.

Her heart slammed hard into her ribs as she unhooked her bra and discarded it. The skimpy pink panties were slid down her thighs, passed over her knees and calves and pooled on the floor at her ankles. As she stepped out of the satin puddle, her chin lifted higher.

Breath caught in her throat, almost solidifying and causing her to become dizzy.

An endless heartbeat stretched between them.

She stood naked, not daring to lower her gaze to herself without the cover of clothing. She already knew what he saw.

The skin on her body was an ivory tone, her breasts a creamy white, the nipples rosy pink. She didn't want to think about the two scars. They unsettled her, made her feel less attractive. She would have preferred to leave the bra on. That's why she'd bought such a pretty one.

Her pulse raced in her throat. She wouldn't speak.

Tony got off the bed, came to stand by her.

"Undress me."

She almost stammered that she couldn't. In that brief second when time ticked off, she realized she'd never undressed a man before. Wasn't that strange… she honestly never had.

The challenge of doing so gave her confidence.

She reached out for the tiny buttons of his shirt and started at the top. First one, then the second until the bottom. The fabric was soft, a brushed cotton. The rich blue color looked good against his skin. As the material parted under her touch, she spanned her hands across the T-shirt covering his chest. She thought it was black. Too dim in the room to tell. It had a V-neck.

Slowly peeling the shirt away from his body, she bunched the T-shirt in her hands and began to lift. Tony's arms rose to accommodate her and with a tug, the T-shirt was off. She tossed it to the floor.

Gazing at him shirtless was divine ecstasy. His body was even better than she had envisioned.

Every plane and valley, every surface of skin was toned and ripped. Muscle defined him, the hard slabs rippling slightly as he breathed.

"I'll bet you could carry a refrigerator out of a burning building," she caught herself saying. The comment was sublime, dumb, but uttered just the same.

"Never had to," he replied, his voice deep in the dark recesses of the room. "Don't think I ever will."

The muted softness of his laughter curled around her.

She licked her lips, extended her hands to the button fly of his jeans. She flicked the metal button open, then dragged the zipper down.

Her knees went weak as he leaned in and gave her a . kiss on the side of the neck. Shivers cascaded through her body, a shudder held her in its grip.

She couldn't quite manage to get his jeans off his hips. He helped, then stepped out of the faded denim. He wore cotton briefs, the kind that went down his thighs. That thin knit fabric cupped and hugged, leaving nothing to her imagination.

He was thick and large.

She never doubted he wouldn't be. But seeing for herself, emotions whorled and skidded.

She'd never been with anyone like him before.

"I don't think I can take off the rest," she said, half the words lodged in her throat.

Tony removed the briefs, tossed them aside.

They were naked before one another. The heat of his exposed body reached out to her skin, seared her flesh beyond measure.

He reached out, traced his fingertip over her parted lips, slowly down the side of her neck and to her collarbone. Then lower across the swell of her right breast…then lower. To the two scars.

An involuntary reaction caused her to tightly grip his wrist, trying to stop him.

She had no more effect on stopping him than she would a freight train.

He met her directly in the eye and tenderly urged, "Don't."

"It looks ugly."

"Don't," he repeated. "Nothing on you looks ugly. You're beautiful."

The hot sting of tears threatened. Not out of sadness or embarrassment, but out of a deep-seated emotional state.

She released him, stood tense and expectant.

His thumb and forefinger touched her nipple, gently pinched and aroused. She grabbed his marble-smooth shoulders to steady herself, to give her strength.

He spent a long time touching, exploring the fullness of her breasts, creating gooseflesh across her skin, causing her nipples to ache, to tighten into hard peaks. He ran his hands down her stomach and hips. Then to the juncture of her legs.

His fingers covered her, one slipped inside.

Her legs almost buckled.

He must have known she couldn't support herself. He took her to the bed, laid her down and lay beside her.

"Touch me," he whispered.

For all her courage under fire at work, at life, in dealing with Greg and the variety of other hurdles she'd overcome, touching Tony in the way he was asking took every fragment of her resolve. It wasn't as if she didn't want to. She did in the worst way.

She just had a moment when she wondered if she could please him as much as he pleased her. It was a stupid and inopportune thought, but she had it just the same.

She slid her hands down his chest, lower to his navel. He had a modest amount of hair on his body, not much. She liked the smooth feel of him, the way he smelled. Musky. Masculine. She liked the sound of his voice in the room, the way his breathing echoed against the walls.

She traced a circle around his navel, then swallowed. Lower. She moved lower to the nest of hair at his groin.

He thrust out, firm and rigid. She touched him. So smooth, warm. Pulsating with heat. A bead of moisture was on the tip and she rubbed it into his flesh, slowly and with a massaging motion.

He groaned, touched her breast with his hand, then pushed her into the bed and covered her nipple with his mouth. He pulled and tugged, a light suction and just enough rough pressure to drive her crazy.

Need consumed her, the moist folds of her flesh aching for him.