Solomon's Sieve (21 page)

Her smiled died. “I’m not beautiful.”

He cocked his head. “Who said?”

She dropped her eyes and took a sip of wine. “I know that people talk about other people at Jefferson Unit. It’s like a small town. Everything is everybody’s business.” He nodded to encourage her to continue. “So maybe you already know that I was engaged?”

“To the former Sovereign. Yes. I did know that. Is that what this…? Are you feeling like…?” Try as he might he couldn’t find a way to phrase the question without making things awkward between them. “You talk. I’ll listen.”

“Well, it wasn’t that long ago and I really wasn’t ready to think about, um, dating. I may have ventured into this too soon.”

“You’re having second thoughts about having dinner with me?”

She flashed a big smile that showed white even teeth, a big contrast to her lipstick. “Too late for that. No. Dinner was wonderful. I just wasn’t prepared for… ah, this.” She used the wine glass she was holding to gesture toward the bed. “It’s too soon. He hasn’t been gone that long.”

There it was. The grandfather of all double binds. There was a part of him, a big part, that was glad she mourned Sol. There was another part that wanted her to just suck it up, get over it, and take off her clothes. At some point he realized she was waiting for him to respond.

“Tell me about him.”

That was the last thing she’d expected to hear. It was evident he’d surprised her because her dark eyes flared a little. “Why would you want me to talk about that?”

“Just do.” She looked dubious. “We agreed we’re here to get to know each other. I’ve got you all to myself. No phones. No computers. No workmen. No Genevieve. No trainees needing fresh diapers.” That made her laugh and damnation if laughter wasn’t a great look for her. “It’s our chance to say whatever we want without fear of being overheard.”

For a minute she just studied him, like she was trying to discern whether or not he was being truthful. “He was extraordinary. Well,” she shrugged, “I guess all Sovereigns are extraordinary, by the very definition, but there was so much more. I could talk about all his wonderful qualities, but in the end, what it came down to? Is that we fit. Just as simple as that. He made me feel like I was precious because he’d picked me. He made me glad to be me.”

She felt a hot tear slide down her cheek and reached to swipe it away, but Rev caught her hand. He leaned over and kissed her cheek where the tear had left a trail. When he pulled back it wasn’t far enough that she couldn’t feel his breath on her face. “I can’t tell you when is the right time to move on, but I can tell you that’s how you make me feel.”

“What?” she sniffed.

“You make me feel like there’s nothing more important in the world than being with you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. You practically just met me. This is our first date.”

“I know and I don’t care. You’re the one.”

“The one?”

“The one.”

“I want to go.”

“All right.” He cursed himself silently for pushing. Too much. Too soon. He’d scared her away and it might take forever to get her alone again. He reached for her coat and helped her into it. She gathered up her purse and started for the door without looking back. He followed helplessly wishing he could just go back five minutes and retract everything he’d said that made her ill at ease. “Just tell me one thing,” he said to her back. “Do you feel comfortable with me? Like we… fit?”

He’d followed so close that, when she turned around, she practically ran into him. They weren’t face to face because he was a good eight inches taller. She dropped her purse on the floor, reached up with both hands, and pulled his face down so that she could press her mouth to his. When his tongue began a thorough exploration, hers tangled with his and she delighted in the groan she elicited.

They cleaved to each other in a way that was far too desperate for a first date. They pulled, pressed and almost clawed with a passion that was staggering. And so unexpected. At least on her part.

Within minutes Farnsworth’s wool coat and red dress had joined the purse on the floor. That was when the wave of panic washed over her. “Stop. Stop.” She tried to push him away.

He was dumbfounded. “Why?”

“Turn off the lights.”

“Turn off the lights? Why?”

“Because I’m forty-four. Not twenty-four.”

He stared into her eyes for a few beats before saying, “No.”

She gaped. “What do you mean, ‘No.’?”

“I want to look at you.”

“No you do not.”

“Yes. I do.” At that point he was grabbing for clothing while she was retreating. It quickly turned into a game of mock chasing around a hotel room with Farnsworth in pretty black and red lingerie. It was so ridiculous she couldn’t help laughing.

When he caught her, he pulled her to him, trapping her arms. “I’m not shy about my body. Would it make you feel better if I go first?”

She laughed, but it was hollow and smirking. “Of course you’re not shy about your body! First you’re a man. And, second, you’re only thirty-one!”

“Put on some music. I’ll do a strip-tease for you.”

She looked at him like he was crazy. “You’re past ridiculous,” she laughed although there was a part of her that was intrigued.

“If I dance for you naked, you have to agree to let me remove these last pretty things from your beautiful body.” He knew he had her when she hesitated. He backed her up until the sofa seat hit the back of her legs, then gave her a little push. She sat and ended up at eye level with his swollen crotch. When he saw that her eyes hadn’t left his groin, he reached down and ran a palm over the erection that was clearly outlined by silk and wool blend slacks. Honestly, he wasn’t an exhibitionist and didn’t know where that came from, but the motion made her tongue peek out and absent-mindedly lick her bottom lip.

He strode to the radio beside the bed, which was a Bose and had beautiful clear sound. After a little tuning he settled on a smooth jazz station and turned around with a devilish smile. Farnsworth responded with a flush, pulled a throw pillow over her midsection and held onto it like a life raft. Everything about what was going on screamed naughty, but she was helpless to end it.

Rev was already coatless. She’d pushed it off his shoulders when they were still by the door. As he watched her closely, observing every reaction, he toed off his shoes, took off socks and threw them behind him. He paid careful attention to where her eyes were tracking and to changes in the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest.

Dancing was certainly not a skill he would claim, but he was flexible and he figured the aspect of clothing removal was more important than actual dancing. So he began moving rhythmically, unbuttoning his shirt as slowly as he advanced on his audience. It seemed that Rev Farthing’s body had recorded muscle memory of dance moves. Maybe Sol wasn’t a dancer, but Farthing was.

Farnsworth was feeling all sorts of tingling sensations awaking parts that had been dormant for a while. She found herself feeling impatient about the time he was taking to remove his shirt. She was ready to see his exposed upper body.

When he did pull the shirt back, he was standing right in front of her. Her eyes went straight down the hills and valleys of his abs to the dark happy trail that disappeared into his pants. She wanted to lean forward and lick straight up that trail until she reached his nipples while running her hands over that flawless expanse of skin.

He motioned for her to take hold of his right cuff. When she did he pulled away and turned until the shirt landed in her lap, leaving her feeling like she’d just stripped him. Without thinking or taking her eyes away from the floor show, she brought it up to her nose. The scent was shockingly familiar. Starch, Old Spice soap and a hint of cigar, like the little black cigars Sol used to smoke. Underlying all that was something indescribably masculine that got her nether parts even more engaged in the experience at hand.

Still moving to the music, Rev’s hips and body were making slow circles, not so exaggerated as to be comical, not so insignificant as to go unnoticed. Her eyes followed his fingers as they undid his belt buckle. He began to draw it out of the waistband loops, painstakingly, agonizingly slowly.

Glancing up at his face she could see that he was clearly enjoying her obvious appreciation of his body and its performance, but he was also smoldering as much as she was. It was by far the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced.

When the belt was halfway out, he extended the buckle to her and nodded. Tentatively she reached out and took it, then pulled until it came free in her hands. He smiled like she’d done something quite exceptional.

He unbuttoned, unzipped, turned around and took a step toward the bed before letting the pants drop to his bare ankles. She already knew he had an eye-catching rear view because she’d been watching him turn around and leave her office several times a day. But the panorama of his bare muscular shoulders and back tapering to his slim waist was a whole new level of lust-driven need to salivate.

When he turned back around to face her, he was wearing nothing but black knit boxers and a smile. He walked forward until his legs were touching hers. One small piece of fabric was the only thing that stood between Rev and nakedness.

“Go on,” he said. She shook her head in an exaggerated way just like a little girl. He laughed. “I insist.”

His hips began moving again as if to entice her to submit. She was mesmerized. And he knew it. Finally, her desire to see what was under the boxers overrode every bit of warring emotion whether it was caution, anxiety, guilt, or fear. She reached out with both hands and let her fingertips slide under the waistband. The second her hands came in contact with his skin he closed his eyes and subtly thrust his hips forward as if his body was reflexively begging her for more touch.

With her heart beating as fast as if she was riding a roller coaster, she pulled the stretchy material toward her and down so that his cock could spring free. She didn’t have so much as three seconds to appreciate the glorious sight of perfect, ample young male in the fullness of arousal before he bent down, tossed the pillow aside and scooped her up.

During the brief time her mind was frozen on a loop of
oh, my, my, my, my, my
, he managed to carry her to bed and place her securely underneath him so that she was trapped by part of his upper body and one of his heavy legs. All thought of protest died as he began an assault of hot and sincere kisses over her neck and face. She had absolutely no desire to be anywhere else doing anything else.

Her body had already been primed by the sensual demonstration of striptease so that she overheated like a pressure cooker with actual contact. When her lips parted to release a moan, he muffled the sound by covering her mouth with his. Thus distracted, he reached under her, released the bra snaps and pulled the fabric away. As he continued to overwhelm her with touches light and firm, kisses passionate and feathery, she had no defense to offer when he lifted far enough away to pull her panties down her legs.

There was a question in her eyes once she was bared to him.

“Beautiful. Perfect for me.”

She could tell that he was telling the truth. He really wanted her. In that way. All forty-four years of her.

As he continued making love to her she marveled at how he seemed to know exactly what she wanted and needed. He knew every one of her erogenous zones and explored them like he’d had a Farnsworth instruction manual. It was heady and heavenly. And comfortingly familiar. When she climaxed, she shocked herself by calling out Sol’s name.

The instant it left her lips, she realized what she’d said and gasped. Rev had stilled. He lifted his head to see her face and found her eyes wide open and starting to tear up.

“I’m sorry,” she began. “So very, very sorry. I know it’s you and, oh gods, I don’t know how I could have said that.”

“Shhhh. It’s okay,” he murmured in a soothing tone. “Don’t be sorry. You just gave me a goal to work toward. Someday you’re going to feel that way about me.”

What he wanted more than anything was to tell her that she wasn’t wrong, that she responded to him like he was her man because he
was
her man. He hadn’t really realized just how hard it was going to be to keep that particular secret.

During the night, as Farnsworth lay in his arms in the dark, she told him everything about what had happened at the beach house up to and including the paramedic callously saying to his companion that she could have prevented Sol’s death with the correct application of a tourniquet.

He listened silently, her tears falling on the bare skin of his chest, as she poured out the grief and sorrow and guilt. All the while he was thinking that he’d been a selfish bastard, first caught up in getting back to life and then caught up in getting Jefferson Unit up to speed. He hadn’t really considered the extent of what she’d been through while he’d been otherwise occupied.

There as they lay together, for the first time, he put himself in her place and tried to imagine what it would have been like if she’d been the one who bled out on the beach on a cold March day while he watched helplessly. He pulled her tighter as his chest constricted and he loved her even more.