They moved against each other as though competing to see which of them could take more, give more. Then he hitched her up higher onto him, made an imperative thrust, and abruptly stopped moving.
“Kiss me,” he said hoarsely. “Now.”
Their mouths connected hotly. Her hands sought purchase on his back. He stayed as he was, but rhythmically rocked against the top of her sex until her breath caught and then ceased altogether. Unparalleled pleasure spiraled up from that spot, overtaking her body, her entire being. Her contractions around him became stronger.
His entire body tensed; he gave a sharp cry. She felt his pulsing in the innermost part of her, like an extension of her heartbeat.
Eventually their breathing returned to some semblance of normal. He separated from her, but caught her against his chest as she sagged toward him.
Together, they sank to the floor and sat facing, limbs loose and entangled, hands languidly caressing, faces flushed and nuzzling.
After a time, he stood and pulled her up with him. She followed docilely as he led her into the bathroom, where he turned on the shower. They lathered themselves, then each other. She was washing his chest when she addressed the triangle below his Adam’s apple. “You haven’t asked, but I’m on the pill.”
“I should have pulled out.”
“I doubt I would have let you.”
He placed his index finger beneath her chin and tipped her head up to meet his gaze. “I doubt I could have.”
That began another round of kissing and caressing with soapy hands. No part of one escaped exploration by the other. They emptied the squeeze bottle of shower gel.
Finally the water ran cool. They got out and dried and returned to the bedroom. They got into bed and lay spooned. His sex was heavy and full against her bottom. He placed his arm across her waist and cupped her breast.
They were quiet, replete, drowsy.
On the brink of sleep, she said, “Are you asleep?”
“Um-huh.”
She smiled. “I’ve been meaning to ask what you meant when you said to me, ‘Watch yourself.’”
She knew that he was still awake and had heard. But he didn’t respond.
Chapter 37
John had set an alarm for four-thirty. Before returning to the hospital, they stopped at a restaurant and stoked themselves on steak dinners with all the trimmings to make up for the meals they had missed.
Molly had been moved from the ER into a private room. John went in to see her alone, but returned ten minutes later. “She’s doing better. Vision is improving. They’re controlling the headache with medication, and she’s still being hydrated with an IV.”
“That all sounds positive,” Beth said.
“She’d like to meet you.”
“Now? Is this a good time? I mean, is she up to it?”
He gave a wry smile. “More than up to it, she’s insistent.”
He ushered her into the room. Molly was half-reclined on the bed, her hair a wreath of dark curls against the pillow. What Beth hadn’t noticed from seeing her only at a distance was the sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks. “Hi,” she said.
“Hello, Molly.” She walked over to the bed and smiled down at her. “I’m Beth.”
She grinned. “I’ve heard about you. You came down here from New York to see my dad.”
“Well…” Beth glanced at John, who kept his expression a blank canvas. “I came hoping to interview him for research.”
“Hmm.”
Beth sensed Molly’s women’s intuition had kicked in, because she looked back and forth between them with a knowing smile. Then to Beth, she said, “I’m going to New York after high school.”
“Your dad told me. To attend a very prestigious art school.”
“Do you know it?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve never been inside, but I’ve passed it many times.”
“Is it totally sick?”
“Sick?”
“That means good,” John said.
Beth laughed and said to Molly, “Yes. Totally sick.”
“My art teacher says I should apply for a scholarship.”