Jennifer Greene: Yours, Mine & Ours

He’d picked her up as if she were lighter than pearls and just…taken off. He seemed to be careening up the stairs to her bedroom, because the pale lamplight in the living room had disappeared and they were galloping somewhere in the darkness. His shoulder bumped into a wall.

That didn’t stop him from kissing her.

Nothing seemed to stop him from kissing her.

She was a disaster. Surely he’d noticed? She was unbrushed, undone, un-everything. She felt sick, anxious, lost. Her self-worth index seemed to be hovering around a negative ten.

And still he kissed her. He lifted his head for a gulp of air, smiled at her as if they both had something to smile about, then dipped down again. The last time he’d seen her bedroom, she-and the room-had been covered with paint. Moonlight streamed through the froth of curtains, ribbonlike on the thick, soft carpeting she’d put in.

The next time he came up for air, he dragged his T-shirt over his head, then started stripping her. He didn’t seem to notice that she had drastically low self-esteem issues. He seemed to esteem every part of her quite thoroughly. He pulled down the zipper on her navy town skirt…popped off the button on her proper white blouse.

She should have smacked him from here to Timbuktu.

She considered it.

Temporarily, she seemed to be kissing him back and fumbling for the snap on his jeans…but she was still considering it.

He groaned as if she were killing him…when he was the one being the devil. He backed her to the bed edge, slipped her bra straps down, then laid her down on the poufy, soft comforter. The comforter didn’t last long. He pushed away the covers and the pillows in one long swoop…then swooped back on her.

“You prepared to suffer?” he asked her.

The question made as much sense as anything else he’d done, but it wasn’t like he gave her time to answer. His face dipped in and out of moonlight, and he made her giddy, the way he looked at her. As if it was his first time with a woman, and he’d waited a hundred years-not just for this-but for her.

That tongue of his. His hands. He made it seem like no woman ever had more gorgeous knees. More delectable elbows. More fascinating navels. It didn’t seem to occur to him that these weren’t erogenous zones. You couldn’t seduce a woman by kissing her elbow.

Except her.

He seemed to be seducing her, no matter what he touched, no matter where, no matter how. She wasn’t sure how a woman who could have been so, so low earlier in the evening could somehow, someway, now feel more powerful than any woman alive.

He seemed to be the somehow and someway.

He played and kept playing, until her skin had a silken sheen, and her heart was thundering a symphonic drum and she couldn’t stop touching him back. She felt on fire, inside and out, with need, with want, with…love.

“Enough,” she said.

“I haven’t even gotten started.”

With the sudden superwoman power she’d developed, she twisted and miraculously moved him around until she was on top of him, and he was lying at her mercy on the rumpled sheets. “I’ve had it with you, Mike.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no. You’re not sorry. But you will be.”

“Hey. Red?”

“No more talking.”

“I just wanted to mention. I’m in love with you. I don’t know if it’s right or wrong, sane or insane. This isn’t going away. It’s bad. The worse case I’ve ever had. Times a hundred. I thought I knew what love was. Until you.”

“If you think that’s going to get you out of trouble, think again,” she said. Being a man, he probably wanted to go fast. Tough.

She sipped in a sigh as she closed around him, feeling how he filled her, how they connected, perfect as a lock and key. She was the lock.

He was the key.

No one else had ever brought out the redhead in her. She’d always been laced up. Liked being laced up. Except with Mike. She had a terrible feeling it would always be that way with him. That she wouldn’t be able to hold back. That he’d bring out the lusty and earthy side of her, even when she had always, always liked everything tidy.

She lifted, sank…testing a rhythm, then finding one that seemed as natural as flying. “I love you right back,” she whispered, and then couldn’t talk anymore. Her heart took off in a soar, past earth, past sky, into a place where she felt weak with yearning, fierce with wanting. On fire, with need, for him, with him.

Finally, release came on a whoosh of a cry. She collapsed on top of him, breathing hard. She closed her eyes, felt his long strong arms cuddle around her. Felt his kiss on her brow.

That was the last thing she knew…until the rock-and-roll ring of his cell phone startled them both.

Amanda didn’t know what time it was. Only that Mike popped awake as if shot with a bullet. Still, he took the time to ease her on her side before jerking across the bed, patting the floor until he located his pants, found and flipped on the phone.

She knew it was about Teddy. What else? Her blurry eyes eventually made it to the bedside clock. 3:00 a.m.

Definitely Teddy.

The conversation was hard to transcribe. Someone on the other end was talking; Mike’s voice sounded as if he were talking through mud. “Okay. Okay. Okay. I’ll be right there.”

When he snapped off the cell, she said, “Ill? Or scared?”

“Ill. Just woke up. Rash and a fever.” He was already out of bed, pulling on jeans. “At least he didn’t wake up from being afraid. He was making it the whole night. My mom’s best guess is chicken pox. I could have sworn he had every vaccine known to the universe. I thought kids couldn’t get any of those ‘spot’ diseases anymore.”

He’d immediately gone into dad mode, which she completely understood. When a child was sick, parental instincts took precedence over everything else. She didn’t expect him to be thinking of her…yet the minute he pulled on his shirt, he leaned over and kissed the side of her neck. Slowly. Tenderly. Softly.

Before swearing, and grumbling that he had to go.

“But we have unfinished business, Red. And don’t you forget it.”

She smiled in the darkness, closed her eyes.

She thought she’d sleep…not only had Mike completely worn her out, but the day had been long and traumatic before that. Yet moments later, her eyes popped wide-open.

The day had been traumatic, the custody hearing agonizing. She’d been building character and strength and some skills, she’d thought. All blown away when she couldn’t get the judge to listen about Molly. She’d left the stupid hearing feeling beyond inadequate.

Now, though, it occurred to her that was kind of how she’d felt after Mike bailed her out of her plumbing mess. She’d been so clueless. Because she’d been clueless. He’d been a hero for her that day.

The blackest night slowly brightened, turned into a pre-dawn dusty charcoal…then finally the pearl fog of a new day. It was still only five o’clock. She faced the window, from the pillow where Mike had laid his head, curled up tight. Now she got it. He hadn’t stopped over by accident with that god-awful whisky.

He’d been her hero.

Again.

He hadn’t changed the outcome of the stupid hearing. But he’d made her put it in a different perspective. He’d known perfectly well what he was doing. He’d planned it.

By five-thirty, she was biting her nails…and she hadn’t bitten her nails since she was six. This was precisely how they’d screwed up before. That’s what happened when you had kids, of course. Instead of being able to cuddle and talk things out and just be together after making love…they’d had to separate. And in the hours apart, they’d both frozen up.