Part 13 (2/2)
”So how are the s.e.x scenes coming along?” he asked.
”I finally wrote one that I would be willing to show you,” I told him.
”Which means there were very dirty early efforts.” He grinned. ”So how many times have you used the word 'length'?”
This time I did blush. ”I hate you.”
”You'll get over it; most of my friends do,” he promised. ”But really, how is your story coming along?”
”I'm getting ideas from the weirdest places,” I told him. ”Like, I was running the other day and I thought of all the different explanations for the house suddenly coming to life and eating Laurie's husband. Some of them were lame, like the house standing on an Indian burial ground or being haunted by the ghost of a wronged woman. But a few of them were worth writing down. And I was so afraid I would forget them, I turned around and ran back home so I could get to my computer.”
”That's probably when your brain processes everything, when you're running,” Monroe said. ”You should get a pocket recorder so you can tape your ideas when you run. I get all my ideas in the shower. I started keeping a dry-erase board on the bathroom wall so I could write them down.”
”You do not.” I laughed. Monroe marched over to the bathroom door and flipped the light switch, illuminating a dry-erase board covered in scribbles. ”I stand corrected.”
”This is the benefit of my professional experience,” he said with exaggerated pomposity.
I ignored his smug posturing. ”Well, the bright side to this is that I'm learning a lot about the divorce process through life experience, and Sam is willing to let me pick her brain every once in a while when I run into a technical question. It's helped me structure the chapters. I think Sam's glad I've found a creative outlet that doesn't involve a mailing list. Or gasoline.”
I flipped open the CD organizer that held Monroe's DVD collection. ”You have a disproportionate number of Clint Eastwood movies in here. Honestly, I didn't even know Every Which Way But Loose was released on DVD.”
”It's Clint Eastwood and an orangutan,” Monroe said, obviously shocked at my naivete. ”What self-respecting man wouldn't own this movie?”
”I have so much to learn about men,” I said, shaking my head.
”Well, my movie collection is a good place to start,” he said.
”Dirty Harry, High Noon, The Dirty Dozen.”
”I thought that was the one about the couple with too many kids..
”You've never seen The Dirty Dozen?” he asked, clearly aghast. ”Are you a communist?”
”I don't think nice girls from Singletree are allowed to be communists,” I said as Monroe put the movie in the DVD player. ”I think it's against the town charter.”
I liked that it was just understood that I would be staying. There was no awkward thing where I edged toward the door while Monroe tried to convince me I was welcome. I was completely comfortable, even though The Dirty Dozen wasn't exactly to my taste. I asked a lot of stupid questions, like what crime was Donald Sutherland charged with, and how did half-literate felons manage to come up with such a catchy rhyming plan? But Monroe seemed to enjoy introducing me to an American cla.s.sic.
Gravity and comfort eventually led to me cradling against him, my head pillowed against his shoulder. It was so comfy, a level of familiarity, of rightness, I didn't think was possible with anyone other than Mike. I lifted my head, really just to look and see if he was asleep. And found myself nose to nose with him.
”Hi,” he rumbled. His breath was everywhere. His air was my air.
”Hi.” I closed my eyes as he leaned closer. Three words blared against my eyelids in neon red. NO p.e.n.i.s POLICY.
”Don't think about it,” he said. ”Just enjoy it.”
He positioned my legs on either side of his hips. He wanted me to stay, badly. I could feel the evidence rubbing pleasantly through my sweats. He cupped my chin and pressed his mouth to mine. It wasn't roses blooming and fireworks, more like a long cool drink after crossing a desert.
”Nervous now?” he murmured. I nodded. He kissed me again, lifting my hands to his shoulders. His fingers snaked under my tank, circling lazily against bare skin. I lost track of time. I heard the movie credits roll and the TV click off.
”Nervous now?” he asked. I nodded again. He yanked the zipper of my hoodie down and tossed it aside. I've never had a man toss my clothes across the room. I didn't feel like a convenience. He was trying for me. That mattered a lot.
Should I suggest that he put on a condom, I wondered. He was a single guy living alone in the middle of nowhere. What if he didn't have them? Did I need to run back to my place and get one? It would probably kill the mood, but there was no way I was - h.e.l.lo, what was that he was doing with his tongue?
He dragged me to the floor. It wasn't the comfiest surface, just a soft old rag rug and some throw pillows, but Monroe had a fire going in the big slate hearth. I let the heat soak into my bones, forcing myself to relax my toes, then my feet, then my legs. Legs that Monroe was settling between, skimming his fingertips along the waistband of my jeans just before unb.u.t.toning them.
”Are you nervous now?” he asked, dragging his fingertips along the contours of my hip bones.
I closed my eyes and nodded. ”Yes.”
”How about now?” he asked, pressing his lips just under the curve of my belly b.u.t.ton.
”Mmmm.” I grunted in an unsure tone.
He eased my s.h.i.+rt over my head. ”Now?”
My answer was lost as his lips closed over mine. I pulled Monroe's T-s.h.i.+rt off and ran my fingertips along his ribs. He was so warm, each muscle bunching as I brushed my fingers over his skin. Once I finally tangled my fingers in that thick dark hair, I didn't want my hands anywhere else, so I managed to push his jeans down with my feet. I happened to glance down as Monroe slid out of his jockeys. My eyes went wide. Wow. Mike had been exaggerating about what was considered average.
I had to slow down. Not to think, but to savor. I wanted this to work. I didn't want this to be bad. If it was going to be any good, I had to tell him... I had to tell him...
”Put your hands here,” I blurted out, cupping his hands against my b.r.e.a.s.t.s.
Monroe drew back, startled. ”Okay, then.”
Well, at least I didn't tell him to turn them counterclockwise.
I laughed, nervous, but held his hands where they were. ”I'm sorry! But, I just - I want you to know what I want.”
”No. I liked it,” Monroe said. ”It's like Twister. Right hand, breast. Left foot, well, I won't go there, but - do it again.” He kissed my smiling lips. ”Tell me what you want me to do.”
It took me a second to realize he was serious. He didn't mind being bossed around. He didn't resent me trying to ”take over.” It was a heady thing, to be handed that much power. I took a deep breath.
”Kiss me,” I said, tapping the curve of my belly b.u.t.ton. ”There.”
I guided his hands to the lines of my hip bones as he obliged. ”Tell me,” he murmured against my belly. The buzz of his voice against my skin had my nerve endings singing. A flash of heat zipped straight through me. I felt a trickle of warmth between my legs, soaking my panties.
”You can go lower,” I whispered, unable to draw a full breath as Monroe slipped his thumb over the heart-shaped watermark I'd left on the purple cotton.
Monroe wriggled his eyebrows, kissing the inside of my knees. He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a little foil packet, which solved the condom conundrum.
I hooked his fingers through the band of my panties. ”Take them off.”
Monroe's lips traveled the length of my body as he settled between my thighs, his ”length” pressing against me. I was ready. I wanted him. And this was already so much better than any s.e.x I'd had before. I had nothing to lose.
”Now,” I told him, willing myself to relax as he started that long, slow slide into me. It had been so long since I'd felt so full, so potent. I breathed deep, enjoying the pleasant friction. I focused on that rhythm, the sound of Monroe's breathing. He grinned down at me, pus.h.i.+ng my hair back from my face, running his fingertips along my browline. I was liquid, so relaxed and fluid I felt almost separated from myself, but still focused on every movement, every sound and scent.
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