“She has good taste. What made you get a dog?”
“I needed a wingman.”
He was taking a swig of the beer when her words sank in. He damn near choked.
“And I guess I wanted somebody to be here when I got home. I don’t know. I hit the seven-year mark at work and was made partner. My hours lightened slightly.”
“You were lonely.”
“I was lonely. Yes.”
“I keep fighting the urge to apologize. How about I tattoo I’m sorry on my ass?” From another man, that would sound sarcastic.
But she could tell he meant it sincerely.
“That would be fun. You’d moon me constantly.”
He grinned.
“My loneliness is funny?” Her tone made it clear she was inquiring about his grin.
He shook his head. “No.”
She didn’t pry.
“Your loneliness makes me wish I had more clarity back then.” He patted Smoochy’s head. “But this old girl seems to be a good companion. Did you get her as a puppy?”
“Actually, she’s a rescue. Had her for less than a year. Her owner had to go into a nursing home.”
The look he gave her was touching. “That’s really nice of you. To rescue her.”
“You know what they say. Not sure who rescued whom.”
Smoochy sighed again, her body going limp against Gerald.
“I’ll leave you two alone for your intimate moment,” Suzanne said with a laugh. “I think someone has established herself as the alpha female here.”
“My lap’s big enough for two,” he said, patting his free thigh.
Skin shouldn’t warm so quickly, and not from just a few words, a look, a gesture.
But it did.
Her pulse faded, receding, taking with it the steady beat that helped her to know where his body ended and the air began. He met her gaze and they stared. It wasn’t that she was uncertain. She wanted him. He wanted her.
What held them back?
Civilian life had never been part of them. Suzanne and Gerald had known each other for two years, with snippets back home. A trip to meet his mom and dad. A trip back home when his dad had died of a sudden stroke. Their visit to see her mom in Minnesota. Snatches of time out of war zones.
He’d never seen her apartment, nor she his.
Because they hadn’t had one.
“This is so strange,” he said.
She was relieved he took the lead. She sat down next to him.
“I know.” A thousand questions radiated from her, heat seeking his body, drawing him in.
“You’re not in a uniform. I’m not in a uniform. And I’m sitting on your couch in your very nice condo in a great Charlestown neighborhood with your dog drooling on my leg.”
“It’s surreal.”
His voice went rough with emotion. “It’s everything I’ve wanted for years, Suz.”
He leaned in, kissing her softly. Smoochy stirred, sat up, and toddled off, jumping off a very distracted Gerald’s lap.
“Let’s take this,” she said, breathless between kisses, “one step at a time.”
“Define ‘step.’”
“Spend the night with me.”
“I like that step.”
“Make me breakfast in the morning.”
“Is that step two?”
“Sure.”
“I always respond well to a clearly defined set of procedures.”
“How about a map?”
“Even better.”
Neither one moved. The offer, once accepted, was almost enough. Acting on it felt so big. So was he, though. As she crawled into his lap, connected to him by their eager mouths, she pulled her skirt up so she could straddle him, his arms wrapping around her waist. The heat of sinking into him, the intimacy of having his body so close, made her mind rest.
Her body took over.
“You taste so good,” he murmured between kisses, his hands sliding up her spine in tandem, then moving across her shoulders in synchronized perfection to remove her suit jacket. The shiver she gave came less from the temperature change and more from the delicious feel of how he touched her. With Gerald, a touch wasn’t just the stroke of a finger, the brush of a palm, the flick of a tongue, or the thrust into her. Never one to waste movement, he reveled in it, living fully in dimensions she couldn’t even see.
He pulled her shirt out from her waistband just as she returned the favor, seeking the raw warmth of his skin. Her hands flattened against his thick shoulders, the connection grounding, her body moving in a slow, involuntary rhythm against him as he kissed her hard.
So hard.
As he cupped her breasts over her bra, her nipples tightened, the ache spinning down in a spiral, tearing through years of pain and craving. Her breath hitched and his kiss became more urgent, his intent clear. It was so good to kiss a man who knew how to hold her just so, who used a feather light touch where she wanted it, and who pressed where a tighter squeeze made a difference.
Gerald had been joyfully unrestrained in bed, hours of pleasure unending, as if there were no events marking time—no final orgasm, no steps in a schematic—but only the undefined fuzzy logic of imperfect art played out in moans and sighs, in the light stroke of a fingertip against responsive flesh, in the wave of tongue against arched hips and the push and pull of love cried out in ecstasy.
In minutes, they would be back in that dimension.
She shivered with anticipation.
“What are we doing?” she whispered, the tone playful, his hands sinking into her long waves.
“Whatever it is, it’s been a while,” he rasped. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this.” His hand left her breast and traveled up, thumb moving from her chest to her chin, her lips closing over his finger with a warm, wet welcome.