The kiss seemed to go on forever. The harder he pressed, the more she responded, feeling his tongue exploring the contours of her mouth. It was electrifying, stimulating and incredibly erotic.
His hand slipped down to the side of the chair and she heard a click as he released the wheelchair’s arm, and let it swing down. And then he was lifting her out of the chair. She wrapped her arms around his neck, never once breaking contact with his lips.
Her eyes were closed, but as he started carrying her, and moving across the room, they flickered open for a second, and she saw they were approaching her bedroom. For an instant a surge of panic swept through her, but she fought it down. She didn’t want this to end.
Instead she felt herself drift on the kiss, letting it carry her away to a place she thought she’d never visit again.
He laid her down gently on the bed, and sat down beside her, the kiss finally interrupted. Deftly he undid the buttons of her shirt, pulling the two halves apart, exposing her purple bra, and the white breasts it covered.
He leaned forward, and with his tongue traced a line from the belt of her jeans, up her entire body, pausing at her bra and then pressing on, outlining the contours of her breasts. She reached up and unhooked the front fastener, and let the cups fall to either side, gasping slightly as his tongue found her breasts, and his lips closed over a nipple.
He lay down at her side, stroking her hair as he kissed her breasts. As his fingers loosened her belt, popped the button of her jeans and slowly slid down the zipper, she murmured a half-hearted protest, but he put his finger to her lips. “I understand,” he whispered in her ear. “I won’t hurt you.”
“I can’t feel you,” she said desperately. “I want to but I can’t.”
He sat up suddenly, but only to strip off his clothes, and then he was back beside her, his body against hers, and she felt a jolt of pleasure as their skin touched.
“Can you feel this?” he said softly, as he wrapped his arm around her.
“God, yes,” she breathed.
And she could, a feeling more sensual than any she had experienced in her entire life. The feeling of his skin pressing against hers was electric, stimulating a hundred nerve endings, sending pleasurable shock waves coursing through her body.
His hands massaged her breasts, fingers and thumbs pinching her nipples. A tension grew within her, wave after wave of pleasure building below her waist, sweeping down from her breasts, centering at a point just south of her navel.
The orgasm, when it came, made her cry out and she clamped her hands in his hair, pulling his head down, crushing his lips against her own.
They lay there, breathless. “Now I feel guilty,” she said at last.
“Why?”
“I can’t satisfy you. I can’t give you what you need.”
He took her hand, and laid it over his erection. “Are you sure?”
She gripped it tightly. “Is it enough?” she asked.
He said nothing, but moaned slightly as she began to move her hand.
Sometime later, sated, they lay in each other’s arms, him idly stroking her hair, her lying still, passively reveling in the closeness of their bodies, feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm, stunned and surprised that she could enjoy sex so much after she had written off that part of her life.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” she said, after a few minutes.
“Do you regret it?”
“No. I loved every minute of it. And if you say ‘all part of the service’ I swear I’ll hit you.”
He laughed. “Above and beyond,” he said. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I met you.”
“Well, I’m glad you did,” she said. “I could give you a long speech about me thinking my life was over, about how I’d never experience anything like that again…”
“But?”
“All true, but you’ve banished all those negatives. Better still…”
She reached for her cigarettes on the bedside cabinet and lit one, blowing smoke up at the ceiling.
“Better still?” he said.
“You’re a great fuck.”
“Well, technically we didn’t actually…”
“I will hit you,” she said, and laughed. “The doctors said I would never have any sensation below the waist.”
“But you did?”
She touched his face. “Oh yes, couldn’t you tell?”
He nodded. “But if you felt…all that, do you think you might regain the use of your legs?”
That was her dream. The specialists had been so vague, so intent on not raising her hopes, even though they suggested there might be some improvement.
She smiled. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. I’ve heard of healing hands but…”
“You read about medical diagnoses being proved wrong all the time. Doctors are wonderful but they can’t see into the future. Maybe…”
Beth held up her hand. “Let’s not get carried away.” She laughed suddenly and richly. “God, I was going to tell you to take it one step at a time…”
James laughed. “Time for that coffee now. I’ll make it.”
He launched himself from the bed and padded out to the kitchen. She heard him switch on the coffee maker, and then he returned to the bedroom. He reached for his shirt, dressing quickly.
“Can you fetch my chair?” she said.
“Of course,” he said, and left the room.
He returned within seconds, and parked the chair at the side of the bed.
“This will take a while,” she said. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He walked to the door. “Your coffee will be waiting for you.”
She watched him go, closing the door behind him. Her mind was racing. James seemed to have an innate understanding of her doubts and insecurities, and she loved him for that. She pulled herself up short. Loved him for it? Don’t get ahead of yourself, Beth.
Just like she had told him about hoping for a normal life. She wasn’t going to lose herself in false hope.
When she finally emerged from the bedroom, the coffee was poured; two cups of strong espresso sat steaming on the kitchen table, but of James there was no sign. She fought down a momentary panic that he might have taken off, but was relieved when she heard him coming down the stairs.
She looked at him as he crossed to the table, and picked up his cup. He saw the question in her eyes.
“Sorry, I thought I heard something. Just went up to have a look.”
“What did you hear?”
“Thought I heard,” he corrected her.
“Okay. What was it you thought you heard?”
He pulled out a chair and sat down, holding his coffee cup between his hands.
Daylight was beginning to fade. She snapped down the light switch, and went to join him at the table. He looked pale in the glaring overhead halogen light, pale, but there was something else. Fear?
“I thought I heard a woman crying.”
“Woman or girl?”
“I couldn’t tell. It might even have been a cat.”
“That’s a bit of a difference. I think I could tell the two things apart. A cat, no matter how distraught, doesn’t really sound like a woman crying.”
“Okay,” he said defensively. “It wasn’t a cat, but I couldn’t tell if it was a woman or a girl.”
Beth was leaning forward in her chair, resting her elbows on the table, cupping her chin in her hands. “So you went upstairs to investigate. What did you find?”
He shook his head. “The sound started to fade away as I climbed the stairs and stopped as I reached the top. Nothing was different from the last time I went up there.”
“You look pretty shaken up though,” she said. “If there was nothing there.”
“I kept expecting Jessica to jump out at me,” he said with a half smile.
“Jessica? Not Dolores?”
“Definitely Jessica. I told you, I didn’t know Dolores that well. I think she was only here a couple of times when I came with Jess, and even then she kept herself to herself. Barely spoke a word to either of us. So I don’t really associate her with Stillwater, but I do associate Jess.”
“Was it Jessica you heard crying?”
He avoided her gaze. “Yes, I think so.”
She sat back, shaking her head. “I think something happened here, James. Something terrible.”
“Something more than an accidental drowning, you mean?”
“Oh yes,” she said. “Something much worse than that.”