Eva lifted the rum drink absently and took a sip. She grimaced and put the glass down again, forcing the liquid in her mouth down her throat. The ice had melted in the glass, and the drink tasted like nothing more than warm, tinted water.
“I order you another one,” Deacon said next to her.
“Oh, no. No more for me, thank you.” Eva quickly inserted as Deacon moved to signal for the waiter.
“Come on, Eva,” Deacon scoffed at her. “This is a celebration! It’s Carnival time. Everybody drink and dance.”
Eva smiled weakly, feeling a headache beginning to set in at her temples. “For me it’s more fun just to watch. Maybe later,” she assured him, hoping that later he would have forgotten. Deacon turned to have a word with his sister and brother-in-law, and Eva sighed inwardly, gently massaging her forehead.
The music being performed had a certain cadence and rhythm to it that at this moment seemed to be keeping exact step to the pain in her head. She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on blocking out one or the other and finding it didn’t work.
Eva jumped guiltily at the voice in her ear, and the arm which briefly rested around her back and shoulders. She turned her eyes back to Deacon.
“Good music, eh?” he flashed a wide smile from his dark face.
“Very nice,” Eva agreed.
“They make love songs, you know,” Deacon informed her.
Eva gave him a skeptical look. “It sounds too festive to be love songs.”
“Oh yes. We like happy music for all things. Even sad occasions. We celebrate everything!” and he began to move his shoulders to the music in a sensual rotation, leaning toward her. Eva’s eyes widened as they followed the suggestive movements. But then he laughed and grabbed for her hand. “That private dance,” he whispered low, “only for lovers.”
“Is it?” Eva asked wanly.
“Yes! I dance for you, yes? I dance the whole dance if you stay, marry Deacon.”
Eva hoped her chuckle sounded like gentle amusement. “That’s quite all right.”
The musical evening had started with a steel band, which was lovely but just a bit too loud. Then it had changed to reggae for a while, complete with a lead singer in long Rastafarian dreadlocks. Now it was calypso, with everyone around her in the smoky room swaying to the music.
Eva looked at the crowd of people through the fog of cigarette smoke, at the mixture of people who’d come to celebrate the whole week on St. John. The streets and stores and restaurants had been hard pressed to accommodate not only those already on the island but those arriving from St. Thomas and Puerto Rico as well.
So far Eva had managed to avoid much of the crowds, having spent the first half of the week in Adam Maxwell’s company. The memory of those days made her want to be alone, apart from all of this celebration and merriment so that she could sort out her feelings. She had elected to avoid his company the previous day by deciding her cupboards were low on supplies and she had to shop in town to restock.
Eva had already spent two bad nights imagining Maxwell making love to her as Kevin stood in the background in censuring, hurt silence. The thought of Kevin had been effective in staying her and keeping her from Maxwell. But it had in no way stilled her desire or her need. What had settled instead was a kind of guilt and confusion-ladened depression. Part of it had to do with feeling as though she was afflicted with some inner energy, gravitating her closer and closer to the potent physical aura that was Maxwell. She felt herself opening up and responding to him in a way that, in her mind and admitted limited experience, could only be described as wanton. The other part of her depression was based on her growing knowledge that she wanted to experience all of it.
There was a charm and persuasive power to the man that went beyond the hard outer shell he so effectively wore for the rest of the world. But Eva was starting to feel that she was already reaching beneath the façade. Yet it had to happen slowly, so afraid was she of being sucked into a vortex of heated emotions that would destroy her.
On Wednesday morning Eva had driven to a small market just outside of Cruz Bay to do her shopping. It was as she stood in line at the checkout counter that she encountered the final link to set the depression firmly inside herself.
A thin little girl of about ten or eleven walked cautiously up to her and looked into her face shyly. Eva saw her staring and smiled in a friendly fashion. The little girl, who was very pretty with a heart-shaped caramel-colored face and enormous black eyes, returned the smile.
“Are you Diane’s friend?” she asked Eva.
“Diane?” Eva questioned. “Oh you mean Diane Maxwell? Yes…I guess I am. Are you Dory?” Eva asked. Dory merely continued to stare at her and smile. “I understand you’re in the parade on Friday?” Eva ventured comfortably.
“Uh-huh,” was the response from Dory, apparently not inclined to be a conversationalist. “Diane helped me with my costume. Are you coming to see it?”
“I hope so.” Eva looked around her. “Are you alone? Is Diane with you?”
“She went back to her father this morning.”
“Oh, I see. But…”
“Dory is with me,” came the sultry, lilting voice behind Eva. Her stomach churned as she twisted and recognized Lavona standing to the side. Lavona had her mass of thick wavy hair pulled back off her tawny face and pinned at the temples with combs. She wore an eyelet lace summer camisole, and it was obvious that she wore no bra with the flimsy top. She was well-built and proportioned, but Eva wondered that she had the nerve to be so blatant. The pretty top, however, did set off her creamy brown skin to perfection. It was worn with a pair of red slacks, molded to Lavona’s legs and hips.
“Oh, hello,” Eva mouthed politely, stiffening nonetheless with remembered anger at the way Lavona tended to treat her. Lavona didn’t return the greeting, and Eva wondered in additional irritation if that was a habit she got from Adam, or he got from her.
Lavona looked at Eva’s much less voluptuous form with an expression that could easily be interpreted as one of derision and amusement. She gave the little girl, Dory, her packages. “I be right out. Stand outside now.”
Dory took the packages. “See you on Friday,” she said to Eva as she walked out of the store.
“Bye, Dory,” Eva said to her retreating body. Eva took a deep breath and turned back to Lavona in curiosity. She found out at once that subtlety was not one of Lavona’s strong points, either.
“Adam belongs to me, you know,” she announced silkily.
Eva ground her teeth, hating to admit to herself that she loved the sound of this woman’s voice. She wondered, ruefully, how Maxwell could refuse this beauty anything when she said his name with such allure.
“Does, er, he know this?” she asked Lavona blandly. Lavona’s lashes swept low over her round cheeks, and her eyes were momentarily veiled.
“We’ve been together long time. He’s very happy with me.”
“I’m sure he is.” Eva nodded, remembering Maxwell’s blunt description of his relationship to this woman. “But I don’t think he belongs to anyone.”
“I just think you should know. He only wants one thing from you.” Lavona laughed lightly then, and that too was musical. “He all the time tell me what women are good for.”
“Maybe that’s what you’re good for,” Eva interrupted angrily, “but he’d better not say so to me!”
Lavona arched a brow knowingly. “You like Adam, very much. You very foolish. He forget you before long. You go back home and he stay here with me.”
Eva took a slow, deep breath to fill her lungs and steady her body. Her hands were clenched into tight angry fists in the pockets of her sweater. There was certainly probability in what Lavona was saying. Eva also realized that she herself had more or less admitted to an interest in Adam Maxwell that had slipped out spontaneously. “I think you’re very foolish to let yourself be treated that way. Is that what you want?” she asked Lavona.
Lavona shrugged her shoulder negligently. Eva was fascinated. This woman might look soft and feminine, but she was tough and sure of herself. “I get from Adam what I want. He’s very good-looking. All man, yes? But I won’t stay with him forever. I am going to marry a rich man who can take care of me. I’ll have pretty babies and a pretty home. Adam doesn’t want that.”
Eva raised her brows at Lavona’s bold admission. “And I suppose you know what he does want?”
Lavona grimaced prettily. “Me…” she purred. “For now. And his fish.”
It was not lost on Eva that in Lavona’s mind, she apparently didn’t compete on either level. She stared blankly at Lavona, and it suddenly hit her how ludicrous, how funny it was to be standing in a food market having this conversation over a man who was only just beginning to be more than a stranger, with a woman she didn’t think very much of. Adam Maxwell could be much more to her. Did Lavona Morris actually see that in her? Could she be so much woman as to pick up on the dawning thoughts that she, Eva, may feel much more for Maxwell than made good sense? Florence Steward hadn’t raised any fools, and Eva fervently hoped she wasn’t going to disappoint her mother now.
“I’m sure you mean well,” Eva said sarcastically to Lavona. “But I can take care of myself.”
Lavona shrugged again. She didn’t care one way or the other. “Just so you don’t think that Adam will. You be very sorry otherwise.”
And with that Lavona turned and gracefully made her way from the store. Eva stood watching her departure for long minutes. Lavona had been very effective whether or not she knew it. If Eva was unsure before, she was now filled with more doubts and fears.
And even that afternoon as she met Deacon Butler and part of his family to attend the musical concert, Eva felt the mood persist, making it difficult for her to find a smile or to appear cheerful. She knew that she’d never have taken any of Lavona’s speculations and observations to heart if there wasn’t one or two truths in there somewhere.
Her depression settled in deeper. Eva tried to read the face of her watch. It was almost ten thirty. She let out a sigh of relief. Eva knew that the last ferry back to St. Thomas had been postponed until twelve o’clock. Deacon would be leaving soon, and she could go home to bed. Suddenly the music didn’t seem so loud, and her headache was a low-grade throb she could live with for another hour or so.
Deacon’s arm was across the back of her chair, his rough, callused fingers occasionally patting her arm. He was a nice man, but she hoped he didn’t think that anything more would develop from this casual evening. Eva liked him very much, but certainly not more than that.
Eva turned her head in his direction, and her eyes caught a familiar body and face. Her eyes lifted and she found herself looking into the closed, hard gaze of Adam Maxwell. Beside him, looking exotic and lovely, was Lavona Morris.
Eva’s stomach sank somewhere around her knees and her heart lurched to her throat. Adam was dressed in wheat-colored slacks and a short-sleeved black cotton shirt opened at the throat. The smoky haze of the room cast an eerie light and shadow over his features for a moment, so that his jaw and sensuous bottom lip seemed prominently outlined. Eva felt a familiar constriction in her chest at the sight of him. But Adam’s eyes swept briefly over her and away without any greeting or acknowledgment as Lavona claimed his attention with a slender hand to his arm.
Lavona was dressed in a clinging black dress with spaghetti straps. It had slits up the sides and was cinched at the waist with a gold belt. With a hand at the back of her waist, Adam urged Lavona to the other side of the room and a vacant table. Lavona was lost to Eva’s view through the crowds of heads in front of her, but Adam’s shoulders and head were clearly discernable above everyone else, even as he slouched in his seat, an ankle lifted across his bent knee, very like the first time she’d seen him.
A wave of inadequacy washed over her at once but it was more an indication of her own state of mind than it was of her physical attractiveness. Eva wore a taupe crepe dress, shirred at the shoulders. It had a mock wrap front that showed suggestively the deep valley of her breasts. It had a slim skirt to it and was also belted with a black crepe sash. While Lavona’s dress was obviously displaying her charms, Eva’s subtly hinted at hers, presenting a much more enticing picture.
“You ready for another drink?” Deacon crooned in her ear, causing Eva to jump. His fingers rubbed the ball of her shoulder and a chill shook her that had nothing to do with the touch but rather with the apparent aloof indifference Adam had shown her seconds before. Had he completely wiped Monday and Tuesday from his mind? Was Lavona right about him?
“Yes, please,” Eva murmured.
“What would you like?”
She shook her head and shrugged. “Anything…”
She ended up having two more drinks and her head began to pound again. Deacon tried to persuade her to dance, but Eva firmly refused. She was continually drawn to Maxwell’s direction, but he seemed totally engulfed in either the music or Lavona. But in the following noise, movements, and music, Eva missed that he covertly watched her, too.
Finally at eleven forty-five, Deacon, his sister, and brother-in-law rose to leave. Deacon kept a possessive arm about Eva’s shoulder, and she smiled at him, determined to leave Maxwell’s presence with equal indifference. The still night air was welcomed after the long hours inside the closed and stuffy restaurant hall.
“I take you home now,” Deacon said.
“No, don’t. That’s not necessary,” Eva said quickly.
“Yeah, can’t have you travelin’ in the dark by yourself.”
“That’s sweet of you, but there are too many people around for anything to happen to me. Besides, you’ll miss the last ferry,” Eva reasoned. That finally sank in.
Eva walked with them to the ferry and watched them board. She was not surprised when Deacon gave her a quick affectionate kiss on the cheek and left her. She smiled sadly.
“You come to St. Thomas again next week, yes?” he shouted at her from the ferry.
“Maybe!” She waved as the boat slipped slowly from the dock.
“Then I come back here!”
Eva laughed at the wide grin he gave her. “Goodnight!” she shouted as the engines began to rev. Then she walked to her Jeep for the short ride home.
Eva was emotionally exhausted, but unable to fall asleep. She tossed and turned in the bed for more than an hour, until the sheets were warmed from her body and uncomfortable. She climbed out of bed and went to take a quick, cool shower. She came out and toweled herself dry, prepared to try and sleep. But Eva stopped in mid action when there came the sound of footsteps on her gallery. Her heart thudded in terror, suddenly aware of her total isolation and vulnerability. Silently she reached for her silk kimono-styled robe and wrapped it quickly around her still-damp body. In the dark she tiptoed to the door connecting the gallery to her room.
“Who is it?” she asked softly through the dark. The footsteps shifted, and a light was turned on causing Eva to blink painfully. Adam Maxwell stood in the glaring brightness, scowling at her. He quickly took in her scanty attire. Adam pushed his hands into his trouser pockets and leaned against the wall, his rugged brown face oddly shadowed by the ceiling light.
“Are you alone?” he asked.
The question took her by surprise, but just for an instant Eva was tempted to prevaricate. Instead, she asked her own question. “Why do you want to know?” She leaned in the bedroom doorway, pulling the robe belt tighter around her waist. Maxwell’s eyes, somewhat overly bright, dropped to the movement and then slowly raised back to her face. It was hard for Eva to decide what look he wore now.
“I wouldn’t want to, er, interrupt anything,” he said sarcastically.
Eva let out a sigh of impatience. “The only thing you’re interrupting is my sleep. Do you realize it’s almost two o’clock?” Another thought quickly entered her mind, wiping away her defensive posture. “Where’s Diane?” she asked, frowning.
Maxwell was still watching her in an odd way.
“Diane is home. Dory Hamilton is staying with her tonight.”
“And Lavona? Is she staying with you?” Eva asked before she could stop herself, because the thought that she might be right was suddenly so disturbing. She saw a sparkle, a light of challenge flash in Adam’s eyes. Eva bit down on the inside of her bottom lip and moved to sit at the glass and wrought-iron dining table. “What do you want?” she asked quietly, looking at him, but keeping her eyes low, somewhere around his chest and the opening of his shirt.
There was a pause, and slowly Maxwell came away from the wall and walked over to where she sat. Eva had the strangest sensation of being stalked by a predatory animal, stealthily moving upon her without making a sound.
“I saw Milly Decker tonight. She asked about you.”
Eva looked up. She realized now that Maxwell had been drinking. And although the words he spoke were clear and understandable, they were heavy and slow.
“She said she had something to return to you.” As he talked, Adam slowly took his hand out of his pocket and threw something on the table in front of Eva. It was her worn red wallet.
Eva stared at it blankly for a moment.
“It was turned into the tourist office a few days ago on St. Thomas. All the money is gone, of course, but your ID and pictures are probably still there.”
Eva raised her eyes to his. He was frowning at her, and her almond-shaped eyes were questioning. But Adam continued to talk.
“I told Milly I’d see that you got it back. Her business card was inside, so it was sent back to her office first.”
Eva realized by the inflection in Adam’s voice that he’d looked through the contents of the wallet himself. He’d discovered the money gone and looked at all her pictures…all of her history. Those of Gail as a baby and a wedding picture of her and Kevin. A picture taken by her mother at one of Gail’s birthday parties of the three of them together. Adam had looked into the very heart of what used to be her life. Eva hadn’t felt so vulnerable in a long time. Maxwell knew everything there was to know about her now.
She absently opened and flipped through the wallet, watching familiar cards, pictures, tickets, whiz past her view in their familiar places. “Thank you,” she said in a very low voice, closing and snapping the wallet shut. There followed a long silence in which she didn’t look at Adam.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Adam asked quietly, his deep voice nonetheless resounding in the open space. It was tightly controlled, disguising an emotion that Eva did not recognize because she was not used to Adam expressing it. “Why didn’t you tell me I was wrong about all those things I said…stop me from making a fool of myself?”
“You did that all by yourself,” Eva corrected softly. “At the time I didn’t want your sympathy. We didn’t know each other. Kevin and Gail were—were my own personal hurt. There was nothing you could say or not say to change that, Maxwell.”
Then she did look at him, determined to keep the sudden swelling of emotions and tears down. “My sorrow belongs to me and…I didn’t want to share it then.”
Adam didn’t respond, but still frowned, his jaw working tensely. “You’ve really been through a lot…” There was a degree of admiration and respect in the way he phrased it. “You even look different. That is you in the picture, isn’t it?”
She nodded silently.
Adam slowly walked the length of the gallery and stood for a while looking out into the night all alone. Then he retraced his steps back to her. Eva never moved. The sudden silence locked them together in the narrow gallery. Adam reached her and continued to sweep over her with his troubled eyes, as if there were suddenly a dozen things about her he hadn’t seen before. When he spoke again, it was completely off the subject at hand. It threw Eva off guard, but she was grateful for the change to something else.
“So…was that your, er, cabdriver from St. Thomas?” he asked.
Eva sat straighter in her chair, lifting her chin defensively. “His name is Deacon,” she informed him clearly. “Yes. That’s him. He’s been very nice to me.”
“I bet he has,” Adam drawled, his words again sounding thick.
“I don’t like what you’re implying,” Eva said haughtily.
“Are you telling me that…Deacon hasn’t come on to you? Hasn’t made the big play?”
“No, he hasn’t.”
“Then he must be slow. You know he wants to…”
Eva scoffed softly. “You mean like you? If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were jealous!”
Adam went livid. His jaw tightened and his eyes were dark and stormy. Eva involuntarily sat way back in her chair when he braced both hands on the table in front of her, leaning forward. “I don’t think there’s any comparison…”
“I’m not likely to make that mistake! Deacon is a kind, sweet man. I can’t compare you to him,” she informed him angrily, striking back in any way that would get to him. She didn’t like his high-handed way with her, when she had no idea if he cared anything for her. It would have been different if he was expressing some real concern, but she knew Adam wanted one thing from her. Hadn’t Lavona said so?
“And I don’t want to be compared to Lavona!” she blurted out in rising indignation, coming to her feet abruptly. Her nerves, feelings, and confusions were positively raw at the moment, and she ranted mostly out of a need to just release some of the anxiety. Since Adam Maxwell was indirectly the cause for most of it, she made him the target.
Adam stared at her for a moment and then threw out his arms in a gesture of exasperation. “What the hell does Lavona have to do with this?” he stormed at her.
“We both know what she wants from you, too! From any man for that matter. You have no right to assume that I am after a man for similar reasons! I was married to a wonderful man that no one can replace!”
“Do you think Deacon’s serious?”
“Maybe he is. What do you care? Anyway, I don’t intend to see him again. I—I don’t want to encourage him.” Eva was starting to shake. She hugged herself and turned away from Adam. She wanted him to hold her…not yell at her that way.
“You’ve returned my wallet. You can go now. Back to Lavona’s waiting arms, for all I care! Just—just leave me alone.” Her voice threatened to break. But Adam was in no state either to recognize what she was experiencing or needed.
Adam clicked his teeth impatiently, sighing deeply behind her. “I haven’t slept with Lavona since the day of Diane’s accident.”
The confession surprised Eva, and she looked cautiously over her shoulder at him. “You don’t have to tell me that. It’s not my business.”
“But it bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“What does it matter?”
Adam came to stand in front of her. He took her by the upper arms and shook her slightly. “It matters to me, dammit! Tell me!”
Eva gasped at his reaction. She could smell the warm vapor of alcohol on his breath, and he was not as steady as he’d first seemed. His fingers were pressed almost painfully into her arms, but she made no move to free herself.
“You’re—you’re both so indifferent! You don’t care about her, and she doesn’t care about you. You’re both just…using each other!”
Adam’s frown deepened, and his eyes seemed distant and glazed. “And you’re not used to that, are you? You’re used to, what…tenderness? Respect? Love? Grow up, Eva. That’s not always possible.”
Her chin began to quiver with the truth of his words. She knew he was right. But that still didn’t change need, desire, wanting to be held and touched. His hands gentled their grasp and were warm on her skin. “Maybe not. You’d know better than I would. But…should I accept anything less?” Eva’s eyes almost pleaded with him. She remembered Tuesday so well and the time on the sand of that little cove. She could so easily recall the feel of his hands, mouth, and body.
Adam’s eyes swept over her in puzzlement as he felt her trembling. But he only let out an exhausted sigh and released her. “No…l guess you couldn’t. Not you,” he responded. Adam sat down heavily on the sofa and tilted his head back against the cushion. “You have to do what feels right to you. We all do.”
Eva moved slowly nearer to him. “And you don’t care that it’s like that? Don’t you want more than that?”
“Eva, more than that is a responsibility. Sometimes it wipes you out. Leaves you cold. You know what I mean?”
Eva’s body slumped in defeat. “Yes…I know what you mean.”
They were quiet for a long time, Eva watching him, trying to glean further understanding from him, of him. He closed his eyes. Eva wondered at his anger and vehemence and could attach no explanation to their arguing. She did notice the tired look to his face and furrowing of his brow.
“I’ll make some coffee,” Eva offered. Adam merely nodded absently.
In the kitchen her hands did the mechanical chore, while her mind and heart warred with each other. Her mind could reason, argue, fight with him about right or wrong or indifference. But her heart only knew desire. Adam was like no one she’d ever met before, perhaps someone she shouldn’t really know, could not hope to get next to. But she was drawn to him dangerously, like a moth to the bright orange and yellows of a candle flame. She could get hurt…badly burned…but all the arguments in the world weren’t going to change the way he made her feel. So far Adam had only touched on it, barely brought it to life. And Eva hoped that if it was allowed to be fully realized, that she wouldn’t sink beneath the tide of feelings and lose herself.
She carried two cups of black coffee to the gallery. Maxwell was very still.
“Maxwell?” She called his name softly. There was no answer, and his even, deep breathing told her he was asleep.
Eva put his cup down on the table and sitting in a chair facing him, watched Adam thoughtfully as she sipped at her coffee. It suddenly dawned on Eva that this man had his own deep hurts and disappointments. She was not the only one to have survived a personal loss. Granted, hers was more tragic by its occurrence, but was his any less painful to him?
She got up and lightly touched his shoulder, and once again called his name. Adam’s head gently rolled to the side away from her, and he slept on. Eva sighed and chewed her lip in indecision. She was aware that Diane and Dory were alone in the house down the road. But it was not so far from Dory’s parents, and so she figured that they’d probably be okay. Eva lightly spread the afghan over Adam’s chest and arms, and went back to her room to her own bed.
It was much later when she again heard sounds in the night. It was almost like rain, but it seemed to be falling on only one part of the house. The sound completely awakened her, and her sleep-fogged brain fought to locate it. Eva opened her eyes and saw that the light from the gallery was still on.
The sound stopped, and a moment later, Maxwell stepped from the bathroom shower, toweling himself. He was quiet and moved slowly, and Eva knew that if the shower itself hadn’t woken her, he would have tried to finish without her knowing.
Eva rolled halfway onto her back facing him, a thin sheet for cover pulled just over her chest. Seeing Adam across the room, she hugged the sheet closer to her nakedness. Not since her first week had she worn a nightgown to bed, discovering that she woke in the morning drenched in sweat from too much covering.
Adam stopped his toweling at the movements from the bed. He looked in her direction. “I woke up covered in sweat from that damned thing you put over me,” he rumbled in his resonant voice. Eva said nothing. She was too cognizant of the fact that Adam stood naked only a few feet from her. It was too dark in the room to distinguish any more detail than his outline, the movement of his arms with the towel, and the mass of dark hair on his broad chest.
“You should have sent me home. I drank too much.”
“Yes, I know. I tried to,” her voice came, a mere whisper, disembodied in the dark.
“Did I get obnoxious?”
“Yes,” she said honestly. Adam grunted.
Then she knew that Adam was moving toward her where she lay in the large bed alone. Some warning flashed through her, some innate sense of the order of events told her what was about to happen. Her heart skipped beats in sudden agitation, and there was a fluttering of nerves in her stomach. But she never moved, and she said no more. It was an overwhelming provocative and tantalizing feeling to lie and wait for him to reach her.
Adam towered over her, and then he slowly dropped the towel to the floor. Eva’s breath caught in her chest. He lowered his frame to the side of the bed, and it dipped gently under the weight. Eva tried to see his eyes. They would tell her all she wanted to know in this moment of discovery, but they were hidden by the dark.
One of Adam’s hands reached over her body and braced on the bed. The other came up to search out the smooth contours of her face, gently. He located her lips and with his thumb, separated her lips, and pressed it against the lower rim of small white teeth. “You should have sent me home…” he repeated in a thick voice, as if he was placing the blame on her for anything that now took place.
Then the hand at her mouth came down to locate the top of the sheet covering her and pulled it away. Adam couldn’t see her any better than she could him, but he easily located her breast and cupped his hand warmly, completely over one. The touch immediately evoked a chill through her as the hand was cool from the shower water. He squeezed the breast gently while she lay there unresisting, but under his hand he could detect the increase in her breathing. Maxwell’s fingers played gently and sensuously with the nipple of her breast. A warm languid sensation of delight and longing washed over Eva, and she knew she wanted this. She did nothing to stop him.
When she didn’t move to object, Adam leaned forward to brush a warm, openmouthed kiss over her lips.
“I want to make love to you,” he whispered low with a kind of urgency that Eva was at once susceptible to. One of her hands came up to brush over the thick soft top of his head. It was both a possessive and comforting move, and Adam took his signal from it. They may sometimes have been emotional antagonists in the light, but in the intimate darkness of her bedroom, they now both wanted the same thing.
Not another word was spoken as Maxwell lifted the sheet away completely and moved onto the bed with her. Eva shivered once, almost violently, and a sigh escaped her parted lips as Maxwell shifted again to lie gently, full length upon her. He was a big man, but his weight was not uncomfortable on her. Eva raised her arms to his shoulder and Maxwell bowed his head to find her mouth and kiss her.
Eva gave up the struggle of indecision. She wanted to be here with him. She thought not of the past or even of the future but allowed herself to just enjoy and experience the moment. She was beside herself with a rising desire and passion that was totally unlike anything she’d ever known before. It nagged and pulled at her insides, sending swirls of tension throughout her loins, and she gave herself up to it.
She answered his kisses, his touch with her own. She savored the taste and texture of his tongue, the feel of his firm lips. She enjoyed and was excited by the pressing and rubbing of the furry mat of his chest on her sensitive breasts.
Eva was not sure what to do, but Maxwell was not reticent. He was bold, but he was also surprisingly tender. Eva was unaware of the tears of relief that rolled unchecked down her cheek and into her hairline as Maxwell caressed her fevered body with knowledgeable gentleness.
After a short time there was no hesitation on Eva’s part, and when he stroked her thigh, she responded. He moved slowly upon her, groaning softly in his total intimate possession of her. Their movements together became slow and rhythmic. For what seemed an eternity…and then not long enough.
Each new feeling and tension built upon the old until there didn’t seem to be any place for it all to go. Their movements matched, becoming more exact and demanding. Eva felt a fullness within, she felt like an opened flower basking in the life-giving forces of a more omnipotent power. They held tightly together.
Flashes of colored lights burst behind Eva’s eyelids and blood seemed to rush hotly to her head. She panted into his shoulder, calling his name. Eva was overcome. She hadn’t expected it to be like this. So…satisfying, and complete.
Then Adam at last raised his head to search her face. Eva’s eyes were still closed, her breathing still softly hurried. He kissed her, and there was the faint taste of lingering alcohol on his tongue. Something in the way he kissed her told Eva that for Adam this moment was more than he’d expected as well.
She still couldn’t bring herself to look at Adam as she settled down from the most delicious sensual storm she’d ever known. Her body and responses belonged to someone else, a new Eva Duncan. She’d never been so abandoned with Kevin, and she’d loved him dearly. And she was also experiencing the inevitable shame and guilt. What must Adam be thinking of her, that he’d had no resistance to break down, no trouble issuing arousal and response that shook her from head to toe.
Eva couldn’t tell what Adam was thinking, but he moved his head to rub his hard jaw along her cheek and to nuzzle in the furrow between her neck and shoulder. He smelled of healthy male sweat again and summer heat. He smelled of passion and virility, and she was intoxicated all over again.
“Eva…I can’t believe how soft you feel,” he mumbled into her skin. A large damp hand slid up her thigh, causing the sensitive skin to quiver, up to her waist and rib cage to her small firm breasts. He moved the palm of his hand over the curved surface and there was an immediate response in the soft brown peak. “Not just your mouth, but…all over.” He kissed her neck, dragged his mouth to kiss a rounded shoulder. “Ummmmm…I like having you in my bed with me…”
Eva voluntarily lifted her chin as his mouth sorted out the hollow of her throat and kissed it, too.
“This is my bed, Maxwell,” she reminded him in a whisper. She could feel him chuckle, his body shaking.
“A minor detail…” Suddenly he sobered. His eyes swept over her features, and a hand brushed over her cheeks where her tears had dried. “Are you sorry, Eva? Are you still afraid?”
Eva’s small hands slid up his smooth muscled back to push her fingers into the tight curls of the hair on his nape. “No, Max, I’m not,” she said to both his questions.
Adam captured her mouth, kissing her deeply, and never having separated from her before, now filled her again. They rocked and swayed, whispered and murmured to each other, receiving one another poignantly until they were once again helpless victims of a sweet, aching need for release.