Give And Take: Taken Part 12

I'm still not sure I can touch you, or let you touch me, that I can give you that part of me. You've given me control of the renovations and control over us and if our relations.h.i.+p progresses, so why can't I let go? Why do I still feel vulnerable to you if I hold all the control?

Because what if I let go and then you take it back? The attraction I feel for you... It would destroy me. I'm afraid of what you could do to me if I give myself over physically-if I give myself emotionally. The two go hand-in-hand with me.

I love the way it feels when I'm close to you, when you nuzzle your nose in my hair, the warmth of your chest against my cheek, your hand squeezing mine. I love seeing unexpected emotions in your beautiful dark eyes.

I might as well give it all up. I'm already gone over you.

On my way to the bathroom, I pa.s.s Joan wrapped in a fluffy, white towel. Her golden skin glistens with water. We acknowledge each other with slight smiles and keep walking.

The bathroom is steamy, the mirror fogged. I wipe a towel over it and notice how tan I've become since I got here. My hair's a little lighter, too. I haven't even been outside that much. It must've happened when we were on the water fis.h.i.+ng.

I shower, and even though there's brand new body wash and shampoo sitting beside yours, courtesy of Joan, I still use your soap. I like to smell like you. I like everything about you. Maybe tonight... Maybe I'll surprise you.

After my shower, I open the drawer of the dresser at the end of the bed where I normally find your t-s.h.i.+rts. But it's filled with lacy underwear and bras. Each drawer is filled with women's clothing-shorts, s.h.i.+rts, socks, anything and everything I could ever need during my stay. I give Joan an A plus for being thorough.

I pull on a pair of soft, white shorts over a simple white thong, and I'm surprised at just how short they are. But they're a comfortable cotton jersey material. After selecting an aqua blue tank top that accentuates my tan and brus.h.i.+ng out my wet hair, I pad down the stairs in flip flops to find you.

You're striding down the hallway toward the kitchen with a plate of grilled chicken in one hand. "Ready to eat?" you ask. "I borrowed the guy's bonfire. They have a make-s.h.i.+ft grill grate out there that they made from sc.r.a.p metal. Geniuses, I swear. I don't give them enough credit."

"It smells incredible." You must've marinated the chicken b.r.e.a.s.t.s. My mouth is watering.

"It does smell good. I'm starving, myself. I thought I'd cut these up and put them over big salads unless you'd rather have them another way."

"A grilled chicken salad sound perfect. What can I do to help?"

"Not a thing. Sit and keep me company." You set the chicken on the island and lean over pressing your nose against my shoulder. "I like smelling me on your skin."

"Your body wash," I clarify, tingling from your touch, your warmth and your words.

"My body wash for now. Maybe just my body later." You lift your head, smiling at my stunned reaction.

"You're being very bold tonight. Put your dimples away." I stick my finger in one, trying to keep my breathing to a normal pace while my heart stutters and pounds in my chest. Maybe later... Yes, maybe so.

You chuckle and turn to the refrigerator. "How about a gla.s.s of chilled wine?"

"Sounds good." I take one of the chipped mugs out of the cupboard and hold it out while you pour. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." You pour yourself a cup then start cutting the chicken in strips. "I plan to get you drunk tonight."

"Hasn't that been your strategy every night?" I smile around the rim of my mug.

You put the knife down and raise an eyebrow. "It has. Maybe I need a new tactic. What would you suggest?" You pick up a thin slice of chicken and hold it near my lips, offering it to me.

I open mouth and let you place it on my tongue, closing my lips around your fingers as you take them away. "Mmm..." The chicken is bursting with herbs and lemon. I swallow and take a sip of wine. "I suggest you keep doing what you're doing."

You groan. "I need to up my game. You're killing me. Night and day. You have this look you give me that could make me explode in my pants."

"Just a look? Which look is it?"

Your smile hitches into a smirk. "Like I'd tell you. I don't need you torturing me more than you already do." You let out a huge, embellished sigh. "I'll just have to keep being patient and earning your trust."

I hold your deep, dark eyes in mine. The stubble on your jaw casts a shadow over your face, exaggerating your full lips and defining the angles of your cheekbones. I want to kiss you so badly, I can't stand it. You know, too. I see it in your eyes. You know you're breaking my will. You can see my chest heaving, my breath quickening as my pulse speeds. There's no hiding how my body reacts to you.

"That's the look," you whisper. "The look in your eyes when I know you want me."

I close my eyes and squeeze my fists trying to fight the desire flaring through me. G.o.d, your voice, your words, your...everything. I do want you. So, so much.

"Stop." You touch my cheek, and I open my eyes to find you shaking your head slowly from side to side, your dark eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with desire. "Let it happen."

I tear my eyes from yours and inhale a shaky breath. You tip more wine into my mug. "You think I need more, huh?"

"A lot more." You finish cutting the chicken and take two large bowls filled with mixed greens and vegetables out of the refrigerator. "Want to grab the dressing from the top shelf and follow me out to the patio?"

"Okay." The delicious tension between us ebbs second by second, but still a.s.saults me in tidal waves deep inside. If I'm killing you, I don't know what you think you're doing to me.

The earthy, pungent scent of wood smoke hits me when I step outside. "Makes me want to roast marshmallows."

"I'll put them on the shopping list for Joan."

"Don't forget the graham crackers and chocolate." I set the salad dressing on the wrought iron patio table and sit in my seat.

"I like the combination of you and chocolate." Your fingertips brush my leg under the table. "The taste of you and chocolate cake is like heaven together."

"I could say the same for you." Your flirty grin makes my empty stomach flutter. "Will you stop making comments like that and let me eat, please?"

An innocent expression steals over your face. "Comments like what?"

I pour some dressing on my salad and pick up my fork. "You know like what."

I take a bite as you chuckle. "I can't help that food tastes better when licked off of your lips." Your hand threads through the back of my hair and cups my neck. "Like this little bit of salad dressing right here." Your open mouth finds the corner of mine, and your tongue sweeps over my lips. You back away, smiling. "They should bottle you."

Your kiss is a match, and I'm ignited. "One meal, Merrick. I'm begging you. Just let me eat one meal. I'm starving."

You throw your head back laughing. "Okay, okay. But eat fast." You pick up your fork, grinning. "I can't be blamed. There's something so erotic about watching you eat."

I almost choke. "Pavlov would've had a field day with you."

You twiddle your fork and lean in closer to me. "You know what he did with the dog? He called that "psychic secretion". You trace my ear with your nose. "That's what I try to do to you since you won't let me touch you."

Oh my G.o.d. I'm going to combust. My shoulders fall, my eyes close, my hands drop to my lap. I have no will power over you. I surrender.

"What?" You sound alarmed.

"You're killing me. You say I'm killing you, but you're the one killing me."

You take my shoulders and scoot my chair around, pus.h.i.+ng against the leg with your foot. "Then stop resisting. You forgave me, remember? Let this happen between us."

I grip your hands on top of my shoulders. "I want to. You don't understand how powerless you made me feel. I don't want that to happen again. If I let this happen between us, my defenses are down. It would just be me, totally vulnerable to you. I just... I'm not ready for that yet."

"Just you...me," you mumble to yourself before jumping up, looking like you've just had a huge revelation. "Don't move. I'll be right back."

Slumped in my chair, I do my best to collect myself and gather my strength. I can't let you do this to me. I need to stay in control. I might have forgiven you, but you haven't earned my trust yet. I don't know you well enough to sleep with you. I've slept with two men in my life, and I loved both of them. I'm not going to turn into a woman who gives it away to any man who gets me hot and bothered.

G.o.d, I sound like my mother. She's probably the reason I've been such a prude. My college years were wasted while Shannon sampled all the flavors men have to offer.

I push my salad away and lean my forehead on the table. Another meal railroaded by l.u.s.t. I should market this as a diet plan. Shed unwanted pounds by s.e.xual denial. Smother fat and your s.e.x drive one course at a time.

Why am I doing this to myself? It's torture.

At the sound of your footsteps coming back out onto the patio, I lift my head and can't help feeling shy at the lingering knowledge between us that we're going to be very, very intimate soon. It's only a matter of when.

You stop at my chair and stroke my cheek. "I have an idea. You don't have to touch me or let me touch you. Okay? Come upstairs with me."

I'm frozen in place. "What's your idea?"

Your smile loosens my clenched muscles. "Trust me, Rachael." You take my hands and pull me to my feet. "Come on."

You lead me through the lounge, into the entryway, up the stairs, and into the bedroom. Beside the bed, you cup my face and kiss me, slow at first, teasing and tempting, then delving deeper until we're both gasping and your hands are tugging my head back by my hair, giving your lips access to my neck.

"Take this off." You tug the hem of my tank top. "Please. No touching. I promise."

You step back and I hesitate, but you tilt your head and give me a smile with a gaze that could melt steel. You're not trying to take advantage of me. I know that.

With a quick tug, my top's off, like pulling off a Band-Aid. It didn't hurt at all. I didn't even flinch.

Your eyes roam over my chest, taking in the pretty, white lace bra Joan picked out. I'm sure hers are much racier. I can't imagine her in white lace.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper, pulling off your s.h.i.+rt, taking me in your arms and kissing me again. Your chest is warm and solid against mine. Big and safe. Your hands run down my back, and your fingers hook in the waistband of my shorts. "Now these."

I take a deep breath. My arms shake. h.e.l.l with it. I shove them down and kick them off.

Your hands stay at the small of my back, not daring to move down over my bare bottom. "A thong," you say, nibbling my shoulder. "This is taking a ton of will power for me. You know that, don't you?" You chuckle, sending small waves of heat that tickle and tingle down my back.

You sit on the side of the bed. "Lie down. Please." Both of your hands come up in front of you. "No touching. I promise."

This is all part of whatever crazy idea you have. I'm afraid I'll give in, but not scared enough to stop myself from lying on the bed.

You fan my hair out on the pillow and run your fingers through it. "So soft." You slowly trace a finger from my temple to my chin, down my neck, along my collar bone and down my arm. "I'm going to make you feel what I want to do to you, Rachael. The beautiful release I want to give you if you let me."

"How?" I whisper, but it's barely audible, my throat is so constricted by your words.

You lean over me and kiss me again, deep, aching, needful. I thread my fingers in your hair, crus.h.i.+ng the dark waves in my hands. You groan, and I come unhinged. My mouth seeks your skin-your neck, your shoulder, your chest. I'm drowning. There's only one thing that can save me now.

A knock sounds on the door. You pull away, sucking my bottom lip as you go. "This is going to work." I'm not sure if you're trying to convince me or yourself.

Why are you going to the door? Tell whoever it is to go the h.e.l.l away!

You open it. Joan crosses the threshold wearing nothing but red lace and heels. She gazes up at you through her lashes, a look desperate for approval. "Thanks for this," you say, taking her by the wrist and leading her over to the bed where I'm s.h.i.+fting to sit up and hide my practically naked body.

What the f.u.c.k is she doing here?

"Rachael," you say in a voice that could calm a cat skittering on a tin roof, "I asked Joan to join us. She's going to do the touching for me. Okay? Will you try?"

This has to be a bad dream.

I turn my head to the door, to you, to her, to the window. I seem to be awake, but what the f.u.c.k is going on? "You asked her to join us?"

You sit back down and try to ease me back onto the pillow again, but I'm not budging. "Let me be with you like this. Let's try it. It's a step, and I don't have to touch you. You can tell her how you want to touch me, too. She'll be our hands, okay? Try. Please, Rachael. Try."

"But..." It's Joan. What makes you think I want her touching me there? I've never let another woman touch me there.

"You can trust her to do as I say. You can trust me." You stroke my hair, my shoulders, my back. "Let's try it. If you say stop, we stop."

Joan kneels on the bed, pus.h.i.+ng you out of the way. "What would you like me to do first?" she asks you. She straddles my legs and brushes my hair back over my shoulders, but will not look me in the eye. I can't blame her. I'm so humiliated for her. Why would she do this?

"Unhook her bra," you whisper, s.h.i.+fting down to the floor on your knees. You take my hand and kiss my palm, running your tongue up my middle finger while Joan reaches around and unclasps my bra, taking it off and tossing it aside.

You take the tip of my finger in your mouth and groan. "Touch her. Squeeze her b.r.e.a.s.t.s."

Before I can stop her, Joan slides her hands up my waist and cups my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Oh... I'm so aware of you watching, sucking, moaning.

"Pretend it's me, Rachael," you whisper.

My eyes close, and I let my head fall back. I grab your face, stroke your jaw and insert my thumb into your mouth.

"Nipples," he says.

Joan rolls my nipples between her fingers and thumbs, twisting and tugging. Electricity shoots down my stomach and sizzles between my legs.

"Suck," you say, sucking the end of my thumb, mimicking Joan's lips on my nipple.

"Ah..." I can't believe we're doing this. That some woman-some woman you've been with-is doing this to me.

"Put your hand between her legs," you say. "Rachael, I'm going to make you come."

Joan's hand slides down my stomach. Her fingers slip inside my thong. Your fingers circle against my palm, just like hers circle against-I gasp and push her away. "No. Stop."

It's like waking up from the worst and best dream I've ever had all mixed into one confusing moment. "I can't do this." I push her off of me and slide to the edge of the bed. You stop me, sitting between my knees with your hands on my waist.

"You liked it. I know you did." You're as confused as I am. "Why are you stopping?"

I glance back at Joan. She's gazing out the window. Her eyes are br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears. I feel dirty and like I got talked into doing something I'd never do in a million years. Why did I do this? "This is so wrong."

I stand and push your shoulders so you move out of my way, grab my clothes and dart out of the room.

"Rachael!" You come after me, but I run into the bathroom and lock the door. "Rachael?" You knock softly. "Talk to me. Please."

"There's nothing to talk about." I whisk tears off of my cheeks and tug my shorts on. I'm so embarra.s.sed. And Joan...she'd do anything for you.