Forty-six #3
He gazed at her, awestruck. His heart beat in the hollow of his throat. He opened his hand as if to ask her permission. She nodded, and his fingertips came to rest on her stomach. Shell-shocked, he stepped around her to take in the view.
“What is this?” he asked in a choked whisper.
“A bra.”
“Such fearlessness,” he marveled as he paced. “Such damn-it-all harlotry.”
She lifted the fabric of her skirt, pooling it over her arm at her waist.
“Holy Mother of God.”
“Panties,” she said.
Ruffles covered the back like a skirt—flutters of translucent fabric weighted by tiny swaying crystals at the hem.
“I think,” he said, “I must sit down.”
He sunk onto the arm of the couch, elbows on his knees, cupping his hands at his chin. He lifted his gaze to hers. The admiration shone strong, but the desire had been replaced by something more somber.
“All of this,” he said, “for Jacket.”
She couldn’t lie. She let the skirt drop. “It’s all I had to give him.”
Peter took her hand and pressed it to his mouth. “I do not wish to let you go.”
“You won’t.” She combed a hand through the dark waves of his hair. “We’ll hold each other forever.”
“Campbell”—his voice lost its certainty—“I-I must go.”
“No.”
“Aye. I can stay for a bit, but not forever.”
“How long is ‘a bit’?”
“Weeks. A month. No more. Every day is riskier.”
“No. Forever. Please.”
“I don’t choose it, Campbell. My time here is over.”
Her new happiness was slipping away. “Then I’ll come with you.” She slipped her hand under his jacket, looking for reassurance in the muscular warmth of his chest.
His face turned gray. “You can’t come with me, either.”
“Why, Peter? Why?”
“The Guild won’t allow it. And in any case, the me you know will be placed in a new life, never to return to these old bones.”
She struggled for air. “I-I’ll never see you again.”
He shook his head sadly.
“No. No! I’ll go to them. I’ll—”
“No, Campbell, no. You’ll do exactly this. You’ll go home to Jacket. It would be best for all of us. You’ll wear his ring. You’ll take him to your bed, and you’ll help him learn to make you happy. That is the best gift you can give me.”
“Is that what you want?” The blood began to ring in her ears.
“Campbell, you know it’s true. His art is good, that much I can tell you truly, and you saw the goodness in him once. You’ll see it again. I’m the only obstacle.”
“You have a damned high opinion of yourself.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“My heart is the obstacle,” she said. “I can’t love him. Not now.”
“Campbell…”
“I choose you, Peter. Now.”
Before she could think, his arms were around her, clutching her tightly. The heady scent of his skin—soap and paint—filled her head.
“This is so selfish,” he said into her hair. “God, forgive me.”
“And me as well.”
His grip grew so tight Cam felt her breath gather in her chest. It was as if he were trying to hold the seconds time was tearing from them.
“We can’t stop them,” she whispered. “The moments will go. But we can master them. We can hold each in our arms until it surrenders itself to us.”
“Surrender to me.” He pulled her onto the couch and spread her across his lap. “I want to paint you.”
“Here?” She brushed his cheek and saw her hand was trembling.
“No. There isn’t time. Later. And often. And forever. But to do that I need to see you, to memorize you, to possess you with every sense.”
She squirmed. He was granite beneath her. “How?”
“Your hair,” he said. “Let me unpin it. Please.”
She bowed her head slightly, and he inhaled. With a gentle tug, the first pin slid free. The curl tumbled down her shoulder, almost to her breast.
“Oh, God. ’Tis just how I remember it.”
Rocking her gently, he removed the second, third, and fourth. Cam’s skin turned to gooseflesh.
“Breathtaking,” he said. “Rust and paprika and umber and even rich Kentish loam—all filtered through bars of heavenly gold. May I?”
She nodded, and he drew his hands through the waves, scattering them like rays of sunlight.
“Oh, Christ, how I’ve wanted this.” He fumbled under her skirt and found his buckle. The clack-clack as he loosened it made her belly contract. When he’d lowered his trousers, he lifted her effortlessly, slid her panties aside, and entered her.
She came down slowly. Each movement brought her an exquisite heat that reached almost to her throat. He dandled her slowly, drawing his luminous gaze over her body, and her silk skirt sizzled as its slippery weight resettled again and again over his hips.
His palms grazed her nipples, hardening them into rubies.
Her experience was broad. There wasn’t a position or surface she hadn’t tried, but to luxuriate here in his adoring gaze, while he rolled the tiny seed pearls of her bra between his thumb and her tender flesh, was beyond any pleasure she had known.
His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes held hers, unblinking. She didn’t want to think about what would come next. Whatever they could have, she would have here, now.
He found the hook of her bra, and in an instant her breasts were loose.
She felt him thicken as he brushed the lace and boning away.
With a groan, he jerked his hips and the weight of her flesh bounced against her chest. He caught each nipple between knuckles and tortured her, plucking the burning flesh until fire scorched a path between her thighs.
Then his hands left her chest. He brought them to her shoulders and down her arms. He drew his thumbs along her chin and over her cheekbones. She closed her eyes to hold on to the moment, but it was flying too far in front of her to catch.
“No,” she whispered, and he stopped.
“No, no,” she cried, and began to ply her hips on her own.
Each circuit brought the cool metal of his loosened belt under her overheated flesh.
He stroked her knees, bringing his hands up her straining thighs until at last he palmed her buttocks.
She could feel the panties’ crystals as they swayed, and she knew he could feel them too.
“Harlotry,” she said, smiling.
“Yes. I shall never forget you.”
They were rocking in tandem now, feverish, long sways that filled her with a heartbreaking joy. It was as if he were trying not so much to possess her as disappear into her, and she opened her arms and legs to offer him safe harbor.
She wanted to stop time, to hold him here, safe in her arms forever.
She closed her eyes, and he brought her down his length, again and again, in a thumping staccato, and kissed the valley between her breasts.
He held her there, filling her with his desperate hope, until there was nothing but two hearts, wedded in a fire she could no longer contain.
“Oh, oh,” she cried.
His thumb found her bud and he held her at the peak, twitching her higher and higher until her breath stopped and her lungs burned and the conflagration between her legs consumed her.
A long, shuddering moment later, she realized he hadn’t finished and she brought him close, losing herself in his thick brown-black waves. She moved reverentially, stretching out each moment like taffy. Only when she laid a hand on his cheek did she feel he was crying.
“Oh, Peter. I’ll never forget you, either.”
He brought himself high into her, pressing her almost to standing with his need, and his groan echoed in her ears.
His body jerked reflexively, once and again, but his shoulders, cool and damp under her touch, did not relax. “Don’t move,” he said. “Don’t move.”
She saw their reflection in his mirror, his back as straight as a castle wall, his lips on her glistening breast, and her long white skirt streaming from the couch.
It was a wedding night fantasia, and she tried to capture it in her mind’s eye to hold as a replacement for the wedding night they would never have.
With an easy heave, he moved her from his lap to her back on the couch, where he found purchase in the midst of the silk. He laced his fingers in hers, their rings touching, and looked in her eyes.
“Tell Jacket he is to have you, but not until I’m done. For now, for today, until I am gone, I will have you for my own.”
Her breath caught, and he kissed her.
I have Peter now was the only thought she registered.