Facets

Chapter 20

Pam hadn’t slept heavily in years. Her mind was too active to be turned off for more than three or four hours at a stretch.

It woke her at least once each night with thoughts of a lecture she’d heard or a paper she was writing or a piece of jewelry she was making.

Once in a while it woke her with thoughts of John or Patricia.

Regularly it woke her with thoughts of Cutter.

It did so this night, and, as always, she imagined he was with her.

She turned over, curled into a ball, and gave the kind of sigh that was part pleasure, part pain.

Then she heard a soft sound on the far side of the room, and the peace of her half-dream state vanished.

Completely awake, she jolted to a sitting position and was about to cry out when a figure emerged from the darkness and clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Shhhh. It’s me.”

The room was dim and his voice a whisper, but something about the scent of his skin and the feel of his lips against her forehead painted a picture in Pam’s mind. When his hand left her mouth, she whispered, “Cutter?”

“Yes.”

She was sure she was dreaming. She hadn’t seen him in four and a half years. But her hands were touching solid arms, a strong jaw, a warm neck. And there was the scent. And his lips. “Cutter?”

He looked down at her and whispered, “I couldn’t stay away any longer. I had to see you.”

Her pulse raced. “Oh, my God.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t believe it.” The words were no sooner out than she held him back. She touched his face with a trembling hand, each feature in turn. “What—oh, my—how did you—what time—”

“Shhh.” He kissed her cheek, the bridge of her nose, her other cheek. “I climbed the fire escape.”

“How did you know where I live?”

“The same way you know where I live.”

Hillary. “But you’ve never come before.”

“Not inside.”

“You’ve been outside?”

“Um-hmm.”

She made a small sound. “How did you know which room was mine?”

“I waited till it got dark, then watched.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Oh, Cutter!” She hugged him again, and this time when she held him back, her mouth found his.

If she’d had any lingering doubts, they vanished.

No one kissed like Cutter did. No one devoured and adored at the same time.

No one else could arouse her with a breath.

She gave herself up to it, floated, rose, until sheer excitement had her gasping for air.

“Oh, Cutter,” she whispered, “I can’t believe you’re here. ”

“I am.”

“After all this time.”

“Four years.”

“More.”

“Four and a half.”

“An eternity. I’ve missed you so.” She went into his arms again, and this time warm tears flowed against his neck.

He hugged her tightly. “Ahhhh, babe.”

She was in heaven. “For the longest time I didn’t know where you were, and when Hillary told me, I was angry that you hadn’t written or called.”

“I couldn’t.”

“She said you were afraid.”

“I still am.”

“But you have a name now.” She caught her breath at the reminder and, incredibly, felt a twinge of shyness when she drew back and looked up.

“You’ve done so much. I see those magazine ads and pinch myself.

I show them to my friends and tell them that I knew you before you were famous.

You travel all the time. You meet lots of people. It must be an exciting life.”

“It’s a means to an end.”

“But it’s so glamorous.” She tried to make out more of him in the dark, without success.

She would have turned on a light, but she feared she might find him a stranger.

So she left the light off and ran her fingers through his hair.

It was as thick and vibrant as ever and had the feel of casual disarray.

The disarray was far more sculpted, though, than it had been in Timiny Cove.

“You’ve changed,” she whispered timidly.

“No.”

“You must have. You’ve come so far.”

“I’m still me.”

“Do you love me?”

“I’ll love you till the day I die.”

“Oh, Cutter.”

He kissed her once, then again, longer. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, wound his hand around her braid, and held her close.

Catching her lips a third time, he bore her back on the bed.

“Love you till the day I die,” he said hoarsely, “and want you till I can’t get it up. I need you, babe.”

She needed him, too, needed his hands on her breasts and her belly, and he gave her that.

He touched her, stroked her, and when she began to burn, he took off her nightshirt and stroked her even higher.

She was nearly in flames when he finally undressed, and there, with nothing between them but air, and then not even that, they were as they’d always been, so in love with each other that the rest of the world fell away.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to return. Long after the quivering stopped and her heartbeat leveled, she clung to Cutter, and he held her tenderly. After a time he stretched out beside her, propped himself on an elbow, and ran the backs of his fingers over the moist skin from her throat to her navel.

“You’re more beautiful than ever,” he whispered. “More mature.”

“I’m the same.”

“Ready to graduate.”

“Still the same.” She touched his jaw. “I’ve missed you so much.

I dreamed of seeing you. There were times when I thought I had, when I’d be in a crowd somewhere and think you were there, but I could never find you.

After Hillary told me where you lived, I dreamed of parking on your doorstep.

I dreamed of picking up the phone and calling.

I almost did, lots of times. But I was so scared. There was John. And you.”

“Me?”

Her throat tightened. “I wasn’t sure you still loved me.

He cupped her face with a firm hand. “I told you I’d love you forever. I always said that, and it’s true.”

“But you didn’t call. You didn’t come. I didn’t hear from you after that night … after … that night.”

He stroked her hair and held her closer.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. If she’d been stronger, if she’d paid more attention, if she’d expected the worst of John instead of deluding herself that he cared, the baby would be alive. “I’m so sorry.”

He raised her face with his hands. “Not your fault. John’s fault.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “You knew?” When she had finally spilled it to Hillary, she had sworn her to secrecy. She blamed herself for the abortion. She didn’t think she could bear it if Cutter blamed her, too.

But Cutter had mistaken her apology. “You told me about his threats. You were terrified that last time, and you had a right to be. He’s a vicious man. But he’ll get his, Pam.”

Relieved, she felt a burst of strength. “I showed him your ads. It was worth going near him to see the astonishment on his face.”

“Astonishment?”

“Then anger. He got quiet and tight, and for a minute I thought maybe he’d take it out on me. But I didn’t care. I was so proud of those ads. I’m so proud of you. You’ve done so much.”

“I’ve been lucky.”

“You’ve been smart. You saw an opportunity and took advantage of it.” Her hands made an admiring circle of his chest before meeting near his navel. “What’s it like being a model?”

“Tedious. What’s it like being an artist?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a real one yet.”

“You had an exhibit at Facets last winter.”

“It wasn’t much. Just a few pieces.”

“They were beautiful.”

“You saw them?”

He nodded. “Put on a duster and a Stetson and a pair of sunglasses. Didn’t look a bit like myself.”

“You saw my work but you didn’t see me?”

The smugness disappeared from his voice. “I wanted to, Pam. I wanted to see you so much I could taste it. Then I thought of John, and I thought of how well things were going for you, and I couldn’t risk ruining that.”

“What’s changed from then to now?”

“You. You’re getting ready to graduate. It’s a whole chunk of your life I’ve missed. I had to see you before you moved on.”

“Oh, Cutter,” she sighed. She kissed his throat and the underside of his jaw before letting her mouth rest on the pulse point at his neck.

She had always loved that spot. It was a bellwether of his state, slow and steady when he slept, strong and steady when he woke, less steady but stronger than ever when he wanted her.

He wanted her now.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

She did. His eyes were dark and hot in the night. He lifted her thigh over his, slid his hand to cover her bottom, and drew her forward. His entry was smooth; she was moist and ready for that, but the sense of utter fullness stunned her. She closed her eyes to savor the pleasure.

“Look at me,” he repeated.

When she did, he began to move, and the pleasure of that was so intense she thought she’d die of it.

Over and over she breathed his name. She held tight to his arm, which held her tight to him.

Then, sure she was dreaming since nothing had ever felt so good as his slow, deep stroking, she dropped her hand to his belly, then lower to clutch at the coarse hair that hit hers at each thrust. She breathed his name louder this time, a cry when her climax began.

Her arms went around his neck. She held on for dear life while it shook her.

By the time awareness returned, Cutter was at the end of his own release.

She watched him as he fell back to the bed, panting, eyes closed, skin glossy with sweat.

When the panting eased, she put her thumb to the corner of his mouth. “I love you so much.”

He snagged her neck with an elbow and pulled until she lay half over him. “Didn’t use anything, Pam.”

It was a minute before she realized what he meant. “It’s okay.”

He opened an eye. “You take something?”

She nodded.

He opened both eyes. “Do you date much? Hillary would never tell me.”

“She couldn’t. I never told her. But there’s no one special, Cutter. The guys I know are just friends.”

“Students?”

“At Tufts, mostly. I take my academic courses there. Sometimes there’s a party or a lecture, and it’s nice to be with someone.”

“You’re on the Pill.”