Heavenstone 02 - Secret Whispers

any girl my age.
    My moans and cries at the right moments gave him more confidence and satisfaction. At one point, he pressed his hands to the bed and lifted himself so he could look down at me and study everything in my face, the hot crimson in my cheeks, the excitement in my eyes, and the wetness on my lips. He dropped his gaze to my breasts and my stomach, and I saw the pleasure in his face. It was as if he were an artist, not a lover, and he had become Pygmalion, themythological Greek sculptor who fell in love with his own statue. His slight intermission seemed to give him even more sexual energy. We went on until, exhausted and satisfied, we lay beside each other listening to the pounding of our hearts and our wonderful gasps.
    “Stay with me tonight,” he whispered. “I want to fall asleep with you in my arms.”
    I snuggled beside him and pressed my cheek to his chest. I could hear his heartbeat slowly normalizing and felt his lips on my forehead. Neither of us spoke. Sleep was like a warm blanket draped over us. When I woke, he was still there beside me, looking into my eyes. We kissed and made love again. Then I hurried out and to my room, at least to make it seem as if I had slept there. I was too embarrassed to face Mrs. Dobson at breakfast with her knowing that I had spent the evening in Ethan’s bed. I had no fear of her saying anything or even indicating to me that she knew, but it was enough that I would know she knew.
    Ethan got his wish that morning, too. Before we went to breakfast, he insisted we take a dip in the pool. We hurried down and out in our bathing suits and really woke up in the water, splashing each other playfully and then just floating about with me in his arms and my lips just as passionate and demanding of his as his were of mine. Afterward, I had Mrs. Dobson serve us breakfast on the patio so we could remain in our bathing suits and robes. It was turning out to be a perfect day, with just a wisp of a cloud here and there and the breeze a warm caress. Theair was perfumed with flowers and freshly cut grass. Ethan sat back and looked at it all with such pleasure in his face he made me see it as if for the first time, too. I told him so, and he smiled.
    “Whenever you see something you’ve seen many times before but now with someone you care deeply for, or love, it does become fresh and new.”
    “Love?” I asked softly. Dare we use that word so soon? I wondered.
    He shrugged. “A good test of that is just what you said. When you’re in love with someone, you suddenly see everything through her eyes or his. It’s as if you share your bodies, your minds, and your very souls.”
    “That’s quite poetic for a business major,” I kidded.
    He laughed. “You’re too clever. No, those aren’t my words. I read them but never forgot them in the hope that someday I’d have good reason to use them.”
    “And now you have?”
    “Wouldn’t have said them otherwise,” he replied, sipping his coffee and focusing his eyes on me. “Am I going too fast?”
    “Only if it has an end,” I said.
    He smiled, rose, and leaned over to kiss me. “Then I’m going too slowly,” he whispered.
    I did wish I could freeze us forever in the rest of the day. Everything we did, although I had done it before, now seemed special. We went rowing on our lake, and later Mrs. Dobson prepared a picnic lunch for us and we spread a blanket at one of the highspots of the Heaven-stone property, enabling us to look out at the forest and rolling hills to the west. We talked for hours, as if we had to reveal as much to each other as possible in the quickest possible time. Exhausted by our own enthusiasm, we once again fell asleep in each other’s arms and then walked back to the house slowly, holding hands and moving like two people in a wonderful dream, dreading awakening.
    As if we knew we were candles burning at both ends, we agreed to some time alone after which we would get ready to meet my father and Lucille for cocktails and dinner. It wasn’t until I looked at the framed picture of me and my mother that Lucille had given me that I thought at all about Cassie. I was too content, too happy, to permit a single dark thought even to show its shadowed face. But I did think of questions to ask her.
    Oh, why didn’t you let me have a romance like this, enjoy a promise like this, Cassie? Why didn’t you love me enough to want happiness for me, too? What had I done to you? How twisted and painful your