Local Hero

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    This was abandonment. She’d been sure she’d never wanted it, but now, as her body went fluid in her movements against his, she thought she might never want anything else. The feelings of flesh against flesh, growing hot and damp, were new and exhilarating. As were the avid seeking of mouths and the tastes they found and drew in. His murmurs to her were hot and incoherent, but she responded. The light played over his hands as he showed her how a touch could make the soul soar.
    She was naked, but the shyness was gone. She wanted him to touch and taste and look his fill, just as she was driven to. His body was a fascination of muscle and taut skin. She hadn’t known until now that to touch another, to please another, could bring on such wild waves of passion. He cupped a hand over her, and the passion contracted into a ball of flame in her center that abruptly, almost violently, burst. Gasping for breath, she reached for him.
    He’d never had a woman respond so utterly. Watching her rise and peak had given him a delirious thrust of pleasure. He wanted badly to take her up and over again and again, until she was limp and mindless. But his control was slipping, and she was calling for him.
    His body covered hers, and he filled her.
    He couldn’t have said how long they moved together—minutes, hours. But he would never forget how her eyes had opened and stared into his.
    ***
    He was a little shaken as he lay with her on top of the crumpled spread with drops of freezing rain striking the windows. He turned his head toward the hiss and wondered idly how long it had been going on. As far as he could remember, he’d never been so involved with a woman that the outside world, and all its sights and sounds, had simply ceased to exist.
    He turned away again and drew Hester against him. His body was cooling rapidly, but he had no desire to move. “You’re quiet,” he murmured.
    Her eyes were closed. She wasn’t ready to open them again. “I don’t know what to say.”
    “How about ‘Wow’?”
    She was surprised she could laugh after such intensity. “Okay. Wow.”
    “Try for more enthusiasm. How about ‘Fantastic, incredible, earth-shattering?’ “
    She opened her eyes now and looked into his. “How about beautiful?”
    He caught her hand in his and kissed it. “Yeah, that’ll do.” When he propped himself up on his elbow to look down at her, she shifted. “Too late to be shy now,” he told her. Then he ran a hand, light and possessively, down her body. “You know, I was right about your legs. I don’t suppose I could talk you into putting on a pair of shorts and those little socks that stop at the ankles.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    Her tone had him gathering her to him and covering her face with kisses. “I have a thing about long legs in shorts and socks. I drive myself crazy watching women jog in the park in the summer. When they color-coordinate them, I’m finished.”
    “You’re crazy.”
    “Come on, Hester, don’t you have some secret turn-on? Men in muscle shirts, in tuxedos with black tie and studs undone?”
    “Don’t be silly.”
    “Why not?”
    Why not, indeed, she thought, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “Well, there is something about jeans riding low on the hips with the snap undone.”
    “I’ll never snap my jeans again as long as I live.”
    She laughed again. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to start wearing shorts and socks.”
    “That’s okay. I get excited when I see you in a business suit.”
    “You do not.”
    “Oh, yes, I do.” He rolled her on top of him and began to play with her hair. “Those slim lapels and high-collar blouses. And you always wear your hair up.” With it caught in his hands, he lifted it on top of her head. It wasn’t the same look at all, but one that still succeeded in making his mouth dry. “The efficient and dependable Mrs. Wallace. Every time I see you dressed that way I imagine how fascinating it would be to peel off those professional clothes and take out those tidy little pins.” He let her hair slide down through his fingers.
    Thoughtful, Hester rested her cheek against his cheek. “You’re a strange man, Mitch.”
    “More than likely.”
    “You depend so much on your imagination, on what it might be, on fantasies and make-believe. With me it’s facts and figures, profit and loss, what is or what isn’t.”
    “Are you talking about our jobs or our personalities?”
    “Isn’t one really the