Smoke in Mirrors

slowly down her body until he found her hot little button with his mouth.
    “Thomas.” Her hands clenched in his hair.
    He parted her with his fingers and kissed her intimately, absorbing the heady scent and taste of her body. When she sucked in her breath, he eased a finger into her, working her gently, searching for the magic spot.
    He knew when he found it.
    She gave a soft, startled, half-strangled shriek, tightening around him. Her climax flooded through her. He could feel the gentle contractions. He knew a rare sense of wonder and a kind of satisfaction that had nothing to do with a physical release.
    She continued to shudder long after the little convulsions had ended.
    He raised his head, suddenly uneasy. She had her face buried in a velvet sofa pillow. Her shoulders were shaking.
    His unease turned to alarm.
    “Leonora?”
    She pressed the pillow more tightly against her face.
    “Leonora? Are you okay?” He levered himself up higher and gripped her quivering shoulder. “Damn it, are you crying? What’s wrong? What did I do?”
    “I’m . . . I’m not crying.”
    He could barely make out the words.
    He yanked the pillow away from her face.
    She was laughing. Her eyes were brilliant with delight.
    “I’ve never been able . . . I’ve always assumed that I had a few things in common with Meredith when it came tosex,” she whispered. “I just found out for the first time that I don’t.”

    A long time later she stretched against him, then propped herself on his bare chest. In the shadows she looked quite smug. Very pleased with herself.
    “I may nominate you for Handyman of the Year,” she said.
    “Thanks. Want me to show you what else I can do with a set of tools?”
    “Oh my, yes.” Her hand closed over his erection. “I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do than play with your tools.”
    When he got inside her again he confirmed his initial conclusions. Everything fit perfectly.
    Like she’d been made for him.

    She could hear rain on the roof. She opened her eyes and found herself gazing at the pattern on the rug less than five inches away. Thomas was no longer sprawled alongside but she was warm, even though she was quite naked. She realized that he had put a blanket over her.
    He had also stoked the fire. It burned brightly, casting a golden glow over the carpet and sofa. She heard a cupboard door close in the kitchen. It was followed by the sound of the refrigerator being opened. A moment later silverware jangled.
    “You awake in there?” Thomas called over the top of the counter that divided the two rooms.
    “Yep.”
    “Hungry?”
    “Yep.”
    “You’re in luck. I’m prepared to feed you.”

    “I’m not sure I can move.”
    “I managed it. So can you.”
    She sat up cautiously, holding the blanket close around her shoulders, and performed a quick, personal assessment of her various working parts.
    There was some tenderness in places and a bit of stiffness here and there. Only to be expected when you made love on the floor, she thought. She’d never tried that before.
    Correction. They hadn’t made love on the floor. They’d had sex on the floor. Proper terminology was important, she reminded herself. But she refused to dwell on semantics tonight. She felt good. Relaxed. Satisfied beyond her wildest dreams.
    She realized that Thomas was watching her with unconcealed amusement from the other side of the counter. He had put on his trousers and shirt, but he hadn’t bothered to button the latter.
    “Want some help?” he asked.
    “I do believe I can get up all by myself.” She adjusted the blanket around her shoulders and managed to stand. She gave him a triumphant smile. “See?”
    “Congratulations.”
    “Thanks. Which way is the bathroom?”
    He folded his arms on the counter and angled his chin toward the hall behind her. “Thataway.”
    “Mind if I take a shower?”
    “Help yourself.”
    She shuffled down the short hall, opened the first door she found, groped for a switch and flipped it on. The lights came on, revealing floor-to-ceiling walls covered in gleaming blue-and-white tiles set in an intricate pattern.
    She turned on the water in the shower and let it run until the small room was filled with steam. When she wasconvinced that it was hot enough, she dropped the blanket, shoved aside the curtain and got beneath the spray.
    She stood there thinking about what had happened out there in the living room.
    Just good sex. It was important to keep