He is so hot, Dana mouthed. Rachel had to stifle an astonishingly girlish giggle, but even as she did, she had to wonder again at the man"s likeness to Peter. She assumed Dana had never actually seen Max, since she"d told Rachel she hadn"t come to Baton Rouge until after being wounded. But given Dana"s heightened senses and intuition, it was logical, the blind woman bonding in such an affectionate way with a man who had many of the characteristics of the one she obviously loved with all her soul.
Rising high on her toes, Dana put her hand over Max"s closed eyes, bracing her other hand, the one holding her cane, against his chest. He automatically put his own over her wrist and on her waist to steady her. “Rachel is wearing nothing but a pair of cherry red fuck-me heels. That, and a matching lipstick so wet and luscious-looking it"s probably called Carnal Sin.” Dana grinned impishly and poked his chest. “See, I knew I"d have to put my hand over your eyes. You couldn"t help it. Your eyes popped right open. Your lashes brushed my hand like feathers.”
“I"m going to strangle you,” he promised, but there was a resigned smile on his firm lips. However, at Dana"s provocative description, Rachel noted his fingers had flexed on Dana"s waist. That Lilith feeling increased inside her. He wanted to look. She was worth looking at. She looked like every male"s fantasy. At least for this second, she was aroused enough to believe it.
“Oops, forgot. She is wearing one other thing. Something Jon put on her to keep her hot and bothered, but I won"t describe that. There"s only so much a big, manly guy like yourself can take. I"m going to say goodbye to her now and then we"ll go. You need to keep your eyes closed, or Jon will be really mad.” Max sighed again. “The eggplant smells very good, Ms. Madison,” he said politely.
“Thank you,” Rachel replied, at a loss. Dana smirked at both of them, then her hand slid away from Max"s eyes. He had beautiful, thick lashes, Rachel noted. Then Dana turned toward her, that devilish look still in her gaze.
“Thanks for letting me visit this afternoon. We should do it again. I like spending time with you when you don"t have me stretched out on a mattress, torturing me.”
“I"ll leave that job to Peter tonight.” That made Max chuckle and gave Rachel a smile herself. When Dana came to her, she had a pretty good idea what she was about.
With her body already humming, it was no hardship to let those slender brown hands slide up and along the outside of her breasts, again avoiding her nipples, but settling on her collar before Dana leaned full into Rachel, bringing their lips together for a playful tongue-tangling kiss. Rachel couldn"t help it. She was too close to seeing Jon, and a moan rose in her throat. Her hands convulsed on Dana"s hips, fingers curling over the pockets of the snug jeans she wore, feeling the toned female ass beneath.
Max swore softly. “Goddamn it, Dana.” But when Dana at last slid back, Rachel saw his eyes were still closed. She also saw his cock was a thick line against his jeans. It drew Rachel"s fascinated gaze, made her moisten her lips.
Dana brushed her finger over her own mouth, collecting some of the wet color Rachel had transferred there, and then brushed it over Max"s, giving a yelp and a short squeak of laughter as he bit the finger, caught her wrist and gave it a light shake.
“Peter shouldn"t let you out of the house without a leash.”
“I think that"s what you are, big guy.” Dana impulsively gave him a hard hug, a gesture of true affection, though Rachel expected Max got the reward she had, of feeling Dana"s tight, aroused nipples through his T-shirt. “You"re a treasure.” She turned back to Rachel, gave her a hug too, this one with no sexual tease to it, though Rachel still had to absorb the shock of physical contact to her overly alert body.
“Good luck,” Dana said, then her voice lowered, underscoring the new intimacy and understanding between them. “Tonight, keep in mind what I told you, without thinking too hard about it, okay? It"ll be all right, all of it. Trust him. And trust that part of yourself you maybe haven"t trusted in way too long, if ever.”
“Okay,” Rachel said, though she wasn"t sure about any of it.
“Better freshen up that lipstick.” Dana lifted up on her toes then, balancing herself by holding Rachel"s bare waist, fingers tangling with the chain at her hip. She whispered in her ear. “I"ll bet Max peeked. You"re too damn irresistible. I don"t have to see to know you look absolutely beautiful—it"s coming off you in waves. Whatever your heart truly desires, you can have it tonight. I know it.”
Max remained where he was, eyes closed, until Rachel closed the door. Leaning against it, she listened to him and Dana move back down her hallway. She was starting to feel the way Dorothy might have if, instead of being whirled away to Oz, that glittering place had set up camp inside her gray farmhouse.
Her gaze went to the clock. Fifteen minutes. He"d be on his way here already, and she knew he"d be prompt. He"d have called otherwise. Her gaze slid over the room.
She"d turned on Kitaro"s Silk Road composition and the exotic yet soothing melody filled the apartment. When she"d played part of it for Dana, the woman had given her a thumbs up.
“Peter and I are pretty much heavy metal junkies, though he"s also given me a new appreciation for country songs about shirtless boys on tractors.” That quick grin. “I"d never buy the stuff Jon plays, but when I"m there at his place, it fits the mood, the man, everything. This is like that. It"s perfect. For both of you.” Thinking of the past few minutes with Max, Rachel remembered what Dana had said about her night with Peter and Ben. Had Jon done things for Dana, under Peter"s direction? Did she want to know? Did she want to experience such a thing for herself? If any part of those unsettling things Dana had said earlier about the K&A men were true—and certainly she"d experienced something of the sort in Jon"s office—it was a very likely possibility.
It was pointless to speculate. She"d already told herself things were going no further than tonight. Tonight was her fantasy. Tomorrow she"d have to grip reality, no matter what.
Not for the first time, that weak litany reminded her of buying a whole chocolate cake on impulse, having a piece, then going to bed with the firm self-admonition that she"d throw the rest away in the morning and never have another fattening, decadent bite. She was old enough to be smarter than this. But here she was anyway.
At five to seven, she put his salad bowl on his dinner plate, scooped the blackberries, goat cheese and shredded greens into it, ladling a light drizzle of vinaigrette over it. She"d wrapped the bread in a towel and put it in a basket to his left, including a small dish of olive oil with herbs. The eggplant parmesan was on a trivet, the casserole dish sealed to hold in heat. She poured half a glass of the red, setting the bottle in a pewter wine holder to breathe.
Unpinning her hair, she let it cascade onto her bare shoulders. Though she"d been naked most of the day, now she felt truly vulnerable and bare. Kissing Dana, teasing Max, it had been…adventurous, playful. But this…the trembling in her lower belly told her this was something else entirely, if her mind wasn"t already telling her that. It was consumed with him. He"d be parking in the lot, walking up to her building. If her neighbors were out, walking their dogs or doing their evening jog, they"d see him.
They"d wonder about that handsome, charismatic man, wonder whom he was going to visit.
Would they believe it was her, the middle-aged tenant of 401D, the one they usually saw leaving in exercise clothes or her practical therapy wear? Could they imagine her now, kneeling like this, waiting by his chair, waiting to serve his every desire? Could they imagine all the things he might do to her tonight?
She"d had to dry herself between her legs more than once over the course of the day, her arousal an ebb and flow, depending on the direction of her thoughts, or Dana"s provocation. Now her thoughts made a heated drop trickle over her calf, where her legs were folded beneath her. It was too close to time, so she didn"t move. She had the titillating thought that he would want to see her arousal, wouldn"t want her to wipe it away. Collecting it on his fingers, his tongue, his cock…that was his right, not hers.
When the clock chimed seven, all rights were his.
He"d be walking up her stairs. He wasn"t the elevator type, not for a mere three floors. The shaking was back, sweeping out from her lower belly, through her thighs, her breath shortening. She"d left the door unlocked, as he"d commanded. Her only responsibility now was to wait.
Her gaze lifted to the clock. One minute. Her eyes closed. The building had excellent insulation. Even the McPhersons, who lived directly below and who had two young boys who didn"t do anything at a walk or low decibel, rarely penetrated the quiet of her corner apartment. It was something she"d always appreciated, but now she wasn"t as pleased by the solid weatherproofing on her door that muffled approaching footsteps. But she could envision it. His walk, the way his body moved, the intensity of the blue eyes.
For hours he"d filled her mind, but now she hungered for the real man. His scent, his heat, his presence. Even if it was just the sound of his shoes rasping along the concrete walkway, she couldn"t wait another second to grasp some tangible evidence of him. Her clit was back to throbbing beneath that metal sheath, a tiny heartbeat.
The door latch turned, and she had to make her fists relax. Just in time, she remembered the position he required. Straightening her spine, she laced her fingers at the small of her back, which thrust out her breasts. As she spread her knees to shoulder width, her hair whispered over her left shoulder, falling forward over the breast. She was staring down at her pussy, seeing the tracks of her arousal on her thighs, the flush of her erect nipples. The satiny finish of her red heels pressed into her buttocks.
The time for panic, the “what the hell am I doing?” was past. She was committed to this path now, for tonight. There was a freedom in that, such that one anxiety went away, leaving an entirely different kind in its place.