A Girl by Any Other Name (65 page)

She giggled, and walked toward the small table in the entry. I came up behind her and took the

foil wrapper from her. I moved her hair aside so I could kiss her shoulder before I picked her up and

carried her to bed. My desire was too great not to touch her.

I sat on the edge of her bed with her in my lap. I kissed her jaw and nibbled gently on her

earlobe. I never wanted to draw pain from her. I never wanted to trigger a negative memory so I was

very careful to leave her body unmarked by my touch. She put her arms around my neck and our lips

searched each other out.

“Let me put this on before I lose the nerve,” I whispered, holding up the condom.

She nodded and shifted off me. She lay down on her back. I made quick work of getting outfitted.

And then I jumped on top of her, careful to brace my weight against my hands. “You have to tell me if

I hurt you. Do you promise to do that?” She looked at me curiously, and I knew she was wondering

what I was planning. I didn’t think I could keep being gentle. I needed to propel rather than thrust. To

drive into her with all the lust that was coursing through me.

“You wouldn’t hurt me—”

I kissed her, murmuring the words against her open lips. “When I’m with you like this, I have

very little control, and I need your help.” I trailed my hand down her breasts, past her belly button and

into the moist folds of her pussy. She wrapped her arms around my neck, burying her head in my

chest. “Look at me, Sylvie. I need to talk to you.”

“I can’t talk,” she whimpered. “Not when you’re doing this.”

“Then just listen for a minute.” I plunged my fingers in and out of her, manipulating her vagina

until she was so slick we both heard the audible sounds of my fingers’ penetration. “I crave you like

an addict with his drug of choice. And I need a fix really bad.” I added a finger, moving more

forcefully. Her lips parted, inviting me in for a kiss, but I wasn’t ready yet. “So promise me right now

that while I’m fucking you, you’ll be conscious of the line between pleasure and pain, because I might

not be.” She widened her eyes, and nodded, running her fingers along my lips. My slow smile grew

wider. I drew her finger in, sucking on it slowly. “Not good enough. I love the gesture, but I demand

the words.”

“I promise.”

I retreated my fingers, tracing her soft lips with them. She parted her mouth and licked the area.

My dick twitched in response. I growled in some garbled ancient language people only spoke in

intimate, passionate moments. I moved down the bed, clasping her ankles and pulling her lower. I

lifted her legs, kissing them, paying special attention to the ominous bird. I lifted her ass off the bed,

bending each leg over my shoulder. My hand gripped on the scroll metal bars of her headboard,

offering me the leverage I needed. I pushed into her, pulling out almost completely before diving back

in again.

She screamed with each thrust, clutching the bed sheets until her knuckles turned white. “Oh…

God, Tex,” she said breathlessly.

“Pinch your nipples,” I commanded. She complied. “Get them wet.” She licked her fingers

generously before swiping them across her nipples. I took my free hand and manipulated her clit. Her

eyes searched mine, begging for release. I shook my head and withdrew. Then I slammed back into

her with my full length. “Not yet.”

The contours of her beautiful face contorted as the waves of pleasure built in her until her

release. I closed my eyes and followed soon after.

I dislodged each leg carefully, rubbing her ankles. I watched her as we both regained our breath.

I roamed my hands over the soft, warm, freshly slick planes of her flesh. She was as lovely as a lily,

sweet as honey and sexy as sin. My finger traveled in the hollow space between her breasts, gliding

down her body before bringing it to my tongue. Her mouth dropped open in surprise, but I decided

that was an invitation to explore it. I kissed her slowly, relishing the decadent taste of her, holding her

face against mine. Then I lay down next to her, flopping my leg over her. She rested her head on my

chest and rubbed my shoulder.

“I didn’t think about my bed. It’s so small and you’re so…big,” she said after a while.

I laughed, pulling her close to me. “You’ll have to sleep on top of me. It’s the only way.”

“That’s going to be so uncomfortable for you.”

“I think it’s going to be the best sleep I’ll ever have.” She giggled against me. We remained quiet

for a while. I threaded my fingers through her hair, and she nuzzled against my chest, the sounds of our

combined breathing permeating the air.

“I don’t have much experience, but I didn’t think that sex could be this good.”

“Sex is the physical response to emotional need. It feels natural because it’s us.”

“Easy as breathing.”

“I haven’t slept well in almost ten years,” I admitted, while playing with the soft curls of hair.

“Me neither.”

“Well, I’m glad we’re finally getting some sleep then. Let’s play hooky tomorrow,” I suggested.

“I can’t. I have a class to teach. I can’t bail on those kids.”

“What time do you work?”

“Not until four. I close tomorrow.”

“I don’t have a class tomorrow. I just grade papers with Jessica, so we can hang all day.”

“Oh, okay.” There was something off about the way she said it.

“What’s wrong, Sylvie?”

“Is there something going on between you two?” I wasn’t expecting that question.

“No, our relationship has always been professional. Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering because of the way she looks at you sometimes. Of course, a lot of girls

look at you that way.”

“You never did.”

“I did. I’m just better at hiding it. I had to be. Tex, when you read that unsent letter to me, I

almost had a breakdown in there.”

“I guess my plan worked then. I wanted to draw you out without sounding crazy in case I was

wrong.”

“I lied in class,” she said, with an impish smile.

“About what?”

“I like Thomas Hardy, but that wasn’t my favorite novel.” She moved away from me, reaching

into her nightstand drawer. I immediately felt the loss of her body, and wanted to pull her back. She

held up a hardcover book. I blinked, staring at the tattered, well-worn copy of
Raven Girl
by Caleb

James Tanner. “This is my favorite book. I’ve read it a million times.”

“I can tell,” I replied, taking it from her. “So you were the one person who bought my book.”

“Stop, it was a great book.”

“I was doing a public service. I provided the critics an abundance of fodder for their craft. I

think one of them compared me to Forrest Gump without the excuse of a mental impairment.”

She was quiet for a minute. I lifted her chin, smiling at her, but she didn’t smile back. “I think it

was criticized so much because the story felt unfinished.”

“Perhaps it deserves a sequel?”

“I think so, Tex.”

I moved the book back to the nightstand, not wanting to talk about my failed attempt as an author.

I kissed her neck and pulled her close to me. It was a while until either of us spoke again, comfortable

with the silence as we always were. “By the way, I’m withdrawing from your class. I don’t want you

to get in trouble.”

“That’s probably a good idea since I was going to fail you anyway.”

“What?” she replied, smacking my chest. I pressed my lips to her temple to hide my grin.

“Just kidding, but I am curious, were you comparing me to Ahab when you were talking about

Moby Dick
?”

She laughed, cupping my chin. “No, that would mean that I was referring to myself as a whale…

or calling myself a dick, and I’m not that self-deprecating.”

“Very funny, smartass. Don’t drop out. Ask to change your status so you’re auditing the class.

That way your grades won’t count and there’s nothing devious about it.”

“Will you get in trouble for that?”

I shrugged. “Only if someone tells. It is community college, after all. They’re not exactly vigilant

about these kinds of things. I’ve heard that Ocean Community College is fondly referred to as ‘Only

Chance College’ and that’s by the alumni.”

She laughed. “’Kay.”

“Goodnight, Sylvie,” I whispered, kissing her temple.

“We need to talk about something first.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t think you should call me Sylvie anymore. I have a new name now. I would say it’s fine

for you to call me that when we’re intimate, because I prefer it too, but I’m afraid you might slip up if

we’re in public.” She had a point.

“I know what you’re saying, but Sophie doesn’t feel right to me. How about if I call you Sylvie

when we’re alone and ‘sweetheart’, or ‘baby’, or even ‘lover’ when we’re out?”

She laughed. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy about you. I love you, girl.”

She sat up, pressing her hand against my chest. “You haven’t said that yet.”

“Yes, I have.”

“No, you haven’t. We’ve talked about it in an external sense, but you haven’t said it directly to

me since…since that night.”

“Well, I have no problems saying it. I love you, Sylvie Cranston. I have loved you since I was

fourteen and I will love you until the day I die.”

“I love you too, Caleb James Tanner.”

“You know you’ve never said that to me.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“You didn’t have to. I always knew, but it’s nice to hear the words.”

“Let me be clear then. I have loved you since I was eleven and you sat next to me on the swings

at church. It’s grown each day since, even when we weren’t together. I will never stop loving you.”

My heart warmed with her words so much that I clasped the back of head and pulled her toward

me, kissing her passionately.

* * * *

“I think it’s dead,” Sylvie said, watching me drill the chain on her door.

“It’s not dead. I’ve had this drill for fifteen years, so what does that tell you?”

“That it’s time to get a new drill,” she replied playfully.

I shook my head, pissed that my drill wasn’t working when we were almost done with all the

repairs. I turned to her, and I had trouble remembering what it was I was supposed to be doing. There

was nothing sexy about a plaid shirt and chinos, but somehow Sylvie made them look like French

lingerie. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and my fingers twitched to release it then caress it. She must

have sensed my desire, because she pouted her sumptuous lips and raised her eyebrow. “So, are we

done for today?”

I wished we were, but I needed to get this done. I wouldn’t feel all right about her being here

alone if it wasn’t. “You’ve been a good helper so far, but now you’re just distracting me. Why don’t

you get me a cup of coffee, woman?”

“That sounded very chauvinistic, Tex.”

“It’s not. You can get yourself a cup too,” I replied, turning back to my work. The drill was on

its last legs, and I was about ready to chuck it out the window.

“I can help you.” There was a piled huskiness to her already sexy voice. I had a feeling her

version of help wasn’t going to get this task done.

“I don’t think so.”

“I can make it easier.”

“Sylvie, let me finish this and stop distracting me!”

“But, Tex, you’re stressing out so much.”

“Yeah, and trust me, I’m going to want you to relax me…but later, when I’m done here. This is

very important to me.”

“Yeah and—”

“Damn it, girl, I’m serious,” I snapped, watching the drill in my hand start to smoke from the

pressure I was putting on it.

That was when I heard another sound echo through her small apartment. It was a fresh energetic

buzzing that was so opposite to the dying sound coming from my tool. I turned and she stood there

clutching the latest Craftsman drill, charged up and ready to go.

She sauntered over to me, holding it up like it was a pistol, smiling smugly. “I was going to say

you can borrow my drill. Sometimes it is the tool and not the user.”

I took it from her, admiring its features and its power. “Very nice. Why do you have this?”

“I found out it’s cheaper to make my own frames and easels.”

“When did you get so handy?” I asked, pulling her to my chest and kissing her head.

“I was just going to ask you the same thing. I don’t remember you knowing all this stuff.”

“Sylvie, I don’t think it takes a genius to install a chain.”

“No, but you just seem really comfortable with it.”

I released her, returning to my work. She went to the tiny area that constituted her kitchen to

make coffee.

“I think it really started when I came home from college. I noticed there were many things in

disrepair. It wasn’t like Momma to let things go like that. At first, I couldn’t figure it out, but then I

realized that even with my dad’s insurance settlement and my mother going back to work, things were

tight with me in college and Mandy’s music lessons. I figured the least I could do was help out. My

dad was always good at fixing stuff.”

“I remember. He was always tinkering with y’all’s appliances and cars.”

“I wasn’t so great, but I figured everything I needed to know was in a book somewhere. Then for