Finding Mr. Right (16 page)

“I won’t promise. I want you in me right now. I need you, Byron.”

He pulled her sweater over her head, threw it on a nearby chair, unzipped her jeans, dragged them down and flung them over his shoulder, pulled back the covers, lifted her and put her on the bed. But she sat up and worked at getting rid of his trousers while he removed his shirt.

She stared at the treasure before her—big, hard, ready and all hers, leaned forward and eased him between her lips. Liking the taste, she took more of him, but he quickly moved away. “Are you angry because I did that?” she asked him. “I figured if you did that to me, I could do the same.” He settled her in bed, and when she opened her arms to him in a gesture every woman understands, he nearly fell into them.

“Angry? How could I be? It’s the most delicious feeling. But I couldn’t afford to make a mistake, and I’m already about to burst.”

He bent to her breast, licked the valley between them, and moved with maddeningly slow pace to her left breast, frustrating her until she held her nipple to his mouth. When he sucked it, heat flooded the bottom of her feet and she spread
her legs in invitation. He ignored the gesture and charted his own course, skimming his fingers over her flesh as he eased his way down her body. His tongue sampled her navel, and her hips began their slow dance, as he licked and nipped his way to his goal. He’d taught her what to expect, and she thought she’d go mad waiting for the thrust of his tongue. And then he had her, sucking, probing and plunging until he found that spot at which he could drive her wild.

She cried out. “Byron! Honey, give it to me. It’s so good. I can’t stand it. I think I’m going to die.
Please!
”

Near completion and straining for control, he eased his way up her body, licking and enjoying the taste and scent of her delicate flesh. Her woman’s scent excited him, and he wanted to suck her sweet nipple again, but he knew that if he did, it would be over.

“Take me, sweetheart.” She raised her knees, took his penis into her hands, caressing and stroking as if she didn’t know she could make him lose it. “Baby, easy. Take me in.”

She positioned him at the entrance of her vagina, thrust her hips upward, and he sank into her sweet tunnel. He kissed her lips, saying without words that he loved her. Almost immediately, that maddening way she had of pulsating around him rhythmically commenced and became stronger and stronger with each move, until… Oh lord, she’d started squeezing him, and he had to hold on. He couldn’t desert her now. What was she saying?

“Byron, honey, I need to burst. I can’t stand this. It won’t… Oh, lord, I’m…”

Screams poured out of her as she squeezed him so tightly that he could hardly move. “I love…Byron. I…I’m dying.”

He heard her words. “Are you straight, baby? Tell me. I—”

“Yes. Yes.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Then she accelerated her thrust, tossing her hips up to him in sync with his rhythm, and his whole body shook as he splintered in her
arms, moaning her name. Strung out, vulnerable and practically helpless, he doubted he could move a finger.

At least five minutes had passed when he raised his head, looked down into her face and said, “I love you. Are you all right? I mean, did it work for you? Are you satisfied?”

Her hands stroked his back. “Will it always be like this? It was even better this time than when we were on the cruise, and I didn’t think that possible.”

“The more we’re together and the better we understand each other’s needs and preferences, the better it will get. Do you feel sore? I couldn’t muster as much control as I needed. From the minute you took me in your mouth, I was ready to go.” He released a long sigh. “You’re so perfect for me.”

“And you definitely suit me. I wasn’t challenging you when we were in the kitchen. I just didn’t know any other way to get what I wanted. It didn’t seem feminine to blurt out, ‘Byron, would you please take me to bed.’”

He couldn’t help laughing. “Maybe not that, but if we’re in the right place, you know how to touch me and how to kiss me, don’t you?”

“Suppose we’re not in the right place? Oh, well.”

“Not to worry, sweetheart. I’ve begun to recognize your little moves. If you want me, you’ll find a way. We’d better get up and remove the evidence, because Maggie or Darlene could come home at any time. People have been known to change their plans.”

She jumped up. “Right. Maggie is famous for precisely that.”

Shortly before eleven, standing in her foyer, he stroked her back, keeping as much distance between them as he could, because he didn’t want to spend the remainder of the night hard and fighting the sheets. Clearly unaware of his dilemma, she tried to get as close to him as she could.

“Why don’t you want me to hug you?” she asked him, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

“Because I don’t have the option of going back up those stairs with you to your room. As it is, I’ll probably be staring at the ceiling most of the night.”

“You mean?”

“I mean.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, darling. I’ll fill a thermos with coffee, and you can drink it on the way to the lake. Cream, no sugar. Right?”

“You’re kidding. That’s fine for tomorrow morning, but it won’t get me through the night.” He kissed her on the mouth. “Stay sweet.”

He had to get out of there, and quickly. He drove off just as a blue Chevrolet slowed down in front of the house and turned into the garage. Just in time to avoid Maggie’s knowing eyes. He hoped Tyra got back into her room before Maggie entered the house, because it would surprise him if anybody could hide the effects of what he and Tyra had just experienced. She didn’t know how lucky she was. No. Tyra was blessed. He’d known a few women, but not one, including his wife, who could let herself go and experience mind-blowing ecstasy with him as Tyra could. A woman without pretense or guile, and who didn’t have to fake. She took him where he’d never been and gave him feelings that he didn’t know he could experience. How had he been so fortunate?

If she thought he would allow a court case to ruin their relationship, he’d show her. He didn’t intend to allow anything or anyone to take her from him.

Tyra grabbed the alarm clock and raised her arm to throw it across the room when she remembered why she’d set it. Byron would call her at a quarter of six, but that wouldn’t give her time to shower, dress and make the coffee before he arrived. She dressed in her black jeans, a red, cashmere, cowl-neck sweater and black boots, combed down her hair and, as she ambled down the stairs, inserted silver hoops into her ears.
The phone rang as she reached the bottom step, and she raced to the dining room to answer it.

“Hi.”

“You sound as if you’re wide awake.”

“I am. I gotta make your coffee, so I got up a little earlier. What can I make for Andy?”

“If you have any cocoa, he’d love that. I’ll bring along a two-cup thermos to put it in. See you shortly, sweetheart.”

She made the coffee, filled the sixty-four-ounce picnic thermos with coffee, heated the milk and made the cocoa. She poured some milk into a small thermos, put sugar in a zip lock bag and looked in the foyer closet for her knee-length pea coat. When the doorbell rang, she opened it and looked down at Andy.

“Gee, Miss Tyra, you don’t live close to us, do you?” He handed her the thermos, and she took his hand and walked with him to the kitchen. He looked at the large thermos. “If you’re bringing that, I’d better go get my dad.” Before she could answer, he ran to the door, opened it and raced down the walk. She filled Andy’s thermos with cocoa and waited, though she’d begun to get warm in that coat and sweater.

“I’ll take my thermos,” Andy said, calling attention to his presence.

“Where’s your daddy?” she asked the boy.

“Right here, sweetheart. How much coffee did you make?” He kissed her on the mouth, and she glanced down to see an expression of bewilderment of Andy’s face.

“Why’d you kiss her, Daddy?”

He put the strap of the thermos over his shoulder and took Andy’s hand. “I kissed her because I like her.”

“Oh. Don’t you like Aunt Jonie?”

She wondered how he’d get out of that. “There are different kinds of like,” he said, locked her door and took her hand with his free one.

“Good morning, sir,” she said to Lewis Whitey, Byron’s
father, who had gotten out of the car and waited for them beside the back door of Byron’s Cadillac. She kissed his cheek.

“How are you, Tyra? I’m happy to see you again.”

“Grandpa didn’t kiss her in the mouth, Daddy.”

“You bet he didn’t. Did you thank Miss Tyra for getting up early and making cocoa for you?”

“She put cocoa in my thermos? Gee. Thanks, Miss Tyra. My daddy and my granddaddy love coffee, Miss Tyra. Is that why you brought so much?”

“I like it too, Andy.”

“It’s gonna be cold,” the boy said. “Daddy, did you tell her to put on long underwear? I’m wearing too many clothes.”

Neither of the men answered him, and she was glad the boy hadn’t directed the question to her. She turned so that she could see Andy and his grandfather in the back seat. “Do you usually catch any fish, Andy?”

“Yes, but sometime I need help when the fish is big. I hate to put the worms on my hook. Who’s going to put the worms on for you, Miss Tyra?”

If he wanted her to stay in the car while they fished, he’d just given her a good reason. “I haven’t thought about that,” she said, cast a side glance at Byron and had an urge to punch him. She didn’t see anything funny about the boy’s question.

They arrived at the lake around seven o’clock as planned. Lewis built a fire under his twin hibachi, dumped a bag of charcoal on it, baited his hook and went over to where Tyra sat on a huge boulder wondering if she had bitten off more than she was willing to chew. She definitely was not putting her hands on any worms.

“I’ll bait your hook, Tyra. Byron’s waiting for you to ask him to do it, so that he can tease you. I see your relationship has taken a giant step, and nothing could make me happier.”

She looked up at him. “How do you know that?”

“I’m seventy-two years old, been there, seen that and done
that. Don’t let Andy’s smart-alecky behavior get to you. As soon as he’s sure you love him, he’ll be sticking to you like a tick.”

“So far, we get on well,” she said, although she didn’t think their relationship had been tested.

Lewis confirmed that when he said, “Andy is clever and accomplished beyond his years, and he likes to show off. Don’t accept nonsense from him the first time, and it won’t be a problem a second time. Do you understand? No matter how cute it seems, correct it.”

She looked at Lewis Whitley for a long minute, taking in what he’d said and what he’d left unsaid. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that more than I can tell you.”

“You’re welcome. Do we understand each other?” She nodded. He wanted his son to marry her, and if she needed help, he was there for her. However, she refused to join in cahoots with anyone against Byron, not even his father. If she got into trouble with Byron, the two of them would have to work through it together. Still, knowing his father approved of her was like a shot of adrenaline, and she got up, walked out on the edge of the pier, where the wind ripped through her, and cast out her line.

Lewis caught the first fish, a four-pound pike, and immediately cleaned the fish and prepared to coat it with cornmeal and fry it. Andy ran over to Tyra, “Is anything pulling on your line? Daddy’s is way over there pulling in a bass, and I don’t have a thing.”

“I don’t have anything on my line, either, Andy. I think I’ll go get some coffee.”

“I’m going with you, Maybe the fish don’t bite when four people are trying to catch them. I always catch them when there’s only Daddy, grandpa and me.”

She got that undercut, but she didn’t plan to comment on it. At the campfire, she handed Andy a paper cup and unscrewed the top of his thermos.

“This is good, a lot more chocolate-like than Daddy and Aunt Jonie make. I love chocolate and caramel. Thanks for the cocoa, Miss Tyra.”

Lewis patted Andy on the shoulder. “Tell your daddy we’re ready to eat, son.”

“When did you make the cornbread?” Tyra asked Lewis.

“Last night. It’s cracklin’ bread. Byron’s fishing for catfish, and this goes great with them. How about a taste of that coffee?”

She poured a cup for him and one for her, sat down on a nearby stump and sipped it, warming her hands with the cup. “Have you caught anything?” Byron asked when he arrived bringing three good-size catfish.

“Not yet,” she said. “Right now, I am happy to sit here close to the fire.”

Byron walked over to her, bent down, kissed her forehead and whispered, “Andy’s right. I should have told you to wear your long johns.” She didn’t laugh although he enjoyed a good guffaw. He poured a cup of coffee, sipped it and stretched out his legs. “This hits the spot, sweetheart. Don’t worry, you’ll catch something before we leave.”

“Sure,” she said. “But I won’t enjoy having pneumonia. It’s freezing out here.”

He brushed her cheek with the tips of his finger, as lightly as if he feared bruising her. “Sorry I can’t warm you up the way I’d like to. Be back in a minute.” He took a nail from his pocket, nailed the tail of the largest catfish to a nearby tree, made a small incision, and pulled the skin off the fish. He took it to his father. “I did my job with this, but I have no idea how to clean a fish.”

“I’ll do it. Serve Tyra and Andy some cornbread and a piece of this pike, while I fry the catfish.”

“When are you going to eat?”

“When I finish frying this catfish, I’ll have some of all of it.” Lewis took a long sip of coffee. “This coffee is delicious.
Take good care of her, son. I don’t think you’ll be able to duplicate her.”

“Neither do I, Dad. She’s very special.”

After enjoying the kind of breakfast he’d loved since early childhood, Byron longed to stretch out with Tyra in his arms and go to sleep, but neither the weather nor the presence of his father and son would permit that.

His dad looked at him and laughed. “Self-control is good discipline, son, and the sooner we learn it the happier we’ll be.”