TWICE VICTORIOUS (15 page)

He looked across at her, his eyes in shadow. Slowly he set his plate on the
tablecloth, dropped his napkin beside it. "Yes?"

"Yes." She rolled sideways, bringing herself to the corner of the cloth, meeting
him there.

The first kiss ignited them both. Stell wrapped herself around him, wanting the
feel of him, the taste of him, the smell of him, over every inch of her body, permeating her
senses. She matched his caresses, taking and giving, filling her hands with his warmth and
strength. Glorying in the sleekness of him, she explored the long smooth muscles of his
arms, swept her fingers through the curly mat of hair hiding his pebbly male nipples,
dipped her tongue into the indentation of his navel.

Tugging, she managed to pull the shirt over his head, despite his resistance as he
kissed and nibbled his way across her shoulder, along her collarbone. Peripherally aware
that his hands were busy lifting her robe away from her, she stroked along the indentation
of his spine, lower, until her hands found their way under the loose sweatpants, until they
were far enough down his lean legs so that he could push them off, using first one foot and
then the other. Her hands found the round firmness of his buttocks. She clutched, hauling
him close, wanting his hardness against her belly.

He rolled atop her, his face so close to her that she could see only his eyes,
glittering with desire. "My turn," he breathed, straddling her legs, holding them close
together. He held her arms above her head, gripping them in one hand.

His other hand explored. From the top of her head, it sought and found her every
secret place, touching, stroking, inciting her to a frenzied need, so that she felt herself
writhing under his hand, knew that if he didn't stop--NOW--she would surely die.

His mouth closed over her breast, hurting in a wondrous, compelling way. She
could not move. Her arms were boneless, her body a willing puppet held on strings of
sensual need. The hot wetness of his mouth focused her entire being on its path as he
kissed and licked his way from breast to navel.

"Adam. Adam. Oh, please, Adam...."

Her voice called his name over and over, as if she needed a reminder of who was
leading her along the road to paradise. Adam felt her quiver beneath him as he drifted his
mouth across her hip. She was hot. Her skin seemed to glow with her passion. God! She
was delectable!

With fingers that trembled, he sought the secret cleft that was his goal. Dipping
inside, he found her ready for him. He explored the moist tissues, delving into her tight
passage, feeling her spasmodic reaction.

He tasted her, delicately, letting his tongue only hint at what he wanted from her.
Her scent was musky and sweet, with faint overtones of soap.

Again he tasted her, this time closing his lips about the small seat of her passion.
Gently suckling, he listened to her gasping, wordless cries.

When her mindlessly seeking hands found him, he thought he would explode.
Quickly, determined that this time they would share the journey, he caught her hand,
holding it so that she could not stimulate him beyond the point of no return.

He rose above her, feeling King of the Mountain, Emperor of the Universe.
Holding himself there on stiffened arms, he watched her, waited until her eyes opened and
she looked at him. He wanted to see her face when they became one.

"Adam!" Her arms lifted to pull him down. He yielded slowly, entering her a
millimeter at a time, forcing control upon himself.

She wrapped her legs around his body and pulled him deep inside. With all his
fading willpower, Adam resisted her thrusts, wanting this to last.

"Please. Please. Oh, please." Her chant went beyond insistence. Even as her voice
faltered, his climax began and he gave himself up to it.

As Adam drove into her, Stell lost what little hold she had on reality. She was the
ocean, breaking against a rocky shore. She was the sunset, turning the sky to flame. She
soared and dove, spun down...down...forever down.

Her fall turned to a serene drift, much like a feather on the breeze, and she found
herself held securely within Adam's arms.

His fingers traced the shape of her mouth. "Wow."

"Wow is right," she agreed, pulling him to her so that she could kiss him without
moving. If she could move. She wasn't sure if there was a muscle left in her body capable
of contraction.

A long time later he propped himself on one elbow, leaning over her. "Stell, I
want you to promise you won't try to compete this summer."

His words stopped the breath in her chest, filled her belly with ice?

"Not try to compete," she said, stupidly repeating his words because they made no
sense to her.

"I've seen how your leg still hurts you," he said, running his hand along her thigh.
Her flesh quivered, sensitized to his touch. "If you don't give it a rest, a good long rest, you
may never recover full use of it."

"Where'd you earn your degree, Adam?"

"Degree? I don't have one. What's that got to do with what I was saying?"

"I just wondered," she said, working to contain her anger, "what qualifications you
have to prescribe for my future."

"Damn it, Stell, I care! Isn't that enough? And I do know quite a lot about this sort
of injury, whether you believe it or not." He released her and rolled to his knees. Grabbing
her ankle, he squeezed lightly. Then he placed the other hand on her knee, again
squeezing.

She couldn't help the slight tightening of her mouth. Before she could protest, he
was rotating her leg at the hip. Tears sprang into her eyes as the knives sliced within her
thigh.

"All right! So it's not getting better as fast as it should. But I've learned my lesson.
I'm taking it easier, following Carl's instructions exactly."

"Sure you are."

No longer harsh with anger, his voice sounded...what? Tired? "I am!" Honestly
compelled her to add, "Well, I'm mostly following them. Sometimes I walk farther than I
should."

"And exercise longer?"

She chewed her lower lip. "Sometimes."

"And what qualifies you to know when to push the limits Carl set?"

"It's my leg!" But as soon as she spoke, Stell knew he'd used her own words to
prove her wrong. "Okay, so I'm not following his instructions exactly. He's being too
darned conservative. I think I know my own body better than he does."

"If you say so."

"Look, Adam, can we just not talk about my leg, please? We're not ever going to
agree, so maybe we should just avoid the whole topic."

He rolled upright, pulling his long legs into a full lotus. "Sure. But it's kind of hard
to ignore something that dominates your life."

Even after years of work, Stell still couldn't knot her legs up like that. She admired
his flexibility, wondering when Carl was going to let her go back to her Yoga class. "You
can try."

There was no doubt Adam wanted the best for her. His warnings, his concern,
were real. Stell knew that. If only he would stop jumping on every little weakness, each
small stumble in her recovery. She was having enough trouble believing she'd make a full
recovery, without his pessimism.

She stared at him, wondering if they both wouldn't be better off to end this
relationship right now. The longer they were together, the more they argued. Not just about
her determination to speed her recovery, either. Although he'd never dwelt on it, she knew
he had strong feelings about what he called her obsession. Feelings that went far beyond
disapproval.

Perhaps Adam was incapable of understanding why she was so determined to ride
in the Sawtooth Classic. Why she needed to prove to herself she could do it.

Some people simply could not understand the difference between obsession and
dreams.

Adam reached out to her and Stell gave him her hand.
Tomorrow. I'll think
about all this tomorrow.

Wrapping her in his arms, he fell backwards, narrowly missing the cluster of food
containers. Stell turned in his embrace, burrowing her chin into the angle of his shoulder.
This was where she wanted to be, with no thought of anything beyond his hands, his kiss.
His hard male body.

Her breath was warm against his throat, her body a seductive armful. When her
fingers played along his spine and her tongue found the sensitive hollow just above his
collarbone, Adam buried his face in her hair. "What were we talking about?" he
whispered.

"I forget," she said, her fingers dipping below the inadequate elastic of his
pants.

His seeking hand found the swell of her breast. "I remember this, though." His
fingers teased her nipple into a bold peak.

With eager hands and hungry mouths they brought each other to spectacular
readiness. Stell, her naked body slippery with sweat, trembled with anticipation as he knelt
above her, parting her legs, stroking the insides of her thighs.

"Now!" she cried.

"Now!" he agreed, plunging into her. She locked her legs around his waist and
arched into his thrusts, endlessly responsive. The world around him shrank, became a
microcosm containing only Stell and himself, locked in the eternal dance of male and
female.

When he erupted within her, she was there with him, her shudders of completion
enhancing his own climax. And when the world expanded again, she was relaxed within
his arms, her tiny moans of satisfaction a melodic counterpoint to his still-pounding
heart.

For a long time Stell dozed in Adam's arms, half under him, not minding his
weight. Periodically he would rouse long enough to tighten his grasp on her, to nuzzle
behind her ear or drop a sleepy kiss at the corner of her jaw.

Eventually, though, she grew cold, aware that the fire was merely glowing embers.
A draft crept across the floor from the open window behind the drapes. It was damp,
evidence that the rain that had driven them inside was still falling. She wondered what time
it was. After nine, because there was not a trace of light showing through the high stained
glass windows at either side of the fireplace.

"Adam?" She tried to move under him, but he had turned into a dead weight.

"Mmmm?"

"I'm freezing."

His only answer was to hold her tighter, to send even more shivers down her spine
with his nibbles at her earlobe.

"Adam!"

He rolled off her and was upright in one swift motion. "My God, woman! You
didn't have to break my eardrum."

She could barely see him rubbing the side of his head. "Poor baby. Shall I kiss it
and make it better?" She knew she hadn't spoken loud enough to hurt him.

"Would you please?" His grin flashed white.

Instead she flipped over and stretched an arm to the lamp at the end of the couch.
Its soft glow lit just one corner of the room, but at least now they could see not to step in
supper's remains.

Somehow in their wild couplings, they had managed to miss the tablecloth. Her
mouth watered at the contents of the abandoned deli containers. The tangy odor of vinegar
reminded her that she had hardly touched her food. Now she was starved.

But first she needed some clothes. She really was freezing. Her caftan had to be
here, somewhere.

Later they reclined on opposite sides of the tablecloth, bare feet toasting in the
warmth of the renewed fire, appetites satisfied. Stell licked the last of the herring sauce off
her fingers and sighed. "That was wonderful."

"It was a far cry from potato salad and fried chicken," Adam said, smiling widely
as he picked up stray cheesecake crumbs with a moistened finger.

"Mom wouldn't go on picnics unless we stopped at the deli first," she told him. "If
she was going to cook, we were going to eat it at the table." Memories of many outings
with her parents flashed through her mind, leaving a faint residue of sadness, reminding
her how lonely her life was. "I don't think we ever had fried chicken and potato salad for a
picnic."

"That's all we ever had." Adam began gathering the ravished deli containers
together. "Can I combine, or do you want to keep all these separate?" He tipped the pickled
herring container over the pasta primavera.

She grabbed. "Why don't I take care of these? I'll only be a minute. You can get
the trash."

They worked together in silence. Stell wondered if he was having as much fun as
she was. He'd been quiet and curiously restrained while they ate. Not angry, because his
warm smile had flashed again and again, whenever their hands met on a passed dish or
their glances locked.

"I forgot to ask, Adam," she said, while she was pulling the tablecloth corners
together. "How is your mother?"

"She's fine. Fussing because the doctor told her she couldn't come in to the office
for a month." He was squatting at the hearth, filling mugs from the still steaming
coffeepot.

"I'll bet that's strong enough to dissolve a spoon," she said, accepting hers. "Was
she upset because you were in Taiwan instead of at the hospital."

"No, but I felt guilty as hell. Mom's probably the most practical one among us. If
I'd even mentioned coming home for her surgery, she'd have had my head."

So he wasn't the only A-type personality in the family. Somehow that didn't
surprise her. She sank onto the sofa cushions that he'd strewed before the fire. Why hadn't
she thought of that before? They were so much softer than the wool carpet had been under
her naked back. "This is nice."

His arm encircled her. "It is. Makes me want to stay forever, just like this."

"Um-hmmm. Me too." She relaxed. Right now was what mattered. Let tomorrow
take care of itself.

She was going to snatch as many moments with Adam as she could. While she
could.

DRAFTING: riding in the slipstream of
the rider ahead to cut down wind resistance and save
effort

Stell tossed an extra sweatshirt into her duffel, reminding herself that she'd need
warm clothing at the Coast. Despite the sunny weather, the beach would be windswept and
cool, a welcome contrast to the hot, dry days July brought to the Willamette Valley.