Love Untold

Love Untold: Chapter 33

Love Untold: Chapter 33


Race came in the back door, carrying the paper sack of wine and a dozen red roses.  Chrissie had just finished setting the table, lighting candles all around the dining and living rooms, and was anxiously trying to get her mind in the game.  She’d never had to seduce anyone before -- at least, not that she remembered -- and she really didn’t know where to start.  The dinner might be a good beginning, but what then?

After Race left for the liquor store, she made a mad dash to the bathroom to fix her hair and change into a flowing halter dress with a red velvet tie under the empire waist, thinking that it would be perfect for the occasion.  Not really knowing why, but the dress called out to her.  With the wine in hand, he took one look at her, stared boldly at the ribbon and shook his head.  Chrissie glanced down.  Bad choice?  

Well, tough...I’m wearing it now.

He presented her with the roses, “For you, though you are more beautiful than any bunch of roses,” and she got a bad feeling she would be the one who was charmed tonight.  She didn’t want that.  She wanted to do something for him.  She wanted to spoil him a little, but the problem was that after two weeks, she still didn’t know much about him.  What did he want?

Obviously, her, and he was making that fact very clear as he smiled at her, his eyes dilating with an intense intimacy.  “Thank you,” she said, folding back the cellophane from the flowers.  They were a little bedraggled, but it was the thought that counted.  She stuck them in a vase with some water and centered it on the table, her hands shaking because her bravado was slipping away.  She could do this.  She could.  Nothing to enticing a man.  Dena did it all the time.  How hard could it be?  Smile a little, flirt a little, stare deeply into his eyes with that come-hither look.

Only she couldn’t meet his eyes, for fear that he might see her timidity shining through.  “I didn’t know which Chardonnay to get,” he said,  holding out the wine to her.  

“Either is fine,” she replied, going into the kitchen to get their plates of fettuccine and take a deep breath.  At this point, she’d need both bottles.

He’s my husband, she scorned herself.  He’s sweet and sexy and charming, and I’ve never wanted to sleep with someone so bad.  Chrissie squeezed her thighs together to ease the ache and she pressed her hands to her fluttering stomach, almost sick with anticipation.  Seducing him should come natural.  It shouldn’t be something to dread or worry about.  If anything went disastrously wrong, she could always strip down naked and hoped he took it from there.  

Returning to the table with her hands full, he took the plates from her, lightly grazing her fingers underneath, and she almost dropped them.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine...just hungry.  Low blood sugar making me jumpy, I guess.”  

He held out her chair for her before taking his own.  She set the table so that he sat at the head and her place was to his right, close enough without having to look directly at him all through dinner.  “Well, then eat up, sweetheart,” he said.  “Can’t have you getting sick.”

He waited until she dove into her food, twirling the pasta noodles around her fork, before eating from his own plate.  Chrissie drank heavily from her wine glass, refilling when it was empty, and by the time she’d gone through half her meal, he was taking the bottle away from her.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Of course,” she laughed a little too loudly.  Whoa...too much wine.  “Um, talk to me.  Tell me about...anything.”

“What do you want to know?” he asked, putting down his fork and leaning back in his chair to study her.

“I don’t know...share a memory with me.”

“I’d rather not,” he said softly, and her head jerked up.

“Why not?”

“Would it really matter?  I think we should forget the past and move on, Chris...make some new memories.”

Chrissie fiddled with her napkin, her wine glass, her silverware, the ribbon that dangled from her dress, just to keep her gaze off of him.  “I like your dress,” he commented.  She looked down at herself.

“Th-thank you.  It’s nice to dress up sometimes.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a heady breath.  “It’s very nice.”

She gave him a tremulous smile and quit touching her dress.  She was drawing too much attention to herself, and she wanted this night to be about him.  “Well...if we’re moving on, I guess we need to get to know one another again,” she remarked, draining the last of her Chardonnay.  “What do you like to do for fun?”

“Stare at you.”

“Race, really,” she scoffed.  “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he said, grinning.

“Fine.  What else do you like to do?”

“Be with you,” he answered, twining his fingers behind his head as he blatantly stared at her.

“There has to be something that you like to do when I’m not around,” she said, getting irritated with him.

“Think about you,” he said, still grinning.

She tossed her napkin on her plate and glared at him.  It seemed this night would turn out differently than she planned.  He was doing this on purpose.  “Is that all?” she grated out.  “You’ve given me the impression that you’re more of a hands-on person.”

“I like my hands on you, too,” he added.  “And my lips and my...well, you get the picture.”

Since he wanted to be obtuse and annoyingly charming right now, she could be the same.  “I’m afraid I’m all out of pictures, Race,” she smiled sweetly at him.  “You’ll have to spell it out.”

“I prefer showing you, but...”  He raised his palms up above his head and left his comment at that.

“But what?”

Sighing deeply, he said, “But you’re not ready for anything more, Chris.  You’ve known me for two weeks.  It took us three months of getting to know each other last time before we made love.  I’ll not rush you into it.”

Chrissie stood up stiffly.  Okay, she could stomp out of the room, and scream into her pillow, or she could stay and see where this goes.  He’d been so nice and indulgent and sweet to her, and she was tired of being the only one on the receiving end of all that.  She yearned to give him something he truly wanted, and she knew of only one thing, so dang it!  He was getting sex tonight, whether he liked it or not!

*****

Race’s eyes just about popped out of his head when his wife reached behind her and pulled down the zipper in the back of her dress.  “What are you doing?” he asked darting to his feet.

“I have no idea,” she said with a determination in her eyes.  “I’ve never had to seduce a man before, but I figured this would be a good start.”  She unhooked the dress behind her neck and let it fall to the floor.

“Sweet Heaven,” he moaned.  She wore nothing underneath.  Her beautiful, bare skin gleamed enticingly, and all he could do was stare at her...all of her.  This whole time, they ate chicken fettuccine and drank wine and he teased her, and there had been nothing between her and the candle light except for two layers of fabric.  “Chris...I hope you know what you’re doing.”

She met his steady gaze.  “I told you, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I figured I’d wing it.”  She smiled impishly at him and turned on her heels to walk through the house toward the bedroom.  She knew he’d follow her.  He knew she knew that.  But his feet were glued to the floor as he concentrated on the sway of her heart-shaped bottom and her gorgeous legs and the dip of her waist and...

Why the hell am I still standing here?

She winked at him over her shoulder as she disappeared around the corner, and his shirt flew over his head.  He stumbled as he tried to kick his shoes off while running.  In the bedroom, she leaned against a bedpost, more soft candle light flickering against her naked body.

“Make love to me, Race,” she breathed out.  He reached out to her, but he couldn’t touch her, not yet.

“Chrissie, If we do this, there’s no turning back.  I won’t go back to the basement.”

She touched a fingertip to his chin and drew a slow, torturous line from there straight down his chest and past his bellybutton, stopping at the waistband of his pants.  “I’m counting on it,” she said, popping free the top button.

His hands quivered as he brought them up to her cheeks.  “Tell me one thing first...do you think you could ever love me?”

As she brought her eyes up to his, he almost retracted his question.  If she said no, then he would forgo the best sex of his life tonight,  but then she’d be mad, and maybe cry because he’d have to abandon her like this, and he honestly didn’t think he had it in him to walk away.  Amusement lit up her smile.  “I don’t think that should be too difficult.”

Good enough.  He crashed into her, kissing her lips like a man possessed, and she responded just as frantically.  When he came up for air, his pants were down around his knees, and he grabbed a handful of quilt, yanking it off the bed, silently praising Chrissie for not putting any of the candles on the nightstands.  That would have been a disaster, considering how the quilt whipped the table lamp to the wall.  The pillows followed as he gently rolled Chrissie down to the mattress and kicked off the rest of his clothes.  Stupid inventions, anyway.  He wanted nothing to get in the way of his body and her body and what he planned to do to her body.

“Race...kiss me,” she moaned under him, and he chuckled, “I am, sweetheart,” as he nibbled across her cheek and down her neck.  Her pulse beat against his lips, her limbs slithered under him, her fingers curled into his hair, holding him there.  “Race...” she keened, “touch me.”

“I am, Chris...I’ll touch you everywhere,” he promised, and she said, “Yes...yes...oh!  More!”

Race smiled.  His wife was back.