Not That Kind of Girl

  “I want this,” she said.

  “Do you trust me?”

  She closed her eyes. If she didn’t trust Eli, she might as well give up, for real, not just like the silly pledge of manlessness she’d taken with Bea, Josie, and Ginger last year. She’d already trusted this honorable man with the most important thing in her life—Lilith. And look how far she’d come already. If she couldn’t trust Eli to take equal care with her own body and heart, then she’d never trust any man.

  Suddenly, she pictured Raymond and Eli together in her mind’s eye. She nearly laughed at the contrast. Eli Gallagher was as far away from Raymond Sandberg as a man could possibly get. It was as if they weren’t even the same species.

  She was twenty-nine. How much more of her life was she willing to throw away on anger, on ridiculous Raymond?

  Not another second, that’s how much.

  Roxanne opened her eyes. She slid her hands up around Eli’s neck and pushed her fingers into his thick hair. “I want you, and I trust you.” Her lips brushed his as she spoke. “I’m ready to be rehabilitated.”

  * * *

  Each of Gloria’s old bones seemed as heavy as lead and as dainty as a single strand of hair. The exhaustion was so deep that it left her unable to think straight, to move, even to feel. It was a blessing to have all her children with her—and her many grandchildren—but truly, she was so tired that the kindest thing they could do for her was to leave her be.

  She was hooked up to tubes and wires now. Soon, she’d be in Ira’s arms again. She wondered what love felt like on the other side, where you didn’t have your hands to caress and your lips to kiss. Oh! She prayed that she’d done enough with her time on earth to make a difference.

  What had been her favorite things of this life? Her most treasured memories? It was difficult to choose from the abundance of pleasures she’d been privileged to experience.

  Of course, her passion for Ira was where she discovered the power of love. He was her first and only romance. There was never another. And it was this union with her beloved that gave her the strength and courage for all that would be required of her.

  Then there were those sacred times with her children, especially when they were babies. She recalled one night in particular. It was 1949. Her firstborn was about six months old and had awoken in the middle of the night hungry. The house was dark. The world was silent but for the crickets beneath the nursery window, singing their love songs. Gloria had rocked back and forth, feeding her little one with the riches of her own living body. The moment had struck her as so sacred that the tears had flowed as hard as her milk.

  Ira had found her a few minutes later. Her sobs must have woken him from his sleep. He had kneeled at her feet and asked her what was the matter.

  “Ira?” she had whispered, barely able to discern his face in the dark. “Have you ever experienced a moment when life was so beautiful you didn’t know if you were strong enough to bear it? Have you ever been humbled by the beauty of being alive?”

  He’d nodded his dark head, pulled up the hem of her nightgown and kissed her knee. “I have, my darling,” he’d said to her. “Right now is one of those moments.”

  And that, in a nutshell, was why she’d loved Ira Needleman until the day he died.

  Then there were the weddings. She remembered every one of them. Every kind of human face imaginable had stood before her. She wouldn’t lie to herself—some of those weddings were shams. Some didn’t last. But for many brides and grooms, the moment they offered their heart to their beloved was a moment of consecration. They were telling the world that they believed in the importance of love.

  Among those faces were three of her four children and their spouses. Sadly, Gloria knew the combination of politics and illness would keep her from sharing that moment with Rachel and Bea. But she knew the two of them would figure something out. They were resourceful women. Oy! How difficult could it be to catch a plane to Vermont?

  “Mother?”

  Gloria felt one of her children wrap their warm hand around her own. It was nice, but she needed to sleep.

  More faces began to float in and out of her vision, like clouds, like smoke, like a sheer bridal veil billowing in the wind.

  Josephine and Rick.

  Genevieve and Lucio.

  She’d already placed Roxanne and Eli in Bea’s capable hands. Even if—by some miracle—she were to live, Gloria knew the pair was too hot for an old lady like her to handle.

  * * *

  Rehabilitated?

  Even as Eli slid his hands up under the hem of his old sweater, even as his palms spread out over the tight silk of Roxie’s abdomen and as his lips sizzled as they landed on her sweet belly button, he couldn’t stop laughing.

  Roxie Bloom might need some help learning to let go of her anger, but she needed no remedial guidance in bed. Eli felt her fingers clawing at the shirt on his back, trying to yank it from where it was tucked into his belt. She was wiggling under his kisses, digging her heels into the mattress in an effort to feed herself to him. His head reeled with the hot musk of her arousal.

  Eli wondered if he might be the one in need of rehab when this was all said and done.

  “Oh, God, Eli. Oh, God.”

  She’d managed to pull his shirt over the back of his head, but it caught under his arms, putting him in an awkward half-Nelson. But he kept his mouth busy on her skin, licking the edge of her ribs, kissing down her center, tugging on the edge of her little lace panties.

  Roxanne’s hands began racing up and down the bare skin of his back. Her hands felt hot and soft. Like all of her. But he knew he would suffocate if he didn’t take a second to get situated.

  He stopped kissing her belly. He pressed his hands on her thighs to stop her wiggling and pushing.

  “Roxie. Hold up.”

  She started wiggling again. She was making little squealing sounds.

  “I can’t breathe, baby.”

  “Oh.” She relaxed under him. “My bad.”

  Eli pushed himself up with his nearly immobile arms, then reached over his head to rip the shirt off him. He pushed his knees between her spread legs, and smiled down at her.

  “Holy shit,” Roxie whispered, her wide eyes moving all over his torso. “You’re incredible.”

  His thoughts exactly. What he saw there beneath him was similar to the fantasy vision he’d once had of Roxie. Dark hair spilling out across a pillow. Arms reaching for him. Face flushed with desire. Legs open beneath him. But in the fantasy, she hadn’t been wearing a big ole baggy sweater.

  “Eli,” she said, her voice nearly frantic, her hands tugging at the sleeves. “Please get this off me. I need to get naked. I want to feel your skin on mine. Hurry!”

  “Ssshh,” he said. “Roxie, baby, there’s no rush. We have all the time in the world.”

  She nodded, all the while attempting to wriggle her shoulders out of the wool neckline.

  “Oh, fuck it,” he said, reaching down and ripping it from her body in one tug. He dove on top of her, reached underneath her body, and unclasped her little white bra. In a matter of seconds she was bare from the panties up, and he didn’t know what kind of feast he wanted first—the visual kind or the tactile kind. God, she was so beautiful. Eli had not exaggerated when he told her how he felt the first time he saw her. She’d been the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

  Such pale, delicate flesh crowned with all that dark hair. Her eyes were like black diamonds fringed by long and thick lashes. That mouth. That pretty pink mouth. Oh, God, how that mouth could kiss.

  He let his eyes drag down her throat, across her slender shoulders, to those two bouncy, creamy breasts with small brown nipples. She was perfect. She was utterly perfect.

  “Eli,” she said, her voice heavy with need.

  He looked into her eyes and saw that they had filled with tears. As mind-blowing as this moment was for him, he knew it was even more so for Roxie. She’d gone from despising him to offering h
erself up to him in the span of a week. She’d put it all on the line for him. She’d decided to trust him. It had to be scary as hell.

  “Baby,” he said, slowly leaning down to place tender kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, her nose. He tasted the salt of her tears. “You’ll be safe with me. I promise,” he said.

  “Because you keep your promises.”

  “Each and every one of them.” Which reminded him … Eli gave her a gentle smile and slid off the edge of the bed. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back. Promise.”

  Roxie shot up to a sitting position, those exquisite breasts swaying with her movement. He nearly choked at the sight. He thought he’d explode in his pants.

  “But why?” she wailed. “Where are you going?”

  He wiggled an eyebrow. “Take a guess.”

  “You’re getting a condom?”

  Eli shook his head. “No, Ms. Bloom. I’m getting the whole fuckin’ box.”

  Chapter 15

  Roxie fell against the pillows and tried to steady her breathing. That guy was unbelievable. She was going to die if she didn’t feel all his perfect man parts rubbing all over her in the next thirty seconds. She hadn’t had sex for more than a year. She was so wet she was afraid she’d leave a puddle on the mattress.

  She heard the front door open and close. He must have let the dogs out. Then she waited. She counted to ten. Her fingers wandered down to the elastic band of her underwear. Where was he? She trusted him to keep all his promises and all that, but she was done waiting.

  Roxie jumped from the bed, cornered the doorway in a sock-footed skid, and tiptoed down the hallway. She saw him standing at his nightstand, his back to his open bedroom door. As she eased toward him she appreciated how his waist tapered in and the muscles of his upper back flared and rippled. She loved that he had such a small, tight bundle of muscle for a butt. He was gorgeous. And very soon now, he’d be naked.

  Roxie was glad Eli was young and strong, because what she was about to do wasn’t something she’d try with just any man.

  She jumped him, wrapping her legs around his middle and her arms around his neck. Instantly, his hands reached behind to grab her ass and pull her in tight. He immediately began kneading the globes of her panty-covered bottom.

  Roxie laughed in surprise. “You knew I was coming!” she said, giggling.

  “You’ll be doing a lot of that today.” Eli crooked his neck around so he could see her. Roxie leaned in and kissed him. Their mouths slammed together, hot and slick and demanding. Eli’s tongue pushed between her lips, behind her teeth, then licked at the inside of her mouth. This was wilder than the kiss at the paddock, or in the park. Not that she was complaining. She’d happily take whatever he had for her, the wilder the better.

  Without warning, Eli backed up and wrenched her legs from his body. Then he pushed her arms up and away so that she lost her grip. Roxie fell back on his big bed, yelping in surprise. The man seemed to be filled with surprises.

  Eli spun around. “Roxanne,” he said, the deep-river sound of his voice making her even wetter. She loved how her name sounded coming from his mouth. She opened her legs.

  “Yes?” She could see her breasts rising and falling with her breath. They felt swollen and tender.

  “You’re mine,” he said.

  That was it. No elaboration. While staring down at her with those ethereal green eyes, Eli began to undo the cowboy belt buckle.

  She let out a little moan of helplessness, feeling paralyzed. Interestingly enough, Roxie had always imagined that the first time she saw Eli naked would be at her hands. She’d always pictured that she’d undo his belt and unzip his jeans and then pull everything down his legs. Then she would sit back on her haunches and savor the view.

  But the moment was here and she couldn’t move. Eli’s alpha male eyes had pinned her to the bed, flat on her back, with her legs open.

  “Oh, my God,” she breathed.

  The jeans were unzipped. She got a peek at a pair of gray boxer briefs about ready to split at the seams. She watched as Eli hooked his fingers into the waistband of both items of clothing and ripped everything off his hips without a bit of fanfare.

  Fuck fanfare. The man didn’t need it.

  “Oh, God. Oh. My. God.” Roxie had noticed that the more aroused she got with Eli the less she cared about her vocabulary. The less she cared about anything, really, except getting that beautiful, sexy man on top of her and up inside her.

  Eli gave her a wicked smile. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. And he just stood there, hands relaxed at his sides, allowing her to get her fill of what he had to offer. She stared at everything. The smooth swell of his biceps. The veins that protruded down the inside of his arms and along the top of his hands. His defined chest. The small pink nipples. The rippled abs. The dark blond hair that dusted his pecs and ran down the center of his body to his …

  For a second there, she forgot the word for it. Cock. Dick. Shaft. Penis. Whatever. The exquisite beauty of Eli Gallagher had reduced her to a panting, vocabulary-challenged mess. She was wet. Everywhere. She feared there was spittle trickling from the corner of her open mouth.

  Eli’s cock was so rigid that it nearly grazed the surface of his hard belly. She could see the underside of it, all engorged and covered in veins and as thick around as … She lost her train of thought, because, while she’d been staring, Eli had executed a series of quick, efficient moves and had rolled on a condom.

  He leaned forward, placing his hands on the edge of the mattress between her spread feet. “I’m going to show you how it is with us,” he said. “Are you listening, Roxie?”

  She nodded. Without realizing it, she began to play with her own nipples, pinching and twisting until shivers went through her. Eli’s grin widened. “Go ahead, baby,” he said. “Those are mine now but you certainly have my permission to play with them.”

  Roxie gasped. His? Her breasts were his? When his eyes slid up and down her nearly naked body she shivered with delight.

  Just then it occurred to her that there was something decidedly different about Eli Gallagher.

  “You know it will be in your best interest to follow the program, right?”

  “God.”

  “And do you know why?”

  Did he want her to say something? Had he asked her a question. “Huh?”

  “I asked if you know why it’s in your best interest to follow the program?”

  She nodded. She swallowed hard, finding barely enough concentration to form words. “Uh-huh,” she said. “Because I’ll feel safe. I’ll feel relieved that there’s someone looking out for me. I’ll be happier than I’ve ever been in my life.”

  Eli nodded, a sly smile spreading his lips. “You’ve been paying attention. You’re a very good girl.” He brought a fingertip to her sternum, then dragged it between her breasts and down the middle of her body, not stopping when he reached the band of her panties.

  “Let’s see what we have here,” Eli said, his melted-butter voice driving her completely insane. She tensed up, expecting him to push his finger down into the lace. He didn’t. Instead he let his finger tease her through the fabric of the crotch. He touched her so lightly she thought she’d scream with frustration.

  “You seem a little damp,” he said.

  Roxie laughed. This was nuts. She felt as if she’d pass out. Or die. Or come. Just from the way he teased her, barely touched her. The sound of that fucking voice. “Please,” she hissed. She raised her hips off the bed in desperation.

  “Settle down, sweet thing,” he said. He pushed her hips back to the bed. He put his mouth so close to her that she felt his hot breath brush against the inside of her thighs.

  Those four words. Settle. Down. Sweet. Thing. He kept saying them. He had to know how they messed with her head, aroused her.

  “I better check that you’re ready for me.”

  Finally!

  Eli slipped his finger under the lace crotch and pulled it slightly to t
he side. Lightly, so lightly, he used his tongue to explore the seam of her sex. She was so wet that she could hear the sound of his tongue as it flicked at her. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt him pull the entire crotch away. His tongue touched her clit.

  She came. Her whole body shook and seized and a shockingly loud scream of pleasure filled the room. Somewhere in the back of her mind it registered that her panties had just been torn away from her body. She felt something incredibly thick push against her opening. She wanted it more than anything, but she was still coming, still squeezing tight with an orgasm. She didn’t know if it was possible for him to get in there.

  It was. Eli put his forearms up under her legs and pulled them wider apart and farther back, then brought his mouth to hers. He covered her lips with his. He pushed his slick tongue into her mouth as he pushed his cock into her body.

  Roxie could do nothing but ride the wave of ecstasy, feel the heat and power of Eli as he took her. You’re mine. You’re mine. The words repeated in her head over and over. Then she realized it was Eli’s voice she was hearing.

  He developed a rhythm. He took his lips from hers, said the words, then put them right back, spreading her mouth open with his hungry tongue as he spread her body open with his cock. He pulled away again, but only for the time it took him to say it again. “You’re mine.”

  He shoved every inch of his big cock into her. His mouth went back to hers, stifling a series of cries suddenly exploding from her. He bit down on her upper lip, not hard, but it certainly got her attention. Then he reached under her body and gripped her ass hard as he pounded into her.

  “You’re mine,” he said, pushing, pulling out, taking her, taking all of her with every stroke. She began coming so hard that black spots swam in her vision.

  That was when Eli moved one hand from her bottom. He placed it gently but firmly around her throat. And he said it again. “You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine.”

  Roxie didn’t know what was happening to her. Never in her life had she had this kind of sex with a man, a man who had her pinned down in two places: at her pussy and at her throat, a man who clearly saw her as his to command, his to take. Somewhere in the back of her mind she found it hilarious—that a woman who professed to hate all men would be allowing herself to be dominated like this, controlled by a man because he knew the perfect combination of words and deeds.