Burn (Indigo) Read online

  Gian scooted back and positioned Cinder on top of him. He preferred having the coarse plastic cable biting into his skin rather than hers, not that he noticed the spiky scratch of the web once he had the view of Cinder astride his hips. It was too dark to make out more detail than the outer curve of her breasts, the sensuous lines of her arms, the inward arcs of her waist and the swell of her hips. Her silhouette had weight and warmth, and when her thighs hardened under his hands to raise herself on her knees, Gian shivered in anticipation of what else it offered.

  Bracing her hands on his chest, Cinder lowered herself on him, swallowing his thickness all at once. A burst of sudden pain stole her breath, and she stilled, taking deep breaths until her body acclimated to the sudden invasion.

  “It’s been so long,” she said breathily. “It’s like . . .” She struggled to find the right words. “Retroactive virginity. Like the first time all over again.”

  Gian wanted to respond, to comfort her in some way. But he couldn’t, not with the heat of her tight center robbing his will to let her take the lead. It took all of his self-control to stop himself from grabbing her hips and taking the satisfaction he had wanted for so long. He was no stranger to battles. He knew that patience and control were the only weapons needed to win this one, which would have no losers if he kept it together and followed her lead.

  Slowly, with rhythmic pulses of her strong leg muscles, Cinder rose and sank upon him. She leaned back and grabbed the highest branches within reach so she could smoothly rock forward and back. Her sighs and quiet moans harmonized with the rustle of the wind through the leaves and the call of crickets, forming a primitive song of carnal bliss with lyrics of one word.

  “Gian,” she gasped, his hands coming to her breasts to knead and pinch them in ways that left her smiling into the night.

  “Gian,” she sang once more when he contracted his abdomen to sit upright, to guide her breast to his mouth.

  Her breasts were small; their shape, firmness, and sensitivity more than compensated for their size. Her nipple reacted to the brush of his thumb, the dot of flesh growing even harder and more pert. Gian took it gently between his teeth, then closed his lips around it, taunting it with the rapid flick of his tongue.

  Cinder cradled his head to her shoulder, her chest heaving. Her abdomen bunched and relaxed in a cycle that left Gian burying his sweaty face in her neck.

  “Sweet heaven,” he murmured. “Take me with you, baby.”

  Arms around her middle, he held her as close as he could. Her gaze locked with his, she smoothed errant locks of sweat-drenched hair from his face. There was so much more she wanted to give him but couldn’t, not with the tide of passion cresting within her. Gian caught her mouth with his and she tasted her sweetness, inhaled her distinctive pungency. His kiss propelled her to the summit of sensation. Her thighs shaking, her hips drove harder and faster and her inner muscles fastened around him in strong, rhythmic pulses that forced Gian’s head back and locked his jaw in a grimace of ecstasy. He shuddered within her and beneath her, his arms like steel around her as he joined her in passion’s ultimate embrace.

  Tears seeped from Cinder’s closed eyes. She reveled in her discovery of true rapture, of how thoroughly love could be expressed without words. Sumchai’s touch had elicited all the wrong colors and tension. Sex with her ex had been black and empty, electric in a way that shocked without pleasure.

  Cinder felt no embarrassment or self-consciousness with Gian. In his eyes, she saw herself as he made her feel—perfect. She blinked, and the discomfort of the cold grays, blacks, and stark whites she’d always seen with Sumchai transformed into deep reds and purples, striking blues and passionate oranges, blinding yellows and explosive golds erupting with volcanic heat and force, stirring to life something within she’d thought dead.

  She surrendered to the want of her body, the need of her soul, her union with Gian Piasanti satisfying in too many ways to name, all vital. Gian took no more than she could give him, and his understanding made it so easy to give him everything, heart and head, sex and soul.

  This was passion without fear or worry, only mutual joy at fully sharing each other. His concern outweighed his desire for her, and in his eyes she’d found the one truth she most needed—that he would never hurt her. Causing her pain would never be a requirement for his pleasure. He had waited for her, sure that his patience would be rewarded.

  “Are you okay?” Her breathing slowly returned to normal.

  Still panting, he kissed her moist brow. “I was going to ask you the same thing.” Without leaving her, he fell back on the web, bringing her to rest on top of him. Cinder’s lithe body cloaked him, a sheen of perspiration adhering her torso to his. It also helped the breeze carry off their radiant heat, so he wrapped his arms around Cinder to keep her warm.

  “I’m fine,” he said, kissing her chin. “Thank you. ”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. Moonlight sparkled in the tears above her lower eyelashes. “I’m sorry you had to wait so long.”

  “Almost forty years, and worth every second.” He wiped away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know. But I did mean what I said. I didn’t realize it until now, but I’ve waited my whole life for you. I’ve never known a woman like you.”

  “There’s nothing special about—”

  “What would you say if I asked you to marry me?”

  She stopped breathing, resuming only after her lungs began to burn and her head went fuzzy. “That’s not a fair question.”

  “I know, I know,” he groaned in frustration. “I shouldn’t have phrased it that way.”

  “You shouldn’t have asked at all.”

  Gian looked stricken.

  “If you asked, I’d want to say yes.” She smiled somberly. “But I’d have to say no.”

  “Because of him.”

  She nodded.

  “I’m not scared of Sumchai Wyatt.”

  “Neither am I. Not anymore.”

  “He can’t control your life anymore. He’s in jail. He can’t hurt you. I won’t let him.”

  “He won’t be in jail forever. When he gets out, he will look for me. Chances are, he’ll find me. That’s when it’ll end, one way or the other.”

  “Why can’t it end my way? With you and I getting married. I’m not getting any younger, you know, and my biological clock is starting to sound like a hammer striking a steel drum. I don’t want to die an old maid.”

  Cinder laughed. Gian widened his legs to maintain balance, to stop her from rolling off him.

  “We could have the ceremony at my house,” he went on. But then he paused, his expression a bit more serious. “Why don’t you ever want to come to my house?”

  “You know why.” She laid her head on his chest. “I feel safer in my apartment.”

  “You’ve never been to my place, so you don’t know if you’d feel safe there or not. What could happen to you there?”

  “The same thing that could happen to me anyplace else, only it might happen to you, too. I won’t put you in harm’s way.”

  “I think you’re being too . . .” He finished with a sigh. “Paranoid?” Cinder scooted off him and lay on her right side, close to him.

  Gian rolled onto his left side to face her. “If there’s a word less offensive than paranoid that means the same thing, that’s what I should have said.”

  “I’m cautious,” she said. “Not paranoid. I know Sumchai. He won’t just let me have a life. He’ll want payback.”

  “You didn’t do anything to him.”

  “He doesn’t see it that way. He blamed me for everything that went wrong in his life. If he was late for work, it was my fault for not having the coffee ready on time. If his softball team lost a game, it was my fault because I didn’t wash his lucky socks. Never mind that he had a weak throwing arm and no coordination.”

  “Cinder,” Gian began carefully, “couldn’t you tell that he wasn’t q
uite right before you married him?”

  “He had quirks, like everyone else, but when we were dating, they seemed charming. It wasn’t until a few months after we were married that he started packaging insults and pinches and little slaps with his quirks. Once I was his, his charm disappeared.”

  She pillowed her head on the crook of her right arm. Her left hand moved over Gian, her fingers lightly dancing over his skin. Gian inhaled deeply when her gentle touch stirred the flesh between his legs. It rose to meet her belly, prodding her with the impatience of a greedy child.

  Gian caught Cinder’s hand. “I want to finish talking.”

  “Okay. Why aren’t you married?”

  Gian’s soldier retreated an inch.

  “You’re the one who wanted to talk,” Cinder reminded him.

  “I never met the right girl.” He leaned in for a kiss, which Cinder avoided by turning onto her back.

  “That’s what old unmarried people always say. There had to have been a lot of women in your life. You’re a handsome guy, you’re straight, you’re employed, and you’re a hero. Women must have been falling from trees to be with you.”

  “Speaking of trees . . .” Gian started to sit up, reaching for his jeans.

  Cinder pressed him back down and half covered him with her body. Speaking directly into his face, she said, “Have you ever proposed to anyone before?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  He opened his mouth, but no words came. He tried again, and still nothing. Just when Cinder was about to shake the words from him, he said, “I know the difference now between love and what I thought was love. There were a couple of women I really liked, but I never imagined what they would look like wearing my bathrobe on a Sunday morning, or if they smiled in their sleep. I never had dreams about a golden-brown little girl with your nose and my ears calling me Daddy. I never drove by Memorial Field and wondered what it would be like to coach a little boy with my throwing arm and your strength in Little League. It’s easy to have sex with someone and enjoy going to a movie or out to dinner with them. It’s a lot harder to imagine building a life with someone. But it’s so easy with you. Those are the things I want . . . with you. I think that’s what real love is. And that’s the way I feel about you.”

  “Let’s just stay up here.”

  Cinder’s reply was casual, but the quiver in her voice showed Gian how much his declaration affected her. “It’s a little windy, don’t you think?”

  “I like it.” She took a deep, refreshing breath. “It reminds me of New England.”

  “I’m confused now. You won’t come to my house because you don’t think you’ll feel safe, but you’re willing to live in this web? It’s totally exposed.”

  “No one would think to look for me here,” Cinder said. “People never see what’s right in front of them.” “Hey, Tarzan!”

  Gian and Cinder jumped, startled by the shrill call of Zae’s voice from the ground.

  “How ‘bout you and Jane getting dressed and getting your asses outta my tree? I need some help cleaning up the deck.”

  “We’re coming!” Cinder and Gian responded together.

  “In that case,” Zae said more quietly with a knowing side-eye at the tree, “take your time.”

  Chapter 8

  “This is a lot more comfortable than that web,” Gian laughed as he came up for air. He’d thrown Cinder’s light flannel bed sheet off his head before crawling up her torso. Cinder draped her arms around his neck and kissed him, shifting to align her hips with his. She opened her legs and tilted her pelvis upward, massaging Gian’s hardness with her tidy V of curls.

  “That feels so good,” he murmured, sinking into her. “That’s even better.”

  Cinder stifled his compliments with kisses and wrapped her legs around his hips. Gian’s hands were everywhere at once—stroking her thigh, cradling her head, clasping her bottom, and kneading her breast. She’d had him twice and was having him again, and already thinking about the next time she would wrap herself around him to take him within her. Rain had come to her drought-stricken nation, and she craved every drop Gian gave her.

  Two hours earlier at Zae’s, they’d dressed and climbed out of the tree. After making quick work of Zae’s cleanup, they had left her and Chip arguing about whether or not plastic bakery packs could be recycled. Gian had walked Cinder home, stealing kisses in every shadow. Once Cinder had secured her apartment, she had invited Gian into her bedroom simply by stripping off her skirt, top, and Chocolate Silk.

  Like locusts on new corn, Gian had landed on her, struggling to undress as he kissed her. With Cinder’s help, he had gotten rid of his shirt and freed himself from his jeans and briefs. There had been no preliminaries this time, not when their hunger was so fierce. With his jeans and underpants bunched at his ankles and Cinder’s calves braced on his shoulders, he thrust into her with primitive force, earning a loud, lengthy gasp of relief from Cinder. She’d had nothing stronger than sun-brewed herbal tea at Zae’s, yet her body hummed with the pleasant buzz of intoxication.

  Gian was responsible for that. She felt needed, wanted, in his company. Even when he wasn’t touching her, a mere glance from him was all it took to let her know that he craved her. He’d taught her so many things, not the least of which was the carnal magic of lovemaking. Even as her body responded once more to him, the rhythmic pulses of her body stacking and intensifying, enough reason remained for her to appreciate what had truly happened between them.

  They knew each other completely. Not in details, but in the way two hearts and souls had of finding each other and knowing they were part of the same whole. Gian stiffened on top and inside her, his muscular arms compressing her shoulder blades in an unyielding embrace. She locked her ankles at the small of his back, her hips bucking in a dance of rapturous surrender over which she had no control.

  Their acts strengthened her as they weakened Gian, empowering her with the vulnerability he shared with her. She took his head in her hands and raised his face to catch his gaze. The sweaty ends of his hair fringed his face, and Cinder stroked them off his forehead only to have them flip back.

  “Forget the tree web,” Gian said, a tremble in his voice. “I want to live right here.”

  “My apartment is so small.” Cinder smiled. “There’s barely enough room just for me.”

  “I want to live here.” He nodded toward her hips, giving his own a slight wiggle. “I could stay right there forever.”

  “You’re nuts.” Cinder giggled. “How would you teach your classes?”

  “I could get a gi big enough to cover you up. We’d look like conjoined twins.”

  Cinder laughed as Gian rolled onto his back, one hand on her bottom to keep them from separating. “I wouldn’t be able to work like this. It would be really hard to reach my drafting table with you wedged between my legs.”

  He chuckled. “It doesn’t sound as romantic when you say it like that.” He pressed his chin to his chest to get a better view down the length of his body. His thumbs went to the base of his soldier, which was attempting to retreat. “You’re gonna have to do something about this.”

  “About what?” Cinder glanced down. “Your soldier?”

  Gian nodded.

  “It’s takes longer for men to recover as they get older, doesn’t it?”

  “ ‘Older?’ ” His eyes widened. “I got your older . . .” Gian braced his fingers at the crease of her hips and thighs and brought his thumbs to the dark silk veiling the tiny heart of her pleasure. He found the candy-pink tip hidden under its delicate hood, and, mindful of its over-sensitivity, he worked his thumbs on either side of it with the softness of a whisper. Cinder abruptly sat back, gripping his thighs to support herself. Her thighs hardened, securely flanking Gian’s. The taut muscles of her abdomen flexed and relaxed as her lower body moved to meet Gian’s thumbs.

  “You are impossibly beautiful,” Gian said, his breathing rate increasing along with his length and
girth.

  Cinder moaned, taking one corner of her lower lip between her teeth as Gian filled her anew. The pressure and friction inside and out brought her quickly to another climax, one so strong her legs threatened to cramp. Her breathy cry of release combined with the sight of her supple brown body sent Gian over the top, his groans joining hers.

  He pulled Cinder down to lay beside him, his arms too weak to do more than pillow her head with his arm.

  “That . . . was awesome,” he sighed. “I can’t get enough of you. You know, I think your flexibility has improved. Your stamina has always been good, but—”

  “You’re not my trainer now,” Cinder told him. “Don’t critique my performance the way you do at Sheng Li.”

  “That wasn’t a critique. I just wanted you to know that I think you’re in great physical shape. I could teach you a couple of things, though.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “You forget to breathe,” he said.

  Cinder sat up on her knees, her hands primly folded in her lap. Unlike Gian, she was energized by their acts rather than depleted. “I can hold my breath for three minutes. Easy.”

  “Okay. If you say so.”

  She crossed her arms prettily over her chest. “You don’t believe me?”

  “Sure, I do.” Gian yawned. He dragged one of her pillows to the center of the bed and gave it a punch before resting his head on it.

  “I can prove it.”

  Gian smiled. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How?”

  * * *

  Gian watched the clock, but he was only scarcely aware of the movement of the seconds hand. It swept past the stylized six, seven, eight and nine on the broad face of the black and white newsroom clock mounted high on the bathroom wall. Each second dragged on yet raced past at the same time as Gian’s concern for Cinder battled with the sensations mounting below his waist.