Lover Pt. 02

"Well? Will you come?" His tone was gentle. He didn't want to pressure her, and if she said no, he would stay in and cook with her. His mother would be thrilled if he brought Abby with him, because she had figured out that this woman was important to him. But it was up to Abby, and while he had not hesitated to force her to stay with him, he wouldn't force her to make such a big move as visiting his family. He knew what that could mean, and he intended to have her, but only when she was ready for that level of commitment. He held his breath, though, while struggling to appear nonchalant.

"I wouldn't want to intrude," she said...which wasn't an outright "No". "She may not be prepared to entertain visitors." She turned to look him in the eye as she spoke.

He exhaled slowly, smiling to show his relief that she had not refused him, even if she was hesitating.

"My mother is the preacher's wife, remember? She's always ready for visitors." He stepped away from her to give her room, so she wouldn't feel trapped, and if he were being honest, to stop himself from kissing her into submission. She was biting her bottom lip, a practice that drove him crazy, because he wanted to be the one doing the biting.

"Well, if you're sure..." She paused, then added, "But I can't show up to her house in this."

She indicated the clothes she was wearing, and he bit his tongue to stop himself from telling her she looked fine. He had lived with enough women in his life to know that that was the last thing they wanted to hear.

"I'll go with you to get fresh clothes, and you can pack a nightie as well. For after."

Her cheeks flooded with color, and he let himself relax enough to walk back to her side and kiss her cheek.

"You're beautiful when you blush," he whispered in her ear. Then he pulled away and said, "I'll let her know we're coming, and then we'll go get your clothes."

The call was short, and though he was surprised that his mother didn't ask any questions, he knew his reprieve would be short-lived once he got there. He could handle her, and he knew instinctively that she wouldn't do anything to make him or Abby uncomfortable.

"Let's go," he said, hanging up. "Mom is happy to hear you'll be there, and is looking forward to seeing you again. And she wants me to bring wine."

"I have some wine at home," she said. "We can take a couple of bottles when we leave."

In the car, they hardly spoke. He had a CD in the changer, and the soft jazz strains were calming. And as Abby didn't seem inclined to speak, he let the quiet ride with them. It gave him time to remember the first time she invited him into her home. He had loved the warmth of the space, and had admired the beautiful decorative touches that he knew instinctively were hers and not a designer's. African masks, Native American sculpture, prints of Monet, silk-covered pillows...everything bespoke a richly imaginative spirit. He remembered how very much he had wanted to grab her from behind and kiss her silly as she lay the table. He had resisted, because he wasn't sure how she would take it. It had been one of the hardest things he had ever had to do.

At her apartment, he let himself out onto the back porch while she went to fetch things for the rest of the weekend. The sun was up in full force now, and as she was on the ground floor, she had quick access to the community pool and tennis courts. A few residents were already availing themselves of the facilities, and he watched a young mother of two shepherding her little ones around the edge of the pool to the kiddie section. He wondered if Abby would ever want another child, and then stopped the thought in its tracks. She had to be willing to stay with him first before he went there. And he admitted to himself that she was old enough not to want another child, or perhaps even be able to have one. But the thought of her belly round with his baby turned him on, anyway.

When she spoke behind him, he started, and turned to see her waiting for him in a simple emerald green dress, high-heeled sandals to match, gold jewelry for accents, and an overnight bag in her hand. Need swamped him, and even though he knew she would need to redo her lips, he could not bring himself to leave her untouched a second longer. The thoughts of babies had set him off, and he was hungry again. He walked back inside, closing and locking the French doors behind him, hoping the action would slow his heart rate, and cool him off. But when he turned again, and she was smiling at him, almost as if she knew the effect she had on him and was enjoying it, he closed the space between them and pulled her face into his so he could kiss her. He took the bag from her limp fingers, dropped it where they stood, and pulled her arms around his neck.

"Kiss me back, Abby," he begged her. "I need something to tide me over till we're back at home." He smiled into her eyes and added, "Because I'm sure you know there'll be very few, if any, chances for making out at my mother's house."

She laughed, and then he silenced her with his thirsty tongue in her mouth. They were lost in each other, holding each other with trembling hands, and he could feel the tension ease from her shoulders as he ravaged her lips. He pressed himself against her harder, suddenly needing her to know how much she moved him, how much he wanted her.

"I'm not changing my dress, Ben," she warned him breathlessly when he let her up for air. But she kept her arms around his neck, and let him nibble on her sweet mouth some more. He chuckled.

"You taste so damn good," he commented, in between taking small bites of her swollen lips, as though that explained everything. "Do you have any idea how much I want you?" His voice had lost its sharpness in a flood of emotion that left it raspy. He pulled her back into his mouth for one last searing kiss, and then he let her go completely and moved back to the French doors.

"I'd better let you pretty up those lips again, or we're never leaving here." When the lips in question curled into a smile, he was glad he was not standing immediately in front of her. By the time they got to his mother's, he was calm again. Which was a good thing, as his mother was too sharp for her own good, and he was still not ready to discuss his newly-emerging love life with her.

VII.

His hand at her back as they walked into his mother's house made her shiver all the way to her toes. She needed to have her wits about her today, more than ever, because she hadn't missed the shrewd glances thrown her way by each and every one of his family members who had shown up for the food, fun, and games at his house on Saturday. And especially not his mother's. More than once she had felt the older woman's eyes on her, but she had never had the nerve to look her way, or acknowledge in any way that she was aware of her intense scrutiny. She had a feeling she wouldn't escape a conversation today, and she began to wish she hadn't agreed to come along with him. She wasn't ready yet to meet the family. She wasn't even sure where this relationship — she freely admitted, to herself, if not to Ben, that they were in some kind of a relationship — was headed. The sex was incredible, to be sure, but she was coming to the conclusion that in spite of her years — heck, maybe because of them — she wanted more from a man than mind-altering sex.

"Ready?" His voice in her ear startled her, and she looked up to see his eyes devouring her, and that knowing look said he might have some idea of what she had been thinking. Fighting to keep from coloring up yet again around this man, she nodded and let herself be guided to the back patio where everyone else waited. All the same players as last time, plus a couple she didn't recognize.

"Benjamin! You made it in time!"

His mother's words were spoken with a wide smile and a twinkle, and he groaned too softly for anyone but her to hear. Worse than an interfering mother is a matchmaking one, and Abby saw that gleam in his mother's eye. Ben looked nonplussed, as though he was wondering what had happened to the woman he knew, the one who might already have said her piece about the difference in their age, and about him guarding his heart, because she didn't want her children to be hurt.

"Have I ever been late, Ma?" he asked, apparently determined not to let her get the upper hand.

"Depends on how you define 'late', son," she said, and Abby figured he had better give it up. Hs mother seemed like the type who would win any game, even this one which she knew instinctively was about finding someone so late. He chose not to pursue the argument, for which she was grateful. She didn't know how she felt about being the means by which a mother berated her son.

"Well, I'm here now, with our guest. I hope we won't have too wait long to eat."

"Hungry, little brother?"

Abby heard the question and knew there was more going on than a discussion of appetite for dinner. She hadn't missed the undertones in Ben's conversation with his mother, and though she wasn't sure she understood the code that had passed between them, she was pretty sure she was the subject. Part of her was annoyed that people — read, 'older family members, like mothers' — couldn't mind their business worth a damn, but part of her was thrilled to know she was the cause of such speculation in a man's life. That hadn't happened in a very long time, and she was flattered by the attention. Which meant that Tom's question was sure to make her blush, if she acknowledged that it was about more than food. She was ravenous, if she were to be honest, and it wasn't for the food she could smell.

When Ben took her elbow and led her over to sit with him in a conspicuously empty love seat, she tried to keep the tension from settling in her shoulders, and plastered a smile on her face. It felt like it was cracking, but she was damned if she would let anyone see how suddenly nervous she was. Ben lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered,

"If you don't relax, I'm going to have to help you with that." His tone was full of mischief, and the look in his eye was pure lust.

Not willing to test his resolve, she consciously relaxed her neck and shoulder muscles and accepted the confection on a stick that Sandy offered her. It was delicious, and she reached for another before it occurred to her that maybe she...

"Don't even go there, Abby. Eat what you want."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" She was unaccountably annoyed that he could read her so well, and his next words didn't help to erase her irritation.

"Don't forget how I punish lying," he murmured, before filling his mouth with the meats on the stick.

She felt her cheeks heat at the reminder of their lovemaking, and lowered her face to her hands, to give herself a moment. The family talked around her, almost as though they knew she needed some time, and when she was back in control of her color and her emotions, she looked up to find Ben's mother's eyes on her. She immediately recalled the conversation she had had with his grandmother on Saturday. The old lady was sweet, and it was obvious to Abby that she loved Ben a lot. And she hadn't bothered to try and hide her curiosity, or mince her words of advice about how to keep a man who's as bowled over as Ben seemed to be. Bowled over? Is that what he was? Is that what SHE was?

"Abby, come with me," his mother invited her. "I'd like your take on the question. The other ladies have already told me what they think, but I'd like your opinion before I serve it."

Ben elbowed her into rising, and watched her walk off with his mother with a grin on his face the size of Texas. It made his handsome features so appealing that she was glad she had to turn away to see where she was going. How could a man she hadn't known more than a few months have such an impact on her? She was supposed to be immune to the charms of men, for heaven's sake! She wasn't a raw teenager. She was a grown woman. A grown woman about to be skewered by said man's mother, no doubt.

"Here," the older woman said, and handed her a plastic cup with a spoonful of some liquid. "Tell me what you think of this."

Knowing this was a hoax, Abby obliged and tasted the drink. It was minty and fruity and spicy...quite delicious, in fact. She said so, and then offered the opinion that yes, it would go quite well with the pork chops they were having for dinner. No, she said, wine could always be for after, if anyone wanted it, but this drink was best with dinner. The smoke screen out of the way, she waited patiently for the attack. None came. She was startled when his mother asked her if she was ready to eat.

"Um...yes, if you're ready to serve. I don't want to put you off your schedule."

"All right then, go call the others, please. Dinner will be served in the dining room. Ben knows where. Ask Sandy to come and help me carry things in, as well, please."

"I'll help as well, if you like," Abby offered, but she was shooed away with thanks, anyway.

"Sandy and I can handle this. You're our guest. No serving for you today."

Predictably, her seat at dinner was next to Ben, and though it was a riotous and fun-filled meal, she was always acutely aware of his knee brushing hers, his fingers reaching for the dressing at the same time as hers, his scent in her nostrils, his voice making her ache. The children sat at a separate, smaller table, just like they would at Thanksgiving, she was sure, and she wondered if this was how Sunday dinner looked every Sunday at Ben's mother's house.

"Yes, from the time we were small. We always had guests over on Sundays."

Apparently she had spoken the question aloud. She smiled in answer, and scolded herself for not paying enough attention to her surroundings. The last thing she wanted was to have Ben or anyone else know how rattled she was, and how turned on by his nearness and the love for family that oozed out of him and everyone else at the table. She had never felt so much a part of something and yet so apart from it in all her life. His hand on hers under the table renewed her shivering awareness of his touch, and tears sprang to her eyes. He squeezed her fingers gently, and suddenly, the emotions welling up inside her were too much. Pushing back her chair, she excused herself and hurried from the room, muttering the word 'restroom' as she went.

She didn't hear the footsteps behind her till she was quite literally lost in the belly of a house she was only now realizing was enormous.

"Abby? Are you okay?" Ben waited for her to turn to him. She was reluctant to let him see the tears that had slid down her cheeks, so she kept her back to him and muttered more loudly. "I'm fine. I just need you to point me in the direction of the restroom, please." She couldn't do a thing about the state of her voice, and she ought to have known it would clue him in, if her mad dash from the table hadn't, to the fact that she was not okay.

His gentle hands turned her to face him, and he pulled her chin up with a finger. "What's wrong?"

She sniffled, feeling embarrassed, and shook her head. "Nothing." Wicking the tears away from her cheeks with her thumbs, she asked again, "Where's the restroom?"

He looked as though he wanted to say something more, to challenge her, but instead he took her arm and led her to the one she had walked right by in her rush to escape. She went in and closed the door in his face, hoping he wouldn't still be there when she came out. Vain hope. He was, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Dessert will be served on the patio. Ma wants to know if you're okay, and Gran thinks a stiff drink will sort you right out."

He was obviously amused by his family, but he was also concerned about her. She could see it in his eyes. She hastened to reassure him.

"I'm fine, Ben. Honestly."

"Then why the tears?"

"Just a moment of weakness," she assured him. "It's gone now. I'm fine." Maybe if she said it often enough, invoked it like a mantra, it would come true.

"If you've had enough, we can leave now, Abby." He made his offer quietly, and she was instantly reminded of the time he made a similar offer, and she accepted with alacrity, because she had been desperate to escape the potency of the charge that had been zinging between them all evening. It hadn't saved her from the 'death by devouring' kiss at her front door, though, and she was very much afraid that if she left now, she would not be spared any of the many ways that Ben knew to make her fall apart in his arms. Not that she would be spared, anyway, or that she wanted to be. And that was part of her current confusion of feelings.

Still, she knew he wasn't convinced, and to forestall any further cross examination, she stepped up to him and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Let's go out now," she said, stepping away. "I wouldn't want anyone coming in to look for us."

He stared at her as though she were speaking Greek, and then he said, "That was nowhere near enough." When she looked up at him again, she saw the kiss before it landed on her lips, and even if she had wanted to resist, the way he commandeered her mouth and sent his tongue piercing in told her she would have lost that battle quickly.

"I'll leave right now if you say the word. Or we can go and make nice over dessert." he said, his voice raspy again. "But you'd better choose quickly, before I choose for you." He sucked her in again, making love to her mouth before she pulled away, breathing hard, and turned to walk away.

"Where's my pocketbook?" she wondered breathlessly. "I need to refresh my lipstick."

He reached her side and pulled her into his arms, holding her till she stopped trembling. "Lipstick won't take that just-kissed look off your lips, Abby," he teased her. "Why are you so worried about what anyone sees?"

She pulled back to look at him incredulously. "We are definitely a different generation, if you have to ask me that!" she snapped, and pulled away from him completely. He was keeping her off kilter, and she was torn between annoyance and arousal.

His bark of laughter only added fire to her steps as she marched away, following the sound of voices to the back of the house. The children were playing on the grass, and at least two of the adults were taking advantage of the pool. She found a chair close to the side where the garden bloomed, and somewhat away from the others, and turned her face to watch the children play.

"Did my son upset you, young lady?" She turned her head and found herself face to face with Ben's father, whose shrewd eyes were regarding her with a hint of concern. He held a glass in his hand for her, and when she took it, he sat back in the chair he had pulled up next to her without her hearing him. She smiled at him, thinking that 'young lady' was quite a stretch, and taking a sip of the delicious wine he had brought her, she shook her head.

"No, he didn't, sir," she said. "As I told him when he came to get me, I just had a moment, but I'm all right now."

She was relieved when he seemed to take her at her word, and turned the conversation to talk of his grandchildren. Then they sat in companionable silence until Ben brought them dessert and sat on the floor beside her chair. She strove to ignore him, and he was quiet enough that it wasn't too difficult to do. Which made her very suspicious of his intentions. He was never quiet around her. His hands were always moving on her, or he was making seductive suggestions, or he was doing both at once.

"What are you up to?" she whispered, leaning down to his ear.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said without any intonation.

"I don't believe you," she informed him and sat back, but not before she heard his reply.

"Nothing new there."

She knew he wasn't talking about her question anymore. She ate her dessert, wishing he was wrong, and suddenly bewilderingly irritated that he was right.