Anything for Her - By Janice Kay Johnson Page 0,55
which was plain to the point of being ascetic. White walls, oak floors, an enormous oak dresser, bed, table to hold a digital clock and lamp, and a single, upholstered chair. A door to a largely empty closet stood open. She shook her head.
“You need an interior designer.”
He nuzzled her neck. “I need you.”
The deep rumble of his voice sent shivers through her. “I need you, too.” She wrapped her arms around him with sudden desperation. “Please, Nolan.”
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said as he stripped her and laid her on his bed. “I couldn’t begin to make anything as beautiful as you.”
“I’m not.”
He growled his displeasure and kissed her breast, then suckled it. She thought she heard him mumble something about “damn college kids” but by then she was past having the ability to ask a coherent question.
She pushed him down on the bed and straddled him, smoothing her hands over his chest and shoulders. “My stone man.”
He groaned. “Take me inside you, Allie. Now.”
She teased him for a few more minutes, the sense of power new to her, then sank down on him. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. A whimper slipped out of her.
“You look like my mermaid,” he said rawly. He stroked her with his hands as if he had shaped her.
“Is that what she is?”
He grunted—agreement or pleasure, she couldn’t tell. Was the sea the mermaid’s lover? Maybe she hadn’t been rising out of it, but rather above it, over it, capturing it.
Allie’s body seemed to be singing with delight in each stroke. Nolan’s hands kept her from faltering. Gripping her hips, he moved her faster and faster, his hips lunging up to meet her. She cried out when the hot, sweet pleasure leaped free, making her arch with the exquisite tension. He ground her down on him and pulsed deep inside her.
“Beautiful,” he said hoarsely, and she collapsed on him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.
As the tide washed out, she felt more sadness than anything. How could something so perfect be built on lies? How could she not tell him?
How could she betray her mother? Because that’s what she’d be doing, wasn’t it?
In counterpoint to his heartbeat in her ear were the words never, never, never.
* * *
THE FOLLOWING WEEK became a terrible tumble of doubts. I am being melodramatic, Allie kept telling herself, knowing it was true. And yet. And yet. Under the weight of so much confusion, Allie grew quieter and quieter that week and into the next. Nolan watched her with worry in his eyes, but didn’t insist on knowing what she was thinking.
Her mother did.
“Are you getting sick?” she asked, after watching Allie pick at dinner.
“I nibbled while I was cooking,” Allie lied. The truth was, she hadn’t had much appetite. Food didn’t seem to fill her hollow places, so she’d quit trying. She’d become alarmed enough just yesterday to buy a home pregnancy test, even though she and Nolan had been careful, because there could be a prosaic reason for her lack of appetite. Thank goodness, it came up negative.
“You always quit eating when you get edgy about something,” her mother said, her eyes sharp. “I used to worry you were anorexic.”
“What?” Allie stared.
“Don’t you remember? Whenever you were nervous about an upcoming competition or recital or anything at all, we could barely get you to sit down to a meal. The worse, though, was after we moved—” Her mouth clamped shut, but finally she continued, “The first time. You didn’t have any weight to lose, but you managed anyway. And it wasn’t as if you were shooting up in height.”
No, she’d quit growing by the time she was about twelve years old. And been intensely grateful—many more inches would have ended her dream of becoming a prima ballerina.
“I took you to the doctor, but he didn’t think you were focused on either food or weight or your appearance at all. He suggested counseling.”
“I never went to counseling.” She knew that much.
Her mother hesitated. “At the time, we were nervous about putting you in a room with a stranger where you were supposed to talk about yourself. There was too much you couldn’t say.”
Something stubborn rose in her. “You mean, that I wasn’t allowed to say.”
“All of our lives depended on you sticking to the details of our new lives.”
“So what happened?”
“You didn’t get any skinnier, so I decided you were simply made to be slight. But after you discovered quilting, you