Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes
Page 61

“How could you not experience all these normal things?”
I knew what he meant, but his words stung. Normal. Just a reminder that I wasn’t. “Momma was strict. She didn't believe in having fun; picnics were frivolous things. Gardners did not do frivolous things.”
He took my hand in his, slowly stroking his fingers along the back and up to my wrist. “Your mother sounds like she was a hard woman to live with.” His other hand moved up to my hair as he looked into my face. “You’ve had a lot of pain in your life. I’m sorry.”
My vision got blurry from tears. I didn’t want to cry with Joe. I looked down at the list. “Oh,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “I forgot one.”
Joe moved the hand in my hair down to my back, holding me in an embrace like I had seen Mike do with Violet.
“Wear a lacy bra and panties.” Check.
Joe started to cough and then laugh.
“Why is that funny?” I turned to face him, ready to pounce on him for making fun of me.
His eyes grew dark. “Trust me, there’s nothin’ funny about what you just said. You just caught me off guard.” His arm around my back pulled me closer to him, so my shoulder fit into his chest, his hand pressed against my arm. “Listen Rose, I know you’re very inexperienced, and I know that you’re not used to talkin’ about things like this, so I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t warn you that you can’t just talk about these kinds of things with guys.”
“But I’m talkin’ to you about it.”
“Well…I’m different. A lot of guys would take advantage of the situation. You're too trustin’. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Why are you different than other guys? Do you not want to, you know, with me?” I still couldn’t bring myself to say it. “It’s okay if you don’t want me, just tell me.” If he didn’t want to, it would hurt, but I’d rather know now.
Joe groaned, long and deep, and his arm tightened around me. “You have no idea how much I want you. But I can’t yet, I just can’t and you don’t know how hard it is.” In fact,” he turned my head to look at him, his eyes burning with desire. “All I can think about at this moment is the bra and panties you’re wearing under your clothes. What do they look like? What color are they? What do you look like in them? I think about how I can take your clothes off so I can see.”
“Lavender,” I whispered. “They’re lavender.”
He groaned again and kissed me, smashing my body against his. I was at an odd angle, and felt awkward but he soon made me forget. His lips claimed mine while his hands slid up my back, under my shirt. I wrapped my arms around him, fearful he would stop, but Joe showed no intention of stopping.
He pulled me out of my chair so I sat on his lap, how he managed it, I had no idea. There were only so many things I could concentrate on at a time. I sat across his legs, his arm around my back the other hand working on the buttons of my blouse, his mouth driving me mad. Who said men couldn’t multitask? Joe seemed to be very good at it.
He moved his hand from my back and pulled his lips away from mine. I started to protest but saw him gazing at the front of my shirt which now gaped open, revealing my bra. His hands moved to my shoulders, slowly slipping my blouse down my arms. It fell to the floor behind me.
I knew I should be embarrassed, but I couldn’t help feeling empowered, that I was the one who made him gape like that. I felt sexy. And alive.
Joe’s hands moved to my waist and slowly up my sides, teasing me with anticipation. Then his eyes searched mine, his full of longing and regret. “I can’t stop myself any more, Rose. You’re the only one who can stop me now.”
His mouth moved to mine, a hand on my breast, slipping inside my bra. I gasped in surprise, amazement and need. I never knew I could feel like this. His mouth followed behind his hand, astounding me even more.
I clung to him, silently pleading for more even though it felt like a greedy request, but he must have understood. The next thing I knew, he carried me to my room.
He dropped my legs to the floor, and we stood next to my bed. I turned to face him, my almost bare chest against his shirt. I wanted to feel the skin of his chest against mine. I reached for the bottom of his shirt. His hands joined mine and we lifted it off together, then he tossed it on the floor. He found the button of my skirt, undoing it and then the zipper. It fell, puddling at my feet. I absently kicked it to the side and looked up at him, wondering what happened next.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured running his hands up and down my back as he studied my front. His hands stopped at the clasp of my bra on my back. “It’s not too late to stop, Rose. You only have to tell me no and I’ll stop immediately.”
“Why would I want you to stop?”
His mouth was on mine again, my bra soon gone and his mouth moved down to my breasts until I moaned. I was almost embarrassed but an overwhelming need overshadowed shame.
“Oh Joe, please…”
“What do you want, Rose? Do you want me to stop?”
“No!” I nearly shouted. “Don’t stop!” But I didn’t know what I needed either. What I felt was primal and instinctual. I had no idea what I needed, I only knew I needed it or I would die.
If all my senses hadn’t been thoroughly occupied at the moment, I would have laughed at the irony of it. Maybe that’s how I died on Sunday, from lack of sex.