Читать книгу The Good Liar - Laura Caldwell, Leslie S. Klinger - Страница 12

Oakbrook, Illinois

“I can’t take it,” I said, holding the phone. “I can’t take this anymore.”

“God, I can’t either,” I heard Michael say. His voice was low and rough, his breathing ragged.

I turned over in my bed and lay on my stomach, still holding the phone. “Jesus, Michael.”

“I know, I know. This is the best sex I’ve had, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Since our date two weeks ago, Michael and I had been on the phone every night. We talked about our work, our comings and goings, our marriages, our dreams—those that had failed us and those we still had—but we also talked about how we would kiss each other if we were together; how we would do all sorts of things.

Technically, this was phone sex, a practice that had mystified me before. I mean, what’s the point? I used to think. Why not simply wait for the real deal? I hadn’t realized how much imagination was involved with phone sex. I hadn’t realized how it forced you to talk about precisely how you liked your body to be handled, your thighs to be stroked, your ear to be whispered in. And you learned from the other person what they liked as well.

While at work, as I analyzed the company’s quarterly earnings or talked to the office manager, I could not stop hearing Michael’s voice. I could not stop seeing us in bed together. Because, of all the explicit details we’d discussed, these images were as vivid as if we’d actually made love.

But now it had gone too far. Now I was mad for him.

“I don’t know if I can wait two weeks.” Michael was supposed to return to Chicago in two weeks and we would have our official second date.

“I know. I can’t wait either.”

“I’ll get a flight tomorrow morning,” Michael said.

“Thank God.”

The next night, we had dinner at Merlo, an eclectic Italian place on Maple Avenue. Our conversation never waned, nor did our intense looks across the table. Later, I walked out of the place with Michael’s arm around my back, and I was electric from just that touch.

The Gold Coast was awash with lights, but it was quiet with the post-holiday lull. A light sprinkling of snow covered the sidewalk.

“Careful,” Michael said as we walked down the restaurant’s front steps.

I stopped. Michael, who was one step below me, did the same.

“I’m sick of being careful,” I said. I grabbed his face, his warm, smooth-shaven face, and I kissed him hard. Within seconds, our bodies were pushed against each other, our arms wrapped around each other tight. I could feel my body temperature shooting high until I wanted to tear off my cashmere coat.

“Let’s go to your hotel,” I said.

“You’re sure?”

“Shut up.”

In his hotel bed, Michael held himself up on his arms, gazing down at Kate. Gorgeous, smart, sexy Kate.

They were stripped of their clothes, and in fact, he felt they were both stripped of everything —every pretense or artifice. His body felt as lean and hard as it ever had, and yet his core was somehow liquid and alive. They were right on the brink, about to consummate this intangible chemistry.

He stared into Kate’s eyes—neither of them had closed their eyes tonight, even while they were kissing—and he felt the momentousness of the instant. Sex had never been like this for him. He almost laughed because they still hadn’t technically had sex yet, but this was it. This was it. That phrase kept returning to his mind. His life was different now. He was taking a step back from the Trust into a normal existence, and yet he was taking a step forward with Kate.

“Ready?” he asked Kate.

Her brown eyes stared into his—into his soul, it felt like. She didn’t say anything. Not a word. Instead, never letting her eyes stray from his, she reached for his hips. Slowly, slowly, she drew him into her.