sniffing at my tracks again, so keep your lips buttoned—except to open them up for me. Do it now. I need a kiss. Bad."
"Neil, I—" Her mouth was silenced by his, while the bitter taste of guilt swilled around the tongue she couldn't force away from his to admit the truth.
And so she kissed him in apology, and with desperation that showed in the bite of her nails in his back. A low groan of delight was his response. Determination to nourish their love until it flourished and could stand up even to her deceit was in the hungry slant of her lips, the soft nibbling of his mouth's bottom lobe until he thrust his tongue deep and she fed upon it. She loved his earthy taste; she loved his rough edges and smooth moves.
"I do love you," she whispered urgently. "Love me back, Neil, until you don't think it's just a maybe."
"Put your mouth back here where it belongs, and don't take it away till I've made up my mind. It's gettin' close, real close. Being pissed in public's one thing, and I've got the record to prove it. But showing I care, in front of other folks, is not something I do. Kiss me. Kiss me hard. I want everyone to see what I feel for you."
She felt as if they were in a fishbowl, kissing like mad for anyone who wanted to watch. It wasn't a comfortable sensation, and yet knowing that his love of privacy bowed to the intensity of what they shared was heady. It humbled her. It amazed her.
She gave back as good as she got. For once she wasn't on the outside looking in, recording her observations of someone else's triumph or tragedy. Neil had had enough of both recorded in inky black on white against his will, and all because he couldn't stop himself from turning his pain into something moving and beautiful.
Was this how it felt to be in his place? To expose one's most intimate emotions because compulsion demanded it, regardless of the empathy or criticism or indifference of others?
Andrea tore her mouth from his and buried her head against his chest. It was horrible to be laid so bare. And just as wonderful to feel something so deeply that she didn't care what anyone else saw or thought because it was too stunning and grand to hide or compromise.
That mix of emotions captured how she felt about the growing number of pages in her drawer, pages she knew she should tear up to cover her secret. But just as Neil was driven to compose and perform, she was compelled to chronicle his complexity. Neil was in her blood, and writing about him was the only way to fulfill her need to understand him.
"You've kissed me plenty of times before, chere, but you never kissed me like I was a raft and you were going under for the last count. If it was your purpose to sway a 'maybe' to a 'you betcha,' all I can say is, if I'm ever playing tug-of-war, I definitely want you on my side of the rope."
"Think we could leave early, Neil? Maybe after your jam session? I'm hanging on to that raft for dear life, because I'm close to drowning with no shore in sight."
"Lord, woman, let's get back to the party, then make tracks to our joint property." He squeezed her tight, and she squeezed him back until he picked her up in his arms and headed for land.
The sound of whistles and applause snapped her attention to the crowd raising bottles in a salute. Couples shared deep kisses not unlike their own.
But that wasn't what held her gaze and warmed her heart.
It was Lou dancing a jig with Liza.
Chapter 10
"Care for another crawdad, chere?"
"I'm stuffed, but one more's too good to resist."
Neil tore off the head, cracked open the tiny lobsterlike shell with his fingers, and peeled off the strip of meat from its back. He teased her nose with the bristles on the head, and Andrea clamped her lips.
"Aw, c'mon, quit being such a priss. Suck just one head, and you'll beg for more. All the juices are in there. Tastiest stuff that delectable tongue of yours'll ever try." He darted a glance at his crotch. "Almost, anyway."
Andrea quickly
"Neil, I—" Her mouth was silenced by his, while the bitter taste of guilt swilled around the tongue she couldn't force away from his to admit the truth.
And so she kissed him in apology, and with desperation that showed in the bite of her nails in his back. A low groan of delight was his response. Determination to nourish their love until it flourished and could stand up even to her deceit was in the hungry slant of her lips, the soft nibbling of his mouth's bottom lobe until he thrust his tongue deep and she fed upon it. She loved his earthy taste; she loved his rough edges and smooth moves.
"I do love you," she whispered urgently. "Love me back, Neil, until you don't think it's just a maybe."
"Put your mouth back here where it belongs, and don't take it away till I've made up my mind. It's gettin' close, real close. Being pissed in public's one thing, and I've got the record to prove it. But showing I care, in front of other folks, is not something I do. Kiss me. Kiss me hard. I want everyone to see what I feel for you."
She felt as if they were in a fishbowl, kissing like mad for anyone who wanted to watch. It wasn't a comfortable sensation, and yet knowing that his love of privacy bowed to the intensity of what they shared was heady. It humbled her. It amazed her.
She gave back as good as she got. For once she wasn't on the outside looking in, recording her observations of someone else's triumph or tragedy. Neil had had enough of both recorded in inky black on white against his will, and all because he couldn't stop himself from turning his pain into something moving and beautiful.
Was this how it felt to be in his place? To expose one's most intimate emotions because compulsion demanded it, regardless of the empathy or criticism or indifference of others?
Andrea tore her mouth from his and buried her head against his chest. It was horrible to be laid so bare. And just as wonderful to feel something so deeply that she didn't care what anyone else saw or thought because it was too stunning and grand to hide or compromise.
That mix of emotions captured how she felt about the growing number of pages in her drawer, pages she knew she should tear up to cover her secret. But just as Neil was driven to compose and perform, she was compelled to chronicle his complexity. Neil was in her blood, and writing about him was the only way to fulfill her need to understand him.
"You've kissed me plenty of times before, chere, but you never kissed me like I was a raft and you were going under for the last count. If it was your purpose to sway a 'maybe' to a 'you betcha,' all I can say is, if I'm ever playing tug-of-war, I definitely want you on my side of the rope."
"Think we could leave early, Neil? Maybe after your jam session? I'm hanging on to that raft for dear life, because I'm close to drowning with no shore in sight."
"Lord, woman, let's get back to the party, then make tracks to our joint property." He squeezed her tight, and she squeezed him back until he picked her up in his arms and headed for land.
The sound of whistles and applause snapped her attention to the crowd raising bottles in a salute. Couples shared deep kisses not unlike their own.
But that wasn't what held her gaze and warmed her heart.
It was Lou dancing a jig with Liza.
Chapter 10
"Care for another crawdad, chere?"
"I'm stuffed, but one more's too good to resist."
Neil tore off the head, cracked open the tiny lobsterlike shell with his fingers, and peeled off the strip of meat from its back. He teased her nose with the bristles on the head, and Andrea clamped her lips.
"Aw, c'mon, quit being such a priss. Suck just one head, and you'll beg for more. All the juices are in there. Tastiest stuff that delectable tongue of yours'll ever try." He darted a glance at his crotch. "Almost, anyway."
Andrea quickly
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