Black Friday (or Black Market) - James Patterson [62]
Maybe her boyfriends were, Carroll thought to himself. None of the “contemporary men” Carroll knew could cook anything much more complicated than tomato soup.
“What can I tell you, I’m basically an ascetic. Skippy peanut butter happens to be cholesterol free.”
A different kind of look crossed Caitlin’s face right about then. A private joke smile? Carroll wasn’t sure he’d read it correctly. Was she laughing at him now?
Then a quick reassuring smile came that was warm and even more comfortable.
“I think we’re going to need at least an hour,” she said mysteriously. “Uninterrupted time. Phone-off-the-hook seclusion and quiet. You didn’t have any big plans for the morning I hope?”
“Just sleep.”
“Boring. Also not very ascetic.”
Carroll shrugged his broad shoulders; his eyes burned with curiosity. “I’m a boring person. Daddy, sometimes mom of four; straight job with the government; occasional terrorist contact.”
There was a dense silence as he and Caitlin walked out of the windowed den. They cleared their throats almost at the same moment.
Caitlin reached for him, and then they were lightly, just barely holding hands,
Carroll was suddenly very aware of her perfume, the shh-shh of her jeans, the silhouette of her profile…
“This is one of the more impressive New York apartments I’ve been in. I really didn’t expect this. All the hominess, the charm.”
“What did you expect: hunting rifles on the wall?… Actually, I sew: I can knit. I do iron-on patches for four little kids.”
Caitlin had to smile at Carroll again.
It was the first time he’d seen this particular smile. Irony, but also nice warmth were glowing in her eyes at the same time. He felt like they’d crossed some barrier, made some slightly more solid connection. He wasn’t sure what it was, though.
They started to kiss and touch each other lightly in the narrow hallway. They kissed gently at first. Then the kiss became harder, with urgency and strength on Caitlin’s part.
They kissed all the way to the front bedroom where morning light was flooding the room. Huge, curtainless windows faced onto the Hudson, which was a flat, slate-blue lake that morning.
“Caitlin? … Is this wise?”
“It is really wise. It doesn’t mean the end of the world, you know. It’s just one morning. I promise not to get hurt. If you do.”
She put a finger to Carroll’s lips. Soften the blow of her last statement. She then lightly kissed the back of her own finger.
“I have one small favor. Don’t think about anything for ten minutes or so. No Ohio jokes either. Okay?”
Carroll nodded. She was smart about this kind of thing, too. A little scary smart. She’d been here before… I won’t get hurt; don’t you get hurt.
“All right. Whatever you say can be the official rules.”
For a moment, they sat together, hugging on the low-slung, quilt-covered double bed. Then they very slowly began to undress. A shivery draft slithered in from the casement windows; the cold air seemed to blow right through the tall black-framed window panes.
Carroll was completely, physically and spiritually entranced. Also frightened. He hadn’t been with anybody for over three years. There hadn’t been anything like this for so very long. He felt a little guilty, automatically comparing Caitlin with Nora, though he didn’t want to.
Caitlin’s hands had the lightest imaginable touch. Extraordinary control and gentleness as she tugged off his trousers. He felt everything beginning to relax inside.
Her fingers were like elegant feathers over his upper back. Tickling. Dusting his neck.
Then Caitlin’s palms. Rotating in easy circles. Into his temple. Gently pulling on the curls of his dark hair.
Carroll remembered that he was ticklish down both sides of his stomach. He had been since he was a little kid.
More feathery fingers. Teasing Carroll up and down the insides of his legs …
On to the balls of his feet, his toes, his soles …
Then everything was moving slightly faster; up another notch in tempo.
His body suddenly, involuntarily spasmed. Jesus Christ.