The Midnight Club_ A Novel - James Patterson [83]
“That’s okay. I’ll feed you something if you like.”
Sarah made cheese and herb omelets, and she opened a bottle of Château Margaux. It was quiet in the kitchen, where they sat; nicely peaceful after the long, frantic day.
While the eggs were cooking, Stefanovitch finished the last of the tollhouse cookies.
“I’ve gone past the point where sleep is possible. You know that feeling?” he said after he’d polished off his omelet and half the bottle of wine.
“I know the feeling right now. Another omelet? More wine? Cookies?”
“Please.”
“Really?” Sarah’s eyes widened. The light from the lamp overhead played through her hair.
He nodded and grinned. He was feeling almost human again. There was something so luxurious about the cheese omelet and wine at midnight. He hadn’t eaten like this for a long, long time. Part of his life was getting so good, so much better, that it frightened him.
After the second helping, he sat at the table with a satisfied smile spread across his face.
“Beautiful, talented, and she can cook like a whiz. What’s the catch? What’s wrong with her?”
Sarah sighed, her brow puzzling slightly. “She’s divorced. Has a small child who needs lots of love and attention.”
“What else? Nobody would ever object to Sam. Nobody worth too much, anyway.”
“She can be a workaholic sometimes, which might make her seem too self-centered to some people.”
“There’s more than that, isn’t there?”
“Probably. I think so. Oh, I don’t know. Stefanovitch, do you want to go to bed with her tonight?” Sarah said, and suddenly she could barely breathe. It was out now. No turning back.
A look of concern drifted over his face, a definite mood shift.
“Do you think that’s a good idea right now?”
“I have no idea. It’s what I’d like to do, though.”
As if in a dream, the two of them left the kitchen and proceeded to the bedroom. The world seemed a little fuzzed at the edges. Moonlight was streaming through the picture windows. They began to undress, both of them feeling a little strange, suddenly quiet and private.
As her fingers clumsily unbuttoned and loosened clasps, she kept thinking, I want to make love to him. A warm and pleasant sensation was spreading through her now, almost a glow. She wanted him very much. She had for a long time.
Sarah came to him. They kissed, and it was as sweet as the kiss at the beach. Yes, there is definitely something here, Sarah thought.
“Is this going to be all right for you?” she said against his cheek. She didn’t know how to ask certain awkward questions. She didn’t want to rush or pressure Stef in any way. She wanted this to be right for both of them.
“Yes, it’s good for me. After I got hurt, I thought there might not be any feeling. There is, though. I mean, you know what I mean. I can do something about what I’m feeling.”
Sarah understood better after the first few minutes in bed. For one thing, he had the gentlest touch she could imagine. Using his fingertips, he stroked her back and shoulders, then her face and neck, then lower on her body.
She wondered if he had always been so tender. He wasn’t what she had expected at all.
He was completely aware of her body; very sensitive and warm.
As they became comfortable, the inhibitions began to go away, layer upon layer, like taking off bulky winter clothes.
Sarah straddled Stefanovitch. Admiringly, she noticed that he had the body of a twenty-five-year-old: firm and hard, especially his stomach, but also his arms and shoulders. He was powerful, but so careful in the way he touched her.
Sarah kissed his chest, loving his smell, which was fresh and clean.
His fingers lightly kneaded her back and neck. He was relaxing her, inch by inch, her body starting to melt.
“Where did you learn to be so nice in bed? So sweet?” she whispered.
“Backseats of old cars out in Minersville. The Middleview Drive-In Theater. South Junior High parking lot.”
“No, Stef. Uh-uh.” She kissed him again.
“I was in love once. Remember?”
She placed a finger over his lips. “I love the way you feel. The way you touch me,” she whispered