The Reluctant Nude - Meg Maguire [55]
“Not really, no. Actually, it’s made me a better artist, I think.”
“I guess that’s one way to suffer.”
“And of course I’m lying—it hasn’t been easy giving up sex. It was, for all those years. But now I am clearly proving to be very bad at celibacy.” He kissed her lightly.
“Why now?” It felt unlikely that anyone would find her such a compelling sexual interest. She only knew of one other man who’d ever seemed similarly enamored of her that way, and she refused to tar Max with the same brush as Donald Forrester.
“Because you’re so very seductive,” he said in a low voice.
Fallon laughed. “Your English comprehension must be way worse than I thought. I haven’t uttered a single seductive word to you since we met.”
“You may not think so, but you’re quite extraordinary. Did you know, you are the only person I’ve met in the last twenty years who doesn’t treat me like an anomaly or a commodity? It’s very refreshing. It’s very nice to be treated this rudely, you know. Makes me feel human again.”
“So many distinctions.”
“And you are the first person I have met in a very long time who I think it might be worth the effort to wring their neck.” He stroked a finger up her throat.
“That’s very romantic.”
“Of course, now there are far better ways of working out all that tension.” He bent to run his tongue up her jugular where his finger had traced.
“You really want to ruin your eight-year dry spell with me?” Fallon asked, her breath turning shallow.
“I very much would. But not tonight.”
“No?”
“No, tonight is yours.”
She smirked. “What? No condoms?”
“No, as a matter of fact.” He rolled his eyes. “But that is not why.”
“Then why?”
He smiled, so painfully handsome. “Because I quite enjoy suffering, I suppose.”
“So…”
“Yes?”
Fallon blushed, unseen in the dim light. “Did you give up everything sexual? You know. Like when you’re by yourself. Did you give that up too?”
He grinned again. “I’m not a saint. But I gave that up too, for the most part. With transgressions here and there over the years. Until you. You have dragged me back down among the sinners.”
She became of aware of the bed, the sheets, the place where he surely lay, succumbing to the unlikely temptations she apparently brought upon him. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You should feel quite proud, I think. I am not an easy person to get the better of.”
She nodded. “Ditto.”
He held her tightly. “Well, I feel very proud indeed. I’m sorry you didn’t have the best sex before now. But I’m very pleased to be the man who changed that.”
“Not half as pleased as me.”
They lay together for a long time, exchanging soft kisses then yawns. She felt Max slipping away, his breathing deepening, exhalations warm against her shoulder.
“Good night, Max. And thanks.”
His arms gave her a final squeeze. “Happy birthday, Fallon.”
Chapter Nine
When Fallon awoke the next morning, Max was gone. She lay still for a long time, becoming aware of her body naked beneath his sheets, staring up into the gray expanse of cloud beyond the skylight. When she looked down, she found a piece of paper propped on the comforter atop her stomach. Unfolding it, she squinted through her sticky contacts at Max’s scribbly handwriting.
Running. See you at 9.45 for coffee and awkward, post-coital niceties. MLE.
Fallon glanced at his alarm clock. She had twenty minutes to get herself cleaned up.
She crept down the stairs and found the paper bag with yesterday’s clothes sitting on the counter. She went to the bathroom and scrubbed her face and made use of the toothbrush and eye drops she’d been smart enough to start carrying in her tote. As she combed her fingers through her tangled hair, Fallon let herself dwell on Max’s revelation. Eight years. Eight years, if he was being truthful. Eight years of good behavior and he wanted her to be the one to ruin it. She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled so broadly it made her laugh.
Fallon was sitting at the table with the cat on her lap when Max got back. He eased the door closed and drew up a chair to sit diagonally from her.