He let her pleasure him too. While she eagerly embraced the ways he taught her to do it, she watched his reactions to her touch just as closely as he watched hers. She learned to take it even deeper, give him more than he expected. Though his cock would harden in her hands, it was the ways she used her mouth and touch on him above the waist that intensified his own response. When his body shuddered in the grip of his own release, his brown eyes flashing with fire and loss of focus, she cherished it, exulted in what felt like a victory. It reminded her of what Marguerite had said about power, and all the possible things she could have meant.

  Afterward, after he did the necessary things to clean up, he’d return to her bed and usually spend the night there, holding her. He left her just before dawn to go home to shower and get ready for work. When Elaine went on her church trips, she’d stay at his house. Rory explained that while Elaine knew they were adults, and accepted they’d share a bed in the house when she wasn’t home, she was traditional enough to discourage that arrangement when she was there. Not when they weren’t married.

  Daralyn understood that. With all the care Elaine had shown Daralyn, she’d never want to do anything to disrespect her feelings. She also liked that Rory had that kind of respect and love for his mother.

  Before she and Rory had become involved, when Marcus and Thomas were in New York, Daralyn would often join Rory and Elaine for an evening meal. That hadn’t changed, either. Though she and Rory would go back to Daralyn’s house afterward, Daralyn still came over for dinner at least every couple of days.

  Sometimes they’d stay to watch a favorite TV program or movie with Rory’s mother. Or Daralyn would help Elaine with a quilting project. They might go through garden magazines and discuss potential projects.

  While he channel-surfed, Rory would put in his two cents. Other times he tinkered with his wheelchair in the shop adjacent to the house, making adjustments to it. After Daralyn helped Elaine, she’d go perch on a stool in the shop, reading, watching him work with his hands, secretly stealing glimpses of that intent look on his face she had mentioned to Amanda.

  During one of those nights they stayed after dinner, Elaine’s position on the two of them spending the night together under her roof unexpectedly changed.

  It was during one of Elaine’s favorite programs. The day at work had been a really busy one, such that Daralyn found herself nodding off while on the couch. Rory had transferred there from his chair so Daralyn could lie against his side. He’d nudged her to a more comfortable lying down position so she had her head on his thigh, fingers curled underneath it. As he rested his hand on her hip and back, stroking, she dozed. She was vaguely aware of Elaine in her recliner while she and Rory exchanged comments about the program.

  Elaine’s preference was to turn on the subtitles and keep the volume low. That worked better for Daralyn, too, but even as she drifted off, she knew she shouldn’t fall asleep.

  Never with the TV on. Even low.

  Next thing she knew, it was blaring, so loud it seemed to make the walls vibrate. Stale cigarette smoke, old sweat. Bad. You’ve been bad. Into the hole. Hands were reaching for her, her father’s breath on her face.

  She floundered out of the dream like a marathon runner with no breath left, the TV screaming an alarm in her head.

  “Daralyn, hey. You’re okay. You’re here. It’s all right.”

  The TV sound disappeared, and she found Rory’s hands on her, his brown eyes close and concerned.

  Not real. Not there. You’re no longer there.

  She’d jerked up to a sitting position, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She could barely speak, and he stroked her, continuing to soothe.

  “It’s okay. You’re here, baby.”

  She was clutching his thigh, his jeans fortunately protecting his leg from her nails. She needed to say, “I’m fine,” but she couldn’t get it out yet.

  Elaine was still sitting quietly in her chair. She understood Daralyn’s panic attacks, so Daralyn didn’t need to look her way or apologize. Not yet.

  Instead, Daralyn just looked at Rory. Not at his eyes. His hands on her, his chest before her gaze, and then she’d moved back close, had buried her nose against him, inhaling deep. Not a trace of the dream lingered in his scent, and the TV’s low murmur was no longer disruptive.

  Rory coaxed her even closer, up against his side, fully under the shelter of his arm, where he continued to rub her upper arm. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, breathing. Just breathing.

  After a time, he asked his mother another question about the show. A pause, and Elaine answered. They returned to normal conversation, helping her tension slip away like water under a bridge. Normal. They didn’t treat her like glass. Didn’t make a big deal of it.

  A half hour later, when Elaine stood up to go to bed, she came to them. She leaned over, brushed a kiss over Rory’s forehead. Then she did the same to Daralyn. She cupped Daralyn’s face a brief second, her mother’s gaze reviewing what she saw there, before she straightened with a decisive nod and turned toward the kitchen.

  “Turn off the TV and lights when you head for bed,” she said. “No sense in taking Daralyn home this late. I’ll fix a ham and egg casserole in the morning before the two of you head to the store.”

  That was that. From that moment forward, Daralyn knew, whenever they were together at the end of the day, they could go to sleep together. Nightmares might chase her out of her dreams, but they wouldn’t follow her once his arms closed around her, reminding her he was there.

  The high school reunion was coming up. Daralyn knew from Elaine that Rory was getting an award, but Rory’s take on it was he was accepting it on behalf of his family. Thomas and Marcus had already planned to fly back in for the event. Though a disappointed Les couldn’t get away from school, she called to find out what Daralyn was going to wear.

  “I thought the wine-colored dress,” Daralyn told her. “Rory really likes that one.”

  “Unh-unh,” Les said. “This reunion requires a new dress, trust me. Ask Amanda to take you shopping.”

  When Daralyn hesitantly did so at the store, next time Amanda stopped in, she was startled and then amused by Amanda’s squeal of pleasure. “This is going to be so much fun,” Amanda told her. “And don’t worry. The secondhand place I’m thinking of will have something great, but nothing there is hugely expensive. You’ll get a great dress and accessories for under fifty dollars. And it’ll give me an excuse to get one, too. Something slinky that will steam up Marty’s wire-rimmed glasses.”

  When Daralyn sent Rory a helpless look, he just grinned and made a “hands off” gesture. “No sane man gets in between women and their shopping.”

  “Ain’t that the God’s truth,” Johnny said from the back.

  “Oh shut up, both of you,” Amanda told them tartly. “Like you aren’t just as bad about hunting rifles and fishing poles.”

  “That’s because those are useful,” Johnny pointed out.

  Amanda rolled her eyes. “Just ignore them, Daralyn.”

  Daralyn’s only concern about the proposed outing was that she’d never successfully gone anywhere without a member of Rory’s family being with her in some way. Like Elaine taking her to Dr. Taylor’s, or Rory going to community college with her. But she had improved enough about going to school that Rory could drop her off and come back for her. She’d even considered—for half a second—learning how to drive.

  Amanda had asked Johnny about his date for the reunion and was now teasing him about his vague response. “Oh yeah. You’re fixing to get ready to start thinking about it,” she said. “That’ll work.”

  Sometimes, that was the way Daralyn felt about a lot of things she still couldn’t tackle. It shamed her to know some part of her was already considering backing out of the dress shopping, or seeing if Elaine would go with them.

  But after Amanda had left, telling Daralyn she’d be back tomorrow morning to pick her up at the house, Rory reminded her just how attuned he was to her moods.

  “Hey.” He came around the counter, took her hand and drew her close. He gripped her above the heart bracelet she rarely took off. During working hours, when she’d kept touching her arm, feeling as if something was missing, he’d told her she could wear it at the store, as long as she always remembered to take it off before operating any of the equipment.

  Now he rubbed her flesh beneath the delicate links. “This says I’m with you, no matter where you are,” he said. “You’ve got this. You’ll have fun, pick out a pretty dress. Amanda will help you.”

  He flashed her a smile. “You know I have my road trip to Tabor City this weekend with my challenge group. I like the idea of you having fun while I’m gone.”

  So she’d gone and it had been…fun. She’d found a dress Amanda had raved over when Daralyn tried it on, and insisted that she buy it. So Daralyn had, and Amanda picked out a pretty purse to match. Her silver wedge sandals would work with the dress, so new shoes hadn’t been necessary. Then she and Amanda ate an early lunch together. She was a good companion, carrying a lot of the conversation but coaxing Daralyn to talk, so that she found herself contributing to the conversation far more than she usually did. When they parted ways, Amanda gave her a quick hug that felt…good. Natural.

  “Hey, let’s go to the movies one afternoon,” Amanda said as she headed back out Daralyn’s door. “One of those sappy chick flicks Rory and Marty would rather be shot in the head than go see. Your mom might enjoy going, too. Sorry. I meant Elaine.” Amanda flashed her an apologetic smile.

  “Okay.” Daralyn waved as Amanda drove away. She held her dress over her arm in its clear plastic covering, gazed out at the stretch of field behind the house, and absorbed the feelings of the day, realizing how few of them had been anxious or unpleasant. Like a good meal where each bite tasted good. Not just the first one or only some of them.

  She went into the cottage and sat down on the bed, laying out the dress next to her. Putting her hand under the plastic, she caressed the fabric. It would need a couple tucks to make it fit properly. Daralyn was a decent seamstress, thanks to Elaine, but for this, she’d likely need her help.

  It made her think of Amanda’s apology. Elaine was Daralyn’s mother, the closest to one she’d ever had. In all the ways that mattered.

  She picked up her phone and called, Elaine picking up on the third ring. “Hey, honey, did you find a nice dress?”

  Daralyn’s throat got tight. Elaine sounded the same way she did when she talked to Rory, Les or Thomas. Any of her children. It had always been there, hadn’t it? Just waiting to be noticed. She managed to push the words out, asking for Elaine’s help to alter the dress.

  “Oh, honey, I’d be thrilled to help. Why don’t you come over for dinner around four and we’ll do it after? Since Rory is off with those adrenaline junkie friends of his, we can have a girls’ night.”

  Daralyn agreed. After a little more conversation, they ended the call, but then Daralyn sat another few minutes, thinking about all of it. She was juggling a schedule. School, friends, social events. Like…a normal person.

  She had a family. A life. A job. A man she loved.

  She smiled, thinking of him. Missing him. Her smile got bigger as she remembered how, during a recent phone call with Thomas, he’d mentioned, as she had, how he’d likely just wear something he already had to the reunion.

  He only had the one casual suit, the one he’d worn to their dinner at the Purple Swan. It had worked for her, but she loved him in anything. Or nothing. All his long fine limbs, the intriguing curves and valleys of his body, his rougher hair and firm muscles.

  Marcus had confiscated the phone, his tone of horror sharp enough to reach Daralyn, sitting next to Rory at the time. She’d been studying at her kitchen table and had to hide a smile at Rory’s scowl. She was sure Thomas was on the other end with a similarly amused look.

  “If you want to accept an award looking like a gap-toothed hillbilly who wears the same suit for a decade—”

  “I don’t need to look like some Abercrombie & Fitch nancy boy without hair on his balls…”

  And so on.

  She didn’t know what they’d worked out, but it had involved Rory getting measured by a local tailor Marcus recommended. Rory was handsome in anything, but the idea of him in a new suit and tie, dressed up…

  She recalled the night of Tyler’s party, when they’d returned to Brick’s cottage. As Rory made himself a cup of decaf coffee in the kitchen, he’d had the blue dress shirt open, the sleeves rolled up. She’d found herself staring at the movement of his hands, how the shirt lay against his bare chest. The heavy-lidded brown eyes had turned her way, saw her watching him…

  She was moving her fingers along her thigh, back and forth, a slow glide, creating a low-level throb between her legs. She jumped up from the bed, her heartbeat accelerating as her gaze darted to all corners of the cottage. As if she expected someone to charge out at her, snapping like an angry dog.

  Bad girl. Only bad girls act that way.

  As she swayed there, indecisive, her eyes closed, pulling her back to the memory of Rory in that kitchen. He’d spoken to her low, brought her to him. Then he had her remove the dress, sit in his lap in only her stockings, panties and the corset. He’d held her while he made the coffee, added cream and sugar. She’d listened to his heartbeat, tipped her head up when he’d wanted to kiss her mouth, slow and long. He’d dropped his hand between her legs and stroked…

  She tentatively cupped her breast, imagining his hand on it, the long, strong fingers. A few months ago, Elsa Pride had brought in a half-dozen chicks that had hatched when one of her hens managed to hide a set of eggs from her. Rory had offered to find someone in the community looking to add to their hen house. Daralyn remembered him holding one of the chicks in his hand, cradling it, his fingers moving over the soft down, the way he touched her flesh.

  When she brushed her nipple, it was in a taut peak. The wave of sensation that shot through her startled her into another guilty survey of her surroundings. Nerves came in behind it, a strong uneasiness that bordered on nausea. She swallowed it down, just as her phone began to buzz.

  With relief, she saw it was him.

  “Hi,” she said. “How did the ATV’ing go?”

  “Way more fun than grown men should be allowed to have.” He sounded tired, but his voice had that light quality she’d heard when men were off together, doing sports, so she knew he was having a good time. He also sounded really pleased to talk to her. The feeling was mutual. “How about shopping? How did that go?”

  “We found a dress. Amanda says it’s really pretty, and your mom is going to help me alter it tonight so it will fit right.”

  “I don’t know why Marcus is worried about me having a new suit. Nobody’s going to be looking at me with you there. Course, I’d better look my best, so no one thinks they can steal you away from this gap-toothed hillbilly.”

  “Not a possibility,” she said staunchly. “Will you tell me more about your day?”

  “Only if you spend at least five minutes telling me about yours.”

  She made it to ten, largely because he kept prompting her with questions. Then he launched into a summary of their cross-country outing on ATVs. She paid attention, but she also closed her eyes, let herself get carried away on his voice, that deep resonance that vibrated through her body. Her thighs, her lower belly, up through her breasts and throat…

  She curled her fingers into a fist on her leg. What was the matter with her? While they didn’t have actual sex every time they were together, Rory was pretty demanding about bringing her to orgasm. Maybe her body had gotten addicted to that. Spending a day with Amanda, who’d coaxed her into talking about the many things Daralyn liked about Rory, while reciprocating with some outrageously blatant things about Marty, had only increased her desires.

  “So that was my day,” he concluded. “A bunch of sweaty guys playing on Big Wheels. So tell me more about what you and Amanda talked about while dress shopping.”

  “You. And Marty.”

  “Oh yeah? Care to elaborate?”

  He was teasing her, but she wasn’t sure how he would feel about her thoughts, her wandering hands. She remembered that first time, in front of the mirror, when he’d had her touch herself. But that had been while he was watching.

  “I may have done something bad. Or been about to do something bad. I’m not sure.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible,” he said. “But tell me what it is.”

  “I…I was thinking about you. In Florida. And here. And listening to your voice, and…I wanted to touch myself, like you do. I started to…Rory, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  A pause, protracted enough to alarm her. She rushed to fill in the gap. “I’m so, so sorry. I know I shouldn’t have—”

  “Stop.” When he used that tone, he was capable of bringing every thought to a halt, all of her centered on him. But she was shivering, abruptly cold and miserable, feeling like she’d failed him. “Hold on,” he said shortly.

  From the receding sound of voices and activity, she realized he was moving. He’d likely been in or close to the cabin he was sharing at the Tabor City campground.

  “Okay, I’m somewhere private now. Are you at your place?”

  “Yes. Rory—”

  “I’m talking now. Are you in your bedroom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. You know what a guy loves almost as much as a woman wanting to share a bed with him?”

  “What?”

  “A woman that puts him front and center in her mind when she’s pleasuring herself.” His voice got husky and thick. “And if you’ll lie on your bed and touch yourself while I’m on the phone with you, this might just be the most perfect fucking day ever.”

  She swallowed. “So you’re not mad.”

  “Oh, baby.” The heat in his voice was almost as good as him putting his arms around her, because that tone said he’d be doing exactly that if he was there. “I don’t think I could get mad at you about anything. But you touching yourself? That one doesn’t come anywhere close to making that non-existent list. It gets me worked up. In fact…” he paused, and then that huskiness became a growl. “I might just like the idea of telling you that you can’t touch yourself without calling me for permission first.”