A Different Kind of Forever(62)

He chuckled and shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

“What about kids? Because if you want any, you’re with the wrong woman.”

“I haven’t thought about that either. My dad has plenty of grandchildren, I have lots of cousins to carry on the family name. If I wanted children badly enough, we would find a way. It’s not a deal breaker.”

“What if I got sick? My dad died of cancer, and there’s heart disease on Mom’s side. Genetically, I’m doomed. You were eight when your mother died, Michael. Would you want to go through something like that again?”

He stopped smiling. “No. I can’t think of anything more excruciating than watching – no.” He took a step toward her, then stopped. “Something could happen to me too, you know? I could get sick as well, get into an accident, hell, Diane, it’s all a crapshoot, isn’t it? I love you, and if you get old and feeble and toothless, I’ll still love you. And if I’m crippled or senile, I hope –“ He stopped. They looked at each other across the room.

“This is a very strange conversation we’re having, isn’t it?” Diane asked softly.

He shrugged. “We’ve talked about everything in the past few months, religion, music, books, skin diving, everything except what we want from each other. Why do you think that is?”

“Because, generally we’re happy with each other? If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?”

“So does this mean we’re broke?”

“No.” She crossed over to him and put her arms around his neck, feeling the strong, familiar strength of his body. “I think we’re fine. I think we just needed to set a few things straight. Please don’t worry about Quinn.”

His hands were in her hair, pushing the soft curls away from her face. “And I don’t want you running off spending money on trying to look younger every time I talk to somebody under thirty, okay? Although, you do look great. You’ve got a glow, or something.”

“Mud treatment.”

“Really? Okay, that’s gross. But you look great.” He grinned. “Are you glowing all over?”

“Maybe we could get naked later and see.”

“Okay,” he said softly. His eyes were still troubled, and she traced the outline of his lips with her finger.

“Michael, don’t you trust me enough to know that I would never hurt you?”

“I know that you would never deliberately look around for somebody else. But this is different. How do you know what you’ll feel when you see him again?”

“I don’t know. And maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ll have this irresistible urge to spend the rest of my Sundays in front of a quiet fire, reading the London Times, instead of sailing off with you into another glorious day. But I wouldn’t bet on it, okay? I think you’re stuck with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I can live with that.” He kissed her, and she kissed him back, deeply, her arms tightening.

“When you kiss me like that,” he murmured, “things start to happen.”

Diane pulled away from him, smiling. “Sorry, didn’t mean to start anything. Not just this second, anyway. Now, do you feel like lobster?”

“You tell me.” He slid his hands down her back and pressed her against him. “Is this what a lobster feels like?”

She giggled, easing her hands into the waistband of his shorts. He kissed her again, hard, no longer playful and teasing.

“Wait,” she whispered, “wait, the door. What if David –“

“I don’t care,” he said, reaching behind her to pull the zipper of her dress down her back. The dress slid to the floor, followed by her bra, and he pulled her forward, sinking back onto the couch, pushing away her panties as she straddled him. He brought his hand between her legs, a feather’s touch, and she kissed him, soft, light kisses, as he stroked her.

He took her breast into his mouth, and she froze, sensation becoming too intense, and she waited, because she knew what his hands could do, knew how his mouth could make her feel. He was always slow, patient, coaxing her along until her orgasm broke like a pounding wave, and she gripped his shoulders as his fingers slid into her, wet and waiting. His tongue teased her, and his hand moved faster, flat against her now, and she threw her head back as the spasms took her, unable to breathe, mouth open in a noiseless scream. Then she sagged against him, a roar in her ears, and the ragged sound of her own breath.