Forbidden Temptation. Gwynne Forster
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other than him; he’d never squeaked.
“Would you…uh…unzip my dress, please?” she asked him, managing to appear fragile and helpless. Oh, hell! Maybe it just seemed that way to him.
“Unzip your…Who usually unzips it?”
“Nobody. This is the first time I’ve worn it.”
Instead of turning her back, she stepped closer, and he thought his knees had turned to rubber. “Please,” she said.
“Turn around,” he said gruffly. His fingers shook as he attempted to grasp the zipper, and he fumbled uncontrollably. Finally he managed to hold it, closed his eyes and pulled. He didn’t hear the dress drop to the floor, and shock reverberated through his body when he realized that she had handed it to him. He opened his eyes and stared at the voluptuous beauty before him.
“My God,” he uttered with a groan. He pulled her into his arms, let his hands roam over her breasts, arms, waist and buttocks until she reached up, clasped his face between her palms and parted her lips beneath his. He lost himself in her arms.
Ruby awakened and sat up suddenly, alarmed at the weight of a hand on her bare thigh. It didn’t make sense. And why would a sledgehammer be pounding the top of her head? She looked to her left and gasped. Good Lord, that was Luther. What was…? It came back to her with blinding accuracy. At that moment he awakened fully and propped himself up on his left elbow.
“What’s wrong? Can’t you sleep?” He reached out to put his arm around her, but she slid farther from him.
“Wh-what have I done?”
“Don’t tell me you’re sorry or that you didn’t know what you were doing,” he said. “I’m having none of that.”
She slid off the bed. “I’m sorry, and I apologize for…for…I don’t know what came over me. Would you please close your eyes?”
“Why?” he said in an odd voice that didn’t sound much like Luther’s comforting baritone.
“Just please close your eyes. I want to dress.” She got into her clothes as quickly as possible. “I’m going home. Do you know where my car is?”
He sat all the way up. “In front of the house. Are you telling me you don’t remember me driving your car here?”
“Luther, please forgive me for any pain or inconvenience I’ve caused you.” He started to get out of bed. “No, please don’t. I don’t want you to get up. I can find my way out. I…uh…thanks for everything.” She wasn’t sure why she was thanking him, but she hoped she would upon reflection.
She found her car keys on the table beside the living-room sofa, next to her coat. When she got into her car and put the key into the ignition, she glanced up at the house and saw Luther standing at the window.
“Lord, I must have been out of my mind to make love with Luther. He’s like a brother, and…what can he possibly think of me? She rubbed her forehead in an attempt to ease the pain. “That’s the last champagne I’m ever drinking. No. That’s the last alcohol. From now on, I’m going to stay as sober as a judge.”
She drove home, and after she walked in the door, her first thought was of the lonely echoes of her steps as she headed upstairs. The flashing red light on the phone beside her bed told her that she had messages. No doubt from Pearl and Amber. Tomorrow would be time enough to deal with them.
“What do they think?” she said aloud. “And Lord, what was I thinking? I had no business going to Luther’s house that time of night. I must have been out of my mind.” She showered, put on a nightgown and prepared to get a few hours sleep. She hadn’t been in bed five minutes when the memory of the moments in Luther’s arms came back to her as clear as a bright summer morning.
The man sent her through the stratosphere. For the first time in her life, she had exploded in orgasm after orgasm. And oh, how he had loved her. He’d worshipped every inch of her, kissed her from forehead to feet, and when he finally got inside her…the earth had moved, and it wouldn’t stop. She sat up in the bed and let out a sharp whistle. Then she blinked rapidly; she hadn’t known that she could whistle. She wondered what he’d thought of her wildness, her completely uninhibited behavior. If only she didn’t have to see him again. Well, he would learn that she didn’t plan to chase him. Never!
Luther stood at the window of his bedroom and watched as Ruby pulled away from the curb. What had he done to himself? An ache settled inside of him, more painful than any he’d ever experienced in the years of longing for Ruby. He’d known all along that, if he got a taste of her, he’d need her more than ever, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. She had stood before him, almost nude, with her lips parted and that look of expectancy, that invitation to madness on her face. He couldn’t stand it. Her gaze had roamed his face and settled on his lips, and he’d pulled her body to his and plunged his tongue into her waiting mouth.
He turned, limped back to the bed—his limp was always most prominent when he was unhappy—and sat down on the edge of it. What a woman she was! She had come to him like a nail to a magnet, responding to his every touch, every kiss. And oh, man, when he’d finally got inside her, she’d gone wild, matching him stroke for stroke and bump for bump, exploding in multiple orgasms that he could feel, gripping his penis until he thought he’d lose his mind. She suited him as no other woman had.
He fell over on the bed, but sat up quickly when the musty odor of their lovemaking aroused him. “What do I do now?” he asked aloud. “She couldn’t get away fast enough. This prosthesis turned her off, and she was in such a hurry to leave that she didn’t even take the pains to hide that from me.” He knew he wouldn’t sleep, so he showered, changed the bedding to remove that reminder, went to his den and turned on the television. On the coffee table sat the two glasses he had placed there earlier, hers empty and his untouched.
“It’s a lesson I won’t forget,” he said. “Neither Ruby nor any other woman who’s likely to interest me will settle for a man with one leg. I might as well accept that and get on with my life.” He went into the kitchen to make coffee, turned on the tap and stopped with his hand suspended in the air. “Maybe it wasn’t my leg. Maybe I was mistaken. I thought I gave her all that a woman could ever want, but maybe I was so carried away with what was happening to me that I got it wrong. Yeah, that’s it. My prosthesis doesn’t look that bad. Oh, I don’t know. I’ll learn to live without…Oh, hell!”
In his semidark living room, Luther sat in the early-morning quiet, thinking of his life, of the woman he loved and had possessed but couldn’t have, of the family he wanted so badly. He had to fight back the threatening depression. He couldn’t let it sink him. And why should he? His mind brought back to him the story of Derek LaChapelle, who had won eight varsity letters at Northbridge High in Northbridge, Massachusetts, while playing with a prosthetic left leg. Derek had lived with it from childhood, Luther said to himself. At least he’d grown up with both legs, and nobody who didn’t know would guess he had a prosthesis.
He punched the sofa pillow and said to himself, “Heck, I’m going back to bed.”
Several afternoons later, while sorting out a problem in her office, Ruby answered a telephone call from Pearl.
“Paige and I are going to paint our bathroom and kitchen,” her sister said. “This yellow on the walls now was Opal’s suggestion. She loves yellow, but I’ve gotten to the place where I can hardly stand it. D’marcus will see so much yellow in his place that he’ll think he’s got jaundice. Say, why don’t you come over and help us?”
“Okay. I can leave here around five-thirty, but I’ll have to run home and change.”
“Good. Paige bought some frozen quiches, and we can make a salad. See you later.”
Ruby hadn’t been in the apartment Pearl shared with Paige more than half an hour when Luther walked in with containers of paint, two rollers and some paintbrushes. She stared at her sister. “Why didn’t you tell me he’d