Public Displays Of Affection

Chapter Nineteen

How could a man feel so grounded and be flying at the same time? Joe couldn't grasp it, but there he was, inside Charlotte at long last, flesh to flesh, his body soaring through space even as his heart hit the ground with an audiblethud.

He was home.

Charlotte was with him, right there with him, her eyes locked on his as he took her. He felt the force of her welcome, her love, as her legs opened wide beneath him.

The impulse to drive into her was unstoppable. The surge of power that coursed through him was equaled only by tenderness he felt for her. She was his safe haven, his perfect fit, his lover. And he would die before he'd let her go again.

Joe smiled when she shouted out his name. She'd been shouting his name so often and with so much gusto that he feared she'd wake everyone in Hayden Heights. He tried to keep his mouth on hers but couldn't stop himself from occasionally making a detour to bite those tasty cherry nipples.

He also needed to keep his mouth free to talk to her. It didn't take a genius to see that words did the trick for Charlotte. Every time he said something even remotely racy to her, her eyes flashed and her body clenched him tight.

"Come for me, you beautiful, sweet, sexy little soccer mom slut."

There she went again, his cock the lucky recipient of the wet velvet vise treatment he hoped to God would be his for the taking the rest of his life.

"You can't stop, can you, Charlotte? Tell me you want some more."

He reached down into the slippery juncture of their bodies and found the hard little peak uncovered by her position. He circled his fingertip around it.

"I want more!" She wrapped her legs around his butt and squirmed to meet his thrusts.

"How much more?"

"I want everything! I want you, Joe!"

He slammed his lips on hers, his wide mouth engulfing her from her silky upper lip to her adorable chin. He felt her bring her arms around his body and squeeze. He tasted tears, but he didn't know which of them was crying. And he kissed her hard and breathed her in and got lost in the scent of their union-skin and sweat and summer air and honeysuckle-and knew this was the only real thing he'd ever known. He soared higher and then exploded inside her-giving her everything. He gave her himself. Just as she'd asked.

They hung on to each other in the single flashlight beam. Joe felt his skin fused to hers. He felt her breath against the side of his neck and her heart beating wildly beneath him.

Charlotte trembled, and he rolled until her small body stretched out on top of him. She burrowed her face in the crook of his neck and the tears trickled down his shoulder.

'Tell me what's going on in that brain of yours."

She sniffled. He stroked her hair.

"I was thinking that I'm glad. I'm just so damn glad I wasn't making it up all these years!"

Joe laughed, hugging her tight. "Neither of us made it up. It was all real." He pulled a strand of damp hair from the side of her face and kissed her hot cheek. 'It still is."

"I needed this, Joe."

"I did, too."

"You have no idea how much I needed it. How long I've needed it."

'Tell me."

Charlotte pushed herself up on her arms and looked down at him. Her face was relaxed, open, and a wistful smile played on her mouth. In the strange light inside the tent, she seemed to glow from the inside.

"I loved Kurt and he loved me. He was a wonderful man and a great father. But this wasn't important to him." She glanced down at their bodies still joined. "Sex wasn't important to my husband."

Joe wasn't sure he'd heard her right. "Want to repeat that?"

Charlotte pushed herself up until she straddled him. He was still inside her, growing soft and malleable, but enjoying the sensation of her heat. The peace.

She nonchalantly pulled her hair back off her face and tied it in a knot on top of her head, a move that put her breasts on display. He was in love with her breasts. He wanted to know what they felt like full of milk when she was pregnant with his child. He wanted to drink hot milk from her and then lie down next to her in the spoon position, holding those full breasts in his hands while he took her from behind.

"Kurt was not a very sexual man."

Joe blinked. He had heard right.

"I was frustrated through my whole marriage, Joe. I felt immoral because I wanted it so much more than he did. The only thing that kept me going all those years was fantasies about…" Charlotte dropped her gaze and shook her head gently. He reached up and lifted her chin.

"Tell me."

"You. I fantasized about you, Joe. All the damn time."

There was something seriously wrong with the concept that any married woman-especially a beautiful, sexual, loving woman like Charlotte-had to rely on fantasy for satisfaction.

"Was your husband gay?"

Charlotte scrunched up her pretty mouth and shook her head. "You know, I wondered that a couple times, but I really don't think so. It was more his personality. His upbringing. He never wanted to talk about sex. He never wanted to experiment-be, adventurous with me. He never saw sex as the gift it really is."

She shrugged, letting her fingers fiddle with Joe's chest hair. It was such a small thing-but so intimate- that his breath caught.

"I think he was ashamed when I asked him for things he couldn't or wouldn't do. He was ashamed of me. And over time, I became ashamed of myself."

Joe was getting hard again. "Details, please." He brought his hands around to cup her sweet behind.

With a tilt of her head and a wicked little grin, Charlotte said, "You aren't anything like Kurt when it comes to sex, are you, Joe?"

"Doesn't appear that way." He pinched her plump little ass. She yelped and squirmed on him. Joe was getting stiffer, quick.

Her voice became a soft whisper. "Once, I got the courage to ask him to spank me."

He was at full attention now. "And he didn't?"

"He said he felt foolish."

Joe smacked her butt-real hard. She squirmed again and let out a contented sigh. So he did it again. He frowned as if in deep thought, then smiled. "Nope-I just double-checked and I don't feel the least bit foolish."

Charlotte's laugh disappeared into a moan when he spanked her again, then again. She gazed down at him with a hot, half-lidded look of lust. Her hair had slipped down out of its knot and fell in straight shiny strands around her face.

This woman clearly needed to be fucked some more.

"And once, I asked him to tie me up," she whispered.

Joe licked his lips, wondering if the SpongeBob sleeping bag had string ties. 'Too foolish?"

"No. He said he respected me too much to despoil me or treat me in such a sadistic way."

The guy was definitely gay.

"Well, baby, I'll tell you what." Joe smoothed his palms over her bottom, the flesh hot from spanking. "I would consider it an honor to tie you spread-eagle to the bed and despoil you until you can't see straight-in a completely respectful way, of course."

As they moved in unison with laughter, Charlotte made a smooth segue into raising and lowering her body on his cock. Before Joe could anticipate it, she was riding him with purpose and he was back in serious fucking mode, as if he hadn't just come a few minutes ago.

This woman made him crazy. He had to slow down. He clamped his hands on her thighs to keep her still.

"You can always tell me what you need, Charlotte. If it works for you, it'll automatically work for me."

"Thank you, Joe."

"I love how passionate you are, how sexual you are. You don't have to hold back anymore. Ever."

She pushed his hands away without further comment and moved on him, varying her tempo and pressure and angle to coax the pleasure, drag it to its acute phase. She was a marvel, a redheaded vixen who seemed quite pleased with her official sex goddess status. It was obvious from the gleam in her eye and her self-satisfied smile. With a sigh, she lowered herself down on him, pressing her breasts against his chest

Joe stroked her hair, delighting in the cool, silky feel of it slipping between his fingers. "Did you ever ask for anything else?"

She let go with a small laugh. "Well, one night, I asked him for one of my favorite fantasies." Charlotte left little kisses along Joe's throat as her lower half undulated over him.

"I can't wait to hear this one." He nibbled at her neck.

Charlotte stopped moving and simply laid her head on his chest. "It wasn't wild, Joe. I just asked him to sleep with me under the stars. Naked. I wanted to make love under the stars. That's all."

Joe had to close his eyes against the sadness that swept through him. He almost didn't want to know the answer to the question he was about to ask-he wasn't sure he could bear to hear it.

"Please tell me your husband did that for you, sweetheart."

"He tried." Charlotte rubbed her cheek against Joe's shoulder. "We got out here in the backyard and he couldn't… he was just too worried and embarrassed-"

That was it. Joe saw it happen in his mind-he'd just handed his heart to Charlotte Tasker on a platter. He just silently uttered the words, Here it is. It's not much, but it's all yours. And right then, he knew that whatever she might ask of him, it would be his honor to do it. As her man, it would be his job.

A job he desperately wanted.

Joe sat up, tucked Charlotte's legs around his waist, and told her to hang on. He stood, grabbed the sleeping bag, and unzipped the tent door.

"You and me and SpongeBob got some love to make," he said.

Joe tossed the sleeping bag on the grass and stood with Charlotte still attached to his naked body. He could feel her giggling. "Now, tell me exactly what you want, sweetheart?"

She lightly touched his hair, then his cheek, then the smooth, clean lines of his goatee. It amazed her that he was so eager to please. She felt the tears build again but saw no reason to force them down-nothing she'd revealed so far had scared Joe away. Maybe nothing ever would. "What I want-what I really, really want-"

"Tell me." He pressed his soft lips to hers. "Tell me everything."

"I want to feel the power of you and me. I want you inside me, part of me. I want to look up and see your face surrounded by a thousand stars. I want to know that it's true-that we were supposed to be together."

"Comin' right up." Joe supported their combined weight on one arm as he lowered her back to the sleeping bag. He pushed inside her, gazing down at the woman beneath him, her pale skin glowing in the night, her eyes as bright as the brightest star in the heavens.

"I'll never leave you again, Charlotte.'

"I'm so glad."

"I want to love you."

"I want to love you back."

Charlotte smiled up at him, then felt her eyelids slide shut at the consuming pleasure, feeling Joe going deep, deeper than she'd ever allowed a man to go, deep into her secret heart, her secret passion, her secret self.

She felt the truth and opened her eyes in time to see that Joe felt it, too.

"Let me do that, Joe."

"Nope. No deal, soccer mom."

Charlotte sat at her own kitchen table feeling quite useless. She took another sip of the coffee Joe had poured for her a moment ago, watching him root around in the cabinets for the stove's griddle attachment and then hunt for plates, utensils, and ingredients stored on pantry shelves.

"Organic stone-ground whole wheat pancake mix?" Joe held up the box and frowned as he read the directions. "What's that gonna do for us, exactly?"

"It's a complex carbohydrate. More fiber and vitamins than white flour. Plus there's oat bran in it."

"I feel healthier already. How are we doing on time?"

Charlotte looked up at the kitchen clock. "I've got to get them up in about fifteen minutes. Sometimes Matt will wander down on his own, but Hank is not a morning person."

Joe turned and looked over his shoulder, his little gold earring gleaming in the overhead kitchen lights. "And her mommy?"

Charlotte smiled back, unashamed that she hadn't stopped smiling since Joe had arrived with the yogurt taco more than six hours before. "I think I'm a night person forced to be a morning person. But I'm feeling legitimately perky this morning."

Joe nodded and opened the refrigerator door. "I'm feeling pretty perky myself. You got any real milk in here or just the soy stuff?"

"Just the soy, which is real, too, just devoid of lactose, antibiotics, and growth hormones." Oh, my, but Joe looked exceptional bent over in his jeans, scanning her refrigerator shelves. He'd run home a few minutes ago to take a lightning quick shower and put on something other than his boxers, insisting that he make the kids breakfast before school. She watched him straighten and laugh as he examined the soy milk carton.

"I suppose what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger."

"Ain't that the truth," she said, laughing, too.

Charlotte watched the ripple of muscle and tendon in his forearm as he whisked the egg, oil, and milk. She smiled to herself, recalling how that muscle and tendon had felt under her hands. She recalled how glorious he'd looked hovering over her with the night sky behind him, how perfect he'd felt inside her, how she'd allowed herself to fall in love with a veritable stranger.

Who is this man I've let inside…?

She took a giant swig of coffee for fortification and said, "Who the hell are you, Joe?"

The question popped out without a bit of adornment- and she heard her words hang in the early morning quiet. He stopped whisking in midstroke, leaving the hum of the refrigerator and the pounding of her own heart the only audible sounds.

"I don't have a simple answer for that." His wrist gave a few last twirls and he set the mixing bowl aside, keeping his back to her. She watched him measure out the pancake mix and level the cup with a sweep of his finger. He was precise. Careful. He was stalling.

"Then give me the complicated version." Charlotte stood and walked to the coffeepot to refill her cup. She tipped the carafe over Joe's empty mug. "Need another shot?"

"Is the pope Catholic?" He began to stir the batter with a wooden spoon, not meeting her eye.

"Are you?"

"No, I'm not the pope."

She sniffed. "I should hope not, after last night. But are you Catholic?"

"Recovered." He continued to stir. "And you're Baptist, right?"

"Recover… ing."

That got a smile from him, and he crooked his head to let his gaze meet hers. "If the kids are coming down in fifteen minutes, I don't think I have time for any version atall."

Charlotte checked the clock. "Fourteen minutes now. Just do your best."

He chuckled, pouring out four puddles of batter onto the hot griddle.

"You know everything about me, Joe, and I know nothing about you. It's a bit uneven, don't you think?"

"It is."

"So let's hear it."

"All right, Charlotte." Joe sighed. "Both my parents are dead. My older brother died in college of a drug overdose. I got my bachelor's degree in criminal justice from American University and did two years in the U.S. Army Special Forces. I've traveled a lot for my work since. I've never been married-that was just part of my cover story. I've had a couple serious relationships, but the women always left me because I wasn't around enough to make a go of it."

"I'm sorry about your family." Her voice was soft. Then she frowned. "What do you mean by cover story?"

Joe took a deep draw of air to clear his head. He tapped the edge of the spatula against the griddle, realizing it sounded like the ticking of a time bomb. His time was surely up-he couldn't hide the details from Charlotte a moment longer. He was in love with her. She had a right to know what she was getting into. The real trick would be telling her enough so that she could make an informed decision but not enough to frighten her away.

"I'm not a writer. I work in federal law enforcement and I can't tell you much more, for your own safety." Joe cringed at the sound of her laugh.

"Oh, really? As in you'd tell me, but then you'd have to kill me?"

He felt his stomach lurch, thinking, I won't be the one doing the killing. "Not exactly, Charlotte."

As she watched him flip the four pancakes, it dawned on her that he wasn't joking. Joe's shoulders had stiffened and his mouth was pulled tight in seriousness. Charlotte began to feel a bit dizzy. She didn't like this. Not at all.

He placed the golden-brown pancakes on a platter and started four more.

"I'm waiting, Joe."

He turned to her and leaned a hip against the counter. "Do you trust me?"

She'd been asking herself the same thing, and though it was a simple question, it made her head spin. How could she trust a man she didn't really know? Yet how could she be in love with a man she didn't tfust? And how could she tell him she wasn't sure if she trusted him when it was obvious he wouldn't tell her anything unless he had that trust?

"I'm sure trying."

"That's a start."

Charlotte sipped her coffee, studied the grim line of his lips, and thought about the big picture for a minute- the gun, the alarm system, the secrets, the underlying seriousness. It seemed a little far-fetched, like something Matt would conjure up, but she couldn't help herself. "So what are you, Joe? Some kind of secret agent? The Austin Powers of Minton, Ohio?"

His grin lasted a split second. "Not exactly. I work for the U.S. Department of Justice. And I'm in a bit of a bind. I was sent here to disappear, Charlotte." He locked his eyes on hers. "And that needs to stay between you and me."

Her hand fell to the countertop with a thud, sending a plume of coffee into the air and onto her wrist. "Ow! God! You're kidding me! Hold on a second!" As she let the cool faucet water run over her arm, Charlotte tried to collect herself. Joe was some sort of cop? What kind? Why did he have to disappear?

"It's better if you don't know the details. That's where the trust comes in" Joe had moved close behind her and whispered this in her ear, his hands cupping her hips. "The less you know, the safer everyone will be."

His hands stayed put as she spun around to face him. "What do you mean, safer? Who do you mean by everyone! Are you in some kind of danger? Are my kids?"

Joe kissed her hairline, ran little smooches down her temples, and nibbled on her ears. "I pissed off a few bad guys, is all. And I have to testify against them in court."

"Stop right there." Charlotte pushed him back enough to look at his face. 'They're after you? You came to Minton to hide from criminals of some kind?"

"Yes." My God, Joe! How bad are these guys?'

"Real bad." Will they find you?'

"They won't find me."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"What do you mean, pretty sure?"

"Yo." A small voice caused them to jolt away from each other.

Matt stood in the kitchen doorway in his jammies, studying them from under raised eyebrows and an uneven thatch of bed hair. He yawned. "Who won't find you, Joe?" He frowned. "Were you just kissing my mom or something?" Then he glanced at the now smoking griddle. "Can I have cereal instead?"

Matt ate another spoonful of Mega-Wheats and banana, keeping a real close eye on Joe.

The guy had obviously been chewing face with his mother, and there was a tiny place inside his heart that felt sad about that but a bigger place that smiled. Joe was outrageously cool. He knew better than to expect that he'd suddenly jump in and be his new dad, and Matt didn't want that anyway, but if his mom had to kiss somebody, he was glad it was Joe.

"You sure I can't talk you into a pancake or two?"

Matt smiled, remembering that his dad used to make pancakes on Sunday mornings-sometimes even the awesome fluffy, white ones. Matt looked at the stack Joe offered and shook his head. "No offense, but those things taste like hockey pucks even when they're not burnt."

Joe smiled at him. "I hear you, kid." Then he sit down, doused them in maple syrup, and took a few huge bites. "Your mom says they'll Roto-Rooter your insides, though."

Matt laughed, nearly choking on a mouthful of cereal. Joe was fimny, too. He.was all right. "So you like my mom, or what?"

He watched Joe dab at his mouth with a napkin and take a sip of coffee, the way grown-ups do when they're fishing for the "appropriate" way to say something.

"I like her a lot," Joe said.

Matt nodded, a little embarrassed that his thoughts had suddenly turned to Lisa Bertucci, of all people! But he figured it was because lately he'd wondered what it would feel like to kiss her-her cheek, not her mouth the way Mom and Joe probably kissed. No way would he ever do something as disgusting as that.

"Is that okay with you, Matt?"

Matt looked up tit Joe and wondered if he could bounce a few ideas off him. He wondered if Joe would mind. "That's cool with me. You know, I was kind of wondering…"

Joe raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"How exactly did you let Mom know you liked her? I mean, did you blurt it right out like, you know, 'I like you, Charlotte,' or what?"

Joe thought for a moment. "Basically, yes."

"And girls like to hear that crap?"

Joe cleared his throat. "Absolutely."

"Huh." Matt held up the bowl and slurped down the leftover soy milk.

"Is there a particular girl you're thinking about?"

Matt felt his face get hot. "What? No way. I just… well…" Matt got up and put his bowl in the sink, thinking maybe he ought to let out the truth. Who else was he going to rely on for advice? His mom? Justin? Ned? Yikes! "Actually, there is… sort of… this girl."

Joe leaned an arm over the back of the kitchen chair and gave his head a quick nod. "That's cool."

"Her name is Lisa. And I feel like such a dweeb when I see her, like my brain's broken or something. Is that normal?"

"It is, Matt. Happens to the best of us."

That was surprising news, and a big relief. "Did it happen to you with Mom?"

Joe laughed a little and took another big bite of hockey puck pancake. "At first, yes. I said and did some real stupid things, because your mom is so special and so pretty that I couldn't think straight."

Matt watched Joe go to the sink and rinse his plate and cup and stick it in the dishwasher.

"I think I'm doing a little better with your mom lately."

"Cool."

"Is Lisa special like that?"

Matt felt his heart slam in his chest. He didn't want to get all gross about it, but maybe Joe would understand. "Sorta. It's the weirdest thing, but when she walks past me, her breeze smells so good I have to close my eyes."

Matt felt Joe's hand come down soft on his shoulder.

"I feel you, man," Joe said.

Matt couldn't help but smile. Joe was even cooler than he thought. Maybe he could help him out with something else, too.

Just then, he heard his mom and Hank upstairs and knew it was now or never. "Hey, Joe?" Matt looked up at him, hoping like heck he'd take pity on him. "Can I ask you a really huge favor?"