Mermaid by Judy Griffith Gill Page B

soft sounds against the tops of her breasts, skirting the lacy edge of her bra, and she strained up toward him, needing more, but he lifted his head and whispered her name as he spread her hair over her bare shoulders. “Jillian. Beautiful mermaid. Look at me.”
    She opened dreamy eyes and met the deep blue of his gaze, her lips parted and moist. He kissed her with little darting movements before taking her lips in another powerful, searching assault that made her moan deep in her throat. She nearly cried out when he slid his hard body off hers, but he wasn’t leaving, only making it easier to touch her. He lifted his head, watching her face as he undid her bra and slid the cups off her breasts to run a tantalizing circle around each already hard nipple with one fingertip. She had to close her eyes again to stop the look of enchantment on his face from sending her out into orbit.
    “No,” he whispered. “Look at me. Don’t hide your pleasure from me.”
    “Mark...I don’t...I’ve never felt like this be—” Her breath rasped in and out as, eyes wide, she met his ardent gaze. Then she gasped, her lips parting as his cool hand cupped one warm breast. He looked down then, watching his thumb rub across the bursting peak, seeing the pink flush rise up her body. Bending his head, he kissed her almost reverently as his other hand cupped and stroked and teased the other nipple.
    “Please...” The single word hovered between them as their gaze met and clung, and then she said it again, “Please, Mark!” and sobbed with relief when his mouth closed over one aching nipple, wetting it, heating it, pulling at it. He moved to the other one, his hand sliding down over her body, across her belly, curving over the small rise of flesh and bone at the juncture of her thighs, and she sighed as she moved her legs apart to allow his hand to stroke more firmly.
    “Jilly? Jilly, are you home, dear?”
    Her mother’s voice broke the two of them apart as if they were truly guilty teenagers. She snatched her blouse around her and gasped for breath as he sat up, gaping unbelievingly at the staircase down which the voice had floated.

Chapter Five
    “I ’M DOWNSTAIRS, MOM,” SHE managed to say, while Mark stood up, turned his back, and tucked in his shirt.
    “What in the world are you doing down there at this time of night?” Her mother’s voice was coming closer.
    “I...having coffee with a friend. Is everything okay?” While she talked, she did up her bra and her blouse and was sitting erect, if wide-eyed, when her mother came down the stairs in a pink quilted bathrobe, her graying hair tangled, her glasses perched crookedly on her nose.
    “Why, Mark! How nice to see you again,” she said, obviously surprised to find him sitting in the big chair at the end of the coffee table, a cup of coffee in one hand. She smoothed her hair down and turned to her daughter.
    “No, nothing’s wrong, dear. I just woke up and found the kitchen light on and you not in your bed.” She yawned, patting her mouth with the back of one hand.
    “I’ll say good night, then, now that I know you’re safe.”
    When she had gone, Jillian carefully stacked the used dishes on the tray, and Mark, very subdued, carried it upstairs for her. She went with him to the door, and they stood there once more under the glow of the yellow porch light, saying nothing, just looking at each other, each one wondering exactly how “safe” things were between them.
    “I only meant for that to be one, brief kiss, Mermaid, just a taste to see if you were still as sweet as you were last Saturday. It was too soon for anything like that to happen, wasn’t it?” He looked deep into her eyes. “But if your mother hadn’t gotten up...” His voice was a low rumble. “Are you sorry she did?”
    She couldn’t speak. She only leaned forward and let her forehead rest against his chest. For just a few moments his arms came around her, his cheek lay on top of her head. They