Little Gale Gumbo by Erika Marks

Author:Erika Marks
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2011-09-13T04:00:00+00:00

When Camille was certain that the house slept deeply, she slipped out from under her blanket, pulled on her scarlet kimono, and stepped carefully out of the apartment. For several weeks now she had been learning the home’s bones, discovering which floorboards squeaked, and which stair treads groaned. But all of her careful study was for naught: The moment she reached the door to Ben’s room and pressed it open, it let go a yawning creak that nearly propelled her under his bed.

“They’ll know now,” she whispered, feeling Ben’s hand close around hers in the near darkness.

“No, they won’t,” he assured her, pulling her into his room and carefully closing the door behind them, knowing the perfect speed to keep the hinges quiet. He switched on the light atop his dresser, casting the sparse room in a soft glow. Camille looked around at the tidy bed, the bare floors, the tall dresser with a curious collection of pencils, drill bits, and change. She had an urge to slide out one of those drawers, to see inside.

When Ben reached up to spread apart the neck of her silk robe, he had to stop, his fingers were shaking so badly. He blew out a ragged breath, lowering his hands. “I can’t believe how nervous I am,” he said.

Camille smiled, lifting his hands once again and settling them above her breasts.

“Are you?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, her own skin prickling with anticipation.

“Silly, isn’t it?” he said, his mouth dry as her bare flesh began to be revealed, the cappuccino-colored skin so smooth, the faint smell of rosewater rising as the fabric fell away. When he closed his wide palms over her bare breasts, they both exhaled.

“Everything was firmer once,” Camille confessed when Ben carried her to the bed and laid her down.

“Me too,” he said, lowering himself beside her. They took their time—after all, they had waited a year; what was another few minutes when there was so much to explore, to touch, to taste? When Ben finally eased himself down on top of her, Camille shifted beneath him, settling him inside of her, watching the familiar lines of his face deepen, the rough skin of his jaw flush with each thrust. She could feel her own skin reddening too, the forgotten splotches of heat that always appeared below her neck when she made love.

After several minutes, Ben slowed. “I have trouble,” he admitted quietly. “Sometimes I just can’t—”

“Shh . . .” Camille pressed her fingers against his lips. When he tried to withdraw, she wrapped her legs around him, keeping him inside of her.

“I never could have imagined,” Ben whispered. “I thought this part of my life was over. And then you came here. . . .”

Camille didn’t know how it was possible. Her falling so deeply in love, and she’d never even dressed a candle for him.

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