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At the sound of the key in the door, Laura turned off the TV pretending deep slumber. Part of her had feared he wouldn't return but then another part had told her not to be so stupid. Of course he'd come back, of course he would.
Instinctively, she knew the precise moment he stood over her, watching her. She felt the peck on her cheek. Underneath, her hands were firmly clenched. They had to be. Otherwise she'd capitulate to her constant urge to jump him.
He departed ignorant of her predicament, oblivious to her agitation, unaware that her body wasn't playing ball. It had betrayed her at his touch, surrendering all too easily. Laura bemoaned her wretched state: skin tingling, a mind flashing images of his naked body and a gnawing ache that couldn't be assuaged. Not without losing face.
She heard their bedroom door open and listened as he rummaged around in the closets. Then the distinctive sound of the shower. Eyes closed, she pictured the water running down his physique. God, to be the wash cloth on his body right now: to cling to every nook, every cranny, every crevice. And he was so … so … magnificent nude. In fact, he was beautiful.
Her mind was racing and wouldn't stop: the hair on his chest, the faint smell of his cologne, the feeling when he enveloped her in his arms - clothed or unclothed - the sensation when he ran his eyes over her, then his hands, his lips, his tongue tracing her skin …
She knew the exact moment he emerged from the bathroom and let her imagination take her where her body couldn't.
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Laura sat up to thump her pillow. Sleep had proved elusive for numerous reasons and she'd spent the best part of an hour tossing and turning.
The bedroom door opened and her pyjama bottomed clad husband emerged.
They ignored each other.
He strolled into the kitchen; she strained to listen.
The fridge door opened then shut. A couple of minutes later Steele headed back to the bedroom, glass of water in hand.
Her eyes were hypnotically drawn to the door he'd just closed firmly behind him. She punched the couch in frustration and lay down.
He drained the glass, flopped down on the bed, stared at the empty space beside him and whacked his pillow.
A short while later, Laura admitted defeat and got up to make herself a sandwich. She took out the bread, some ham, salad, cheese and mayonnaise.
Shortly afterwards, her husband reappeared in the kitchen.
She turned her nose in the air and continued piling on ham.
He pulled open the fridge door and retrieved a plate of chicken left over from the day before.
They silently went about the task of constructing monstrously sized snacks, stealing glimpses at each other when they thought they weren't being observed.
Laura violently slapped cheese on the second tier of her sandwich.
Steele placed chicken on the third tier of his sandwich.
She threw on more lettuce.
He neatly arranged sliced tomatoes.
Two knives simultaneously dug into the bottle of mayonnaise.
Hands touched.
Eyes met.
They grabbed each other.
When Laura felt her knees hit a surface lacking warmth she snapped back to reality. Speaking around his searing kisses she managed to protest, "Not the floor. Remember last time? Too hard and cold."
"Okay," he readily agreed.
Between more urgent kisses Steele reversed his wife out of the kitchen, through the dining area into the living room and towards the couch. As her legs met the arm, she lost her balance and fell backwards pulling him on top of her.
A hand smoothed the material of her chemise then eagerly fondled bare skin. Stopping him at her thigh, Laura gasped for air as his assault on her lips continued. "Not here … remember the last time? Not enough … not enough room … not for us."
He raised his head. "Not here?"
"Not here."
Desperation was starting to creep into his voice: he didn't want her to change her mind. "In front of the fireplace?"
"Only if I'm on top. I got carpet burns last night."
"Hmm. Not exactly an incentive for
me is it? I'll be the one suffering from
carpet burns."
She shrugged. "Maybe we -"
"The bed!" he cried shooting off the sofa, dragging her to her feet.
"I can't!"
"Laura, we're married now!"
"No, that's not what I mean. I mean
I can't because we're in the middle of a
fight and I said I wasn't sleeping in the bed tonight."
Steele stared at her. For a brief second he considered asking her for the logic behind a passionate romp midway through a stinging altercation - as long as it wasn't in their bed. Then it occurred to him that she'd probably do just that, they'd quarrel all night and he'd sleep unfulfilled. So instead he made a suggestion.
"The duvet's here on the sofa Mrs Steele. I'll spread it on the carpet in front of the fireplace. No carpet burns, eh?"
"Fine."
He unceremoniously yanked the bed linen off, dashed to the fireplace, hastily laid everything out, frantically ran his hands through his hair, then smoothly turned to his wife flashing a billion dollar smile as he stretched out his arms.
Stepping into his embrace Laura decided clarification was in order. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you're off the hook with me."
Steele eased her down to the pillow, covering her body with his own. "I know, I know … I'm rotten Laura … degenerate … incorrigible human being." Languorous kiss followed kiss as he took his time to studiously explore her face with his lips. "Censure me … severely … as only you can, Mrs Steele."
"You're too reckless," she susurrated, hands wandering at a leisurely pace across his back.
"And you're -" he moved his mouth languidly down her throat, teasing her senses, " - so bloody stubborn."
Laura trailed her fingertips slowly down his spine. The sensation caused him to squirm, "And let's not forget your fiery Irish temper my love."
"Second only to your intemperate American one my sweet," Steele responded sotto voce, using his lips tantalisingly on her lithe, toned body.
Her hands played with the waist of his pyjama bottoms before pulling them over his hips. "Tie up that green-eyed monster of yours." she insisted steadily rotating her palms, caressing his bottom.
The intimate friction produced a low moan
from her husband. Self-restraint slipped and he couldn't stop
himself from grasping her pelvis and moving his
hips against hers. Laura felt him between her legs as strongly
as if she were naked.
Locking his blue eyes with her brown ones, Steele kissed her eyelids then her mouth - lightly at first, fleetingly but hunger quickly overtook them as their tongues danced insistently together. Impassioned sighs continuously filled the air as the intensity of their mutual want grew.
He discarded his nightwear then turned his attention to his wife's. Pulling her to sit up, he slipped the straps off her shoulders and pushed the chemise itself down just past her breasts. Feasting on her stiffening nipples, Steele circled the surrounding flesh with a finger until she moaned. Then he gradually lowered her, staring at the enticing picture she made before drawing a hand along an inner thigh.
At his touch, Laura shivered involuntarily. She closed her eyes and told herself to remain demure, to keep calm, to let him leisurely take her there, to ignore her raging libido, to reject her urge to jump him and screw his brains out.
"I'd prefer to not … have anything … to be jealous about," Steele whispered slipping his fingers inside her panties, gently rubbing then inserting them upwards.
Inflamed, Laura tangled her hands in his
hair then slipped them to his shoulders. His chest. Anywhere else
she could touch. Needing to feel his bare skin. Her clearly audible
breathing arrived in short, sharp gasps as she urged
him on, arching her body, circling in rhythm to his fingers desperately
seeking her release.
Riveted, Steele watched, ignoring his own painfully throbbing need. He focused first on her partially covered figure, bending briefly to furiously suck a nipple before planting an airy kiss on her lips as he continued his manual administrations, increasing the pressure, delighting in her ardent reactions.
Her legs spread wider. "More,"
she implored.
He complied, stepping up the pace as she offered herself to him.
Her
quivering body froze, then trembled again. Muscles clamped firmly
around his fingers and she breathed his name before finally lying
quiet.
Moments later, Laura felt her throat being nuzzled, her cheek being kissed, words of endearment whispered softly in her ear. She smiled and reached for him, ready for another round. Or two. Or three. But he rolled her over to lie on top of him pulling at the chemise. She took the hint and after removing her panties, straddled his hips to slide it over her head.
Steele immediately sat up and reached for her breasts, softly clasping and unclasping. "Work on your bloody obstinacy," he proclaimed in a hushed tone.
"Learn the difference … between business … and -"
"And?" he prompted, slowly rotating, lightly squeezing.
"Pleasure," she emitted with a low moan.
Steele bent his head and gradually took more and more of each breast into his mouth, "Business and pleasure, eh?" he murmured then relentlessly swirled his tongue around nipples he'd hardened into tight points.
Laura closed her eyes, threw her head back
and combed her fingers through
his hair relishing the feeling of suction, the feeling of pressure,
the sensation of a hot, eager, mouth.
"Yes … pleasure," she repeated breathlessly.
Time ticked by and eventually he pulled away from her breasts and started to lower her but Laura stopped him. Steele felt warm, soft lips journey down his torso, hands dance through his chest hair so he lay backwards and allowed her to continue.
As she slunk past his abdomen, anticipation of her next target heightened his lust. Stroking whichever parts of her body were within reach, he choked out, "You still … have … control issues."
Steele shut his eyes and told himself to let her go on. He told himself not to come, he told himself not to let her make him come, he told himself to prolong their lovemaking and he told himself not to reach up, push her down and take her then and there.
Laura scrutinised every inch as he lay naked before her, powerful but submissive. Her eyes were inevitably drawn to his erection: engorged, hard, rigid. She encircled him with her hands - stroking, gently touching - skin tingling, breath shallow at the thought of him moving inside her.
"And you need to control your emotions," she insisted opening and closing her fingers around him in a manner she knew her husband found irresistible.
"Laura …" he groaned.
Delicate, feathery fingers ran lightly through her hair. She heard his expressions of approval, of encouragement and as usual, her own fervent passion ignited. Lapping at him enthusiastically, she used her tongue to circumnavigate his tip while maintaining the tugging motion with her left hand.
Heat coursed through her, warming her from
head to toe and driven by a powerful longing, she increased the
rhythm, sliding her mouth faster and faster up and down the hot,
pulsing length. From a distance she heard her husband's breathing
quicken then felt his hands caress and his hips lift
urgently upwards as the suction intensified.
"Laura … stop."
She ignored him.
"Stop … " he insisted.
After sensing that she wouldn't, he swiftly sat up then gently but firmly pushed her away from him.
"Work on … obedience too," Steele murmured lying down behind her. He kissed his wife's shoulder, gently nipping as his hand travelled first to her breasts and then down to her abdomen.
"Lower," she appealed.
Parting her legs, he used his fingers to directly stimulate, slicking them around in her moisture before returning to his initial task of kneading and massaging.
By now, Laura had had enough. She reached behind and ran her hand along his thigh, desperately clenching his skin, pulling him closer, urging him to her.
"Mr Steele … " she breathed.
"Not yet," he replied, wanting to see how long it could last, how long he could keep them both at the peak of excitement.
"Mr Steele!"
With casual deliberation, he inserted his fingers into her again. "Wait … just a little … longer."
"No, now," she insisted placing her right leg on his. "Now."
Finally Steele gave in. He clasped his sternly distended erection and eased into her savouring the heat, the moistness, the inner muscles that worked him.
"Oh Mr Steele …" Laura sighed dreamily, relishing the motion of his fingers, the feelings they induced and the sensation of him hard and high inside.
Stilling his hips and her own, she inched back against him as much as possible, wanting him to fill her completely, wanting him deeper. It took a few minutes to establish a rhythm but once they found it, they matched each other step for step: Steele's demanding thrusts complemented by his wife's insistent rocking.
Laura covered his hand with her own, pressing him firmly to her at the pace she required. Closing her eyes for a few seconds, she abandoned herself to it all - the hot, rigid, flesh plunging in and out of her, the dextrous fingers rotating, stimulating. Floating higher and higher, willing it to go on and on and on, she whispered his name like an incantation.
Steele heard her rapture, he knew she was close and it fed his own ardour. "Oh Laura … babe," he moaned into her ear, slightly adjusting his position for better penetration.
Her heart clenched; a dart of devotion mixed with want instantly shot through her body, from her heart to her womb. In the throes of lovemaking, she found herself wondering if her husband had any idea of his power, if he had any idea that he could do that to her. Just with one word.
Of all his endearments, that was one which affected her deeply. Maybe because he used it so sparingly. Maybe because the first time she'd heard it was also the first time she'd seen him cry. And he'd cried over her, thinking her dead. Maybe because none of her other boyfriends had ever uttered it. Or maybe because no one said it the way he did.
Their desire gradually reached its crescendo. Steele drove himself to push deeper and deeper into Laura's tensing body. Audible breathing alternated with loud frantic gasps as they rapaciously took what the other was giving. Both of them so consumed with each other, so gripped by each other that release, when it finally came for her, arrived in the form of a shattering shudder. At the sight, sound and feel of his wife's climax, Steele finally let himself go, bursting into her ferociously before lying, utterly spent.
They silently stayed together for many long, slow minutes. Laura felt his arm around her body and snuggled closer. Lifting it, she brought his palm to her lips then turned around to face him. Smiling at each other, they drew together for a series of tender, affectionate kisses.
Steele stretched out and wrapped the duvet, cocoon-like, around them before lying on his wife's breasts. Laura cradled him, idly stroking away the thin film of perspiration from his forehead.
She heard a deep breath and looked down, heart swelling. It still overwhelmed her. He was hers; she was his. They were really together for better, for worse. Yet despite this, her fear hadn't totally been erased. In that respect he was right.
It didn't make sense. This was what she'd wanted for so long but now that she finally had it, it frightened her. There were days when she marvelled at his patience because panic made her unreasonable, made her try to drive him away and realise that self-fulfilling prophecy. How did he put up with it all? Why did he put up with it all? She knew why, she'd known for years. Both of them - in too deep. But she was tired of warring with herself. She wanted to completely let go now, to relax into marriage the way he'd done. It wasn't coming as easily to her and in truth, she envied him for it.
"Why is it always so good while we're
fighting or after we fight?"
"What?" he unconsciously smoothed her thigh.
"Us, together. When we make love, when we have sex. It's always so good while we're fighting or after we fight, haven't you noticed?"
"Laura, we fight every day, we make love every day and it's good every day. What's to notice?"
She drew back to ponder his statement. Her
mouth lifted at the corners,
"Promise me we'll never stop fighting."
He kissed her chest. "I promise."
She paused for a moment and then said, "We didn't consider all the difficulties we'd face being married, did we?"
Sleep was claiming him but at that he frowned, wide awake. "I don't follow."
"Well … " Could she confide in him? Yes. She could tell him. But he knew. And she knew he knew so instead she said, " … working together as Mr and Mrs Steele. It's fine for most aspects but what happened today -"
"That's what I love about you Laura. Your indefatigable sense of timing."
Steele sighed warily. How like her: they'd just shared wonderful passion and here she was going over contentious ground again. But that was his Laura. In truth, he'd braced himself for it. He knew it would come at some point. He'd just hoped it would be in the morning.
"Female cops go undercover all the time to trap dangerous criminals. As hookers, as call-girls, as strippers, as -"
"Yes but they undergo years of intensive training for that sort of thing and -"
"But I knew you were next door, don't you see? I wouldn't have gone to that motel without back-up, without protection, without you."
"That's not the point, it's a -"
Laura pressed on. "Well how else could we get what we needed? It had to be that way."
He rolled her over, tipped her chin up and forced her to look at him. "You're all I've got. I'm not having you harmed in any way."
"Don't you think I feel that way too? About you I mean," she insisted.
"That's another -"
"Look. I know it's not strictly about
jealousy. I know concern is behind it too
but you've got to remember that I've been doing this long before
you stepped into my life, long before you became Remington Steele."
Steele shook his head. "Not that sort of thing Mrs Steele, never that and never again." He stole a kiss. "Besides, it's a moot point now because I am Remington Steele and I am in your life and I am your husband, three times over."
Laura met his eyes and knew he wouldn't give an inch on this one. But then again, neither would she. "How do we get around this?" she finally asked.
He smiled. "Why don't we try what everyone else in the world does, eh?"
"War? We're way ahead of 'em Mr Steele."
"Compromise."
"Rare territory for us."
"Mostly for you," he murmured.
"I heard that."
"You were supposed to."
Laura raised her head. "Fine. Give it to me straight. How do we compromise?"
"Well Mrs Steele, I respect your perpetual state of independence …"
She stroked his chest, playing with the hair on it. "Yes?"
"You respect my inclination to protect you."
Her brow furrowed. "Pretty sentiments but what exactly does it mean for the day to day running of our business?"
He grinned, "No more 'close encounters of the thorax kind.' "
Completely flummoxed, Laura managed to utter, "I beg your pardon?"
"Actually, it's a play on words. Remember the 1977 Spielberg movie starring Richard Dreyfuss? 'Close Encounters Of The Third Kind?' Well, a thorax is the part -"
"I know what thorax means!" She pushed him in exasperation, "What does it mean for the day to day running of our business Mr Steele?"
"Levity Laura. Just a little levity. Where's your sense of humour, eh?"
"It ran out of that motel room this
afternoon leaving us with a potentially blown
case, a client you've fooled into thinking everything's going
to plan, an obliterated M.O, my cover destroyed, a reputation
dam -"
"Really Laura. Three months of marriage and you're still obsessed with trifling little details."
"What are you talking about? We've got a - wait a minute! We've only been married two months."
"Three Mrs Steele."
"Two Mr Steele."
"I thought you majored in math?"
"I did!"
"We were married in February, it's now May. Do the math."
"You expect me to count that not-exactly-legal first marriage? As far as I'm concerned, we got married on the first day of March in Scotland."
"I realise that but a wedding -"
"There is no way our wedding anniversary's gonna be commemorated on the date of that first marriage, got that?" she prodded him to emphasise her point.
"As I recall, the INS -"
"Won't be attending our family celebrations of our real marriage. March the first, 1987. Am I getting through to you? And if you don't agree you can celebrate that not-exactly-legal first one by yourself." She cocked her head, "Wait, how did we get on this subject in the first place?"
"We were talking about compromise. Remember?" Steele declared wryly.
Laura snapped her fingers. "Oh yes, you were going to tell me how we'll make it work for us ... I'm waiting."
He scanned her countenance. "Y'know
Mrs Steele, I feel a sudden urge to expand on this tomorrow morning."
He threw off the duvet, stood up and
pulled his wife to her feet. "Come to bed with me love."
"I can't!" she shook her head.
"What if I promise never to bring up the fact that during a row you ended up back in our bed despite swearing that you wouldn't?"
"I still can't."
"Okay. I have a proposition for you." He grasped her hand and placed it firmly around his swelling erection. "What say we go in the room behind us, fall on our mattress - note the deliberate use of the word 'mattress' - and make more mad, passionate love?"
Laura beamed warmly into his eyes, holding his gaze as she felt him grow harder. "Our mattress? That sounds like a compromise."
"It's easy once you get the hang of it Laura."
"We should do it more often."
"Indeed Mrs Steele, indeed."