Eyes Like a Wolf Read online

  “Hey,” I echoed him. I patted the side of the bed. “Come on in.”

  “Okay.” He climbed under the covers and wound his arms around me. In the darkness we lay facing each other, our heads on one pillow the way we used to lay as children.

  I reached up to brush the damp hair out of his eyes, delighting in its silky texture across my fingertips. “Remember how you never wanted to cut your hair?” I asked softly, my hand lingering on his forehead in an unconscious caress. “Mom ordered you to do it that one time—she even gave you money for the haircut.”

  “And I used it on comic books instead.” He laughed gently and shook his head. “Boy, she let me have it that time.”

  “Only because Dad wouldn't. He would never lay a finger on either one of us,” I mused, twirling a piece of his hair between my fingers.

  “You stuck up for me, remember?” He reached out to caress my hair in turn. “You told Mom if I cut my hair, you'd cut yours. We faced her down together and she finally gave in. I think she couldn't stand the thought of her little pixie without all this beautiful blonde hair.” He stroked it back from my face and cupped my cheek, his thumb tracing my lips gently.

  I felt suddenly shy and pulled away from his touch. “Hey, do you remember 'spider hunt?'” I said, reaching for conversation.

  “How could I forget?” He grinned at me in the dark. “Nobody could do 'spider hunt' like you, Rache. Hey—do it on me now, would you? It's been years.”

  “Okay, roll over.” I got up on my knees, moving the oversized night shirt I had on so I wasn't kneeling on it, and bent over the smooth expanse of his broad, muscular back. Although I hadn't done this since childhood, the words of the old incantation came back to me easily as I traced the pattern on my adopted brother's back.

  “Goin' on a spider hunt, X marks the spot,” I intoned, drawing a wide capital X across his shoulder blades with my finger. “Three big bumps and a question mark.” I drew a question mark and dotted it in the muscular hollow of his lower back. “Spiders crawlin' up your back…” I made my fingers skitter in a ticklish little pattern from his lower back to the back of his neck. “Spider bite!” I pinched the back of his neck suddenly, making him jump, although I knew he was expecting it.

  “Blood rushin' down…blood rushin' down…” My fingers tickled their way down his spine and shoulders again, miming the flow. “Break an egg on your head…” I knocked the back of his head gently with my fist. “Yolk runnin' down your shoulders, yolk runnin' down your spine.” I made ticklish swirls across the breadth of his wide shoulders and fluttered my fingertips down the long groove of his spine, drawing out the tension as long as I could.

  It was time for the big finale, and I felt Richard tense ever so slightly beneath my hands. “Cool breeze,” I whispered, leaning forward to blow a cool stream of air over the vulnerable back of his neck. “Tight squeeze.” I pinched him again, just where I had blown. “Now you've got the chillies!” I pounced on him, tickling his sides, feeling the hard muscles roll and bunch beneath my fingertips as I never had when we played this game as children.

  Richard roared with laughter and pinned his arms to his sides, trying to protect his sensitive ribcage from my prying fingers. Then he flipped suddenly, grabbing both my wrists in one of his large hands, and began to give me a taste of my own medicine. He tickled me unmercifully until I howled with laughter and begged him breathlessly to stop.

  “Oh, Richard! Please, not…no, no!” I moaned, trying to draw my own arms in tightly as we rocked the bed with our game. With all the creaking and banging, I was sure my next door neighbors would get the wrong idea about what was going on in my house, but I frankly didn't care. I was having too much fun.

  Richard stopped tickling me just when I thought I would never be able to get a deep breath again. I collapsed, panting in his arms, little snorts of laughter still escaping my lips as I tried to recover my composure along with my breath.

  “I…forgot what a…dirty fighter…you are,” I managed to say at last, between giggles and pants.

  “Dirty fighter? Me?” He put a hand to his bare chest and tried to look wounded. “You were the one that started it, Rache. You know that's not how 'spider hunt' is supposed to end.”

  “That's the way you always ended it when you did it to me,” I said indignantly, sitting up to poke him in the chest. “Every single time, buster. You always said you wouldn't tickle me and then you always did. I don't know why I kept trusting you.”

  “Trust me now,” he said, suddenly serious.

  “What?” I searched his face, confused at the abrupt shift in his mood.

  “Trust me—go on.” He was urging me to lie down on my stomach. “Let me do this, Rachel. I promise I won't tickle you.” His voice was deep again with that unspoken promise, but I tried to ignore it.

  “Do you cross your heart and hope to die?” I asked, trying to keep the child's game going so I didn't have to face any adult uncertainties.

  “Cross my heart and hope to die,” he repeated softly. “Lay down, Rachel. Let me touch you.”

  His words sent shivers down my spine, but I lay down on my stomach as he asked me and buried my head in the cool cotton side of my pillow. Then I felt a chilly breeze along my spine—he was lifting up the oversized sleep shirt I wore to expose my back.

  “Hey, wait a minute!” I reached behind me, halting his progress.

  “Can't play 'spider hunt' unless you've got a bare back. Don't you remember?” His voice was soft and soothing, making my fears seem foolish.

  “Well…” I let my hand drift back to my side, not really answering him but not stopping his actions anymore, either. I shivered as I felt the cool wind circulated by the ceiling fan caress my bare back with ticklish fingers. I expected Richard to stop when he reached my neck, but instead he pulled the shirt over my head and all the way off me, leaving me bare except for my white silk panties. I didn't protest, but I drew my arms in tight to my body, covering the sides of my breasts, all that was visible since I was lying on my stomach.

  “Relax, I'm not going to hurt you.” Richard's deep voice was so soothing, so gentle that I did feel my arms relaxing somewhat, despite the awkward position. After all, it wasn't like he could see anything with me lying face down.

  “Goin' on a spider hunt. X marks the spot…” he began, his fingers warm on my shivering skin as he drew the patterns with great deliberation. He continued with the regular words, but when he got to the first “spider bite,” I felt not his fingers on the back of my neck, but his lips instead.

  “Richard…” I half rose, then remembered my state of undress and lowered myself hastily to the bed again.

  “Shh,” he whispered, his breath warm on the back of my neck. “New rules. No tickling—just kissing. All right?”

  “I don't know,” I said fretfully, hugging my arms tight to my body. “It doesn't seem right, Richard.”

  “But it feels right,” he said, and kissed me again, this time right between my shivering shoulder blades. “Doesn't it?” he asked, withdrawing after a moment.

  “I…don't know.” I felt confused—a swirling mixture of emotions. On one hand, his touch burned me like fire—that one simple kiss to the back of my neck was like a brand on my body that would never fade. On the other hand…well, the other hand was obvious, but I didn't like to say it out loud. “We shouldn't,” I said at last, knowing it sounded weak and inadequate.

  “Just your back,” he whispered softly. “I just want to touch you a little bit, Rachel. It's been so long…”

  “I know.” At his words, the years seemed to roll between us like waves, and I could feel the longing within me that matched his own—to touch and be touched—to never let go and lose each other again. So what if his request was a little unorthodox, I argued to myself. It wasn't like he was asking to kiss my breasts or anything like that…The thought gave me an odd shiver, which I pushed quickly away.

  “Rachel?” His voice was still questioning, waiting to see what