Bachelor Mother (15 page)

“Come on, put this on.”

She lifted up her arms and he slid the shirt over her. It was perfect. While she didn’t look like something on the cover of
Sports Illustrated
, at least she was comfortable.

She rolled up the sleeves, then took up the slack at the bottom and tied it in a knot at the side. “Thanks, Bubba.”

“Hey, you look great. You design sweaters – they’ll think it’s the latest fashion. Do you feel better?”

She nodded her head. He took her hand and they walked back out to the patio.

It turned out to be a fun evening. Mel picked at a chicken breast and concentrated on the fresh fruit salad. Later in the evening, she leaned back in the hot tub and felt her body begin to unwind.

“I love that T-shirt, the way you tied it. That’s a big look this fall, isn’t it? The kind of oversize look, I mean.” Laurie’s dark eyes sparkled, her hair curled damply around her face.

Oversize is right.
“Yes, it is.” She almost jumped as she felt Bubba give the part of her arm that was underneath the water a quick squeeze. “All the sweaters I knit for fall and winter were unstructured. They’re just so easy to pull on.”

When there was a lull in her conversation with Laurie, she glanced over at Bubba. He was smiling and she smiled back – genuinely this time.

She enjoyed herself. Laurie and Terry were fun to talk to. By the end of the evening, Laurie had promised to stop by her shop. All four of them had agreed they had to take in a movie or spend a day at the beach, just to get together again.

She helped Bubba clean up, being careful not to concentrate on the food. When the last container of food was in the refrigerator and the patio was completely cleaned up, she went back into the bathroom and changed into her jeans and sweatshirt.

He was in the living room lighting a fire when she walked in.

“I had a terrific time. They’re really nice. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“I’m glad.” He sat down on the couch and patted the space beside him. “Sit down and catch me up on things.”

She wasn’t quite sure what he meant and was surprised when he asked her about her doctor’s visits, how she was feeling, what she was eating and if she was taking vitamins.

After an initial hesitation, she felt it all come spilling out of her.
This
  was what she’d wanted – someone to share all of it with.

When there was a lull in the conversation, she yawned, trying to smother the yawn with her hand so he wouldn’t notice.

“I’m tiring you out,” he said softly. “Lie down on the end of the couch while I fix the fire, then I’ll walk you home.”

When he finished he stood up and turned toward her, but she was already fast asleep.

* * *

As she started to drift awake, she smiled. It was so warm and cozy, so peaceful. Something was snapping in the background and she wasn’t sure what it was. She must have fallen asleep on her sofa again. She recognized the feel of an afghan on top of her, a pillow beneath her head.

But when she slowly opened her eyes, she realized she wasn’t at home. Bubba was sitting on the far end of the long couch. The afghan covering her was the one she’d crocheted for his last birthday. The pillow was from his bedroom. It even had his scent on it.

He was studying her. Something flickered in his eyes so quickly she wasn’t sure if it was a reflection from the fire or just her imagination. Then he smiled at her, reached down and squeezed her foot through the afghan.

“You went out like a light so I let you sleep.”

Her hair had come undone from its casual topknot, so as she sat up she pulled out the rest of the pins and let it cascade around her shoulders. Pushing the heavy mass back with her fingers, she stretched slightly.

“I should be heading back.”

“No hurry. If you want to, you can crash on the couch. It’s Sunday tomorrow, you can sleep in. It won’t bother me at all.”

It was appealing, the thought of not moving when she felt so good. “You don’t have to twist my arm,” she said, snuggling beneath the afghan.

He stared at her for a moment longer then said quietly, “I’ll lock up, then.”

She lay against the pillow, listening to the sounds he made as he locked the sliding door and then pulled the drapes shut. Lights were clicked off until the only illumination came from the fire.

He tossed another T-shirt near her feet. “I thought it might be a little uncomfortable, sleeping in your clothes.”

“Thanks.” She waited until he headed upstairs and the house was silent to pull her sweatshirt over her head, unhook her bra and pull on the T-shirt. It smelled of Bubba, too, of the clean scent of the laundry soap she knew he used. Sliding her jeans off, she dropped her clothes on the floor and curled up under the afghan.

Within minutes, she was asleep again.

* * *

When she woke up to a darkened living room it took her a minute to figure out why. Then she heard the slight noise in the kitchen – the refrigerator door shutting, the sound of liquid being poured.

She sat up on the couch, glancing in the direction of the noise. Bubba came back out of the kitchen, dressed in a pair of running shorts, a glass in his hand.

“Bubba?”

He stopped. “Damn, Mel, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What’s wrong?”

He smiled. “The barbecue sauce was a little too spicy for me. I got thirsty.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want something to drink?”

“I’d love it. I’ll – ” She stopped in midsentence, realizing she had nothing on but a T-shirt and her panties. She couldn’t just hop off the couch and parade in front of him.

“Stay there. I’ll get you something. Orange juice okay?”

“Fine.”

When he came back out of the kitchen, he sat down on the end of the couch and they drank in silence. The fire was reduced to glowing embers but the living room still felt warm.

She set her glass down on the coffee table and sighed. “Thanks. That was great.”

“No problem.”

She realized he was about to leave so she spoke quickly. “Bubba, I wanted to thank you for letting me ramble on about everything. It felt so good, sharing it all with you. It’s so hard, sometimes, to keep it all bottled up inside.”

“You can tell me anything, Mel.”

“Oh, Bubba.” She leaned forward in a purely spontaneous gesture, wound her arms around his neck and kissed him.

She felt his body tense for a fraction of a second then his arms came up around her, holding her close. With a quickness that astonished her, the kiss deepened, changed from friendly to totally erotic. Not thinking, not
wanting
  to think, she answered him, parting her lips and offering him anything he wanted to take from her.

He broke the kiss as abruptly as the mood had shifted, picked up the glasses and strode quickly into the kitchen. Mel sat in the dark, her fingers lightly touching her lips. That one kiss brought back all her memories of the few nights she’d spent with him. She’d pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, partially because they scared her and partially because she didn’t want to lose the friendship she had with him.

Yet she yearned to touch him again, to experience the feelings she’d only felt with him. If she were totally honest with herself, she wanted to be close to him, to share, to be held in his arms, to hold him, to comfort and be comforted. To love him.

She felt his presence before he stopped by the sofa.

“I’m sorry, Mel. I didn’t have anything like that in mind when I asked you if you wanted to sleep on the couch. I want you to believe that.”

“I do,” she whispered.

“Good night – ” He stopped talking as she linked her fingers with his, then stood up, letting the afghan fall away from her.

“I do believe you,” she said softly, standing against him and sliding her arms up around his neck. “But I don’t want you to go upstairs.”

“Mel, I – ”

“Don’t talk, Bubba. Please don’t talk.”

Then what she’d felt in his kiss became reality. His large hands slid slowly over her back and her hips, then cupped her buttocks and pulled her against him as he lowered his mouth to hers.

Everything she’d ever wanted was in that kiss, bringing her blood to life, making her tremble in anticipation. She didn’t want him to go slowly, didn’t want them both to wait for what was ahead. There was so much left to explore with this man, a lifetime’s worth of sensual, loving feelings.

Her legs were shaking as he lowered her to the couch. Within seconds she was lying on top of him, between his legs, as he cradled her face with his hands and continued to kiss her. A hard knot of tension began to build inside her, demanding to be set free. Wanting to journey quickly to that point, she answered his kisses with her own, letting him know by her slight aggression that she was impatient for him, hungry for the feel of his naked body next to hers.

As if he were able to guess what was inside her head, he reached for the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it up, easing his hands underneath, holding her sides. Just the tips of his long fingers brushed the sides of her breasts and she groaned against his mouth, wanting more. Needing more. How had he reduced her to a quivering mass of need within minutes of his first kiss?

It was the same for him. She knew it on an entirely instinctive, feminine level. She knew it by the way his muscled body shuddered slightly when she ran her fingers down his chest, touched the flat, male nipples. His arms were tense with suppressed energy, holding everything in check for her.

“Touch me,” she whispered, breaking the kiss to tell him what she wanted, surprised at the words that seemed to spring out of her mouth with a will of their own. In answer, he slowly stripped the shirt off her. When he tossed it to the floor, he grasped her buttocks and pulled her slowly, pleasurably, up the length of his body until he could reach the tip of her breast with his lips.

He suckled gently at first, as if afraid of hurting her. She moaned, low in her throat, as he kissed first one, then the other. There was nothing for her but his touch, the feel of his lips, the warmth of his hard, muscled body beneath hers. Heat seemed to radiate up from him, rushing through her body in shimmering waves. They were lifting her, pressing her closer against him.

She felt his hands move down her back, underneath the elastic band, skimming off the last barrier. She welcomed it, answering him by easing her fingers down the front of his shorts and cupping part of the hard, hot proof of his masculinity in her hand. He made an anguished sound in the back of his throat when she touched him, his head went back and he gasped as if he’d run a long distance. Swiftly she peeled away the last piece of clothing and lay down on top of him once again.

He shifted to his side, bringing her along with him. Still, he held her body against his as if by doing so he could meld their skins together, merge them into each other. He continued to kiss her as his hands explored her slowly, drawing out the exquisite agony of anticipation. She didn’t protest when he eased her leg up over his, when his fingers stroked her inner thighs and moved upward.

She reached for him, wanting him to move inside her, touch her as deeply as possible. But he stilled her hand, took it and paced it around his neck.

“Wait. Just a little more.”

He touched her again, gently opening her, moving directly to her center and starting a deep, inner pulsing, a burning ache. She buried her face against his neck as her legs started to tremble. She could hear his deep breathing, feel the steady, rapid beating of his heart. It seemed to merge with hers, drumming her blood wildly through her body until she thought she would burn right out of her skin.

He slowly eased her beneath him, sliding her legs wide apart, touching her the entire time. He kissed her flushed face, then caught her lips with his, covering her mouth with his own at the same moment his body moved. A slow silken movement, it brought him right to the heart of her. He entered her slowly, carefully, all the more sensuous for controlling his power.

She broke the kiss, a sob escaping her as she climaxed powerfully, just his touch enough to set her on fire. The feel of his heat and strength, the deepness and fullness of his thrust, everything melded in a white-hot burst of sensation that caused her hips to jerk up tautly against him, caused her to cry out his name as he lay perfectly still, imbedded inside her.

He waited until she could bear sensation again then began to move – slow, deep, pleasurable thrusts. This time she concentrated on him, wanting him to receive as much pleasure as she had. But he caught her up in the heat of his possession, so much so that when she peaked again her fingers clenched the hard muscles in his shoulders as if trying to climb inside his body and be one with him forever.

As their breathing slowed and their heartbeats stopped racing there was no need to pull up the afghan. Melanie had never felt so warm, so flushed with pleasure, as she curled up against his hard body. There wasn’t anything soft about Bubba, he was all masculine muscle and strength. She snuggled closer as his arm came around her shoulders, pillowed her cheek against his hair-roughened chest.

Neither of them spoke. What had happened had robbed them of words. She closed her eyes, feeling his hand gently stroking her back, knowing she wanted to wake up and have that same hand touching her, his arm securely around her, holding her close to his heart.

* * *

It could have been minutes or hours, Bubba wasn’t sure which, before his eyes fluttered open. The living room was dark. The fire had died to a few glowing embers.

His arm was falling asleep.
Now that’s romantic
, he thought as he eased his arm out from underneath Mel’s cheek. She didn’t wake as he slowly got up off the couch and went upstairs. Grabbing two pillows and several blankets, he went back downstairs and put them by the fire. He studied Mel, curled up underneath the afghan he’d tucked around her.

You can’t go on this way any longer.
He knew what he felt. The hard thing would be convincing Mel. He was scared to talk to her about his new, deep feelings for her because he was convinced she'd push him away. Even as a child Mel had never wanted pity. She’d been independent and tough, the result of being the youngest in her family.