Bachelor Mother (9 page)

His hands urged her legs apart even father. She closed her eyes, writhing sensuously against the caresses of those knowing fingers. She wanted him, wanted him to complete what he’d started. A part of her thought she would never be satisfied, that he’d never be able to stop her body’s desperate, yearning plea for more and more sensation.

She was ready to scream when he delayed their joining, simply lying between her thighs, letting her cradle his hot, aroused body as he kissed her neck. Feeling she was in danger of dying if she didn’t know everything about him now, if she didn’t have him in the most intimate way, she reached down and touched him, closed her fingers around him, urged him toward her.

It was if she’d released his restraint. He held both her hands in his, above her head, then took her in one long, powerful thrust, driving deeply inside. He caught her lips in a kiss, caught the scream before it escaped her mouth, then lay silently, letting her adjust to the feel of him inside her.

She hadn’t known it was possible to burn so deeply, to feel every part of where he was. Not wanting to wait, she moved her hips against his, strangely satisfied when she heard a supremely masculine groan. And then he was moving in powerful strokes that seemed to ripple through her entire body. Her hands slid down his back as if each had a will of its own, clasping his buttocks tightly, feeling the muscles move as he did. She felt him pull her hair slightly as he lowered his face to hers, kissing her deeply, intimately.

Nothing mattered except the feel of his body against hers, inside hers. She obeyed his silent commands willingly, wrapping her legs around his waist when his shaking hand eased one of her legs up, arching her hips against his when his fingers dug into her buttocks, meeting each of his thrusts with her own. Nothing existed except him, what he was doing to her, what he was making her feel.

How long he made love to her didn’t matter. All that did was that she recognized the resurgence of that feeling again and moved toward it, not away. Never away. Each motion of her body, each time she answered his thrusts with one of her own, brought her closer to what she wanted most.

When she ceased to think of Bubba, when her body began to respond again with a feeling of tightened anticipation, she heard his breath rasp harshly against her ear. Then his body stiffened slightly and she felt his release. It was all she needed. This time she jumped willingly into sensation, letting it claim total control of her body as it tightly sheathed his.

Minutes later, hours later, all sense of time suspended, she snuggled her cheek against his chest. He lay by her side, his arms warm around her, a safe haven cushioning her, protecting her. She felt his lips move against her ear, kissing her softly. His breath was still coming out in panting gasps. Her own seemed to burn into her lungs, as if she’d quickly traveled a long distance.

Didn’t you?
  He had to know what it meant to her, how much he'd shown her. Given her. Even if he hadn’t given her a child, he’d given her back her body. For now that was more than enough.

“Thank you, Bubba.” The words were barely whispered against his chest, but by the slight tightening of his arms, she knew he’d heard them. She pressed her cheek more firmly against his muscled chest, breathed in the now familiar scent of him. She kissed his skin, tasted the slightly salty taste then couldn’t move. Every muscle in her body relaxed. Held in his arms, Mel felt herself dropping, falling.

She closed her eyes and, exhausted, slept.

Bubba woke with a deep feeling of contentment. He wasn’t quite sure why, as he drifted in that place between dreams and total awakening. He was dimly aware of a head pillowed on his shoulder, of soft fragrant hair everywhere.

Slowly, the entire evening began to come back to him.

He opened one eye, glanced down. Mel was curled up next to him, her head snuggled in the crook of his arm. Neither of them had moved last night. Both of them had dropped off into the deepest sleep possible.

His arm was starting to fall asleep but he didn’t move it, simply continued to study the face of the woman beside him.

Phillip
used to tell me I was cold.
His free hand clenched in mute fury. It always amazed him, the men he knew who were so blasé about the emotional damage they inflicted on women. Phillip, the little bastard, had probably said that because Mel hadn’t unzipped his pants and knelt and paid homage to him the minute he walked in the door. So she’d carried a load of inadequacy around with her, feeling 
she
  was at fault.

What was that bumper sticker he’d seen on the Ventura Freeway the other day? It had made him laugh, coming very close to his own sentiments on the subject.
There Are No Frigid Women – Only Inadequate Men
. He could understand either a man or a woman not having a whole lot of experience. Even though he had quite a reputation, he hadn’t had
that
  many sexual partners. Most of his affairs had been long range, not one night stands. He didn’t really believe there was a great deal of joy for either person that way. After all, if things were good, who wouldn’t want to go back for more?

But to
use
  someone, to fill another person’s emotions full of your own inadequacies – Phillip had to be one of the lowest forms of vermin to walk the earth.

His arm was hurting now and he eased it gently out from beneath Mel’s head. She looked like a sleeping angel, her long blond hair spread all around her. Her eyes were closed. She was still breathing deeply. Her lips were a soft pink, slightly swollen. But her face was utterly relaxed. Peaceful.

Last night had surprised him.
Correction,
he amended silently.
She surprised you.
He’d wanted Mel to enjoy the experience, not have to feel like a mare chained up in a breeding stall.

But you didn’t think she’d enjoy herself quite so much.
He grinned. She deserved some happiness after what she’d been through with Phillip. The woman he’d made love to in the dark last night had been a fantastic partner. Warm, willing, sensual, she’d urged him on and on until he’d almost thought he was near collapse.

Even if she hasn’t conceived, it was good for her. Hell, it was good for you. It was great.

He slid out of bed as noiselessly as possible.
Let her sleep.
He crossed the bedroom to his dresser and pulled out a navy blue T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts. Picking up his running shoes, he opened the bedroom door quietly and stepped out into the hallway, shutting it behind him.

He dressed quickly outside the door, not wanting to take any chances of waking her and walked carefully down the stairs. As he swung open the kitchen door, the sight that greeted him almost made him burst out laughing.

Henry lay prone on the tile floor, on his back. Small pieces of pizza crust lay strewed across the floor. One yellow feline eye opened lazily. Then Henry blinked both eyes, yawned, then stretched.

“So you had a good night, eh, Hen?” He reached into the cupboard and took out the mangled bag of cat chow. If he didn’t feed Henry now, no matter how full the cat was, Henry would bound up the stairs and scratch on the door, meowing pitifully. As fat as Henry got, he still acted as if he were starving. There was a part of him that would always be hungry in that dumpster.

As Henry started to crunch away at his food, Bubba changed the water in his bowl and left the kitchen. He grabbed his house key from the table by the door and let himself out.

* * *

Mel drifted awake slowly, not wanting to give up the total relaxation that had swept through her body. It was so quiet, so dark, the quilt over her so warm and comforting. Nothing at all like her own bedroom. Her curtains let in more sunlight. She was usually up with the dawn.

She opened her eyes. As she looked sleepily around the bedroom, she recognized it as Bubba’s.

Oh my God. Now I remember.
She could feel her face starting to burn up again. What could he possibly think of her? Like a quickly cut film, images of the night before ran through her mind at lightning speed. Moans, groans, sensuous moves – in the bright light of day, it was embarrassing once again.

She sat up in bed, the covers falling away. He wasn’t there. The house was too quiet. Mel combed her fingers through her hair then reached down for her underwear. It wasn’t with her clothing. Blushing again, she stretched her legs and discovered both silken scraps pushed to the foot of the bed. Donning them quickly, she grabbed her jeans and stood up, then pulled them on. Her sweater was next. Then she slipped on her sandals.

She didn’t bother with her hair, simply grabbed her shoulder bag and started for the door. What to say? What to do?
Thanks, Bubba, for such a swell evening.
She grimaced. It had been so much more than that. How had he reached so effortlessly inside her? It seemed that he’d taken hold of the sensual side of her nature and brought it to the surface. She’d bloomed beneath his touch, found feelings inside she’d never experienced with any other man.

You need some time to think about all this.
  She ran rapidly down the stairs, then to the front door, when a dismaying thought crossed her mind. Gabe was always out in her garden on weekdays and if she saw Melanie come out of Bubba’s front door at this time of morning…

It would practically be on the four o’clock news by the end of the day. She couldn’t put Bubba through their neighborhood grapevine. After all, she wasn’t really a
girlfriend
. What if he already had someone he cared about? How would she feel? Mel hadn’t thought about this before and now she chewed her bottom lip nervously as she glanced at the front door.

Bubba with a girlfriend. The thought was disquieting. She didn’t like the feelings welling up inside her so she consciously tamped them down and walked over to the sliding glass door in his living room. It overlooked the patio, with its barbecue and hot tub.

She unlocked the door and slid it open, then stepped outside, closing it after her. Crossing his backyard, she threw her bag over the chain link fence, then clambered up over it and dropped into her side of the yard. Taking her keys out of her purse, she let herself into the house using the back door.

Knowing Bubba wasn’t home, she called him on her phone and the call went to voicemail.

“Bubba, it’s Mel. I just wanted you to know I left your sliding glass door unlocked, so you have to lock it again.” She paused for a second then raced on. “I wanted to… thank you for last night. You were… I just… Thank you, Bubba. I’ll let you know what happens as soon as I know.”

She paused for a second longer. There had to be a way to let him know whether she was pregnant or not without telling him face-to-face. That way, he could make the next move. Because she didn’t know whether Bubba was going to want to continue helping her. She rushed on. “If I’m pregnant, I’ll run up my rainbow wind sock. If I’m not, I’ll run up the green-and-white one.” There. That left the next move up to him. He could even think about it for a few days if he wanted to.

“Take care, Bubba, and thanks again.”

She disconnected the call, feeling strangely empty inside and wishing she had the right to meet Bubba when he came back from his run, maybe fix some breakfast together, lie out on the patio and talk. But she couldn’t. She’d already asked enough of him. The next move had to be his.

Sighing, she settled herself by a window to watch for him. From her vantage point in the second story of her house, she could see his backyard and his front door. She’d make sure Bubba came home before anyone found out his house was unlocked.

She owed him that much, at least.

* * *

Bubba walked the last three blocks, letting deep breaths calm him.

What exactly would he say to Mel? As much as he’d claimed last night wouldn’t affect their friendship in any way, he was beginning to see her in a completely different light.

His steps quickened. Perhaps if she was still in his bed, he could simply lie down next to her and wake her with his kisses. Tell her he thought maybe they should explore their new relationship. Talk about what had happened between them last night.

He opened the front door, bounded inside and ran up the stairs to his bedroom.

Empty.

The sheets were still tangled, the drapes still drawn. There was nothing left to remind him of Mel except the slightest hint of her perfume on one of the pillows. Or perhaps it was the scent of the shampoo she used.

Bubba was surprised at the sense of disappointment that filled him. He’d looked forward to sharing the day with her. He’d thought about her while he’d jogged, about the two of them lying out on his patio together, then later driving to the market and picking up something to barbecue. And tonight –

She wants a child, not necessarily a man in her life.
The thought was sobering. She’d come to him as a last resort, not for anything resembling a permanent relationship.

Call her
. He didn’t keep a phone anywhere near his bedroom, not liking the invasion of his privacy, so he went downstairs to the living room.

He picked up his cell and saw that she’d called him and it had gone straight to voicemail.

“Bubba, it’s Mel.” Her voice sounded tentative, unsure. He glanced at his sliding door as she continued talking, then he listened carefully to the rest of her message. A wind sock? Why couldn’t she just come over and tell him?

Maybe she’s feeling a little strange after last night.
  It had been a major deviation from their normal relationship. Perhaps she’d woken up uncomfortable with the idea of a friend suddenly turned into a lover.

He played the message a second time, listening carefully. That was it. He knew Mel, knew her well enough he could predict some of her actions. She needed time alone, time to sort out how she felt. It was a momentous decision to have a child. He couldn’t forget that her emotions were just as caught up in that as in having made love with him last night.

When her message finished, he walked over and locked the sliding door.