Later, he lay awake in bed with Melinda curled into his side sound asleep. As he trailed his fingers down her hair and across her bare shoulders, he pondered his dilemma. Never in his life had he felt both sexually satisfied and utterly confused. Melinda had used very few words the entire night, letting her actions do the talking. The dinner had ended with a dessert of strawberries she’d encouraged him to dip into the cream she had spread all over her slim torso. After he licked it all off, ending at her nipples, making her squeal and moan, she’d flipped over onto all fours, wiggling her perfect ass at him so he’d taken her again, from behind this time, rutting like an animal on his threadbare living room carpet. He couldn’t refuse such bounty even though it came at the cost of his current insomniac anxiety.
He kissed her hair and she muttered something then shifted, throwing her leg over his and molding against his naked body. They’d needed a bath after all that sticky food play and so he’d washed her, lovingly, gently, until she’d threaded her fingers in his hair and yanked him close. “I don’t need coddling. I thought you’d figured that out by now?” She had shoved him down and given him a lap dance in the tub, the candle flickering, the music still playing. He had no concept of how his body had been capable, but it rose to the occasion while she loomed over him and demanded that he masturbate while she watched.
“Tell me when,” she’d said, her voice throaty with lust as he sat, jerking off in the tub. “I want to taste it.”
But he’d not done it. Something about that gave him the creeps. He’d let go of his dick and flopped into the tepid water. “No more, please. Uncle already.” She’d grinned and toweled him off then guided him to the bed where they fell in together and into sleep nearly immediately.
Now he lay awake, body sore in more places than he cared to admit, cradling the woman that he didn’t want. Kieran was nothing if not fully self-aware. He knew his own weaknesses. One of them being a near-burning desire to be with someone, all the time. Alone did not suit him at all. The thought of explaining to his parents and siblings why the horrible, cheating Melinda had been allowed once more into his life made him a little ill.
He got out from under her and stretched before heading into the kitchen for water and stood there, facing his future, pondering how he might cut the woman loose again and knowing that he wouldn’t. His phone buzzed on the counter and a text from Cara lit the screen.
Hey. I wanted to thank you. So, thank you.
He smiled and leaned against the counter, thinking about his answer. Finally he kept it simple. I hope you’re okay. Home now?
Yes.
I’m sorry about...he tapped out then deleted it, unable to finish the sentence. Anxiety tickled the base of his skull. She sent another message before he could compose something coherent.
I’m fine. Gotta rest a few days, not work. Get waited on. It’s probably for the best.
Well, I’m sure you’re in good hands there. His scalp prickled with jealousy as the deeper meaning of what, exactly, had been for the best filled his consciousness.
Yes. I am. Her words effectively dispelled his momentary fantasy of swooping in to rescue her from Kent the jerk, or Kent the abuser. He’s a good man.
Well, good for you both. ‘Night.
The ten-thousand-pound gorilla in the virtual room, the question of could the baby have been mine? went unasked. Staring at his phone, willing her to say more, to flirt, or to tell him the items on her to-do list, anything, he sucked in a breath at her next message.
No need to feel guilty. There’s no more baby to worry about so no need to fret that you might have knocked me up.
He composed half a dozen messages, deemed all of them too personal, or too long, or too strident and dialed her number twice without letting the call go through. Glaring down at the device, heart in his throat, he jumped when someone touched his shoulders. Irritated, and wishing Melinda would get the hell out and go home, leave him to mope in peace, he deleted the entire message string and held onto the woman in front of him, needing something to drown out his misery at his own failures.
His fingers twisted in her thin T-shirt, desperation filling the void Cara had left in his soul. But he took a deep breath, let go of Melinda, and took put some needed distance between them. “I don’t love you. I don’t want to marry you. You need to leave.”
The expression on her face made his inner nice guy flinch. But he wrestled that bastard down, sat on his neck, and waited while Melinda flounced to the bedroom. She remerged, dressed, pulling her long black hair into a ponytail. He waited, knowing a woman like her would never leave without the last word.