Hold on, she cautioned herself, as she angrily made her way from the bathroom to the bedroom. Perhaps, he didn't realize that it had burst.
Back in the bedroom, she opened the blinds. Bright sunlight poured into the room heating it almost instantly. Taking a deep breath, Shelly turned to the bed and said evenly, “Wake up, Guy."
He didn't respond, he didn't even move, except to tuck his hands under his pillow and snuggle deeper into bed.
"Guy!” she repeated, a bit louder. “Get up."
"Um?” Finding no solace in burying his face in the pillow, Guy lifted his head for a disoriented second. He slumped back down, this time burrowing his head under the pillow.
Wishing she had the guts, and the strength, to push his big body off the side of the bed, Shelly cried sharply, “Get up, we need to talk!"
Guy rolled over and smiled at her. It took him a minute to realize that Shelly was not smiling back. In fact, she looked close to exploding. “What?” he asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
"I want to know what happened last night,” she said, her voice edged with bitterness.
Guy sat up. He pushed a pillow behind his head, testing one of his boyish grins on her. “Well, in my opinion, it was fantastic. I had hoped you would have remembered."
"Why didn't you tell me about the condom?” she demanded. “Did you tear it intentionally?"
Offended by the charge, Guy was instantly awake. “Of course I didn't."
Heedless of her naked state, Shelly began to pace the length of the room. Although angry, Guy had to admit that she was one stunning woman.
She came around the bed and glared down at him. “You seem to want a relationship with me quite badly. How far would you go to get things your own way?"
"Not that far. Never!” He jumped up and grabbed her by the elbows. He wanted to shake some sense into her. Words certainly weren't getting through to her.
"Shit! Guy, you climaxed in me,” she said and he thought he heard the beginning of tears behind her words.
The words were ripped from his lips. “I know I did, baby, but hell, shit, I never realized the fucking condom had burst, until after it was too late."
She looked up at him. “Truly, Guy?” It was an answer she so wanted to believe.
He held her an arm's length away, his expression revealing little. “Truly. Besides, we're probably worrying about nothing. Right? Surely you're on some form of contraception?"
Shelly snorted. “I wish."
Guy's blood turned cold. “You must be on some form of contraception."
"Sorry to disappoint you.” Shelly gave a bitter laugh. “But I'm not ... There was never any need before."
"Come on,” Guy said incredulous. “You're not honestly telling me that Ted wore a condom throughout your entire relationship."
"No, he didn't need to, Ted had a vasectomy several years back. He doesn't want children, can't picture himself as a father.” She shrugged. “Frankly, I was glad of it, considering his promiscuous ways. I never needed to worry about any of his women turning up on my doorstep with a kid in tow."
Hell! Guy thought. Sometimes, if the shit was going to hit the fan, it didn't do it in small measures. But he had to reassure her somehow. “I still don't think it's as bad as you might believe, the odds are so small. Where are you in your cycle?"
"Near the end,” she admitted.
"So your period should start in just a few days?"
She nodded.
"There, then it's even better than I thought.” He hoped that his voice was convincing because he was starting to feel the first inklings of panic in his gut. He moved cautiously towards her. “Let's not spoil our last day by fighting over spilled milk."
Shelly squeezed her eyes tightly shut, as a tear slipped from beneath her eyelashes. “I don't want to spoil things either. Besides, you're right, I'm probably worrying for nothing."
Guy held her small frame close and buried his face in her hair. She probably was, he knew. But if she weren't, he would be there for her every step of the way. Hell, he'd even enjoy being there. But he couldn't admit that to her now. She might truly believe that he had sabotaged the blasted condom. Instead, he would put his hopes aside and pray that everything turned out just the way the lady wanted.
* * * *
Less than an hour later, the tropical heat was oppressive, the ocean a pale turquoise green. Guy huddled beneath the protective shade of a beach umbrella with a cooler of beer and a half-eaten bagel in his hand. A warm wind whipping around the circumference of the umbrella cast long, flickering shadows in the white sand.
He took a deep breath and tried to relax to the sound of breaking waves. But he couldn't, it was no good. Shelly was still determined to fly out of his life in a few hours. His heart was breaking and he couldn't see how he could change her mind. The worst of it was that he was sure that leaving him would break her heart just as much as it was going to break his. He removed his black sunglasses for a moment. The glinting sun irritated his eyes, then time seemed suddenly to stand still as he caught a glimpse of Shelly coming out of the foaming, white surf.
She turned more than a few male heads on her approach to him but it was no wonder. She looked wonderful in a pink bikini with water clinging in little droplets to her flaxen skin. Her long, fair, hair hanging to her hips was tousled, dripping moisture as she went. Maybe it would be the last time he ever would see her alighting from the surf. The thought settled like a heavy vice around his heart, almost crushing him.
Guy sighed. He didn't want to let her go, but she was still adamant that this should be their last day together.
"What are you thinking?"
He smiled at the gentle sound of her voice, soft, yet husky. It was a beautiful timbre. He had thought so when he first met her and he still thought so now. “About destiny, I suppose."
"Destiny?” She pursed her lips and frowned while she rubbed herself down with a towel. “That's not your usual sort of beach talk."
He wiggled an eyebrow at her, going for a lighter tone than he felt. “No, I suppose it isn't."
"So what got you thinking about destiny anyway?” Shelly spread the towel on the sand and sat down beside him.
"You,” he breathed. “I think."
"Me? Get away with you.” She playfully rolled her eyes.
Guy looked down at his hands, fiddling with a seashell for a moment. “Honestly, it's true.
Shelly buried her feet in the sand to prevent her pale ankles from blistering. After a moment, dreading and wanting the answer, she asked, “Why?"
He looked at her for a long moment. “Because I think you're amazing, and beautiful, and kind."
She blushed and trailed her fingers through the sand, sifting it.
"And because I believe it's fate that you're here now and that you and I were destined to meet."
Shelly turned to smile faintly at him. “I don't believe much in fate."
"Neither did I, until I met you. I just can't shake the feeling that we're flinging something away that was meant to be.” Guy froze, midstep. He looked at Shelly, whose face had turned ashen, as if she had been dreading his words. She blinked once, urging him to change the subject, he supposed.
But he wasn't in the mood for tiptoeing around issues any longer. Or for doing something just because it was a convenient solution for her. “Listen,” he said softly, “I don't want you to fly out of my life today, angel."
Shelly met his eyes. Her own green gaze shadowed. “We've discussed this, I can't. I wish I could stay, but I can't."
"I would like you to try. Life's about making mistakes sometimes. It's not about being too scared to make them,” Guy paused long enough to let his words sink in and make sure Shelly was listening to the rest. “I for one am willing to try. We could be good together. I know that we could and I think when you're honest with yourself, you'll know it, too.” He looked as if he was about to say something else, but then he shut his mouth and turned back to the shell. Standing in a supp
le, fluid motion, he tossed it out to sea.
"Guy?"
"Think about it, Shelly.” He bent and tenderly kissed her forehead, then walked away.
* * * *
Back at her bungalow, it took Shelly another hour to pack and bundle the souvenirs she'd bought for her family and friends back home in England into her jam-packed suitcase. Throughout that time, although she wished and prayed, Guy never came back. By the time she'd taken her suitcase to the hotel lobby, returned her key, and checked out, it was late. She only had four hours until her plane took off. The sound of Guy's voice, we could be good together; I know that we could, still echoing in her mind, Shelly for the first time in her life felt like throwing caution to the wind, taking the road that might not be the simplest nor the safest.
She found herself standing beneath a blistering blue sky outside Guy's bungalow, with her hand raised to knock.
This was stupid. She had no idea what to say to him. Lowering her hand, she turned away, then swore out loud. Then she whipped around again and knocked, before she could change her mind.
Guy answered the door shirtless. He had a book in one hand, and a pencil in the other, and seemed less than pleased with the distraction—until he saw her. “Shelly?"
She managed a small smile, though in truth, she was so nervous, her whole insides were doing funny flip-flops. Deep down, there was still this terrible fear eating at her gut that she was making a huge mistake. Screwing up her courage, she put her hands on his bare chest, leaned in, and kissed him gently on the mouth.
Shock held him immobile for only the barest of beats before he dropped the book and pencil to put his hands on her shoulders. But instead of pulling her close, he held her away and looked searchingly into her eyes. “Are ... you alone?” she asked.
"Yes.” The clipped word startled her.
Shelly was worried. He was alone. He wasn't pulling her close, and she didn't know what to do. She stared into his cerulean blue eyes. Her mind raced frantically and her heart was beating out of control. She slid her hands over his chest, over his hard pecs, his beaded dark nipples.
"Shelly ... what are you doing?” he asked in the same clipped tone.
He just looked at her. Not coldly, no, there was nothing cold in his gaze. But neither was there anything encouraging. For a moment, his detached gaze shook her. Before she took comfort in the fact that his voice was low and strained, and that he wasn't able to hide the erection bursting against his shorts, which she yearned to rub up against.
Please don't let me have blown it. I love this man. “I want to make love to you, Guy,” she whispered, her face heating under his unflinching gaze.
"You mean you want to have sex? Then fly out of my life forever."
Shelly heard the pain in his voice. It came to her suddenly that she'd hurt him, even though she believed she couldn't. She could and she had.
She turned to leave. There was nothing else left to say. “Wait!"
Shelly paused, that one word had stopped her in her tracks. Hesitantly, she turned and looked back at him.
He held his big, beautiful body rigid. “Angel, if sex is all you're offering, I'll take it."
"Oh, Guy.” Shelly ran to him. She leaned in close and put a kiss on the corner of his grim mouth, then slowly made her way over his firm lips to the corner. “I want more than just sex, much more."
He didn't look convinced, so she ran her hands down his arms to his hands, which she entwined in hers.
"Please, Guy, I want to love you.” She outlined his lower lip with the tip of her tongue, ripping a deep shudder from his big frame. “I want to love you always, please let me."
His eyes drifted shut, his thick, soot-colored lashes fanned against his cheeks and a pained look flashed across the handsome plains of his face.
"Guy, did you hear me?” An edge of worry entered Shelly's voice. Had she truly blown it, after all?
"I heard you,” he grated out. “You'll give us a chance and stay for the next few weeks. No holding back?"
"N-n-no holding back."
"Promise?"
"I promise,” she whispered.
With a rough groan, he pulled her close, hauled her up against his big, strong, masculine body.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, but he held her off another moment, looking into her eyes with a fierce passion that did funny things to her nerves.
"Say it,” he demanded. “Say that you'll give us a chance."
"I will. Here and now, and back home in England. I will give us a chance."
She'd barely gotten the words out of her mouth before he planted her up against the front door. His large frame easily held her there while his hands ran boldly up and down her body, touching every inch of her, and his mouth wreaked a bittersweet havoc on her own.
She turned her face away from his kiss and buried it against his hot chest. “Oh, Guy, I've been such a fool about this, about us."
"Sweetheart, you're not the only one,” he breathed.
Heaven, being touched like this by him was heaven on earth. “Guy, I think I love you."
He shivered, then went frighteningly still. “Say it again."
"I think I love you,” she repeated.
"Well, I don't think that I love you. I know I do.” He took her head in his big hands and ravished her mouth before lifting a fraction of an inch. “Are we clear on that, at least? I love you, angel."
Shelly just stared at him, mouth open, eyes wide. “Y ... you love me?"
"More than life itself.” He offered a grim smile. “I wasn't looking for that to happen, believe me. I thought I had all I needed. It turns out I was wrong, because I didn't have you. I've never felt this way before."
Shelly's heart rang like a bell at the sound of those words. She wriggled a little in his arms. “When did you first know that you loved me?” she asked, eager for more confidences.
"The first night I met you on the beach, just before you kicked me in the balls,” he returned promptly.
Her eyes flew open. “What?"
He grinned at her, that boyish grin she loved so much. “You stood there, looking at me with those huge green eyes. And you were so annoyed and so sweet, and so determined.” He kissed her nose. “Then the moonlight came out from behind a cloud and lightened your hair to the palest of gold."
"You're joking,” she squeaked.
"Not at all.” Slowly, he slid his stubbly jaw to hers while his fingers glided up and down her back lightly. When he bent his head, she met him halfway, her mouth open, ready and waiting for his kiss. Their hands fought for purchase, skin, clothing, it didn't matter. They couldn't get enough of each other.
"Woman, I could devour you!” he growled, while he swirled his hot tongue around and around her ear.
Shelly moaned as chills shot all over her body like red embers, scorching every inch of her. Her breasts swelled even tighter against his chest
With a gasp, she whimpered. “God, let's go to bed."
* * * *
Guy couldn't get enough of her sweet kiss. With his mouth on hers, he lifted her up against him. Although he was insane with wanting her, somehow he managed to get them through the living room to his bedroom. Setting her down gently on her feet by the bed, he tore the blankets and sheets free and turned back to her. “Angel?"
For a moment, Shelly held back. He was so large and the primal hunger in his eyes burned so intense, so bright, that it frightened her. Then he smiled and patted the bed, and she went to him. This was her Guy, her man, and he would never hurt her. Safe in the knowledge, she was prepared to give herself freely, as she had never given herself to another soul.
Having her this close again stirred Guy beyond belief. His heart raced in tune to hers and his pulsating cock grew painfully harder by the minute.
Shelly crawled on the bed and kneeled hesitantly before him, making every thought dance right out of his head. Guy joined her, slumping slightly as he knelt until they were face to face. Slowly, he reached out to run
his hands down her sides, her hips, to her thighs, which he gripped and pulled out from beneath her.
"Guy?” It was the merest breath of a question. The muscles of his shoulders bunched beneath her hands. He lifted his head so when he spoke, his hoarse reply was uttered an inch or so above her mouth.
"I would not hurt you, Shelly."
Shelly's heart sang. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, her nails dug into his smooth flesh and she smiled through her happy tears up at him.
He followed her down, meeting her waiting mouth with his, sucking in a harsh breath when her tongue tangled and danced with his. Her warm breath brushed his cheek, her long, loose hair, silky and soft, slid over his arm. He nearly inhaled her. God, he could eat her up. He was going to eat her up, just as soon as he got rid of her clothes.
Shelly wanted him so badly that it frightened her. She wanted to taste him, to touch him, to fill her senses. She wanted him to enter her, to possess her, as only he could. He wouldn't hurt her, he had given his word and she believed him.
"Guy,” she murmured. “I want you to fuck me now."
He couldn't even nod; her words had left him speechless. Only one organ was still in control and it was the pulsing hard one that was dribbling his wet juices unsatisfyingly against his pants. The one that he wanted to plunge into her creamy, hot pussy over and over again, until he climaxed the full enormity of his need.
Shelly gasped. She wasn't suffocating, she was drowning in pleasure. “Guy, fuck me, fuck me hard. Forget about making love, just do me, now, right here ... t ... this minute."
He pressed his hips forward to show her what she did to him. In response, she dug her nails into his butt, pulling him harder against her. With an impatient groan, Guy stood up and literally ripped the clothes from his body.
Shelly's amused smile faded when she clapped eyes on his large cock sticking out from its bushy mound of pubic hair. It was so long and thick and reached well past his belly button. She saw the unmistakable sliver of sperm on its tip. Like a woman that had gone a week without water in the desert, she swallowed and asked in a raspy voice. “Can I lick you?"
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