He regarded her, his eyes troubled. “I love you, marry me."
Shelly's heart started pounding until she heard nothing but the rush of blood in her ears as she listened to him plan out their lives.
"We can obtain a marriage certificate fairly quickly and then if we don't invite any guests, we speed up the process."
She bit the inside of her cheek and tried to think rationally. She'd always pictured a somewhat, more romantic proposal from the man she loved. “I can't,” she said tonelessly. “After Ted, I—"
"Forget Ted,” he growled, his words suddenly harsh.
Shelly's small glimmer of hope, of a happy future, frizzled away to a cold, icy nothingness. “I can't."
Guy said determinedly, “Listen, I love you and I'm not leaving here until you come to your senses."
Shelly would see about that. With a sweet smile on her lips, she walked to the microwave. Opening the plastic containers with the same sweet smile, she deposited their contents right in Guy's lap.
She looked at him. He hadn't moved and his determined expression hadn't changed “Well, aren't you going to say something?” she demanded.
He smiled at her and suavely picked a long noodle from his hair before pulling her easily towards him.
He was close enough that she felt the movements of his wide chest with every breath. Without warning, warmth licked through her as their eyes met and held. The heat in his caused her heartbeat to accelerate. She didn't realize she had whispered his name, until he smiled and repeated her name back. She wasn't sure who'd moved first, but by that time, it didn't matter, since the melting together was a mutual effort. His hair was soft under her fingers, just the way she remembered it, his body hot and hard as it pressed into hers, his mouth sweet and urgent. Somehow, Shelly's universe was finally just as it should be.
A car horn beeped, and a dog barked its answer somewhere along the street, interrupting the moment. The kiss ended, but their embrace didn't, not right away.
Shelly...” he whispered hoarsely, his mouth at her ear, his arms tightening around her. She turned her face into his neck, and felt at home. In fact, she felt ... in love and it was all his fault.
Oh, Lord. Things were getting way out of hand.
He murmured again, “I want to make love to you?"
Shelly shouldn't really, she knew but then, it had been so very long. She had missed him, missed the feel of his hands, his cock.
When his lips met hers, she made no protest, so Guy allowed the kiss to deepen. Cupping the back of her head with his hand, he used the other to pull her more firmly against his chest.
Shelly whimpered. His erection, pressing against her belly, was as hard as steel. Only then did she realize how much she'd longed for it. After a bit of fumbling, she pulled down his zipper and slipped her hand inside the opening, slipping her fingers beneath his briefs, until she found what she wanted.
Guy groaned as her cool fingers circled, then gripped the head of his cock. He hadn't had a woman in months. He'd had offers, of course but none seemed to compare to Shelly. Now her gentle touch caused the fire to rise in his veins. With his arm, he swept the tabletop clear, and cupping her bum, placed her on it.
Shelly gave a little start as plates, cutlery, and all else tumbled to the floor. She looked up; Guy's eyes were smoldering. Mesmerized, she watched as his hand dove into the front of his trousers and pulled out his cock. He stroked the tip absently a few times, then he stooped and pushed her legs apart. She still couldn't take her eyes off of him and so it was that she watched as he undid the buttons of her baggy cords and pulled them down her legs and off her feet. Her panties followed in short order and ended up on the kitchen floor.
Guy spread her legs wide and looked at the view that presented itself. Her fanny, hairier than it had been on the Maldives since she no longer shaved her bikini line, took his breath away. Rubbing his hand through her pubic hair, he ran his hand down along her crack but didn't enter the tight opening. After so long having been denied, he wanted his cock to be the first to enter her.
Shelly read the unmistakable hunger in his eyes. “Guy ... Guy, please be careful."
"Don't worry, angel, I have protection."
Shelly closed her eyes. She hadn't even thought about protection, it was a useless measure now, since she was already with child. She wanted him to be gentle for the sake of the baby.
She didn't need to fear because when Guy entered her, he moved with a slow, sweet reverence that sent shivers down her spine. His cock slid in and out of her, filling her, but not violently so.
Guy closed his eyes as the feeling brought on by her tightness continued to build around the tip of his cock. She was as good as he remembered. To be inside her was heaven, pure heaven on earth.
Opening his eyes again, he stared at the sight before him. The way Shelly's eyes were closed shut and the little panting sounds she made drove him wild with desire. The pale hair of her fanny contrasted starkly with his black pubic hair. The way his cock slid in and out of her, covered in a glistening sheen from her juices, his belly flat and much browner, contrasted sharply against the porcelain skin of her spread thighs.
With one final thrust, Guy climaxed. Shuddering and soaked with perspiration, he leaned forward and kissed her temple. “God, you have no idea how much I missed doing that."
Shelly almost smiled. If Guy had missed making love to her only half as much as she'd missed making love to him, she could.
Huskily, he murmured against her throat, “Let's go to bed, angel. I've missed you so incredibly. I've missed your little body."
"No,” she croaked, pushing him away with two hands, the old worries and fears pressing in around her. “Claire's here—"
He gave her a crooked smile. “Angel, we just did it on the kitchen table. If she didn't hear us panting, then she certainly would have heard the dishes falling."
Shelly flushed and ignored him. “And well, I have to get a man in to clean the carpet and ... And I still don't know if I have forgiven you.” Pulling her jumper down, she jumped from the table. “You should go. I don't want to get involved with you, Guy."
His voice held none of the hurt he felt. “You don't want to marry me?"
She stared at him for a while, a hand on her forehead, pushing her hair back. “Please just go."
He winced and shoved his genitals back in his pants. “You're right, I have to change. Spaghetti sauce doesn't look all that appetizing on your clothes,” he said as he exited the homely room with as much dignity as his breaking heart would allow him to muster, leaving his very being, along with the woman that he loved, behind.
* * * *
An hour later, Guy rang Shelly's front doorbell, then waited for the door to open. He was fully prepared to sacrifice his foot to keep the door open when Shelly tried to slam it in his face.
But it was Claire, the plump, little brunette, who opened the door. “Ah right, dead man ringing,” she said, grinning from ear to ear, rolling her R's in the true Scottish fashion. “I was told to say that Shelly's not at home if you showed up. So you've wasted your time, screwed up big time. Sorry, she's not home."
"Close the door, Claire,” Guy warned, “and I'm in there anyway in five minutes, even if I have to burst through it."
"You're being a bully,” Claire said, wagging a pudgy finger at him. “Shame on you."
"Claire, come on. She poured two plates of spaghetti in my lap less than two hours ago. Bully does not even begin to describe what I can be. Now, are you going to let me in, or am I going to let myself in? I'm game either way. Even if I have to climb up the bloody drainpipe."
"Oh, wow.” Claire giggled. “I bet you had a fun drive home."
"First, I had a fun ten-minute walk to my car, then I had a fun drive home. And that was only after being followed along the street by two hungry dogs, intent on licking their breakfast from my crotch."
By this point, Claire was leaning against the door, choking with silent laughter. “You poor thing.
Oh, come on. Come in. I'll have to tell her that you threatened me or something, though."
"Tell her anything you like. Just make sure that she is downstairs and ready to talk sensibly with me in five minutes."
Claire allowed her eyes to roam a moment over his sexy, muscular body. “Very masterful, aren't you? You dominate in a rugged way. I like that in a man. Excuse me, while I drool."
"Would you just go and fetch her, please?” Guy said, but he laughed. While she left, he waited in the narrow, blue wallpapered hallway and studied the family snapshots that lined the walls. There was one of a young Shelly, eight or nine, sitting on a man's lap, he presumed it must be her father. Then an older one, taken at university, her cute little body dressed in a short orange mini skirt, purple socks and shirt. The hair, tied back in a neat braid, he'd come to recognize. As he stared into the younger face of the woman he knew, it came to him again just how much he truly loved her. The voices, which had been little more than a gentle murmur coming from upstairs, were definitely getting louder. He listened, he couldn't understand the words, but he recognized the angry tone.
He sure as hell recognized the sound of stamping feet followed by the slamming of a door.
"Okay, that decides it,” he said out loud, heading for the stairs.
Claire was on her way down. She stopped on the third step from the top and spread her pudgy arms wide to block his progress. “No, wait. You can't go up there; she's in a real state. Maybe you really should come back another time."
"Out of my way, Claire, I have to see her."
After a second or two, Claire relented. “Okay, it's your funeral buddy, not mine."
Guy took the remaining stairs two at a time, then hesitated for only a moment before turning to his left at the top of the landing, heading for the one closed door in the hallway.
It was unlocked. Hell, he'd expected it to be barred and bolted.
It was a nice room, with rich blue and yellow drapes and spread. The furniture was distinctly masculine, though. He hadn't thought Shelly would have gone in for such a thing. Then he remembered, until recently, she'd probably shared the room with Ted. Next, he noted there was a king-sized bed with an assortment of cushions, cream and gold striped wallpaper, a dressing table loaded with family photographs and the uniquely jasmine scent of Shelly's perfume dancing lightly in the air—but no Shelly.
He opened the door to his left and closed it again when he saw nothing but clothing hanging on wooden racks.
That left one more door.
It was locked.
"Shelly?” he said as he tapped lightly on the door with his knuckles. “You in there?"
"Go away!"
Guy was worried; she didn't sound good. There was a moment's silence, then quite distinctly, he heard her retch into the toilet bowl.
He twisted the door handle, worry tightening his gut. “That's enough, you're ill, let me in."
"Just go away.” The words from the other side of the door were weaker than before, barely audible.
Guy's heart began to thump against his ribcage. She sounded really ill. Worried for her safety, his voice, when he spoke, came out more forceful than he had intended. “Look, Shelly, let me in. If you don't, I'll break the door down. One kick, that's all it will take.” Looking at the thick wooden door before him, he thought in all probability that he would only end up breaking his foot but the lady didn't have to know that.
A second later, he heard the satisfying sound of a key turning in the lock. He walked into a large, old-fashioned bathroom with small, dark green tiles on the floor. He was shocked into stillness at the sight of Shelly bent over the toilet, her hair astray and her housecoat hanging open, retching violently once more.
The strong, pungent smell of sickness assaulted his nostrils. “Have you seen a doctor?"
"Yes.” The lie came easily, as she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. “I have an upset tummy, it's been queasy the last few days."
Guy looked skeptical. “There aren't any viruses going around that I know of. My practice certainly hasn't had any reported cases."
Shelly tried her best to scowl up at him; he couldn't be allowed to guess the truth. If he knew that she was pregnant, then she would have a much harder time trying to get rid of him. “Do you want my doctor's number then?"
"No."
"Are you sure? Only you seem not to believe me."
"No, look.” He shoved his hands deeply into the pockets of his jeans. “I just wanted to talk with you."
Shelly took a deep breath and tried not to be sick. “Now's not a good time. Besides, we sorted everything. Remember?” She stood up, flushed the toilet, and tied the ties of her housecoat around her waist and went to curl up on her bed.
Guy followed her and sat on the edge of the bed. It wasn't too hard, or too soft, comfortable, is what he could call it. Yes, she had a comfortable bed.
She looked at him fleetingly. “So talk."
Now came the hard part. There had been a well of conflicting emotions in those green eyes. All the words he'd prepared for the last two hours seemed to have simply flown from his head. He cleared his throat. “Despite what you said earlier, I still believe that you have some feelings for me. But for some reason, you're just too scared to accept them."
He paused, looking at her searchingly. Shelly nodded. “Go on."
He dropped his gaze to the floor. “I've been asked to go to America to help research an experimental vascular surgical procedure being conducting in the States. The British government wants myself and some of my colleagues to learn the mechanics behind it. While there, we'll also be taking a look at some of the new cost effective female contraceptives which the Americans have invented that are not on the market yet, to predict their possible use in European markets."
Shelly couldn't help the twisted smile, which curved her lips. If she'd had some of these new contraceptives, would she be in the pickle she found herself in now?
"I'll be leaving tomorrow,” Guy continued in what she supposed was the same carefully modulated tone he used when delivering bad news to his patients.
Shelly couldn't let him see her disappointment, or the stupid tears that she was sure were gathering in her eyes. She blinked rapidly, working hard at keeping her voice cool and distant. “That sounds marvelous, those sort of opportunities don't come along everyday."
"I know,” he muttered quietly. “The thing is, you see, I don't want to go if you tell me now that there could be a possible chance for us. Well, I have my practice here—"
"There isn't,” she said flatly.
"You're sure?” he asked tiredly, his blue eyes troubled. “I'll take the position then. I could be away for months."
Shelly screwed her wavering reserve up into a small, tight knot and nodded. The disappointment in his handsome face broke her heart all over again. She'd have given anything in that moment to please him and to satisfy the unbearable longing within her, if only she could. Feeling lost, inadequate, and chilled, she asked brightly, “Where will you be based?"
He gazed down at her desolately. “New York."
Shelly tried to sound happy, tried to sound as though her heart weren't breaking. “You'll have a fantastic time."
Guy nodded, although he knew that every minute of every day would be empty without her. Touching her cheek with his fingertips, he stood up, his eyes dark and sad. He wouldn't beg again. He'd begged and groveled long enough at the woman's feet. Thing is, if there was even a glimmer of hope that she would change her mind, and give them a chance, he knew that he would grovel until the end of time. Unfortunately for him though, there wasn't.
Controlling his voice, so supreme an effort alone, he said, “Get back to that doctor of yours if your condition doesn't improve."
Shelly nodded listlessly.
He paused in the doorway, then turned back, almost as if he had forgotten something. “Despite how things have turned out, I'll never regret us, angel."
Shelly watched him walk o
ut the door and out of her life forever. The flood of tears she'd been holding back finally burst. She turned her face into the pillow and sobbed, until she had no more tears to give. Only then, did she fall into an exhausted sleep.
Chapter 26
"I'm looking forward to this,” Shelly said to Lieutenant Philip Price, an auburn-haired, brown-eyed man in his late twenties, as the BMW he drove from Charring Cross brought them into London City Center.
Shelly and Philip were in the front seat. Claire and her husband, Michael, another Lieutenant in the Royal Scottish Guards, were in the back. Claire had devised the plan a few weeks ago to get Shelly out of the house. Shelly had already met Philip at Claire's wedding last year, and finding him likable, had agreed. This was their fourth date together as a foursome. It was the first Saturday night after Christmas and they were en route to catch the first showing of the new Matrix movie that Cinemax was showing. It was also two weeks since Shelly had last seen Guy. But since memories of him always brought her pain, she refused point blank to think about that.
The credits were just starting as they entered the auditorium. They watched a few advertisements promoting safer sex and the environment, then it was time for the main picture, The Matrix Revolutions.
Philip produced a box of expensive Belgium chocolates and handed them to Shelly. She smiled and hungrily dug in. They were delicious chocolates. She hadn't really started to show her pregnancy yet, for which she was thankful. Over the weeks as her morning sickness had abated, she'd developed a longing for chocolate, for anything sweet, in fact. She smiled. Her baby would almost certainly be born with a sweet tooth. Then she frowned; thoughts of the baby only brought on thoughts of Guy. She banished his handsome face from her mind once again and turned to accept another chocolate from Philip.
When the picture was over and the credits had come and gone, Bryan Adams’ Everything I Do, I Do It For You started to blast in the background while the cinema was emptying. Shelly swallowed, and swallowed again. But the taste of bile wouldn't go away. Memories of Guy and a starlit beach she had thought long forgotten suddenly came back to haunt her in full force.
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