by Robyn Carr
“I’ve never taken care of anyone like this,” he said.
“It seemed like you knew exactly what to do.”
“I guessed,” he said.
“I crashed,” she said.
“It was a helluva crash. If you’re going to go down, go down big. You should be proud.” And then he smiled.
He held her hand as it lay on her lap while she lifted her brandy to her lips with the other hand, trembling a bit. When it was gone, he said, “Come on. I’m putting you to bed.”
“What if I cry all night?”
“I’ll be right here,” he said. He pulled her hand and led her to his bed, holding up the covers so that she could slip in. He tucked her in as if she were a little girl.
Jack dealt with the wet clothes, spinning the water out of them and putting them in the dryer. When he checked on Mel, she was asleep, so he went back into the little laundry and behind closed doors, called Joey. “Hi,” he said. “I didn’t want you to worry. Mel is with me.”
“Is she okay?” Joey asked.
“She is now. She had a meltdown. Out in the rain, it was awful. I don’t think she has another tear in her, at least for tonight.”
“Oh, God,” she said. “That’s why I came! I should be with her now...”
“I got her in some clean, dry clothes and put her to bed, Joey. She’s asleep and I—I’ll watch over her. If she wakes up and wants to go home, I’ll take her, no matter what time it is. But for now, let’s let her sleep.” He inhaled deeply. “She’s had it.”
“Oh, Jack,” Joey said, “were you with her?”
“I was. She wasn’t alone. I was able to... I held her. Kept her safe.”
“Thank you,” Joey said, her voice small and shaky.
“There’s nothing more to do right now but let her rest. Have a glass of wine, get some sleep and try not to worry about Mel. I’m not going to let anything happen to her.”
With only a dim night-light in the room, Jack pulled a chair from his table near to the bed. His feet planted on the floor, his elbows resting on his knees and the rest of his Remy clutched in his hands, he watched her sleep. Her hair curled across his pillow and her pink lips were parted slightly. She made little noises in her sleep—little hums and purrs.
I have a high-school education, he thought. She was married to a medical doctor. A brilliant, educated man. An emergency room hero, made even more perfect in death. How do I compete with that? He reached out and lightly touched her hair. There’s no way, he thought. I’m sunk. And my heart hasn’t beat the same since she walked into town.
He was in love with her. This man who had never been in love in his life. Not once. As a kid, a young man, he’d thought himself in love a couple of times, but it hadn’t felt like this. Lust, he was familiar with that. Wanting a woman was something he knew quite well—but wanting to take care of a woman so that she would never hurt, never want, never be afraid or lonely—he had no experience with that. There had been beautiful women in his past; intelligent women, clever women, women with wit and courage and passion, but as far as he could remember, never one like Mel; never before a woman who had everything he’d ever wanted. And it just figures, he thought. I’m stupid in love with a woman who isn’t available to me. She’s still in a relationship, albeit a relationship that was no longer viable.
Didn’t matter. He’d held her while she was racked with the pain of losing someone else. She had a lot to get over, to get past. Even if he stood by her and waited for that to happen, it didn’t mean she could fall in love with him. Still, he had no choice. He was into her all the way.
He finished the brandy, putting aside the glass, but he didn’t leave her. He watched her, occasionally succumbing to the temptation to softly, carefully, touch the silkiness of her hair. When she sighed contentedly in her sleep, he found himself smiling, pleased that she had found some peace. At some point he realized that he knew how she felt—once you know how much you love someone, no one else would do.
He looked down at the floor. I’ll be here for you, Mel, he thought. It’s the only place I want to be. When he raised his head, her eyes were open and she was looking at him. He stole a glance at the bedside clock and was surprised to see that two hours had passed.
“Jack,” she said in a whisper. “You’re here.”
He smoothed her hair back from her face. “Of course I am.”
“Kiss me, Jack. When you kiss me, I can’t think of anything else.”
He leaned toward her and touched her lips with his for a soft kiss. Then more firmly, moving over her mouth, feeling her lips open and her small tongue enter. Her hand crept around to the back of his neck to pull him closer, and his kiss became hungrier, deeper.
“Come in here with me,” she whispered. “Hold me. Kiss me.”
He pulled back slightly, but she wouldn’t let go of his neck. “I’d better not.”
“Why?”
He laughed a little. “I can’t just kiss you, Mel. I’m not a machine. I won’t want to stop.”
She pulled the covers back for him. “I know,” she said in a breath. “I’m ready, Jack. I don’t want to hurt anymore.”
He hesitated. What if she called out another man’s name? What if the morning came and she was sorry? He had fantasized about this, but he wanted it to be the beginning of something, not the end.
Then you better make it good for her, he told himself. You’d better leave her wanting more. He slipped in beside her, pulling her into his arms, devouring her mouth with a kiss so hot and powerful she melted to him with a whimper. Her arms went around him, holding him as she yielded to his lips, his tongue. His sweatpants, so loose and soft, left nothing to the imagination and he was instantly hard against her. She moved against him, rubbed against him, inviting him. With a large hand on her bum, he held her there.
Jack rolled with her, bringing her on top of him. He grabbed the bottom of the T-shirt that covered her and raised it, pulling it over her head. When he felt her breasts against his bare chest, he said, “Ahh.” Her breasts were soft and full in his big hands, her nipples hard. Running his hands along her ribs to her hips, he found that she still wore her thong panties; he slid them lower and she wiggled out of them. Her skin was so delicate, so smooth, he worried that his hands were too rough for her, but by her soft and eager moans, she was not unhappy with the sensation.
Holding her lips with his, he rolled with her again, so that they lay on their sides, and he took a moment to free himself from those sweats. Her hand wrapped around him, causing his breath to catch in his throat, and he thought, Better not leave your boots on this time, buddy. You better do it for her. And he concentrated, because he’d never wanted to please a woman more than tonight.
Feeling her against him like this made it very difficult to slow down, to wait, but by sheer dint of will he managed. He took his leisure of her, employing a slow hand that fondled her breasts. His mouth followed, drawing on one nipple then the other. She arched toward him greedily, spreading her legs, throwing one over his hip, urging him closer. He slipped a hand down and touched her in her soft center, bringing a passionate moan from her. He touched her deeply, and learned that he wasn’t the only one feeling a little desperate. She was ready for him. Starving. “Mel,” he said in a throaty whisper.
“Yes,” she answered. “Yes.”
He turned her onto her back and held himself over her. He captured her mouth with his and entered her in one long, slow, deep, powerful stroke that caused her to gasp and rise against him urgently. With one hand under her bottom and the other still caressing a place that turned her sighs to moans, he began to move within her. The heat of her nearly drove him out of his mind, but he held on. He was determined that her needs would come before his own. He moved steadily, pushing and pulling, and within moments her breathing came harder and faster, her body straining towa
rd his, reaching for satisfaction. He was more than happy to deliver it, pushing into her, rubbing against her. And then he felt those hot spasms of fulfillment, heard her cry out in ecstasy and he held her fast, pressing himself into her. In that moment of blinding pleasure, she bit down on his shoulder; sweet, welcome pain. And he hung on with all the strength he could muster, saving himself, and finally she weakened beneath him and the clenching spasms that surrounded him slowly subsided. Her body relaxed and her breathing began to slow. Her pants became sighs and her kisses came soft and sweet against his lips.
Mel stroked his back, tasted his mouth, her body still quivering from a thundering climax. She felt the muscles of his shoulders and back at work as he held himself up enough to keep from crushing her with his weight. When he released her mouth and looked into her eyes, she saw in his a smoldering fire that was not even close to being extinguished. She put her palm against his cheek. “Oh, Jack,” she said, breathless.
His name on her lips brought him such pleasure, he felt himself expand somewhere inside his chest, as if his heart grew just a little bit. He lowered his lips and sucked gently at hers. “Are you all right?” he asked softly.
“You were right there. You know exactly how all right I am,” she said. “It’s been a long, long time.”
“It’s never going to be that long again,” he whispered. “Not ever again.”
He began to move down her body with his lips and tongue, kissing and nibbling, tasting in slow, delicate strokes. He ran a tongue around each nipple until they were hard little pebbles, perfect for his mouth. He slid lower, until he had moved down over her flat belly. He gently parted her legs and buried his face in her, hearing her gasp above him. No longer delicate, he went to work on that prominent, erogenous knot in her center. He felt her moving her hips against his mouth and when her breathing became rapid and labored once more he rose, slowly kissing his way up her body. “God, you’re sweet,” he whispered against her lips. “You taste like heaven.” He slid into her again, filling her, moving in long deep strokes that became powerful thrusts that brought her to yet another shattering climax. Again she cried out and he covered her open mouth with his. Swept away, she couldn’t be quiet, and that thrilled him. Every sound, every wild cry gave him joy. He held her as she collapsed beneath him, spent.
Jack felt her small hands on his back, her lips on his neck, and her breathing inevitably slowed and came under control. To his surprise he heard the sound of her soft laughter. He rose above her and looked at her smile. “You lied to me,” she said. “You are a machine.”
“I just wanted to make you happy,” he said. “Are you happy?”
“I’ve been happy a couple of times. What can I do so that you can join me?”
He laced his fingers through hers and holding her hands, stretched her arms up above her head, holding them there. “Baby, you don’t have to do anything but be present.”
He lowered his mouth to hers, kissed her deeply and began to move inside her once more, pumping his hips. She lifted her knees and tilted beneath him, bringing him deeper, and he could feel her begin to move in concert with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he followed the rhythm she set in place. He rocked with her, slow and steady, deep and long, hanging on to control until he heard her moaning and sighing rise again, her tempo increased, and finally the noises she made, already familiar to him, already beautiful to him, told him she was reaching for yet another orgasm. He had expected her to be passionate, but the heat and power of her passion amazed him, and it filled a need in him. And this time, when she clenched around him and pleasure stole her breath away, he let himself go and matched her. Surpassed her. For a moment, through the powerful pulsing, he felt light-headed. His eyes watered. And he heard it again. “Jack!”
“Ah, Mel... Ah, baby,” he whispered, kissing her, loving her.
He gently caressed her as she calmed. “Jack,” she whispered. “I’m sorry...”
“What do you have to be sorry about?” he asked in a whisper.
“I think I bit you.”
He laughed, a deep throaty sound. “I think you did. Is that a habit of yours?”
“I must have been a little out of control...”
He laughed again. “I take the blame,” he said. “That was all part of the plan.”
“Ohh,” she said. “I might’ve lost my mind there for a while.”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I love it when that happens.”
“You were taking a big chance, driving an already crazy woman out of her mind like that...”
“Nah, you were in good hands. You were always safe.” He kissed her softly. “Would you like to rest now?”
“Maybe for a little while,” she answered, her hands gentle on his face.
He gathered her close to him, holding her. Their naked bodies entwined, they spooned. He kissed the back of her neck as she lay on his arm. His face rested against her soft, fragrant hair, one arm over her and cupping her breast. Very soon he could hear the sounds of her even breathing, her sleep. He closed his eyes and relaxed with her in his arms, finding sleep himself.
Sometime in the dark of night he opened his eyes to find she had rolled over to face him, her hands boldly caressing him. He kissed her and asked, “Have you slept?”
“I did,” she said. “And woke up wanting you. Again.”
“I guess it’s pretty obvious, the feeling is mutual.”
* * *
Mel woke in the early morning and to her surprise, there was a song in her head. She was humming along with Johnny Mathis in her sleep. “Deep Purple.” Her music was back.
She rolled over to find the bed beside her empty. She could hear the sound of Jack splitting logs in the backyard. She rinsed her mouth and rubbed his toothpaste against her teeth. A light blue, long-sleeved denim shirt hung on a hook in his closet and she put it on, sniffing the collar, smiling at his scent on it. It more than covered her; she was drowning in it. She went to the back door and stood watching him heft the ax and bring it down. Thwack. The air was clear and sharp; the rain was gone and the huge trees were washed clean. She watched him heft the ax again, and bring it down. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbows and his biceps rippled under the weight and force of the ax.
Then he looked in her direction. She lifted a hand toward him and smiled.
He dropped the ax at once and came to her. As he stood before her, she put her hand on his chest. He ran the back of a knuckle against her pink cheek. “I think I roughed you up a little with whiskers.”
“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I like it. It feels right. Natural. Good.”
“I love the way you look in my shirt,” he said. “I love the way you look out of my shirt.”
“I think we have a little time,” she said.
He swooped her up into his arms, kicking the door closed behind him, and bore her gently to the bed.
Eleven
The morning air was cool and foggy as Mel drove to her cabin. The front door was open, letting in the crisp June morning air. She kicked off her muddy boots on the porch and when she went inside found Joey sitting on the sofa, a quilt wrapped around her, a steaming cup of freshly brewed coffee on the table beside her.
Joey lifted a side of the quilt for Mel and Mel went to her, cuddling beside her, resting her head on Joey’s shoulder. Joey pulled the quilt snugly around them both. “You okay, baby sis?” Joey asked.
“I’m okay. I lost it last night.” She turned her head and looked up at her older sister. “Why didn’t I see that coming? You did.”
“The anniversary of deaths has a reputation,” she said. “Even if you don’t remember the exact date—it’ll sneak up on you and knock the wind out of you.”
“It sure did,” she said, laying her head back down on Joey’s shoulder. “I knew what day it was. I just di
dn’t expect such a dramatic event.”
Joey stroked Mel’s hair. “You weren’t alone, at least.”
“You just wouldn’t have believed it, even if you’d seen it. I was completely out of control, standing in the rain, screaming. I screamed for a long time. He just held me and let me. He kept telling me to let it out. Then he took care of me like you would a stroke victim. Undressed me, got me into dry clothes, gave me a brandy and put me to bed.”
“I think Jack must be a very good man...”
“Then I invited him into bed with me,” Mel said. Joey said nothing. “We made love all night long. I’ve never had so much sex in my life. I mean—never.”
“But you’re all right,” she said, and it was not a question.
“When I lifted the blanket for him, all I could think was, this will numb me. Rub out the pain, give me escape.”
“It’s okay, sweetie.”
Mel looked at Joey again. “It didn’t exactly work that way,” she said. “Maybe if he’d been average, I could’ve closed my eyes and just gone to a happy place. But he’s not average. Holy shit, he’s astonishing.”
Joey laughed a little, sentimentally. Sisters. They had talked about sex since they were teenagers. Laughed about it, told dark secrets about it. With Mark’s death, Joey had feared these kind of talks would never happen again.
“All he wanted was for me to have pleasure. Wild, blinding, crazed pleasure.”
Again Joey laughed. “Did it work?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said in a breath. Then she turned and looked at her sister. “Do you think he just felt sorry for me?”
“Well, you were there. Do you think that?”
Mel smiled. “I don’t care,” she said. “I just hope he feels sorry for me again, real soon.”
Joey smoothed the curly hair away from her sister’s pretty brow. “I’m glad you have this in your life again.” And then she giggled, and so did Mel.
“How did this happen, Joey? That I went from wanting to die, to wanting Jack? Wanting him so much I was almost a maniac? Wouldn’t you think that would be impossible? That I wouldn’t be able to even think like that?”