Just Married...Again

by Charlotte Hughes

  Unable to resist the pleasures that waited, Maddy opened herself to him. She would probably regret this night later, but for once in her life she was determined to enjoy the moment and let tomorrow take care of itself.

  Michael’s body responded immediately to her show of passion, and it was all he could do to bring himself under control. He felt hot all over; beads of moisture clung to his forehead despite the cold. Blood raced to his loins, filling him until he thought he’d burst from his need. He paused long enough to dispense with his shorts, then swept her legs open and positioned himself over her. He raised his head slightly, kissing her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her chin. Their breaths mingled.

  “Maddy, I never thought we’d ever—”

  She shushed him, placing a finger against his lips. She didn’t want to think about what they were doing, didn’t want to analyze it. “Don’t say anything, Michael. Just love me.”

  He didn’t have to be told twice. He entered her with one powerful thrust, sinking into her softness, filling her completely. The pleasure was beyond anything he’d ever known. “Don’t move,” he whispered, knowing he would explode if she did.

  Maddy bit her bottom lip as she willed her body to lie still and feel him pulsing and throbbing inside. He kissed her, and his tongue made stabbing motions between her lips, sending erotic messages to the rest of her body and blocking all coherent thought. She arched high against him.

  Michael cursed under his breath. Why did she have to feel so good? He plunged deep. She cried out softly and wrapped her legs around him.

  Maddy climaxed twice before Michael finally allowed himself to let go. As he emptied himself into his wife he knew there was absolutely no way he was going to let her get away from him a second time.

  Michael waited until Maddy fell asleep before leaving the bed to check the fire. He added a couple of logs and smoked a cigarette, as he waited for the fire to take hold. In the semidarkness of the room, he continued to think.

  He could feel his stomach churning with anxiety.

  He was scared but hopeful.

  They’d made love. That had to mean Maddy still cared.

  Would she consider a reconciliation? If not, perhaps he could convince her to postpone the divorce long enough to see if they could work out the kinks in their relationship. They could still maintain separate residences if she preferred. He wouldn’t rush her and risk losing her permanently.

  Yes, that’s what he’d do, talk her into waiting, say, six weeks, or eight at the most. He would look for another job right away, one that didn’t require him to put in seventy or eighty hours a week. They would start doing things together. They could take a vacation or maybe a second honeymoon. He would learn to like her dogs, especially Rambo, even if it meant buying a new pair of jeans every week.

  They would discuss children.

  He lit another cigarette. Children. Man-oh-man. He didn’t know the first thing about kids. He could learn, of course. He could read books and watch videos and talk to the guys at work that had kids. If Maddy wanted a baby, then it was up to him to prove he could be a good father.

  He glanced at his cigarette. He’d have to stop smoking. With Maddy being the health nut she was, she’d never permit smoking in the house with a baby around.

  His mind made up, Michael tossed his cigarette into the fire, stirred it, and added a log. He hurried toward the bedroom, hoping to get a quick nap in before he had to get up and tend the fire again. He wondered how pioneers had ever managed to do all they did during the day when they’d had to get up so much during the night to tend the fire.

  Maddy didn’t stir when he climbed into the bed once more. He found her, much to his delight, warm and naked beneath the covers. He pulled her against him, nuzzled his face in her hair, and for the first time in months, fell asleep with a smile on his face.

  Morning came much too quickly. Michael was jolted awake when Maddy’s dogs jumped on the bed and pounced on him. Rambo shoved his long snout in Michael’s face and growled.

  “Hush, Rambo,” Maddy said sleepily. When the dog persisted, she turned over to see what the problem was. Her jaw dropped open when she found Michael beside her. “What are you doing here?”

  Michael thought she’d never looked prettier, with her hair tousled, her face flushed from sleep. “You invited me,” he said, talking out of the comer of his mouth. “Hiya, Rambo.” The dog snarled. “Has anybody ever talked to you about your morning breath, pal?” This time the dachshund showed his teeth.

  “Stop teasing him,” Maddy said.

  “Teasing him? I was lying here perfectly still, minding my own business. I think your pet could use a lesson in manners.”

  “Rambo, get down!” Maddy ordered.

  The animal refused to budge. Maddy sat up in bed, then shrieked and dove beneath the covers when she realized she was naked. “What did you do with my clothes?”

  “I threw them on the floor next to mine,” he said. “Don’t you remember?”

  Maddy opened her mouth to answer, but bit back her reply when Danny peered into the room. His eyes widened in surprise. “I was looking for Rambo and Muffin,” he said. He glanced from Michael to Maddy, then to the pile of clothes on the floor. “Does this mean you guys made up?”

  Michael was annoyed by the interruption. “If you want the dogs, come get them before Rambo takes my nose off.”

  Danny hurried over to the bed and grabbed both animals. “I added some wood to the fire,” he said. “Y’all take your time. I know you have a lot of, uh, talking to do. I’ll stay out of your way. Just pretend I’m not here.”

  “It would be a whole lot easier pretending if you weren’t standing there gawking and flapping your jaws,” Michael said.

  Danny grinned and left the room, carrying a dachshund under each arm. It took some doing, but he managed to pull the door closed behind him. Michael climbed from the bed, unabashed in his nakedness as he crossed the room and locked the door.

  Maddy was unable to tear her eyes away from the tempting male physique. For a man who was supposed to take off a few pounds, he looked surprisingly fit and sexy. His thighs and hips were lean and powerful, his chest still as broad as she remembered, and covered with thick, brownish-black hair. The sight of his partial erection made her tummy flutter. She blushed and looked away.

  He climbed beneath the covers once more and reached for her.

  “Michael, we need to talk,” she said, trying to squirm out of his arms. It was like trying to squeeze through steel bars. “About last night—”

  “Last night was wonderful,” he said. “You were wonderful.”

  “Yes, but—”

  He silenced her with a long kiss.

  Maddy suddenly forgot what she was going to say. As the kiss deepened, it was all she could do to think at all, much less provide an intelligent argument as to why they shouldn’t be doing what they were doing. Michael nudged her thighs apart slightly with one hair-roughened knee and pressed against her intimately. She knew she was a goner.

  Michael pulled the covers aside and feasted his eyes on her breasts. “God, you’re beautiful. You take my breath away, Maddy.”

  She closed her eyes as he fastened his lips around one nipple. She shivered with delight and plunged her fingers through his hair. The muscles low in her belly seemed to contract with each gentle tug. “Danny’s just in the next room,” she whispered in warning, at the same time gripping his head, so tightly he wouldn’t have been able to move had he wanted to.

  Michael’s reply was muffled. “He’s got a whole stack of detective magazines.”

  “He might hear us.”

  “You weren’t worried about that last night,” he replied, moving to the other nipple.

  Maddy blushed as she recalled the events of the previous night. What had come over her? Could it have been the wine? She seldom drank alcohol, maybe half a glass of champagne at a wedding, and even that much made her tipsy. The only reason she’d brought a bottle of wine to begin wit
h was in case she had trouble falling asleep alone in a strange place.

  No, the wine wasn’t solely responsible for her actions the night before, even though it had left her feeling a bit amorous. She had simply been lonely and cold and craving human contact after months of having none.

  “It was the wine,” she said, deciding to use it as an excuse anyway, so he wouldn’t think she lacked control.

  He raised his head, and his gaze found hers. “Bull, Maddy. You knew what you were doing.” He nipped the underside of one breast playfully, and then kissed his way down her rib cage to her stomach. “Why not admit it?”

  She would have protested, but his tongue found her navel and her thoughts skittered to a halt. Talk about being putty in a man’s hands - she gave new meaning to the phrase. Michael had only to give her that come-hither look of his, and she was lost. She moaned aloud when he swept her legs apart.

  Maddy arched against him and gave in to the sheer pleasure of his lovemaking. She was surprised when he rolled over and pulled her on top.

  Michael gritted his teeth as his wife tossed aside her inhibitions. Her body gripped his so tightly; it almost brought tears to his eyes. She exuded sensuality, with her wild blond mane and her swaying breasts. Her head fell back, baring a slender white throat, and he raised one hand and stroked it with his index finger. Her climax was a thing of beauty, something to behold. Her lips parted softly, she whimpered, and as she coasted over the edge he felt her take a piece of his heart with him. His own orgasm was powerful and moving.

  Michael could not remember ever feeling as content as he did at that moment, lying there with his wife in his arms. He adjusted the covers, taking care to see that she didn’t catch a chill. He noted how quiet she was.

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked, after a moment.

  “I’m just tired,” she said in a voice that seemed far away. “You probably don’t remember, but lovemaking always makes me sleepy.”

  He pondered it. Now, what had made her say that? The Maddy he’d known had never wanted to rest afterward. On the contrary, she often jumped from the bed feeling happy and energetic. But he wasn’t in the position to argue that point, since he was still pretending to have amnesia. It was probably safe for him to start remembering things now that they had reached this level of intimacy.

  He weighed it in his mind. “Maddy, we should talk.”

  She yawned. “Can’t it wait until after I take a little nap?” she said. “I suddenly feel very tired.” She winced when her voice broke.

  Michael raised up on one elbow and studied her, a perplexed look on his face. “Look at me,” he said. When she didn’t make a move to do so, he took her chin between two fingers and turned her head. Her eyes glistened with tears. “What is it, babe?” he said. “Didn’t you enjoy our lovemaking?”

  “Of course I did. How could I not? You were always an expert lover. I suppose you don’t remember that, either.”

  Michael stared at her in utter bewilderment. He wanted to gather her up in his arms, but the look on her face told him it wasn’t a good idea. “Maddy, I don’t like seeing you this way. Not after what we just shared.”

  “Please don’t make a big deal out of it, Michael,” she said. “Try to see it for what it was.”

  The muscles in his stomach tensed. “And what was it?” he asked, not sure he wanted to hear her answer.

  “It was cold and dark, and I was scared we were all going to die before help arrived. I was reaching out for a warm body and someone to take my mind off my fears.”

  “And just now?” he asked. “What was that about? And don’t tell me you were still scared.”

  “I was …” She paused and inched her chin higher. His mood veered sharply to anger. “Well, then. I’m glad I could be of service.” He climbed from the bed and reached for his boxer shorts.

  Maddy saw the hurt in his eyes and felt crummy for putting it there when the person she was really angry at was herself. She had let physical need get in the way of common sense. Now she would pay the price emotionally. Some people could sleep with another human being and not let their hearts get involved; she was not one of them. She could already feel the old wounds opening, gaping wide, and leaving her as vulnerable to him as she’d been in the beginning.

  “I wish you’d try not to get so upset over this,” she said after a moment.

  “Don’t tell me how to feel, Maddy.”

  “Okay, be as upset as you like. It’s your blood pressure.”

  “Oh, I get it. You just don’t want to have to feel guilty when you cause me to have a stroke.”

  “If you have a stroke, it’s not going to be because of me. Please hand me my pajamas,” she said.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her. “If you want ’em, come get ’em.”

  She glared at him, remembering with lightning clarity how angry he could make her when he put his mind to it. She had always felt things more passionately with him, and it irked her to no end that he still had that kind of power over her. As he stared back at her Maddy knew he would gnaw his arm off before he’d retrieve her things. She had committed the worst kind of sin, wounding that fragile male ego.

  Giving a snort of disgust, she swept the covers aside and climbed from the bed. “This is so infantile,” she said, marching over to where her pajamas lay. She could feel his eyes ravishing every inch of her, but she was determined not to let him know how much it bothered her. She leaned over and reached for her panties. Without warning, he smacked her hard on the bottom. Maddy gave an indignant squeal and whirled around. She was too shocked and angry to do anything more than sputter a mouthful of obscenities.

  “Nice butt,” Michael said, then strolled toward the door as though he hadn’t a care in the world. He suddenly wasn’t as mad as he’d been a few minutes earlier. She, on the other hand, appeared furious. She hurled a sneaker at his head, and he ducked. It bounced off the door. He let himself out and closed the door behind him, then cracked it and peered through the opening.

  “You’re going to have to watch that hair-trigger temper, Maddy,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use that kind of language in front of the kid.” He saw her pick up the other sneaker, and he closed the door quickly.

  Chapter Nine

  Maddy came down the hall a few minutes later and herded her dachshunds into the laundry room to use their litter box. Once she’d disposed of the soiled papers, she washed her hands and offered them a doggie treat, all the while ignoring Michael, who waited beside the coffee maker in his sweatshirt and boxer shorts.

  “What happened to your jeans?”

  “I gave them to Rambo. He was attached to them, so to speak.”

  “Michael, that’s ridiculous! He’ll chew them to shreds.”

  His smile was chilly. He wasn’t angry anymore, but he could feel himself getting depressed over his situation. “What can I say? The dog reached out to me in the cold, dark night, and fool that I am, I gave him what I thought he wanted. I’m just waiting for him to kick me in the teeth like someone else I know.”

  “Uncle Michael?”

  “What?” He turned at the sound of his nephew’s voice. The boy was holding his jeans.

  “I found them in my sleeping bag this morning. They’re a little wrinkled, and the hem is kinda ragged, but—”

  “Thanks.” Michael took the jeans from him and stepped into them. Once he’d zipped and buttoned them, he turned for the coffee maker and filled his cup. Maddy covered her mouth when she saw that a large part of the seat had been chewed out. Danny opened his mouth to say something, and then glanced at his aunt, who shook her head.

  Sipping his coffee, Michael walked to one of the windows. It was snowing lightly. Not enough to amount to anything, but he was sick of looking at it. He was sick period, but mostly he was sick at heart. What a fool he’d been to think Maddy would still have feelings for him. What a joke. He wondered what would have happened had she re
ached out during the night and found a stranger beside her. Would she have made love to him so eagerly?

  He walked to the sofa and sank onto it. He was still sitting there staring into the fire when Maddy announced breakfast.

  “I’m not hungry,” he said, reaching for his coffee. He took a sip and was surprised to find it was ice-cold. The fire had died down as well, and he hadn’t even noticed. How long had he been sitting there? he wondered.

  “Go ahead and eat your oatmeal, Danny,” Maddy whispered, rising from the table. She carried her coffee cup into the living room and sat down on the sofa beside Michael.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” she said. “It was not my intent. But you’re going to make life miserable for the rest of us if you carry on like this.”

  He looked at her. She had showered and changed into black leggings and a fire engine red sweater. Her hair was tied back, drawing attention to her delicate cheekbones and a perfectly carved mouth. She was so damn pretty; it almost hurt to look at her. And to think, at one time she’d loved him as much as he loved her.

  “How do you expect me to feel?” he asked, trying to keep his voice down so Danny couldn’t hear.

  “I’m not listening, Uncle Michael,” the boy called out, “so you don’t have to talk so low.”

  Michael sighed and shook his head and wondered why everything was going wrong for him. He started to take another sip of his coffee, remembered it was cold, and set it on the coffee table. “You’ve obviously lost all feeling for me,” he whispered.

  “What?” Maddy leaned closer.

  “I said, you’ve lost all feeling for me.” When she continued to look baffled, he almost shouted the words. “You don’t give a damn about me anymore, Maddy! Did you hear that?”

  “I’ve finished my oatmeal,” Danny announced, shoving his chair from the table so quickly, it almost toppled over. “I’m going to read my detective magazines. I’ll be in the bedroom if anybody needs me.” He carried his bowl to the sink and whistled for the dogs. They followed him down the hall. He closed the bedroom door a moment later.