They pressed into his back like branding irons in the middle of the night. Because Zeb and Hector believed they were married, they slept on makeshift pallets near the fire. He and Helen shared the big bed, which was entirely too small for both of them and his nonstop arousal.
They were a visual reminder of the night they’d spent in the cave and their perfect lovemaking. He wanted desperately to be inside her again, to hear her whisper that she loved him, to take her shout of his name into his mouth at her climax.
But he had no condoms, no sure-fire methods of birth control, and he could not, would not, take the chance of impregnating Helen.
“I’m going to go brush my teeth,” Helen informed him.
Good! Maybe the grating sound of her gargling will get rid of this hard-on. He stared at her, unblinking. “Maybe you should meditate out there, too, honey.” Yep, gargling and ooohms should put a damper on my dipper. “Maybe I’ll join you. Remember when I meditated with you back at the cave.” Naked.
A pink blush spread across her face and down her neck. Probably spread over her breasts. And lower. I’m losin’ it here, St. Augustine. Are you sure this celibacy stuff is the best route? Maybe just a little foolin’ around would be okay? Maybe if we didn’t take our clothes off, we could kiss, and fondle, and —
“Oh, well, it’s probably too late for meditating tonight,” Helen interjected blithely. He could have fried an egg on her face.
Thank you, Auggie.
Zeb came in while Helen was still outside gargling. Within seconds, he heard a different gargling sound and realized that Hector had joined Helen. Gawd!
“Uh, Rafe… uhm… there’s somethin’ I bin meanin’ ta say,” Zeb stuttered, shucking down to his long underwear and spreading several blankets down on the plank floor by the fireplace.
“Yeah?” he prompted suspiciously.
“You see, I couldn’t help noticing how tense you been lately. And I know a man’s got his drives — ”
“Drives?” Rafe sputtered out.
“Yessirree,” Zeb said, nodding his shaggy gray head. “A man’s juices don’t never stop flowin’ when he’s yer age. Anyways, I jist wanted you ta know… Uh, gol-durnit, Hector falls fast asleep onct his head hits this here pallet. And me, well, I’m a heavy sleeper. Tarnation, son, what I’m tryin’ ta say is, you don’t need ta worry none about me hearin’ the bed ropes squeakin’ through the night. Jist go to it.”
Rafe started to laugh, and his chest was still shaking when Helen slipped in beside him a short time later.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, making a point of keeping her distance from him in the bed. Her nightly ritual always started out the same — prissy to the point of ridiculous — but by morning she’d be climbing all over him like grapevines on an arbor. And his arbor couldn’t stand much more. She always defended herself by saying she wasn’t aware of what she did in her sleep, but sometimes he had his doubts.
He moved closer and whispered close to her ear. “Zeb had a man-to-man talk with me tonight.”
“Oh?” she whispered back, her fresh breath fluttering against his lips.
Shock waves moved in reaction down to his personal seismograph. It was registering about ten-point-five on his Richter hard-on scale.
“Zeb said that a man’s got his ‘drives,’ and when the juices are flowing, a man and his wife should just ‘go to it. ‘ ”
Her mouth curved into a smile.
Blood roared in his ears, and his “scale” went up another notch or two. If a smile can do that, she’d damn well better not touch me.
“What about a woman’s drives? Did Zeb mention those, too?” She shimmied a little closer, not touching, but near enough that he could feel her body heat. And he could imagine all the rest.
“Do you have drives?” he groaned, closing his eyes against her allure.
She didn’t answer, so eventually he turned on his side toward her and cracked open one eye. She was gazing at him with such longing he felt his defenses crumbling. Help!