At first, Helen thought Rafe had passed out, but his lungs heaved too hard for him to be unconscious. Then she realized his chest wasn’t pumping from deep panting. The lout was laughing.
Humiliation washed over her as she saw herself the way he must. A frustrated thirty-four-year-old woman who practically attacked him at the least sign of sexual interest. Heck, she couldn’t even remember what had prompted this lovemaking. She didn’t think she’d begged him to take her, but she might have, her frustration level had been that high the past few days.
Rafe continued to laugh silently, his eyes closed.
“You jerk!” She gave him a shove of disgust and started to sit up.
“What was that for?” he inquired, opening his eyes lazily.
At the same time, he looped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her back down and on top of him.
She braced her arms on the ground beside his head and glared down at the laughing scoundrel who wrapped both arms around her waist, locking her in place. “Because you’re laughing at me.”
He nuzzled her neck. “Oh, babe, I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at me. Think about it. I just set the world record for E-T-E.”
“E-T-E?”
“Yeah. Time from erection-to-ejaculation — E-T-E. Believe me, sweetheart, it’s not a contest guys aim to win.” His mouth curved into a smile so loving she would forgive him anything, even laughing at her. “Besides, if that wasn’t bad enough, I can’t remember the last time, if ever, I made love with my pants around my ankles. I lacked finesse, Helen,” he concluded, as if that were the greatest crime in the world. “I’m pitiful.”
She smiled then. Playful was not a word she’d ever use to describe Rafe. “Who needs finesse? Wham-bam is okay now and then.”
“Now you are the one laughing at me. Helen, I’d really kind of like to make love this time in a bed. I’m getting too old for caves and wall-bangers and the hard ground. Do you suppose you could move off me, real easy, without turning me into a eunuch?”
She giggled. “I aim to please.” She stood and quickly donned the black boxers on the ground.
Rafe got to his feet with a groan and zipped up his slacks. Before she had a chance to step away, he pulled her into his arms, his expression growing serious. “I love you, Helen,” he murmured as he lowered his lips to hers.
“I love you, too,” she said against his mouth.
Their kiss was short, but tender and filled with all the emotion they’d had no time to demonstrate in their first tumultuous coming together.
Later, when Helen prepared to crawl into bed with Rafe, he said, “I have to warn you ahead of time. I have lots of fantasies about you, and I’m planning to indulge every one of them.”
Her eyes shot up.
“Does that frighten you?”
She thought a moment, then shook her head.
He opened his arms for her then, and Helen flew into the bed, relishing the feel of his bare skin against hers.
His face turned serious then as he moved over her, taking most of his weight on his elbows, which framed her face. “I haven’t been a religious guy for a long time, but I thank God for you, Helen. You’re like a gift He’s given me, despite all the problems I’ve thrown His way.”
“What a nice thing to say!” She put one hand on the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. The other caressed his face, delicately. “Since you’ve got religion, I suppose that means you’ll have to make an honest woman of me.”
“Oh ho! Aren’t you the bold one now? Proposing to a man.”
She turned her face to the side. It had been presumptuous of her.
He put a forefinger on her chin and tipped her face back. “Helen, will you marry me?”
Tears brimmed her eyes. “Yes.”
“The first time we run into a preacher, or a padre?”
She nodded, then frowned. “Here or in the future?”
“Both.”
They exchanged a smile of pure love, and Helen did feel blessed then.
Rafe stared down at Helen, amazed at all the new feelings of warmth that filled him almost to overflowing. He brushed his lips across hers, and she sighed.