“Because there are a hundred other ways you could have gotten me off the ranch. You could have tied me up and tossed me in the Winnebago. You could have told me that you needed me to take Tante Lulu to safety. You could have told me the truth.”
I could toss you over my lap right now and have wild sex with you. “I didn’t think of those things. I was in a panic, babe. Someone had just shot at you. I realized that in that instant of my carelessness, you could have been dead. I should have been protecting you, and I failed. And that shook me up.” His voice cracked with emotion at the end.
Her face softened somewhat, then hardened up again. “You might very well think that was your motive, but I believe that in a panic situation tike that, true feelings come out. I don’t doubt that you care about me, in your own way, and that you were worried about me, but bottom line, you did not want forever. You wanted a fling. Don’t interrupt me,” she said when he was about to disagree with just about everything she said. “I don’t blame you for the fling thing. I’d already decided to have a fling myself when I pulled that pistol on you. In the end, though, I realized that I deserve better than that.”
“Yes, you do, Charmaine, and that’s what I’m offering you.”
He could tell that she didn’t want to ask, but she did. “What do you mean?”
“I love you. I want to be with you. Forever.”
She said nothing, just stared at him.
He’d stated his case. There was nothing more to be said. He wasn’t going to beg… well, he would beg if he thought it would work, but he was pretty sure Charmaine wouldn’t like begging.
Her silence spoke volumes. She wasn’t going to forgive him. She didn’t love him anymore. Hell, maybe she never had.
It was going to be the longest hour in history if he had to sit here in the quiet after spilling his guts and baring his soul. If women only knew how much control they had in man-woman relationships!
God, it’s hot in here. He reached for his T-shirt to dry his hair and face, then rubbed it down his arms and over his chest. Mid-rub, he looked up to see Charmaine staring avidly at his actions. Then she licked her lips.
Okaaaay. She likes to watch me… touch myself? He wondered if he could pull off his next move, then shrugged. What do I have to lose?
Standing up, he shimmied out of his briefs, not surprised to see that he was already half-erect. He noticed something important then: Charmaine wasn’t squealing over his nudity. That had to be a good sign. She might not love him anymore, but she liked some things about him. It was a start.
“Do you know what’s a favorite male sexual fantasy?”
That got her attention. “I don’t want to know.”
She wants to know, all right. “They like to watch—”
“Like that’s something new!”
“—their women touch themselves.”
She pretended to examine her fingernails with disinterest in what he was saying.
“I was wondering if women like to watch their men? Touch themselves?” Did I really say that? Where do I come up with this stuff?
She didn’t respond to his question but she’d stopped checking out her fingernails.
He filled a ladle with water from the bucket on the floor, water that was presumably used to toss onto the hot coals and cause steam. Then he leaned back against the blistering hot wood of the sauna, buck naked, with sweat running off his skin in rivulets and dumped the water over his head, to cool himself off, which it did not do. Then he began to touch himself.
I hope I’m not making a fool of myself. Hell, I’ve already made a fool of myself. How much worse can I look?
He traced his lips with a forefinger and said, “When I touch my mouth, I imagine that you’re kissing me. Those soft kisses you give at first, when you’re exploring just how far you can push me.”