My Sunshine by Catherine Anderson
Laura moaned in delight and nudged upward with her hips again. “Oh, Isaiah. Yes.”
He gave an agonized groan and collapsed on top of her. Laura blinked and wiggled her chin out from under his shoulder in order to breathe. That was it?
“I’m sorry,” he muttered near her ear.
He was sorry? It had just started to be fun.
“Are we done?” she asked.
“Oh, Christ,” he said again.
Chapter Thirteen
Isaiah turned his face up to the stream of hot water, whimsically wondering if anyone had ever drowned himself in the shower. It seemed a fitting end for a complete shit. God. Had he blown it, or what? Now he knew why his father had warned him never to mess with virgins. They were fragile and complicated, and no matter how you tried, you couldn’t avoid hurting them.
He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He’d felt her flesh tear. He loved her so damned much, and he’d felt her flesh tear. Every time he thought about it, he felt like he might puke. Ever since his teenage years he’d heard guys brag about popping some girl’s cherry, as if it were the greatest sex there was. Maybe he was abnormal, but hurting anyone, most especially the woman he loved, was not a pleasurable experience for him.
He stood for a while under the spray, letting the hot water loosen his knotted muscles and hopefully clear his head. When he finally slapped off the faucet, he felt marginally better. Every woman on earth went through it once. He’d pretty much managed not to move while he was inside her. In a couple of days, any injury that he might have inflicted would be healed. Maybe then they could try it again, hopefully with more success. Next time, no matter what it took, he would make it good for her.
A few minutes later, when Isaiah entered the living room, he found Laura sitting on a beanbag feeding puppies as if nothing had ever happened. She sent him an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to ruin it.”
Isaiah finished buttoning his fresh shirt, a solid blue one to suit his mood. As he sat beside her, he asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” She shifted the puppy in her arms and went back to feeding it. “It only hurt awful for a minute. Then it got better. I’m bleeding a little. Nothing bad.”
Isaiah winced. He knew some bleeding was completely normal. He also realized that at some point in a woman’s life, her hymen had to be torn. He’d just never wanted to be the guy to do the honors.
“Maybe we can take another stab at it in a couple of days.”
The instant Isaiah spoke, he wanted to bite off his tongue. Another stab? If she didn’t run screaming from the room, it’d be a miracle.
Instead she smiled, shrugged, and said, “I was hoping sooner than that.”
Not on her life. “You need some time to heal.”
“I really don’t think I’m injured.”
“You’re bleeding, aren’t you?”
In Isaiah’s mind, that settled that.
The following day Laura was left to ramble around in the huge log house while Isaiah was away at work. A dozen different times she stood over the beanbags, remembering their time together, and the picture didn’t become prettier in her mind with repetition. She’d been a big sissy, asking Isaiah to stop. Thousands of babies were born each year, and unless a woman went to a sperm bank, she didn’t become pregnant without engaging in sex.
Losing their virginity hadn’t made those other women swear off, and neither would she. Isaiah wanted to wait for a few days? Ha. They would see about that.
Isaiah canceled all nonemergency appointments late that afternoon and rescheduled them for Monday so he could leave the clinic right at five o’clock. It was Tucker’s turn to work Saturday again. Unless an emergency call came in after hours, Isaiah could look forward to an entire weekend off.
When he got home thirty minutes later, it was already full dark, and Laura was nowhere to be seen. The Christmas-tree lights were on, and a fire crackled in the hearth to welcome him. Smiling, he hung up his jacket and followed his nose to the kitchen. The slow cooker sat on the counter, the lid lifting with steam occasionally to emit a wonderful smell. He peeked inside and saw huge, man-sized meatballs simmering in a red sauce. Spaghetti? Oh, man, he absolutely loved the stuff.
Unable to resist, he got a spoon from the drawer and ladled out a piping-hot meatball. Cupping a hand under the spoon so no sauce would drip, he started puffing on the meat to cool it. When he judged it to be at an edible temperature, he blissfully sank in his teeth.
“Hi, there, big guy,” a sultry voice purred from somewhere behind him.
Mouth full of meatball, he whirled around. Laura stood at the entrance to the kitchen, one slender arm angled up the end of the wall that divided the formal dining room from the cooking area. She wore—God, help him, he had never seen anything like it—a peach-colored drape of transparent stuff with long fringe at the bottom that jerked his gaze to her bare, shapely thighs. Underneath, her breasts were covered by a tidbit of peach-colored cloth, scarcely wider than dental floss. At the apex of her legs, a T of lacy black stuff served as panties. She was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen in his life. Her eyes issued a sultry invitation, and she stood with her body displayed to make a man’s eyes pop from his head.
Caught completely by surprise, Isaiah grabbed for breath. Bad mistake. Particles of meatball went down his windpipe. He choked—and then he couldn’t breathe. At first he didn’t think it was a big deal. But after coughing and then gagging, he found that he still couldn’t breathe. He ran to the sink and gagged some more.
“Oh, my God!” Laura cried.
The next thing he knew she was whopping him on the back. For several awful seconds, each of which seemed aeons long, Isaiah thought he might die. He’d never choked before. Panic. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t talk—and toward the last, he couldn’t even gag. He just stood there, his body convulsing with spasms, his head pounding with an awful airless feeling, and black spots dancing before his eyes.
Laura locked her arms around his midsection, her small fist planted just over his diaphragm. “Bend your knees!” she cried. “You’re too tall.”
Say what?
“Your knees, Isaiah! Bend your knees!”
Through the fog of panic, her words finally penetrated his reeling brain. He bent his legs, affording her more leverage, and with a strength he couldn’t believe she possessed, she clenched her arms around him, shoving her fist upward with such force he wondered that it didn’t connect with his backbone. Air propelled upward from his lungs, and one small piece of meatball shot from his mouth.
Air whistled down his windpipe. Isaiah collapsed over the sink, grabbing for breath. Sweet Christ. Laura hovered at his elbow.
“Are you okay? Isaiah, answer me, please. Are you all right?”
All he could manage was a nod. After dragging in several more breaths, he finally pushed out a weak, gravelly, “Okay, I’m okay.”
“Thank God. I thought you were going to die.”
Trembling from the experience, Isaiah straightened away from the sink. “Me, too.” He gave the piece of meat a last look, deciding then and there that he’d never eat a meatball again. “Man. That’s never happened to me before.”
She patted his arm. He grabbed a towel and dampened it to wipe his face. When his vision cleared, Laura had vanished. He tossed the towel on the counter. Remembering that peach film of nothing that she’d been wearing, he smiled slightly and went to find her.
She was in the bedroom, jerking a sweatshirt on over her head. He got a quick glimpse of beautiful bare breasts before blue fleece became the only landscape. She’d already lost the black G-string and replaced it with modest white panties.
He could have wept.
She wrinkled her nose and reached for a pair of jeans draped over the foot of her bed. “I’m sorry. Bad idea. I didn’t mean to make you choke.”
Isaiah wanted the peach fringe back. “I choked because you took me by surpris
“And I took your breath away. Right?” She laughed and shoved a dainty foot into the jeans. “The lady at the shop said it would make you wild for me. She was old. I should have found someone younger who’d know more what guys like.”
Isaiah waited until she got her other foot stuck into the jeans. Then he lunged across the room and caught her around the waist in a flying tackle, his target the bed. She shrieked and tried to catch her balance, but with her ankles shackled and his weight working against her, she went over like a ninepin. Isaiah followed her down to the mattress, catching his weight with his arms so he wouldn’t crush her.
She blinked bewilderedly and peered up at him through tousled wisps of blond hair. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
He’d never felt better. And she didn’t need fringe to be hot. “Clarification. Were you or were you not trying to seduce me?”
She wrinkled her nose again. “I ruined it for us last night. I wanted to make up for it.”
She already had. God, how he loved her. He bent to nibble at her delectable mouth. “Next time, two things. Don’t appear in an outfit like that when my mouth’s full. And you might also consider calling out some sort of warning. ‘Isaiah, brace yourself’ would work. Anything to let me know you’re about to blow my socks off.”
“You liked it?”
“You were a vision. If I go outside and come back in, will you put it back on for me?”
“The mood is sort of ruined.”
His mood was perfect. “Please?”
Laura in see-through peach stuff, standing by the Christmas tree . . . In all his life Isaiah had never seen anything so beautiful, had never even dreamed such beauty could exist. The Christmas lights bathed her in a cheerful glow that accentuated the delightful curves of her body. All she lacked was a ribbon to be every man’s Christmas fantasy.
“I love you,” was all he could think to say.
“I love you, too.” She dimpled a cheek at him. “Stop staring at me. You’re making me feel funny.”
He didn’t want that. Isaiah felt as if he walked a mile to reach her. His hand trembled slightly when he touched her hair. “Ah, Laura, you’re lovely. I’m almost afraid to touch you.”
She giggled. “That’s not the idea. This is sup-posed to make you crazy for me.”
Mission accomplished. Isaiah drew her into his arms. This time, he vowed, he would make it perfect for her.
Afterward Laura felt like a puddle of melted wax. She lay sprawled on the beanbags, one arm flung outward, the other locked around Isaiah’s neck. He lay with his face buried between her breasts. She had no idea where her sexy outfit had gone. Overall, she decided that it had been a complete waste of money. He’d left it on her for only about three seconds.
But, oh, it had been lovely. She lifted her hand to his hair. The strands sifted through her fingers like cool threads of silk. His heart was still pounding. She could feel each violent thrum vibrating into her belly button.
“I’m really, really glad you didn’t choke to death.”
He gave a weak laugh and nibbled at the curve of her breast. “Me, too. Ah, Laura, you’re fabulous. I love you so much.”
She tucked in her chin. In the firelight it was oddly arousing to see his dark face pressed against her white skin. She trailed her hand down his back.
“It didn’t hurt this time. Not at all.”
“Hmm,” was his only response.
That wasn’t exactly what she’d been hoping for. She stared thoughtfully at the open-beamed ceiling. “Isaiah?”
“Hmm?”
She danced her fingertips over his bare hip. “If I put my outfit back on, can we do it again?”
He groaned. “Dear God, I’ve created a monster.”
Laura lifted her head, trying to see his face more clearly. “You don’t want me?”
He laughed and pushed up on his elbow. “Convince me.”
Laura wasn’t exactly sure how to do that. But she was willing to give it her best. In the end, she discovered that Isaiah didn’t require a lot of encouragement. Hardly any, in fact.
In between puppy feedings that night, they didn’t sleep. They were like two children who’d been turned loose in a candy shop, insatiable in their greed for each other. When dawn broke and the first faint light of day shone through the crack of the bedroom drapes, Isaiah was so exhausted that he could barely move. Laura lay over the top of him like a cover that was too short, her dainty toes poking him at the ankles, her silky hair teasing his chin.
Even drained of energy as he was, Isaiah wanted her again. She felt so damned wonderful, all soft and naked and warm, pressed full-length against him. But he was finished. He could move his toes, but only just barely.
Sighing, he groped for a blanket to cover them. Laura stirred and squirmed to get off of him, then curled her body into the lee of his for warmth. He splayed a hand on her belly, drew her even closer, and fell into an exhausted sleep.
When next Isaiah opened his eyes, Laura was gone, and the sheet beside him was cold. He tossed back the blankets, pushed to his feet, and grabbed his jeans. As he hopped to drag them on, he made his way to the door.
“Laura?”
She wasn’t in front of the fire, feeding puppies. He took some wood from the box and tossed it on the dying flames. Then he went in search of her. He found her in the laundry room, rinsing out towels. She wore one of his shirts instead of a nightgown. The tails reached almost to the bend of her knees.
“Morning,” he said.
She grinned at him over her shoulder and stretched her neck for a kiss, which he was happy to deliver.
“How can you look so perky?” he asked. “We hardly got any sleep.”
“I’m high on love.”
“I’m high on love, too. But even the sexiest man alive needs some sustenance. Let me finish that while you start some breakfast.”
She rinsed her hands, gave him another kiss, and scurried off to the kitchen. Over the rush of the water, Isaiah could have sworn he heard her singing. He shook his head and chuckled.
“Thank God it’s Tucker’s turn to work Saturday again,” he said when he entered the kitchen a few minutes later. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a tank.”
She yawned as she turned the bacon. “The puppies are fed. After we eat we could go back to bed.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
Thirty minutes later they snuggled down in Laura’s bed, as contented and sleepy as the puppies in the wading pool. Isaiah considered making love to her before he went back to sleep, but between thought and action, his eyes drifted closed. The next instant he was under.
They awakened to the sound of thirteen hungry puppies, yipping and mewling. Laura warmed formula while Isaiah washed bottles. “Are you sure you want kids?” he asked.
She smiled. “Yes, but maybe not thirteen.”
They stayed in that day, content with only each other. In between making love, they watched a couple of movies, played a game of checkers, and fixed snacks to keep up their energy. Isaiah had never hoped to be this happy. Laura could scarcely believe that all her dreams, which she’d believed could never come true for a woman with aphasia, were now becoming reality.
Every once in a while they would look at each other and smile stupidly. “I can’t believe you love me,” she’d say. “I think I’m the luckiest man alive,” he’d say. And pretty soon they were in bed again, as eager for each other as they’d been the first time.
Just after midnight, Isaiah’s phone rang. It was his answering service. There’d been a car accident just north of Crystal Falls. A German shepherd, riding in the bed of a pickup truck, had been thrown from the vehicle.
“Do you want me to go?” Laura offered.
Isaiah would have loved to have her assist him, but he knew the dog’s injuries might be severe, requiring a lengthy surgery. “You need to be here with the puppies. This could take hours
Minutes later, as Isaiah pulled away from the house, he saw Laura and Hapless still silhouetted in the open doorway. As if she sensed that he was looking back, Laura blew him a kiss.
“Oh, Jesus,” Isaiah whispered when he saw the first X-rays. “Is there a bone in his body that isn’t broken?”
Belinda stood at the table. The shepherd was already under the effects of anesthesia, a tube down its trachea, its tongue lolling. “He’s in pretty bad shape,” she said sadly. “Do you think we can save him?”
Isaiah rolled up his sleeves and jerked on a lab coat. He wished now that he’d gotten more sleep over the last twenty-four hours. Normally his and Tucker’s weekend schedules worked out fairly well, with each of them covering two Saturdays a month so the other one could have two weekends off. The downside was that the guy who didn’t work days on Saturday had to cover any emergencies that night.
“I don’t know if I can save him,” Isaiah finally replied. “But I mean to give it a try.” As he approached the table, he asked, “What the hell was a Seeing Eye dog doing in the back of someone’s pickup truck?”
Belinda shrugged. “I didn’t get many details. I thought maybe you did when you talked to the police.”
“Only that some blind lady flew in from Chicago to see her family. There must not have been room inside the cab for a dog.”
“Idiots,” Belinda said heatedly. “With all the seat-belt laws in Oregon, and all the public-awareness messages on television, you’d think people would understand that even dogs need some kind of safety restraints.”
That was the end of all unnecessary conversation for a while. Isaiah focused intently on his work. If the shepherd died, there was no telling how long it might be before the blind woman could get another guide dog.
By four in the morning, Isaiah was so tired that his vision kept blurring. Belinda had made him coffee that was strong enough to paint walls, but it hadn’t helped.
“Talk to me,” he said. “Help me stay awake.”
Belinda obliged, chattering nonstop about her days at college as they worked on their patient. When Isaiah blinked and yawned again, she tipped her head questioningly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so beat,” she observed. “Is everything okay at home?”