No Strings Attached Ch. 16

Alicia turned away, her back to Jon and the door. She adjusted the towel, slipped it from her shoulder to wrap about her chest, and secure it between her breasts. Over her heart. She would swear that it was broken except for the loud, solid rat-a-tat-tat she felt pounding in her temples. She hugged the towel tighter, like a shield, some protection from the cold of his response.

She had played her hand and lost. What now? If she could not convince this man of the truth, what future did they have? And most importantly, what about Hope? What about their child? She leaned her head against the cold tiles and felt the hot tears cascade down her cheeks. The only man she had ever said those words to...and that was his response?

"Go ahead. I'll be there in a minute," she needed some time alone to consider her options. Did she have any?

"Sure. I'll take my stuff and get ready in the bedroom. I'm sorry."

Alicia waited until she heard the click of the door closing before she sunk to the cool recesses of the tub. Until she gave her tears free reign. She held back the sobs, though she wanted to wail like the mothers she had seen at that wall, the ones who had lost sons, husbands, and lovers.

She too had lost. Lost something precious. She had lost her dreams. Dreams of marriage and family built on honesty, respect, and most of all love. What now? Did she ask Jon to leave? Make some arrangement like so many parents did to share custody of their children? How would she explain any of that to Hope? She could not bring herself to cut him out of their child's life completely, not now that they knew one another. Did she walk in that room, head held high, and pretend that nothing had happened? That she had not said those words? That she did not feel them?

Why had she done it? Why had she taken such a risk? Why hadn't she just waited, bided her time, taken things more slowly? She laughed; it had the ring of a crazy woman to it. When it came to Jon, she had never played it safe. She had taken a stranger into her bed and her heart. The only one night stand of her life. And from that came the best thing that had ever happened to her, Hope.

What now? Her heart hammered with each beat, her head pounded as she rose from the tub. She leaned against the wall as she stepped out. She hugged that towel even tighter as if her life depended upon keeping it in place. She went through the motions of brushing of her teeth. Even then, she swore she could taste him, taste Jon's cum overpowering the mint.

What now? Each step of her bare feet on the dingy brown shag carpet in the hallway. That carpet had been there all her life. She should have replaced it long ago. She paused outside of Hope's room. Did she dare look in? How could she not? Hope was at the center of it all. She could not forget that. What was best for her daughter was the only thing that mattered?

She closed the door softly and leaned her head against it. What now? That damned voice echoed in her heart and her head. She trembled as she took the dozen or so steps down the hallway. Dead woman walking, what now? The blood in her icy veins seemed to chorus.

She paused outside her bedroom door — their bedroom. Her head leaned against the solid wood. It seemed the only solid thing in her world just then. She felt like she ought to pray, but to whom or what she had no idea.

What now? Wasn't that a prayer in itself? She turned the knob of the door and prepared to face the reality of what now.

***

What now? Jon knew that he had fucked up. Big time. But how did he make this one right? Was that even possible?

He sat on the end of the bed with the towel wrapped around him. His head almost touched his chest. Despite the warm shower that had loosen the contractures, he felt the tightening and pull from the unusual position. But at the moment, the slight pain helped him to focus.

What the hell did he do now? What could he possibly say to make this one right? And when things were going so well.

Going well? He laughed, a mind-blowing porn star blow job in the bathroom was a helluva a lot more than 'well.' And the way that Alicia had responded when he fucked her in the shower? It was better even than that night, and that was saying something.

Then she said those three little words. And he had ruined it all. What now?

***

Alicia closed the door behind her quietly. If it were any solace, Jon looked almost as miserable as she felt.

He was still stunning. Sitting naked, except for the towel, on the foot of her bed. Their bed. Was it still? Did she want it to be? Hell, yeah, that was not even a question.

The question was: how did they do this? How did they make a family when she loved him and he didn't love her. Or at least was not willing to admit it. Or even accept the love she offered.

She clutched the towel tighter between her breasts as she covered the short distance between the door and where he sat. "Do you still want to show me what to do? How to help?" She stared at the ugly brown shag carpet.

She should think about buying new. Right now, she wanted to think about anything but what happened in that bathroom. Well, at least at the end. The rest of it was kinda nice. Kinda nice? Hell, it was mind-blowing. At least her orgasms were.

And she had thought that Jon was as into it as she was. But maybe that was just a guy thing. Maybe it was true. Maybe guys did not care as much about who sucked their cocks as long as they got sucked.

His fingers touched hers, laced through them, and tugged her forward gently. He buried his face in the rough terry cloth of the towel. "I'm sorry," was all he muttered against her stomach.

She just held him, wrapped her arms about his scarred shoulders and back, and held him close. It was a start, right? Something? Maybe not the words of love that she ached to hear, but it was better than nothing. Better than pretending to be asleep to avoid an uncomfortable situation?

She swallowed back tears, "It's okay," she lied. "Show me what to do so I can help out." That would be something useful, a good place to begin; Alicia assured herself.

"It's okay. You don't have to," Jon's grip on her remained tight.

Alicia pulled back out of the embrace and knelt on the floor at his feet. Her hands tenderly cupped his face, "I know I don't have to. I want to. Jon, I want to. If we're going to make this work, even if the only reason you're doing it is for Hope's sake, then we need to talk, we need to find common ground, and we need to stop trying to protect ourselves."

She thought that he was going to continue arguing. The silence stretched out for several long moments. But then he nodded his head and passed her a jar of cream. He showed her the motions to use and how much pressure to apply, which was surprisingly a lot. By the time that they got to his mid-back, Alicia was gaining confidence.

The ridges of the burn scars might feel hard and rough beneath her fingers, but she could almost feel the flesh loosen with each stroke. This area was redder and drier. The scars were less healed than the others.

"That's the hardest area for me to reach," Jon whispered as she added a touch more pressure to her slow, circular strokes.

She continued the massage for several long moments; both of them lost in their thoughts. The monotony helped to clear her head. One thing kept coming back to her: Chase Logan's words, "it's not up to you to convince him that you love him. He's gotta come to terms with that himself. All you can do is offer your love freely."

She had and look where that got them. What now? It seemed that was the question that controlled her life, especially when it came to Jon. Did she pull back, play it safe, and pretend she never said those words? Or did she keep offering her love freely?

She smiled, wasn't that what she was doing now? She could have climbed into bed and hugged her side as she had done the past few nights. Refused to talk or pretend nothing had happened. But she hadn't, and she knew that she wouldn't. Maybe she couldn't.

She finished up, mindful not to overdo it. Then she bent and kissed the top of his head. "I guess we should get some sleep. It's been a big day, and tomorrow I'm sure we'll have a tired and grouchy little girl to deal with."

She stood up and tucked the jar of moisturizer back in his case on the dresser. She grabbed a nightshirt from her drawer.

"Leave it."

She turned back to face him, "Please." He stared at that ugly brown carpet, not meeting her gaze. "Please, I'd like to hold you. Naked. If that's okay?"

She nodded but realized that he did not see because he was still examining that damned old carpet. "I'll keep this at the foot of the bed. Just in case Hope needs something during the night."

He looked up and gave her that lopsided grin, "Yeah, I never knew how much having kids changed you."

She laughed as she threw back the covers and climbed into her side of the bed. Should she scoot over, closer to the center? She did not have time to decide because his good hand reached out and pulled her there anyway.

She leaned her head in the crook of his shoulders and neck. At least tomorrow morning, she would not be embarrassed and pretend that was not how she had slept. "Good-night, Jon," she whispered she as squirmed a bit closer.

She felt the warmth of his breath as he kissed the top of her head, "Don't think I have forgotten. I still owe you a few dozen orgasm and a couple of hours with my face buried between your legs."

He sighed and his arm about her tightened, "But I guess, you're right. Today had been a big day. And tomorrow will be here sooner than we think. Nite-nite, sweetheart."