Chapter 3

A week later Sol was officially ready.

She was also nervous as hell.

Since last Friday she had thought and re-thought over Kael’s proposition. As they had both concluded, it was logical. It was also very weird. Before, she and Kael would be completely at ease in each other’s company. Now, they still were, to a degree, but there was also something lying just below the surface. Something that she often caught glimpses of in those dark, sleepy eyes of his. Expectation. Anxiety. Desire.

And it was driving her bonkers!

Kael had been patient, though he continually tossed her one of his lady-killer smiles every chance he got while they were at the gym. She wanted to be the one in charge of the situation, yet she felt like a helpless mouse being stalked by a big, lanky, smooth-talking feline.

Of course, it was just pure nerves on her part. Kael was still only Kael. He hadn’t changed one of it since making his generous offer. Yet she felt as if she was beginning to change. She was seeing things—seeing him—through different eyes. She was thinking things she had never thought of before. Well, not much, anyway.

She wondered what his kisses would be like—she only had two to base herself on and they were cut short. Would they be calm and chaste, as the one they’d shared last Friday? Or soul-deep and wet, as the one they had shared eight years ago? How did he look when naked and aroused? How would he be in bed? Would he be soft and gentle, or wildly passionate? Would he hold her afterward and whisper sweet nothings, or would he fall asleep, exhausted? Would he try to bring her pleasure also, or would he simply let the moment carry him away and think only of himself?

And the thing that really scared her was the fact that she hoped it took far longer than one time for her to get pregnant.

Why? Because Kael was deeper inside of her than she cared to admit. He was the man who had watched over her like a doting father ever since her parents and brother had died. The same man who nicknamed her 'Soul' because she tagged along with him and JM so much. The same man who threatened to wring her neck because she came home ten minutes past midnight on the night of her senior prom—an event which she hadn’t gone to only because she hadn’t been invited.

Kael had spent eighty dollars on a dress for her and she hadn’t had the nerve to tell him that none of the guys wanted to be seen with a tomboy. So she had stashed the dress under her bed, and sneaked out while he was at work. When she came back she faked her way through a whole fairy tale night of magic, and had never told him different since then. That beautiful, wonderful man was going to be her… lover? It was mind-boggling.

Now she had to tell him that the time was right in her cycle. That they could start in on making that baby this very evening.

She would be sure to keep her perspective through the whole affair though. Wouldn’t get all star-struck and start thinking of Kael in the father and husband role. This was strictly a business deal. She was getting a baby, and he was getting…

What would Kael be getting out of this? This went way beyond the duty of a friend. Even as close as they were. She frowned, grabbing her cell phone and keys. That was one question that continued to plague her. She would be sure to ask him this morning.

Her shift didn’t start for another hour, so she figured now was the time. She would go over to Kael’s place, get his lazy bones out of bed, tell him the news, and hope he would take it from there. She had no idea how these things were supposed to work. Would they simply make love once and see what happened? Would he want to take her out to dinner before they went to bed? She snorted at the very idea. Yeah, right, as if she was a real girlfriend?

Oh, well. She would simply follow his lead and protest if she didn’t agree with anything she felt was demeaning or unfair.

After running her fingers through her hair to spruce up her curls, she opened the front door, knowing she would come back home tonight a changed woman—perhaps, a pregnant one also.

* * * *

“Kael,” she called as she opened his door with her duplicate key. Her ears only took in silence; her eyes, the junk scattered from here to eternity. A pair of dirty socks hung from a lampshade. A set of dumbbells sat on the kitchen table and were half-hidden beneath the Sunday funnies. Yesterday’s breakfast—swollen, mushed-out cereal in a wooden serving bowl—sat on the floor near the television. Yes, Kael was certainly a slob.

Going into his kitchen-living room combination, she rinsed out his coffee pot and put a fresh batch on to drip then washed two coffee cups since none were left clean, and placed them on the counter. While she was at it, she stuck a load of dishes in the dishwasher.

“This man has to hire a maid,” she said with a disgusted gasp as she opened the refrigerator and got a whiff of an open can of sardines. Retrieving bread and butter, hoping they wouldn’t taste of the strong smelling fish, she laughed to herself, thinking that any housekeeper who walked into this battlefield would turn right back around and run screaming for the door—if she didn’t trip and fall over something on her way out.

A few times a week she stopped by to dig him out of the mountain of rubble and make him coffee and toast—her one and only culinary masterpiece. Trevor always appreciated it as he was a bigger dunce in the kitchen than she was. Although he had mastered the use of his microwave, his coffee still tasted like battery acid.

While they had lived together for those few months until her eighteenth birthday, they had existed on TV dinners and fast food. The same was true now that they lived apart. She always blamed her misfortunes in the kitchen due to faulty cookware. Kael was more honest, saying that they both simply hated cooking.

As she was musing over mundane thoughts and buttering the toast, she heard bare feet slapping against linoleum. Kael, king of the walking dead, was stumbling into the room. She felt her blood go hot and sneaked a peek at him as he opened the fridge, pulled out a plastic half-gallon container of orange juice, unscrewed the cap and took several large swallow before putting it back—minus the cap, letting that drop from his hand and onto the floor.

Coming up behind her, he put his big arms around her waist, resting his chin atop her head as if they were an old married couple. “I had a dream about you last night,” he mumbled before yawning. “About us.” A low hum came from his throat, vibrating against the back of her skull; a sound that soon turned into soft snoring.

“You don’t say?” Sol didn’t believe him for one minute. Sure, he probably had a dream, a very erotic one as his cuddle-up behavior proved, but of her? No way! He had probably dreamt of Raquel; the woman who came into the gym three times a week to have Kael assist her on the Nautilus machines. She was tall and blonde and had legs up to her ears. And she had the hots for Kael. Sol always wondered why Kael hadn’t nibbled her bait. She shrugged. Probably just waiting until the time was right to make one of his customary smooth moves.

“Kael.” She jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow as she was pressed against the edge of the counter, the rim gouging into her stomach as he leaned heavily against her.

“Wake up. Do I look like a bed to you?”

His body jerked back to consciousness. “No, but I expect to have you in mine sometime soon.” His voice was low and slow and husky. It was a deep, rumbling sound that seeped from his naked chest and into her back, winding its way downward, slithering into her lower abdomen, coiling between her thighs. She inhaled a sharp breath as a wave of desire washed over her. Why hadn’t she noticed before how sexy his voice sounded in the morning? Probably because she had forbidden herself to think of him in such terms.

“Well, as a matter of fact.” She set the knife down, turning around in the confines of his slumberous embrace to look up at eyes that were more than half closed—and she thought about sex all over again. This was definitely getting out of hand, she reprimanded herself, reconfirming the fact that this was strictly a business deal and nothing to get spellbound over. “I came over to tell you that we can begin whenever you’d like. I’m at my monthly peak, and well…” Her boldness suddenly deserted her and she ducked out of his arms to place the plate of toast on the small table a few feet away from the stove.

Taking up one of the two chairs, she turned to see Kael leaning against the refrigerator scratching a lethargic hand through his sleep-mussed hair. He yawned two more times before attempting to walk the entire six feet to the table, dressed in his usual sleeping attire of ancient running shorts and nothing else. At one time they had been gray and a whole lot thicker. Now they were more white than gray and looked like a bunch of weft threads held together by nothing short of a whisper and a prayer.

“Good lord, don’t you own any pajamas?” Sol looked over the ragged things that showed off his muscular thighs and had somehow become snugger since the last time she saw them on him—which was last week.

And when had he sprouted all of that glorious chest hair?

He slumped into the empty chair across from her, scrubbing his hands over his face in an attempt to revive himself. After shaking the cobwebs loose, he frowned, looking down at the little-bit-of-nothings in question. “They never bothered you before.” He looked back at her. Reaching across the table, he took one of her hands in his. “What’s wrong, Sol?”

She shoved a mug of coffee at him. Kael mutely thanked her with a nod of his head before wrapping one big palm around the cup, lifting it to his lips and drinking long and deep.

“Nothing’s wrong.” She began picking toast crumbs off the table, sprinkling them onto the floor. “I just … don’t know where to start with this … arrangement.” Her eyes were everywhere except on the half-naked man across from her.

“Hey.” He smiled, coming out of his nocturnal daze. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.” His hand was still holding hers, his thumb stroking the underside of her wrist where her pulse beat wildly. “You’re scared, huh?”

“Yeah.” She looked up at him, her gaze resting on that silken mat of chest hair.

“That’s why I wanted to be the man for you, Sol. You don’t have to be afraid of me. I won’t take advantage of this … arrangement.” A sleepy smile spread across his lips.

“Thanks.” Her own smile was a tremulous one.

*

“No prob.” He let her hand go, taking a slice of toast, consuming it in four clean-cut bites as he leaned back in the chair, portraying a cool-headed exterior. Truthfully, he was nervous as hell. For one thing, Sol kept staring at him. His chest, his legs, his shorts—the front of his shorts, more precisely. It made him uneasy.

The other thing was that he found himself staring right back at her. Her snug jeans that sculpted her hips, thighs and perfect little ass. The T-shirt which she wore tucked in accentuating her full breasts. When had Sol developed full breasts? Her halo of cinnamon curls shining atop her head and framing her smooth, pretty face void of any concealing make-up.

And he couldn’t get the feel of her out of his body as he had pressed up against her while she stood at the counter less than five minutes ago. She was now forever emblazoned upon his front; all the way from chest to thigh and every place in between. Especially the places in between. His dick jolted at the thought. It seemed to have a mind of its own, and pointed straight in Sol’s direction like the needle of a compass. He hoped she didn’t take a peek under the table right about now. Then again, he hoped she would.

He had indeed been dreaming about her, and he’d been physically aroused when he’d rambled out here, plastering himself to her backside. Had she noticed?

This was very, very weird. When he’d made his gallant offer as a surrogate father, he thought it would be a piece of cake. Boom, boom, and be done with it. Put it behind him just like that damned kiss eight years ago. But ever since last Friday, he’d started thinking of all the ways he could make love to Sol. In his bed, in her bed, on this very kitchen table. Her on the bottom, her on the top, side by side, standing up. His libido seemed to be stuck in overdrive.

“Well, I’d better get going.” Sol got to her feet. “I have to open the store this morning. I’ll be doing inventory most of the day,” she said to explain the lack of her customary blue slacks and blazer that was uniform for all supes.

“Oh,” he mumbled as she went to stand next to him, her body heat mingling with his own. Kael noticed she was wearing perfume this morning. Sol never wore perfume. He wished she hadn’t adopted this new practice as the soft, wood-floral drifted to his nostrils, enveloping his brain in a blanket of sensuality.

It was hard to think with her so close, but he put it down to the unique avenue their close friendship would be taking. A business partnership as she’d put it. A partnership that would be consummated this very evening. Just the thought of it had him fighting off another wave of desire that lanced through his loins.

He looked up at her, appearing the epitome of confidence. As if he’d done this sort of thing a thousand times before. “How about if I pick you up at eight tonight? I’ll have Rick baby-sit the gym. He is the assistant manager. He’ll probably love being in charge.” He shrugged. “Maybe we could do something before we … uh … you know.” Kael actually felt himself blush.

“Sounds good.” She bent her head to plant a kiss on his cheek as she usually did when leaving, but Kael didn’t turn his face this time to offer up the spot. As if payback from Friday’s kiss, he kept his steady gaze on her as her lips came closer, hesitated, then ultimately touched his.

Kael wanted to pull her down onto his lap, to deepen the soft pressure of her mouth upon his. To rekindle the memory of that long ago kiss. To find out if she affected him as badly now as she had that night. But she was scared. And he had to admit that he was too—just a little. So he let her call the shot, leaving his lips pliable, yet firmly closed, though his tongue was ready to break through the barrier of his teeth.

And he nearly melted in his chair.

One kiss. One soft little touch from Sol’s mouth had him worked up like the dirtiest Filipino kiss he’d ever experienced in the past. Too, too weird, he thought again.

When she broke the feather-light contact, she stood upright, placing a trembling hand over her lips. “Oh, my.” She looked slightly bewildered. Evidently she was feeling the same strange connection that he was.

And now he knew that the eight-years-ago kiss hadn’t been a fluke. They affected each other like a match to gasoline. And now he knew he had been right to break that kiss off. But now he had brilliantly volunteered to impregnate Sol. He couldn’t back out. He’d given his word. He just prayed he wouldn’t be consumed in the flames they created and would come out of this thing uncharred.

“I’ll see you tonight then,” she said on a low, breathy sigh.

“Tonight,” Kael whispered, watching her firm ass with great admiration as she made her way to his front door. She didn’t saunter. She didn’t swish or sway. And still, he felt as if he’d fall out of his chair at any second.

If he looked inside himself he would find that he was quite excited about their coming date this evening. More eager than he’d been in a long time. He kept reminding himself that it was only Sol.

Maybe he’d been burying himself in work for too long. Ever since he’d opened the gym, he’d only had one or two dates a month—if that. Hadn’t had sex for a good six months. That had to be the reason for all of these erupting hormones.

“‘Bye.” Sol waved and she was gone.

Not bothering to finish his toast or coffee, Kael bolted from the table, overturning his chair in the process, and ran to bathroom for a cold shower. An ice-cold shower.