Senior Prom 14

Tap, tap, tap.

"Excuse me, Ranger, I'm sorry to disturb you but I just wanted you to know I'm leaving your dinner in the kitchen."

I jerked awake, still half on top of Ranger. It was almost dark in the bedroom, but light from the hallway poured in, gleaming on Ranger's mocha latte chest. My eyes traveled down to my shoulder and the curve of my bare hip, glowing white against his darkness. Omigod! We were both naked!

And Ella was standing just outside the wide-open bedroom door, still talking.

"You probably should eat it soon, while it's still warm. It won't be as good reheated."

I reached down for the sheet, grateful that it was covering my ass, barely, and pulled it up over my shoulders. I kept my face buried in Ranger's neck. Maybe Ella wouldn't recognize me. Omigod, I could never face her again.

She was still talking.

"I left a protein shake in the refrigerator for you to drink before bedtime. You need some extra nourishment to build you up and help you put some weight back on."

I squirmed with embarrassment. Ranger's chest was shaking beneath me and his arms were steel surrounding me, binding me to him. Omigod, he was laughing!

"Stephanie, dear, please make sure Ranger eats. He's terribly thin."

I opened my mouth to tell her I'd try, but nothing came out except a mouse-like squeak that I hoped Ella would take as agreement.

"Thank you, Ella," Ranger said, his voice deep and gravelly with sleep.

"You're welcome, dear. Enjoy your dinner and get lots of rest."

We lay silent and still until we heard the click of the apartment door closing behind Ella. Then I rolled off Ranger with a groan. I lay there on my back beside him, clutching the sheet to my breasts like some kind of protective armor, glad it was dark enough that he couldn't see my flaming face. How humiliating, being caught naked in bed by Ella!

He had an arm under my neck and he crooked it to pull me back against him. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Babe."

Sure, look on the bright side. We could have been right in the middle of the act instead of sated and sleeping. It could have been worse. It could have been my mother. Omigod, just the thought of it caused the panic to rise up from my gut into my throat like ocean waves crashing on a rocky coast.

And then my stomach growled.

A short laugh from Ranger turned into a cough and I jerked my head up to study his face. There wasn't enough light to really see him, so I sat up, still holding the sheet like a shield over my nakedness and clicked on the bedside lamp.

I studied his face. "Are you okay?" I asked.

Instead of answering he crushed his mouth over mine, pressing me back down onto the bed and rising up over me, his weight on his forearms. I floated away in the sweet taste of him, inhaling his masculine scent and sucking in his warm breath as if it could make him a part of me.

"I'm way better than okay," he murmured as the kiss ended.

"You can say that again," I muttered, dazed.

Then my stomach growled a second time.

"Come on, Babe, let's give the hungry tiger some sustenance," Ranger said, swinging easily out of bed and tugging on my hand until I followed.

I was still clutching the sheet to my breast, although I have no idea why. Ranger's seen me naked, more than once. Hell, one of the very first times he saw me after we met I was handcuffed naked to the shower rod. But tonight I was feeling just a little insecure about our so-called relationship. I tried to show him I loved him instead of telling him, but I'm not sure he got the message.

I threw the sheet over my shoulder like a toga, wrapped it tight around me, and sat down on the closed toilet seat, watching while Ranger got the shower going and pulled extra towels out of the linen closet. His activity was fluid and relaxed as he moved around the bathroom, naked and beautiful and not a bit self-conscious about it. I wondered whether I could ever be so comfortable in my own skin, even if I had the most perfect body in the world. I doubted it. Guilt over physical pleasures had been ingrained in me at an early age by my family and the Church. Something that fundamental was almost impossible to overcome, I suspected.

Ranger stood in front of the mirror watching himself as he unwrapped the white bandages from around his waist. He removed the blood-stained gauze pads that were taped over his injury and looked down at the stitches.

I tensed and looked, too. For all the blood that had poured out onto my bedroom floor—I shivered again at the thought—the wound was surprisingly small. It was only about three inches long, with perhaps 15 black stitches holding it together. It was clean, innocuous against all that tantalizing flesh, and I found myself licking my dry lips as I studied Ranger in the mirror.

He walked out of the room and came back a moment later with a plastic sandwich bag. He cut the zip-lock top off with scissors, pulled a roll of wide plastic tape from a drawer and did a quick, efficient job of taping the bag over his stitches.

"Gee, you're good at that," I said, trying to take my mind off his divine body. "Practically professional."

"A professional is just an amateur who didn't quit," Ranger said. "I'm a lot better at it than I used to be. Years of practice."

Was that a subtle reminder to me that his life didn't lend itself to relationships?

"Come on, Babe," Ranger said. "Shower time." He pulled me to my feet and pushed me toward the steam billowing from the shower, his hand gripping the edge of the sheet that wrapped me.

I stopped at the shower door and turned to face him. Staring into the dark depths of his eyes, I dropped the sheet.

TBC