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“Christ, you really are beautiful.” There’s a wealth of unsaid emotion behind my words, and she smiles, looking happy and carefree. Her fingers brush against my skin as they work, and the little sparks of awareness hum along my nerves.
Her eyes trace over my shirt and slacks. My hair is still damp, but it’ll finish drying quickly.
“So are you.”
Our bodies are close enough that I can feel the mingled heat. The air is still thick with steam and the pent-up lust that has defined the last hour. My brain wanders to a fantasy where I slip my finger along the edge of the towel and tug it loose.
Coming back to reality, I find she’s studying me. Maybe looking for signs of frustration and anger that things are moving slowly. They feel slow to me, but for her, I’m sure they feel overwhelmingly fast.
“Are you going to get sick of me? Of waiting for me to be normal?” I hate the insecurity clouding her relaxation from earlier.
I stop myself from reaching out to touch her, holding her against me, comforting her physically. She needs words more than anything right now.
“What’s the fun of being normal?” I tease.
Her lips quirk. “You know what I mean.”
“No.” I pause, and she looks concerned. “No, I don’t see myself ever getting sick of you.”
I can almost see the relief releasing the invisible weight from her shoulders. As if the possibility of me rejecting her was a massive burden that had been weighing her down.
“In the last week, I’ve seen facets of you that I’m coming to realize you don’t reveal to anyone.” I gather my thoughts before continuing. “I’m fascinated by you. Each day I learn something that draws me closer. You’re like a prism, dancing in the light.”
That seems to regain her attention, and she watches me watch her.
“I haven’t enjoyed talking to anyone as much as I have with you. I could spend years unpuzzling everything about you and what makes you the incredibly strong and resilient woman you are. God knows I love watching you, and I love touching you. Even if it’s only holding your hand while we sleep or running my fingers through your hair. And don’t get me wrong. I want you. Desperately. I’ll wait for you as long as you need to be ready and comfortable with this. But I want there to be a ‘this.’ Hopefully a serious this if you’re on the same page. Otherwise, if all you want right now is what we’ve been doing, I’ll find a way to be okay with that too.”
I fall silent, and she seems stunned.
She doesn’t step closer, doesn’t break eye contact, just watches me. I hope she can tell how sincere I am about her.
“Where did you come from?” She’s looking at me with wonder and a bit of what I hope is our future.
I don’t know how to answer her, so I don’t. I hold my space and wait. If she gave me any sign she was ready, I’d blow off the party tonight and never let her leave the bed. But she’s not, so I’ll wait.
She finally shifts, and I break the silence. “You want some privacy to get dressed?”
“Yes, please.” She blushes furiously. “That seems a little hypocritical.” Her eyes scan my body in a quick sweep.
“I enjoy showing off for you.” Before she can overthink things, I grab my duffle and sweep in for a quick kiss.
“I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
Not waiting for her to reply, I swing the door open and leave.
Her voice calls out from behind me. “I shouldn’t be too long.”
I find Norm perched on the chair by the windows. Seeing me emerge, he jumps off and follows me down the stairs.
I set my bag by the door so I don’t forget it and cross to the kitchen. Norm jumps up on the counter next to me but watches the stairs like he’s hoping Lenore will come down next. He’s certainly bonded quickly with her, but I know from experience it’s quite an easy thing to do.
I scratch him under the chin, and he tilts his head, rubbing his cheek along my palm. “We’ve both got it bad. Don’t we, buddy?”
