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David reached out, his fingers curling around the strap of her bag, and she felt it fall off her shoulder, let him drop it just inside the door. Then he was stepping back, giving her room to walk into the house. She took the unspoken invitation, her eyes not leaving him. She should thank him, she knew, she should acknowledge that this was outside of normal for him. But she couldn’t bring herself to break the silence.
He closed the door behind her, his body so close to hers that she could smell the clean smell of his body wash. Shoshana had to curl her hands into fists, cross her arms over her chest, to stop herself from reaching for him. Because she knew if she touched him, she was going to embarrass herself by falling to her knees in front of him and begging him to let her take him in her mouth.
There was nothing about this moment that needed to be sexual, and yet she wanted to make it that.
Because it was easier.
Because she understood what to do with that.
Because she didn’t know what to do with this. She didn’t know how to deal with someone looking at her naked need and responding with compassion.
They were standing in the small foyer. They hadn’t even stepped into the living room. She stepped back. The cool wood of the door solid against her back. She licked her lips, wanting to say… something. But the words wouldn’t come.
What could she say?
He stepped into her, so close that she could feel his heat. His fingers touched her hair, tucked a tendril behind her ear. She swallowed, watching his face. Hoping he would kiss her. Praying he wouldn’t. His mouth was so close to hers she could taste the toothpaste he used. She turned her head, following his mouth, her hands falling to her sides. David caught the fingers of one hand, his own fingers lacing loosely through hers.
“Come sit down,” he said softly, stepping away from her, but taking her with him. His hand was warm on hers and she shivered, letting herself be led into the room. They were almost to the sofa when she stopped. He turned to look at her, a question in his eyes, but she didn’t speak. Shoshana pulled his hand, and he took the invitation, stepping closer to her.
And then she was moving, launching herself into his warmth. She felt his arms come up, felt him envelope her in that heat. She made a noise that could have been a moan and his hand was in her hair, holding her against him. She turned her face, pressing herself into the tee shirt he was wearing. He smelled like laundry soap and mint and safety.
Shoshana didn’t know when she started weeping, only that it felt like maybe tears had always been falling, had never stopped. She felt the thing inside her that had only just started moving again open wide. Felt it shift, slowly, achingly, but it was happening.
His arms tightened around her and she snaked her own arms around him, holding his body against her. David murmured something against her temple, and she felt the sob rip from somewhere deep inside herself. She was aware that they should be sitting down, that it would be more comfortable to be sitting. But she couldn’t bring herself to move. This felt too good, too right.
Time passed. She wasn’t sure how long. But it must have been a while because she cried herself out. And then there was just silence. The sound of two people breathing. He didn’t release her, and he didn’t try to move.
He just held her.
Shoshana couldn’t help but appreciate how they fit against each other. Her forehead rested naturally against the curve of his neck. It was nothing to turn her head so that her lips pressed into his collarbones. She sighed against his skin, knowing she should break the spell, say something. Anything. Even a thank you.
She didn’t want to speak. It felt too good here in the safety of his arms. To speak was to begin the process of leaving this warmth. She swallowed and her throat felt parched. She felt like Alice, through the looking glass and lamenting that she shouldn’t have cried quite so much.
She opened her mouth, but again, no words were forthcoming.
He seemed to sense that things were shifting. His hand moved, pulling the curtain of her hair away from her face. Then he was touching her cheek, his fingers gentle as he traced the curve of her jaw. Shoshana leaned into the touch, lifting her head because she wanted to follow that light caress. His thumb rubbed gently under one of her eyes, wiping the drying tears away.
Shoshana wished that she had words for the look in his eyes, but she didn’t.
Before, in her bedroom, she’d been so afraid to see pity on his face. And now that she was here, and he was holding her, the look in his eyes was so far from pity it wasn’t even the same category. She blinked slowly, trying again, and failing to say something.
Finally, she managed a soft sound. Something that could have been his name.
Warmth flared in his eyes and he pressed his lips to her forehead. She closed her eyes because the touch felt like all of his touches. So warm, and tender, and wholly present that she felt seen. Cherished.
If he gave her nothing else, he’d given her this.
She wanted to cry again at that. She slid her fingers down his back, skimming down over the tee shirt to his waist, preparing to step back, to go find her bag and make her way back to her car. Because it was late, and this was his house, and he had a daughter upstairs sleeping. As much as she really, really wanted to start kissing him and not stop until dawn, she also knew that he had other commitments.
“Stay with me,” he said, his lips at her temple. Shoshana closed her eyes, wanting to laugh.
“I think I should probably go,” she said. She turned her head, lifting her chin so that his lips were so tantalizingly close to hers, to not be kissing was just impractical. He chuckled low, but took the invitation, his fingers cupping her jaw, holding her against his mouth.
“Stay anyway,” he said, catching her hand, lifting it to his lips to kiss her knuckles, to nibble playfully at one. “Please.”
“If I stay,” she said pointedly, “what then?”
“Then,” he said, tilting his head as though considering the question, “I get to love you for a while.”
