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I swallow and the sound is loud. Even Catherine levers back to look at me. “Areyouokay?” She studies my face. “You look exhausted.”
“I’m fine.” The voice inside my head is screaming: JUST TELL HER! But those three short words, put together, are so big. And I have never said them and meant them to a woman before.
“You know what will help?”
I know whatever she’s going to say will be food related.
“Grilled cheese.”
The moment the words are out of her mouth, a deep laugh climbs free from my chest. And by God, I can’t stop. I shake my head, trying to temper my reaction, but when Catherine looks at my face and giggles, I lose it again.
For a full thirty seconds, we laugh. “I’m sorry I’m always feeding you,” she manages first. She raises both her palms. “It’s how I show love.”
As if the words have cast a spell on her, she freezes and glances at my face, her eyes wide with the horror of what she’s just said, and then she starts chattering a mile a minute. “You know what I mean,” she says, waving her hand as she turns towards my tiny kitchen. “Do you have supplies? Or do we need to make a grocery run?”
Who am I kidding? I am hopelessly besotted with this woman.
“I once went to Safeway at three in the morning to get a single lime,” she’s telling me. “I was in my PJs—would not recommend.”
I nod cautiously, letting her nerves run their course.
“Mnn, weird. I can’t remember what I was making. Single lime…single lime…” When she turns to face me, I can see she’s genuinely managed to distract herself. “What would I have needed a single lime for?”
“Catherine.”
“I have absolutely no idea.” She ignores me, but I can see by the rigid set of her spine and the anxious flutter of her hands that she knows I’m not going to let it go.
“Catherine.”
I watch her rummaging around beneath my stove. “Mhnm?” She rises from my kitchen cabinet holding a frying pan I didn’t even know I owned.
Taking it from her, I put it on the counter behind me. When I turn to face her again, she is standing in the middle of the kitchen, watching me. She is completely still.
I walk to her and, locking my hands around her waist, look into her eyes. I want her to see everything I feel. I want her to know that I’m being completely honest when I say, “I’m in love you.”
She looks stricken.
“You don’t have to say anything.” Needing the contact to ground my racing heart, I fold her into a hug and wrap both my arms around her. Her small frame is completely tense. “I don’t want to scare you. Or pressure you. I just want you to know that I’m glad you’re here, and that every time I see you, I sink a little deeper.” Telling her feels like an exhale, like a weight has been lifted, freeing my soul from confines that I didn’t even realize were holding me back all these years.
She doesn’t say anything, but she nods against my chest.
It’s not exactly the outcome I was hoping for. But I can’t regret telling her. Even if she never felt the same way, I don’t want to lie to myself, I don’t want to lie toher. Catherine has irrevocably changed my life, and even though I know she has a long way to go, I want her to know that she has me, that she can come to me. Always.
So, I’ll take her silent nod.
And I’ll be happy that, for now, she’s still here.
Breaking my hold briefly, I move my hands to cup her face. She looks so terrified that I can’t help but feel a little guilty for throwing my love at her. “Don’t panic,” I say quietly. Cradling her face in my hands, I kiss her softly, deliberately trying to be as gentle as possible. “You don’t have to give me anything.”
This time, when I kiss her again, she sinks into me. Her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me closer as she slips her tongue into my mouth and takes. Her full breasts press against my chest, and the feeling of her peaked nipples against me heats me from the inside out.
We are greedy, each of us desperate for the other. Our hungry mouths move in frantic bites, licks, and sucks. Our restless hands caress and stroke. The sound of our mingled breathing fills the small space, driving our excitement.
When Catherine reaches for my belt, I snatch her hands in mine, duck under our arms, and lift her into a fireman’s carry.
“Aiden!” She gasps in surprise.
I carry her the fifty yards to the bedroom. “I like the way you say my name,” I say as I place her, feet first, on the bed. When she falls backwards onto the mattress laughing, her arms and legs spread out to break her fall, I add, “I like everything about you.”
