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“About the size of two hands - somewhere between the size of your hands and the size of mine,” he added when she gave him an exasperated look.
“That’s a pretty big difference.”
‘Yes, it is.” He picked up her hand and placed it in his. Even outstretched, her fingers barely reached past his palm. “All of our body parts are very different in size.”
He was still looking at her hand, but she wondered if he was thinking of more intimate areas. His codix certainly was intimidatingly large, but then again, a woman’s body was designed to stretch. Her clit throbbed at the thought of trying and he suddenly looked up, his nostrils flaring.
“This excites you?”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand, quickly shaking her head.
“No! Well, maybe. But not because of the size difference, but because it’s you.”
He gave her an unreadable look, then tugged her into his arms and kissed her, gently at first, and then more deeply as she wound her arms around his neck and responded eagerly. She ended up on his lap as he toyed with the collar of her robe, his fingers lightly brushing her skin.
“This is a dangerous game, my flower.”
“Why?”
“Because I cannot be what you want - what you deserve.”
“What is it you think I want?”
“A home. A family. Someone you can care for who cares for you in return.”
Sudden tears threatened. She hadn’t thought to put it in those terms, but he was exactly right - she wanted all those things. And she was beginning to suspect she wanted them with him.
“Is that so bad?” she asked softly.
“Not at all, but… But they are things I cannot give you.”
“Why not?”
His face closed into the expressionless mask that he had worn less and less frequently over the past week.
“I am… damaged.”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond, returning her to her seat and picking up the deck of cards again.
“Another game?”
“All right. As long as you don’t mind losing.”
She tried to keep her voice light and teasing but from the look he gave her, she wasn’t entirely successful. However he didn’t comment, just started dealing the cards.
In spite of a lingering sorrow from that conversation, the rest of the day passed pleasantly enough. They played several more card games - most of which she won - and he made her laugh each time he protested that he was being hustled. They cooked dinner together, just as they had been doing over the campfire, but it was considerably more… intimate, dancing around each other in the small interior of the wagon. She couldn’t help noticing that he did his best to avoid touching her, but she didn’t say anything and the conversation remained on safe subjects.
After dinner, they sat around the small table, talking in the soft glow of a single lamp. He encouraged her to share more of her memories of her grandfather, and she found herself smiling as she talked, remembering more of the happy times before he’d become so ill, until it almost felt as if he were sitting at the table with them.
“You know that’s the first time I’ve really talked about him,” she said softly. Ken certainly hadn’t been interested. “It’s nice to remember those times.”
He nodded.
“The bad memories can become… overwhelming.”
“What about you? You must have some good memories?”
A shadow crossed his face.
