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Romance novels often talk about a delicious ache. It always sounded so poetic, to want someone so much that you experienced needing them on a physical level. In some ways, I suppose, savoring the longing can be almost sexual in nature, but I've found if the longing is not satisfied it often metamorphosis's into a dull never-ending pain.
Welcome to my world.
There is an emptiness within me, a hollowness that sucks at my soul--not that I allow anyone to see that void, the starkness of my internal world. They wouldn’t understand.
People always say they can see my every thought on my face, and, in some ways, I suppose they’re correct. However, more often than not, they see the façade I put forth for the world, the mask which I hide behind. Experience has taught me it is simply easier to become what people expect: the science nerd, the social butterfly, the hyperactive police observer. One of my childhood therapists described me as a social chameleon, a person who can fit into any situation. Growing up, I learned the only way to survive was to adapt, and I learned this lesson well.
At a very early age, I understood that my mother was a gypsy. A dandelion seed dancing on the wind, never worrying about whether or not she should plant roots. While a nomad existence was difficult in many respects, it was also a wonderful way to see the world. I've spent time with some incredibly important people, both famous and not. I’ve stood on the edge of the world with the wind at my back, coaxing me to join the dance beside my mother, but it also left me with a dull ache, a vague feeling of not quite belonging.
You see, I have always been an observer of the world, but not a participant.
In an attempt to fill the void, I sought knowledge. At sixteen, I joined the world in the form of college, finally putting down roots, or the closest thing to them I could manage, only to find that I was out of step with the rest of humanity.
It was an awkward time; while I was an intellectual equal to my peers I had teenage hormones coursing through my body. Girls, or should I say women, thought I was adorable. They studied with me, discussed and debated, but never related to me on anything close to a male/female level--after all I was nothing more than a brilliant child.
So, I threw myself into my studies. I was a true science nerd. Well, as much of a nerd as a flower child could be. By the time girls started to notice me, I was too caught up in my studies, in my causes, my passions. Looking back, I often wonder if Janet was looking for more when we drove up the coast for the anti-nuke rally.
When I first noticed that girls were noticing me, I was thrilled, but swore never to bed them unless the relationship was serious. Hell, I even considered waiting until my wedding night. I couldn't do to them what I saw Naomi do to the men in her life, in our lives. I remember their sad confused faces as she would bundle me in to whatever car she was driving at the time. "But I love you. I love your kid, they would protest. And so many of them did, truly did. Naomi would always smile so sweetly as she kissed them on the cheek. "I love you too, but I can't stay. I never said I would. The wind is calling and I must answer."
I wonder how they viewed her as we... she flitted out of their lives. Did they look upon the experience with fond memories or did it crush them like it crushed me, leaving them shattered like dropped china plates?
I remember Thomas. I wanted him to be my father so badly that I actually ached. But eventually, as I knew it would, I started to see the signs of restlessness in Naomi. After we left, I actually thought about running away, running back to Thomas. I knew on some level that if I insisted, Naomi would have settled down, but putting her roots into the soil would have killed her spirit, and I could never bring myself to ask her to do it.
At twenty-five, I decided that maybe my...nobility was misplaced. I can't help but laugh when I think of what Naomi's reaction would be if she were to discover that her only child was still a virgin. Hell, I can't even imagine how Jim would react, especially after I implied that I had been banging the nurse who faxed me his chart. It was an awkward moment, which, thankfully, passed quickly.
I was so caught up in my sentinel studies that I didn't even look at another woman until Christine Hong--a beautiful woman and fellow grad student. And while I knew she didn't love me, she wanted me, which was a fairly heady feeling.
After discovering Susan Frasier's nude body in the bathtub, I desperately needed to connect with someone, anyone. But it was as if the fates were conspiring against me. Jim came home early and Christine left in a huff, having listened to what I said, but not actually hearing the words I spoke.
After my encounter with David Lash I realized I loved Jim. At first, I was convinced it was nothing more than hero worship, but as time progressed that conviction wavered. I'm still not sure of the exact moment it happened. I had connected with Jim on so many different levels that I wasn't too surprised to find I had deep feelings for him. I have loved many men in my life. I loved Thomas. I love Eli. It was, in a sense, simply bringing Jim into the circle I considered my family.
It was during this time that Jim took me into his circle as well. While he growled a lot, I could tell he liked me, liked having me around. He always made sure I had enough to eat, gas in my car and time to relax. He teased, he grumped, he nattered, but basically he let me know I was part of his tribe, part of his responsibility. At last, I belonged somewhere, to someone!
When I met Maya, I thought I was in heaven. I had a family and a woman I loved. Oh God, how I loved her. She was sweet. Innocent. Exotic. My heart just melted. I've often wondered what would have happened if I hadn't panicked that evening after she fed me mil hojas in my office. I wanted nothing more than to lean her back and enter her slowly, but the case reared its ugly head, reminding me of why I even knew who she was. I was horrified by what she would think when she learned the truth and so I did the only thing I could. I ran. In the end, she hated me anyway, but I buoyed myself with the knowledge that I hadn't used her, hadn't taken all she had to give then left--that, at least, made me a little different than Naomi.
For a while, I took solace with Samantha, who challenged me intellectually, who knew what she wanted and kept me on my toes. There was nothing soft about her. And for a period of time, I thought that was what I needed to distract myself from the memory of Maya. But truth be told, Sam scared the crap out of me. While she made it clear she wouldn't object to sharing my bed, I could never quite bring myself to join her. I guess the thought of being snapped like a twig did nothing for my confidence level. Jim believes I slept with her. He believes because I implied it with a simple, "Oh yeah."
I always smile when I think about Molly. She is a genuinely nice woman. She has brains, knows what she wants and is just adorable on so many levels I can't even begin to count them.
So why aren't we married?
Because I came to realize that my feelings for Jim had gone beyond simple love. I needed his little pats on the back, the tugs on my ponytail, the connection we seemed to have. We have achieved a level of ease which I've never experienced with anyone else before. In fact, observing my friends, I've come to the conclusion that very few people have.
His trust in me is absolute. While he may complain about the tests I run, he always believes that I can solve his sensory problems. He trusts me enough to watch his back, and considering his background that thought alone blows my mind.
The physical ache began in earnest after Incacha died.
Jim was in such pain. I desperately wanted to make his hurt go away, to absorb it, to shield him, to keep it from destroying him. I stood by his side, silently; simply letting him know I was there by my presence, trying very hard not to impose upon his grief.
Is that love?
Does love mean you hurt when the person you love hurts? That you feel joy when they feel joy?
I'd like to think so.
Jim's been back from Starkville for a week now. His eyes look like they did when I first met him.
Haunted.
Except for work, he doesn't leave the loft. He's closed himself off from everyone who cares about him as if his pain is so volatile that if he doesn't seal it within himself it will explode outwardly and maim all those around him.
I've tried to make myself as small as possible, pulling in my antenna so as not to intrude on his thoughts or to give him a reason to ask me to leave. He prowls this prison of his own making, seeming not to realize he can leave at any time.
My hands long to touch him, to pull him into an embrace, to provide a safe haven from his fears.
But instead, I make lasagna.
We eat in silence. I clean the kitchen, waving off his half-hearted offer to do the dishes since I cooked.
He's prowling again. Checking the perimeter.
And finally, I crack.
With the dishes done, I place myself squarely in his path. He doesn't stop until he literally runs into me...not having seen me.
He blinks, confused.
Without a word, I step forward and wrap my arms around his waist, and lay my head on his chest.
"Wh-what?" he asks in shock, trying to take a step back, but I refuse to let this connection be broken.
Incacha passed over the mantle of shaman to me. And while I’ve been frightened to explore the possibilities of what that means for me, I know what it means to Jim. Jim has walked through hell and while I may not be the world's best guide, I can certainly lead him out of his own personal damnation or die trying.
I slowly open myself to his pain. It’s all I can do not to gasp aloud and throw myself back. The guilt is overwhelming. The frustration and helplessness wash over me like the unmerciful ocean pounding against the beach. I dig my fingers into each other behind Jim's back as I start to drain the rage and frustration from him.
Jim is too stunned to move. Thankfully. I don't know what would happen if he were to try to physically force us apart.
And finally, I reach him, reach the frightened man buried deep within, and surround him with all the love I feel for him. He seems hesitant at first, but I can feel his spirit grow stronger. I can feel his spirit entwine with mine, joy and astonishment rippling through him at the thought of someone caring enough to find him in the darkness.
I slowly begin to pull back, forcing him to move up through the layers with me. When I come back into myself, I feel hot tears burning trails down my face. I loosen my grip once as we are again two separate entities.
Jim stumbles forward as if his rage was the only thing that kept him on his feet. I struggle to keep him upright, knowing if he falls I’ll be unable to move him without hurting him. I wrap one arm around his waist and use the other arm to hold his right arm around my shoulder.
I look up at his bedroom and realize we're not going to be able to climb the stairs, which leaves either the couch or my bed. While neither option is going to give the tall man a lot of comfort, I opt for my room.
He lurches forward with me, barely able to stay on his feet. Thankfully, my bed is clean of its normal stacks of papers and books. I back us to the bed and sit down. Once I'm sure he's stable, I stand back up and lay him out, removing his shoes as I do so. I try to make him as comfortable as I can and remove his belt.
He's staring at the ceiling, but he isn't zoning. After almost three years, I can tell the difference. He's processing; surprised to find himself outside his personal hell, at being able to breathe again.
I take off his jeans, fold them neatly and place them on the chair by my desk. He's wearing a short sleeve button-up shirt, but it would take too much manhandling to remove it, so I leave it on him. I unfold the quilt at the bottom of the bed and cover him with it.
I turn off the light and prepare to leave the room when he whispers my name.
"Yeah, Jim?"
"I...I need you."
And that's all it takes. I move back to the bed, remove my shoes and sit with my back against the wall on top of the covers. He rolls onto his stomach, draping one arm over my legs. I lightly scratch his back and shoulders and hum a nonsensical little tune that Naomi used to sing whenever I had nightmares.
After a while, his breathing evens out, but I don't stop my ministrations, realizing he's not in a very deep sleep. I am content to be here with him though, sharing the night, protecting him from the demons ready to strike when he is most vulnerable.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
I awake to the sensation of someone softly touching my lips. Blinking my eyes open, I find myself face to face with Jim, his blue eyes laughing mischievously. I smile at him. God, how I missed this smile.
His eyes darken slowly, and I see the thought as it forms in his head. Sandburg saved me. How can I repay him? What does he want?
And suddenly, I'm terrified, because I know he'll be able to figure it out if we remain lying next to each other.
"How can I thank you for last night?" he asks, his voice thick with emotion.
Run. Deflect. My mind is screaming at me to move. I laugh with a nonchalance I don't feel. "You can let me shower first."
I try to roll out of bed, but his arm is wrapped firmly around my waist.
"I can think of a better payment," he says sensuously, rolling me onto my back and laying on top of me.
I blink when I realize how effectively pinned to the bed by his hips and legs I am.
"You don't need to thank me," I whisper, praying he'll let me up, because, God forgive me, if he kisses me, I won't stop him and I have to stop him. This isn't who Jim is, and I won't be able to bear the rejection when his mind clears, not Jim's rejection.
"Ahh, but I do."
Words. Words have always been my best defense. I desperately seek the words that will release me from this velvet prison, which will maintain our status quo. Jim's mouth covers mine as I open it to speak; his tongue delving deep, teasing, exploring. I close my eyes, not wanting to see his reaction as I whimper needily in the back of my throat.
One hand gently cups my face as he adjusts his body so he can sink deeper into my mouth. I clutch at the back of his shirt, holding him to me, afraid that this moment will end too soon.
Finally, the need to breathe becomes overwhelming and we break apart; but his mouth doesn't stop its sensual assault. His lips slide to my cheek, rims my ear and nibbles down my neck.
"Breathe, Sandburg," he instructs with amusement.
I try, but end up gasping for breath, which makes him chuckle. My mouth seeks his, like a baby bird searching for sustenance, and maybe that's what I'm doing, seeking that which will bring me life.
"I'm here, babe. I'm here," he croons, kissing me with such tenderness I'm sure I'm going to shatter. "Why are you so nervous?" he asks teasingly.
"Wasn't...wasn't...expecting...”
"Ah," he says knowingly, leisurely kissing the skin between my eyebrows, the tip of my nose and my chin.
"But you want this...have wanted it for a long time," he says confidently.
I can feel my eyes widen in horror. Oh God, he knows, he's always known.
"Yes, I've known," he answers my unspoken thoughts, rolling to one side so that he can unbutton my shirt.
"But...but..."
His fingers tease my nubs and I arch, the electricity shooting through my body, overwhelming me. He tugs ever so gently on my nipple ring and I cry out as my body spasms with need.
"So sensitive," he whispers in what sounds like awe. "How can anyone ever let you go once they've seen you like this?"
I try to focus on his face, but his hands continue their gentle assault, moving downward ever so slowly. He unbuttons my jeans and I shake my head, but he's not looking at my face. His hands move against my skin, under my boxers.
A part of my mind is screaming to say something, anything, to make him stop. But my body seems to be acting on its own volition; my legs spread, giving him better access.
He chuckles wantonly. "You're such a slut."
My mind demands that I tell him the truth, to make him understand, but the words never form. My body betrays me yet again by arching upward into his hand.
"Oh yeah, you want this." He growls so sensually I almost lose what little control I have.
Jim seems to notice and slowly backs his hand out.
I whimper at the loss of his warmth. He leans forward quickly and gives me a sweet chaste kiss before he stands and removes my pants and boxers in one fell swoop.
A part of my mind whispers, This is so not good, but my body is screaming joyfully.
"My God, you're beautiful," he murmurs appreciatively, his gaze raking up my body. I can feel my face redden with embarrassment.
"No, I'm not," I argue.
He chuckles in amusement while he slides out of his boxers. He’s on top of me so quickly I realize that I've missed my opportunity to see what has been tantalizing me for months.
His mouth is amazing. It plunders mine until the lack of oxygen makes me giddy. I'm not sure what to do with my hands, so I run my fingers lightly up and down his back, teasing him, then sliding my palms to his flat abs, splaying my fingers over his stomach.
He rears back and gazes at me and there is something feral in his eyes, something primal, which scares me, yet soothes me at the same time.
When his mouth returns to my body, it's with a hunger I’ve never seen nor experienced before. His lips are worshipful. In moments, I'm writhing beneath him. His hands grip me tight, pinning me to the bed.
He slowly works his way down my body until he meets the evidence of my physical need. Without a word, without hesitation, he swallows me whole. I shout as my body contracts and it's all I can do to hold onto a rational thought. His tongue presses hard along my length, his tongue teases the skin just beneath my head, even as I feel his throat contract around my tip.
He growls and the vibrations moving through me steal my voice. I scrabble at his head, to let him know that I'm not going to be able to hold on much longer. He just chuckles and sucks harder and I'm lost, lost in a sea of fire and pleasure, in a sensual haze that seems to last forever and yet is over all too quick.
When I become aware of my surroundings again, it's to find my right leg over Jim's shoulder and a tube of hand lotion on my chest. I'm aware of his fingers moving within me, stretching me. My breath quickens and before I can form any rational thought he withdraws his fingers. I close my eyes, not sure if I'm relieved or not, when I feel something larger at my entrance.
"Christ, Sandburg," he growls, pushing in centimeter by centimeter. "How long has it been since you've done this?"
Even though I'm scared, I lean up and kiss him, feeling him slip farther in as I do. My fingers gently trace his jaw line and I'm drawn by the beauty, the power of the man above me.
"I don't want to hurt you," he whispers, and I can tell it's a strain not to simply plunge into me.
"You won't," I whisper back, believing it, believing in him.
"You're so tight," he gasps when he's finally in to the hilt.
"That's good, right?" I ask, trying to keep my voice light.
"Of course it's good," he chuckles, withdrawing slightly before he slides back in. His gaze pierces me as does his body. He moves gently, rocking his hips ever so slowly, smiling with that tender killer smile which has made grown women swoon. I raise my hips to meet his, lost in the rhythm, lost in the connection that is us, feeling his spirit once again entwine joyfully with mine.
He shimmies slightly and I open my eyes as he moves inward again, but this time my breath has been stolen from me.
"Jim?" I cry out, frightened by the new sensation, frightened that I'll never feel it again.
He thrusts forward again and my fingers claw his biceps as my insides try to jump outward. He picks up the rhythm hitting the nub within again and again. I try to focus on his face, but I can't stop my head from thrashing back and forth, my body from arching. Something's building within me, growing stronger and finally explodes before darkness consumes me.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
When I return to consciousness, it's to find Jim beside me, propped up on a pillow, his chin resting on the palm of his hand.
"Good morning," he whispers huskily.
I blink, noticing the sun's rays peeking through my window. "Morning." I smile back, desperately searching his face for some clue as to what he feels.
"We need to talk," he says softly, and I feel my heart drop into my stomach.
"I really need a shower," I counter, propping myself up on both elbows. And knowing how Jim hates to talk, I use that to my advantage. I lean forward and give him a swift kiss, refusing to let myself linger. "You know, a thank you would have sufficed." I put on my best saucy grin. "Of course, feel free to thank me like that any time."
He laughs. "You're so easy, Sandburg."
"Man, what have I been telling you?" I grab a pair of jeans, some boxers and an old sweatshirt. "Of course, breakfast would be nice, too."
"You're pushing your luck, kid," he growls, but I know breakfast will be waiting for me when I get out.
I rush into the bathroom, shut the door and turn on the water, before I collapse onto the side of the bathtub. I must be insane. Why didn't I stop him last night? Jim isn't looking for a long-term commitment. Last night...this morning...he was giving me what he thought I wanted. What's worse is I knew where Jim was headed but I wanted it so badly I could taste it. But I don't want a thank-you-fuck, I want a lifetime. And now, now that I've tasted what it can be like, I can't ever go back to the way things were.
"Any plans for today?" he asks as he places a scoop of eggs next to the toast and turkey bacon on my plate.
"Well, I need to post some grades, and the book from UCLA came in. Unfortunately, I can't remove it from the library so it looks like it’s gonna be another day in the stacks. How about you?"
"I'll probably go to the gym, then do some grocery shopping on the way home."
"Be sure to get some mozzarella, and some squash. Oh, and don't forget the spumoni rice. I don't want to have to do stir-fry with instant again."
He laughs at me as he joins me at the table. "Need any spices?"
"We're good, although we're running a little low on thyme."
"It's Saturday, Sandburg, we have all the time in the world."
I groan. He blinks innocently at me, while I tried not to breathe my eggs down the wrong pipe.
"So when will you be back?"
I take a bite of my toast and shrug. "If this book is as useful as I hope it will be, probably not until later this afternoon."
"Well, try not to spend the whole weekend in the crypt." Jim sighs. The crypt is what he calls the main library at Rainier.
"Hey, why don't you rent a movie tonight," I suggest. "We'll stay in and veg. That is, unless you have other plans?"
"No, a movie sounds great."
"Good," I say, standing and shoveling the last of my breakfast into my mouth as I walk over to the sink. I rinse off the dish and stick it in the dishwasher, then grab my backpack and leave.
"Hey, Blair."
"Hey, Missy. What's up?"
"Not much. Jim called. He says I'm supposed to physically take the book away from you and make you go home."
"Oh, he did, did he?"
"He certainly did."
"And what do you get for wrestling this tome from me?"
"Chocolate. On Monday."
"Damn." I knew I was beaten. Nobody stands between a librarian and her chocolate. I smile up at her as I dutifully hand her the book. She pats me on the head like a puppy. "You're so lucky to have someone like Jim."
I nod, unable to talk past the lump in my throat. I shuffle my papers together and stuff them in my backpack.
She smiles and pushes me toward the main door. "Go home, sweetie."
"You ran this morning," he says finally, quietly.
"Yes," I admit in a voice just as soft. "I suppose I did."
"Was I wrong?" I know he's asking if he was wrong about the vibes he's been picking up from me.
"Yes. And no."
I cut a piece of chicken and chew it for a very long time.
"Will you explain?" God, the vulnerability in his voice slowly drives a stake into my heart.
I finally swallow. "I wanted...want more than just this morning." I look up and hold his gaze with my own.
"How much more?" he mouths, although there's no force behind his question.
I put the fork down on my plate. "Forever, Jim. I want forever."
His smile is brilliant. Not just a flash of white teeth, but a warmth which flows from him and surrounds me. "I can do forever."
"Can you, Jim?" I ask seriously. "I'm not asking you to make an announcement or to come out, but can you do forever...with me?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I can. But what about you? Can you give up all your women and settle for just me? Because I'm here to tell you, I don't share well."
"You won't have to."
The rest of dinner and dishes are a blur. I don't remember what we talked about. I was only cognizant that my face hurt from smiling so much.
With dishes done, I head for the couch, vague memories of a movie teasing my memory, but before I can sit, Jim grabs my hand and leads me up the stairs to his room. When we reach the top step, he lets my hand go and starts to unbutton his shirt. I swallow hard, knowing I'm expected to follow suit, but my brain cells die at a shockingly dramatic rate, leaving me standing there staring in awe.
He turns, dressed only in boxers, and frowns slightly at my state of dress, then grins, waggling his eyebrows as he closes the distance between us. His hands slide around the hem of my sweatshirt and he leans in to kiss me. It's a sweet kiss, dry and soft, and too short by far. His tongue darts out and he licks from my chin to my nose seconds before he pulls the sweatshirt over my head.
He laughs when he sees my face crinkle, and tosses my shirt to the floor. I raise an eyebrow in disbelief and he rolls his gaze heavenward, even as he loops his fingers in my jeans and pulls me close. My breath hitches when his chest burns mine with its warmth. He seems to take my increased breathing as a sign to continue and slowly unbuttons my jeans. He puts both hands inside my pants and runs them tenderly around my hips and down my cheeks, cupping them and drawing me even closer, if that's possible.
As if by their own volition, my hips thrust forward and he chuckles, low and sensual. Before I realize what he's doing, he pushes me back onto his bed and removes my pants. He purrs and I blush just like the virgin I am. Was. Can I still be considered a virgin?
His chest fascinates me, all smoothness and muscles. I tentatively reach out to touch him, but he intercepts my hands and kisses the inside of each wrist, his eyes never leaving mine. It's by far the most erotic thing I have ever had done to me.
He leans forward and our lips meet; he continues to move toward me, forcing me to slowly lie back on the bed, never breaking our kiss. My hands tremble as they run over his chest, sliding around his sides and down his back. I have a vague notion that I should be doing something, but I'm not quite sure exactly what that would be.
He places his hands on either side of my shoulders and pushes himself up, looking down at me with serious eyes.
"I love you," I whisper, needing him to know, needing him to hear the words.
He grins ferally. "Mine."
"Forever," I vow.
"Touch me, Blair." He says my name so softly and with such passion that I can barely think straight.
Holding my breath, I run my hands from his back, around his hips to the erection demanding my attention.
The sound he makes shoots straight to my groin. He lowers himself slightly and kisses my chin. I bite softly at his cheek, then nuzzle my face against his, all the while exploring his lower body. My legs entwine with his and I gently scratch my toes along his ankles.
His breathing becomes faster, harsher. He thrusts his head back even as his hips plunge into my hands. I lunge upward and bite his neck, causing him to growl. Feeling brave, I hook my fingers into his boxers and lower them as far as I can. My hands immediately move back to touch him, to feel the warmth of his unfettered flesh.
"Drawer," he gasps.
I blink. "Drawer?"
He makes a low noise like he's in pain, but I know he's not. He's on the edge. I smile. I have led Jim to the edge. "It's in the drawer."
"What's in the drawer?" I ask, distractedly, wanting to see his face when he releases.
"Sandburg," he growls in frustration, in affectionate exasperation. His hand fumbles for the drawer of his nightstand and he pulls out a small tube. Lube. I feel my face burn with embarrassment.
"Where's all your smooth moves, lover?" he teases.
I clear my throat. "I was enjoying the show too much."
"Oh yeah?" He chuckles as he opens the bottle with one hand and squeezes the gel on me.
"Cold," I squeak.
His chuckle burns me with sensuality. "Not for long." His long fingers encircle me, spreading the ointment over me, then his hand move with mine as he coats himself. When he's done, he aligns our bodies together and starts to move.
Electricity shoots through me and I arch beneath him, my fingers digging into his shoulders even as I thrust up to met him. My entire universe shrinks until there's nothing but the love in Jim's eyes and the fire he’s burning me with below. He grunts and whimpers, and I mewl when he sinks his teeth into the junction of my neck and shoulders.
"Blair," he yells, his head rearing back, his eyes widening, his teeth clenching. I've never seen anything as beautiful as Jim at the height of orgasm, although I don't have much time to enjoy the picture as my own world explodes into colors and sounds.
When I come back into my body, I'm aware of Jim nuzzling my neck and shoulders with his stubbled cheeks, the friction tickling yet comforting me at the same time. "You make me feel like a teenager." He chuckles, his hand tenderly rubbing up and down my chest.
"Like it's all brand new again?"
"Exactly."
"I want it to feel like this every time," I say as I roll to my side and push my knee between his legs.
"It will," he promises.
We touch gently and kiss, exploring each other's bodies at a leisurely pace.
Jim jerks abruptly. His eyes search my face as if looking for something.
"My God, I'm your first, aren't I?"
It's on the tip of my tongue to deny it, but I nod, blushing slightly.
"Not just with men, babe. I mean, with anyone."
I suddenly understand the phrase like a deer caught in headlights.
“I can’t believe you seriously...”
“You waited...for me.” He smiles, knowingly, possessively, arrogantly. “Admit it,” he nudges me playfully, but I'm aware of an intensity brewing just beneath his surface.
I refuse to make eye contact with him.
“You waited until it was forever, didn’t you?” His fingers gently grip my chin and force me to look back at him. “Didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I finally whisper.
His smile is so brilliant that it's practically blinding. I have no choice but to return it. "Thank you for loving me," he whispers. "For waiting for me." He bends down and rubs his nose with mine, even as I hump ever so slightly against his body, not enough to build us back up to the frenzied pace of sex, just a reminder, a connection of what we are now. "And for allowing me to love you back."
I stop, surprised by the words.
"That's okay, isn't it?" he asks, quietly, with some concern.
"It's more than okay." I smile back at him, feeling a different kind of ache, the ache of forever, the ache of belonging, of being loved. "It's everything."