Chapter 32
Spence wasn’t a slob, something he was thankful for at the moment.
He might have tossed a shirt over the back of that chair by the window and hung the towel to dry from the bathroom doorknob this morning, but other than that, the bedroom was tidy enough.
Besides, to him, the big window that looked down at the sound, and the fact that he could see just the edge of the RTA building in the distance, made him not care so much what the inside looked like.
Of course, it made life a little interesting this time of year when the sun never really set, but a good pair of blackout curtains helped.
But right now, absolutely nothing mattered other than the woman he held in his arms. He’d never dreamed, never dared even hoped, that they might end up here like this someday.
He’d always thought she’d disliked him so much it could never, ever, happen.
He’d always thought she still remembered him as that kid everyone wrote off as stupid, or whose brain was weird.
And then he couldn’t think at all because Hetty, his Hetty, the woman he’d always assumed was far beyond his reach, was kissing him. Hotly, fiercely, until he was breathless. He had the crazy thought his muscles had melted from it, because he felt as if they couldn’t hold him up any longer.
It was all he could do to control how they fell onto his bed, making sure he took the brunt, with Hetty deliciously on top of him. She was so lithe, energetic and strong, he almost forgot about her leg. And the doctor’s orders.
He tore his mouth from hers long enough to say, “I’m supposed to be doing all the work, remember?”
“Then stop being so hot,” she whispered.
Spence didn’t know whether to laugh or yell with joy, and what came out was a tangle of both.
Clothes disappeared in a rush and it was all he could do to handle hers gently, although when she was fully healed and well, all bets would be off.
He fumbled with the condom. He would have written it off to it having been a while, but he had the feeling it was just Hetty.
His imaginings of how this might be, if it ever came to pass, were nothing compared to the living, breathing reality.
Fiery was the only word he could think of.
Every time he touched her, heat leapt along his nerves, and when she touched him, it roared to life so fiercely he was surprised he couldn’t hear the crackle of the flames.
What he did hear were the small sounds she made. A moan here, a gasp there, to a cry out loud when he found one of those places on her body that did the same thing to her that she was doing to him. He memorized every single one. Because he planned to visit them again and again and again.
But then she slid her hands down his back, cupping his backside and pushing, as if she wanted him even closer.
“Can we hurry this time and go slower next time?” he asked hoarsely, not sure how he was going to stand it if she said no.
“I think…” she began, stopping for another little gasp as he gave a nipple a gentle squeeze. “We’d better hurry two or three times. Then maybe I can slow down.”
With that, she shifted a hand to reach between them, wrapping her fingers around that part of him that had paid attention to her since they were sixteen.
He groaned, low and harsh, gritting his teeth to keep from exploding.
She guided him and he let her, but when he felt the slick heat of her, he couldn’t wait.
He slid into her with a muttered oath, and at her cry of pleasure at the invasion, he nearly lost it right then.
On some level, he knew there would never be another time like this first time.
And in a way he was glad, because this was going to be embarrassingly quick.
But any embarrassment vanished as, on his fifth, long, driving stroke, she cried out his name and bucked beneath him, her body clenching around him until he cried out as it engulfed him and he spiraled upward with her.
In the quiet aftermath, as he shifted so he could hold her gently, even now aware of her injury, he realized none of his teenage imaginings had even come close.
* * *
Spence had always liked this little home of his.
He was grateful for the amount of space, which was enough but not too much, appreciated the pieces Mom had helped him pick out, and the colors that, for him anyway, brought the outside in.
Because the outside was what he loved the most. Half hidden in the trees, with the secluded feel, while keeping that glorious view, yet he was just a short distance from work. For him, the best of both worlds.
At least, he’d thought it the best. He realized it had only been good. Now that Hetty was here, it had moved up to the best.
It had moved up to more than he had ever imagined. He supposed a week of heaven would do that to you. A week of realizing that his imagination had fallen far short of reality. Because being with Hetty, touching her, making love to her, had made him feel things he’d never realized were possible.
And he had the sneaking suspicion, awkward as it was, that he understood his parents a little better now. The fact that he could think of himself and Hetty together in the same way he thought of that rock-solid couple who had built this life after tragedy only confirmed what he was feeling.
This was it.
This was his forever.
He was smiling as they sat out on his front porch, sipping hot chocolate while watching a pair of eagles atop a tall cedar tree to the west. They’d alternated between sitting out here with the view down to the water and the back deck that looked out to the thick trees.
The fact that it had been Hetty’s idea only proved his feelings right.
She got it; she understood the appeal of both the expansive view and the secluded ambience of the tall trees.
The eagles took off, one after the other, their calls to each other loud and clear and as distinctive as the striking white head and tail against the dark brown body.
“They’re unmistakable not just in looks, aren’t they?” Hetty said.
He looked at her then, as once more she’d mirrored his own thoughts. He wondered if it had always been like that, if she’d always been thinking what he was thinking and they’d just never known it because of that wall they’d built between them.
That wall that had been utterly and thoroughly destroyed in the last week. The wall he wanted to make sure was never, ever, rebuilt.
“Yes. And appropriately regal.”
She smiled. “That, too.”
“And noble. They mate for life, you know.”
She gave him a look he couldn’t read. But all she said was, “I did know.”
For a moment, he was worried, but then she let out a sigh that sounded utterly relaxed. And she wasn’t, as she had once been after her therapy sessions, rubbing at her healing leg. She was merely sitting, enjoying.
“So, therapy went well today? You don’t seem as sore.”
“I’m not. Enough that Liz said I could do whatever I felt up to, as long as I went slow and careful.”
He couldn’t help the satisfied smile that curved his mouth. “I think we’ve accomplished that this week.”
Hetty laughed, and it was that light, lovely sound he’d rarely heard in his presence before. “I’d tell you to quit grinning like a Cheshire cat if I wasn’t pretty sure I’m wearing the same expression.”
“You are,” he said, not even trying to hide his delight.
He reached out and grabbed her hand, held it, suddenly needing the contact.
Visions of this last week rolled through his mind until he had to consciously divert his thoughts, because he was about ready to cart her back to the bedroom to start all over again, even though after that early morning wake-up call she’d given him, he’d felt so sated he could barely move.
“It’s so peaceful here,” she murmured. Then, with a look at him and a squeeze of her fingers around his, she quickly added, “Not that I mind your folks. They’ve been wonderful, taking such good care of me, but…”
“They hover. And fuss,” he said, his mouth quirking upward at one corner.
She gave him a relieved smile. “Yes. It’s a bit overwhelming sometimes.”
“You need this kind of peace.”
“I never realized how good it could feel to just…be. To just sit like this and soak it all in.”
He had to steady himself before he took the plunge. “So…why don’t you stay?”
That stopped her. She’d stared at him a long, silent moment, during which he held his breath, waiting.
“Stay?”
“Here. Where you can have this all the time.” When she just kept staring at him, he felt a burst of panic. And turned to the cover he’d used for a lifetime: joking. “I promise not to fuss.”
She finally spoke. “Careful, boyo, or you’ll wind up with a permanent roommate.”
There was no denying the emotion in her voice, even for him, who had a bit left to learn about female emotions. But he risked giving his gut-level response to those glorious words anyway, because, in this moment, the rest of his life seemed to depend on it.
“Exactly,” he said.