Chapter 18 #2
“Hey.” I pull her head into my chest. “I agreed to it. You didn’t ask for that fuck of your brother to turn on you and want you dead.
It’s not your fault, sweetheart.” As I speak, I realise endearments are falling off my tongue, words I’ve never used with another.
Maybe it’s because I’m starting to treat her like a little sister I never had.
Yeah, right. As if I’d come hard thinking of a sibling. That would be all kinds of fucked up.
After leaning into me for a moment, she straightens. “So,” she says, at last with a fair approximation of a smile. “What’s the agenda for today?”
We end up doing more target practice. In the utility shed, I find some old newspapers, and with the aid of glue and a marker pen that for some reason she discovered in one of the kitchen drawers, I make a good attempt at fashioning a life-sized target of a torso and a head.
At first, she was reluctant, then got into the spirit, and was soon demonstrating her double-tapping ability from several yards back.
As I’d been yesterday, I was impressed. The rest of the day follows much as the previous twenty-four hours had.
We played games, streamed series or movies, and then parted ways, each going to our own separate beds.
The days that followed fell into a similar pattern.
And rather than missing my club and wishing I was somewhere else, I found myself enjoying our simple routine.
Maybe it was the first time in my life that I wasn’t running at top speed simply to stay alive, a chance to slow down and smell the roses.
The one downside? That sprained ankle was proving hard to heal.
After a week, I was still hard-pressed to put any weight on it.
Ames couldn’t hide that she was going stir-crazy.
There were tracks and trails to explore, but with my injury, I couldn’t go far.
I knew, by now, how she liked to run. Apparently, it had been a serious hobby.
But as I wasn’t going to have her out of my sight, we compromised.
While I sat in an ancient rocker we’d discovered, she ran laps around the backyard, where I could keep an eye on her.
Didn’t bother me none. Her ass in her running shorts?
Pure heaven to watch. And the way her tits bounced? I’ll leave that to your imagination.
After two weeks of our banishment, Dee had arrived with a truckload of supplies to keep us going.
His arrival had made me nervous, but he’d assured me he hadn’t been followed.
Ames had even invited him to stay for lunch, and, after I explained his profession, she cracked up at the slogan on his t-shirt, I Dig Dead People.
Ames obviously viewed staying here, in this beautiful spot where people pay good money to come on vacation, but being unable to explore, as a punishment.
Surprisingly, I found myself worried about her feelings and wanting to do something to make her happy.
So after a few more days had passed, I decided we’d do something different.
It was my left leg that was fucked. My right could work the accelerator and brake easily, so I took her out in the truck for the day.
We headed up to the Nature Conservancy’s Preserve’s visitor centre.
There we marvelled at the multitude of hummingbirds that the numerous feeders attracted.
While my injury meant we couldn’t follow the longer trails, I did manage to accompany her on one that was just over a quarter of a mile, albeit slowly, and looking like an idiot with my rubber boot on one foot.
Her smile made it all worth it, and I had to admit it was a change from being cooped up in the cabin for me, too.
When we returned, she couldn’t stop talking about the various hummingbird species we’d encountered. She didn’t seem bothered that down to me, we’d only experienced a fraction of the things we could have seen. And luckily, we’d arrived back before one of the frequent afternoon storms.
I was starting to realise one of my new favourite things was seeing her face light up in pleasure. And instead of resenting the time we were spending here, I was beginning to hope it would be a long time before we returned to Gravity.
Things were starting to change. One night, we’d decided to watch a rerun of IT.
When she’d kept startling, instead of leaving her sitting in her chair, I’d reached over, taken her hand, and pulled her over to sit next to me on the sofa.
From there, it had seemed natural that she hid her face in my chest each time that damn clown appeared.
Thereafter, whenever we watched television, she was beside me.
I started to relish the scent of her shampoo and the perfume that seemed to be naturally hers.
Tonight we’ve switched it up and are watching a comedy.
It wouldn’t win any awards, but it is making us laugh, maybe because of how bad it is, rather than how good.
She covers her face at a particularly corny line, then turns to share her amusement with me.
As our eyes catch and hold as if drawn by a magnetic force, something passes between us, causing her to draw in a trembling breath that matches the uneven intake of air to my lungs.
Tentatively, I close the distance between our lips, moving mine lightly over hers, at first using just a soft exploratory pressure as I cup her cheeks with my hands.
Fake canned laughter on the television is forgotten as the world around us seems to melt away.
As I breathe in, the air is filled completely with her essence.
When she copies my action and places her hands on either side of my face, I slide mine away, moving them to the back of her head to anchor her to me and tangle my fingers in her naturally curly hair.
Had I ever taken the time to really kiss a woman before, to enjoy every single sensation of just that innocent touch?
I can’t remember. If I had, it was nothing like this.
For a moment, it’s just lips on lips, me, uncharacteristically unsure, uncertain, not knowing whether I could push further.
As I hesitate, undecided, it’s she who takes the initiative.
With a sharp intake of breath, she pulls me closer, and her tongue swipes across the seam of my mouth, demanding entry.
Who am I to resist? The outside world ceases to exist when she turns in my arms to fully face me, and I take full advantage.
Our mouths begin to move together as if in a synchronised dance, our tongues performing moves choreographed in ancient times.
I hardly dare breathe, unwilling to break the spell.
Such an innocent yet intimate connection between us, I feel like a schoolboy alone with his crush for the first time.
While my dick swells, I restrain my desire.
This, for now, is sufficient. This is pure bliss.
While tempted to cop a feel of her breast that’s pressing against my chest, I manage to resist.
I put everything into that kiss, as it’s all I can give her.
Even lost in sensations stronger than I’d ever experienced before, there’s a sane part of my brain that’s thankfully still working, and it’s telling me that fucking marriage licence complicates things.
She’s no one-night stand. We are living together.
If we take matters to the next natural step, we have to both be sure.
It would be all too easy to fuck things up. Just look at my track record.
For tonight, this will have to be enough. And if there’s ever to be more? Well, she’s
worth waiting for.
I must be suffering from cabin fever.
Realising the dangerous direction of my thoughts, I leave her mouth with one last caress and pull us both back down to earth. “Do you want to use the bathroom first?”