Chapter 28 #2
He maneuvered her wheelchair onto the dance floor with smooth confidence, positioning them so he could stand beside her, one hand on the chair and the other extended toward her. Mary took his hand, her expression a mixture of uncertainty and hope.
“Just follow my lead,” Bert murmured, beginning to move them in a slow circle that matched the music’s rhythm.
It wasn’t traditional dancing, but he had learned how to make it work.
He guided her chair in smooth arcs and turns while maintaining contact with her hand, creating the feeling of movement and partnership that was the essence of dancing.
He’d lean down at intervals, his face close to hers, his free hand stroking her cheek or sliding into her hair, making the dance intimate and romantic.
Mary’s uncertainty melted away as they moved together, her smile growing. “I can’t believe you learned this for me.” Her voice was thick with emotion.
“Of course I did.” Bert spun them in a gentle turn, the wheelchair moving smoothly under his guidance. “I wanted to know how, in case you would ever give me the chance to dance with you.”
He could feel the eyes of other passengers on them, seemingly touched by what they observed. But Bert didn’t care about their audience. His entire focus was on Mary, on the way her eyes shone with tears and joy, on the smile that transformed her face into something radiant.
“No one’s ever seen past my wheelchair like this,” Mary said softly.
“No one’s ever cared enough to learn how to make things work, to adapt and include me rather than just accepting limitations.
” She pressed her lips together, then as though afraid not to say what was on her mind, she blurted, “The man I had dated before the accident couldn’t handle it.
He broke up with me as soon as it became apparent that I wouldn’t walk again. ”
Bert’s expression tightened with something deep and fierce.
He let out a long, slow breath, then leaned closer.
“Then he was a fucking fool as well as an asshole.” Bert erased the space between them and kissed her, soft and sweet, right there on the dance floor in front of everyone.
“You’re worth every effort, every moment it took to learn this. You’re worth everything, Mary.”
They danced through another song, lost in each other and the romance of the moment.
When the music finally shifted to something faster that didn’t work as well for their style of dancing, Bert guided Mary back to their table, where their dinner companions greeted them with warm smiles and compliments.
Dinner ended with dessert and coffee, passengers lingering over conversation and wine. But finally, mercifully, people began to disperse. Diane and Colin headed to their staterooms, and Bert and Mary left as well.
The way back to their cabin felt longer than usual, anticipation making every step feel weighted with significance. Bert’s hand found Mary’s shoulder as he pushed her wheelchair, his fingers stroking absent patterns on her skin.
“Nervous?” Mary asked, her voice quiet in the ship’s corridor.
“Terrified,” Bert admitted. “But in a good way. You?”
“Same.” Mary reached up and covered his hand with hers. “But I want this, Bert. I want you. Tonight, I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”
They reached their stateroom, and Bert unlocked the door with hands that trembled slightly. Inside, he locked the door behind them and turned to find Mary watching him with eyes that were dark with desire and trust in equal measure.
“Come here,” Mary said, her voice steady despite what Bert could see was nerves.
He moved to her, kneeling so they were eye level, and took her hands.
“Mary, I need you to know something before we go any further. Tonight is about us figuring this out together. There’s no script, no expectations, no right or wrong way to do this.
We just communicate and trust each other and stop if anything doesn’t feel good. Okay?”
“Okay.” Mary’s hands tightened on his. “But Bert? I need you to know something too. I’m done being afraid.
I want to discover what works for us. I want to be with you in every way.
So if I seem uncertain or nervous, it’s not because I don’t want this.
It’s just because it’s new, and I don’t know what to expect from my body anymore. ”
“Then we’ll find out together.” Bert kissed her, slow and deep, pouring everything he felt into the connection. “And whatever we discover, it’ll be ours. Perfect for us because it’s ours.”
His fingers moved to the buttons at the front of her blouse, slowly unbuttoning them one by one. Sliding his hands under the material and over her shoulders, her shirt slipped down her arms and pooled at her back as she leaned forward.
He continued to kiss her, loving the feel of her hands on him as she did the same, unbuttoning his shirt. Once it was on the floor, he reached back and grabbed his T-shirt, pulling it over his head.
Her eyes roamed over his torso as her fingers danced a trail over his chest and abs. He loved her touch, finding his skin warming with each movement of her delicate hands.
He bent to slip off her shoes, then he stood and removed his shoes, socks, and pants. Now, only in boxers, he leaned over her chair. “Can I carry you to the bed?”
She nodded, and he slipped one hand under her knees and the other at her back.
Lifting her in his arms, he easily carried her to the bed.
Her blouse fell away, joining his clothes on the floor.
Once she was settled, her hands moved to the waist of her pants.
She began pushing them down, but he gently assisted, sliding the material over her hips and down her legs.
Now, both were clad in only their underwear.
“I… well, I guess you can see that my lingerie is more practical than sexy,” she said, a slight blush staining her cheeks.
He looked down and shook his head. “I know women often think that less is sexier. Or a thong is what will turn a man on. But, honest to God, Mary… women’s underwear to a man is just…” Now he blushed.
She laughed. “Come on, you can’t stop there.”
“Well, underwear is just one last piece of clothing to get to the prize… or the offering. Silky or cotton, tiny or full covering… it doesn’t matter to a man. Certainly not to this man.”
Her hand held on to his shoulders as he leaned closer. “Thank you for that. It’s hard to feel sexy since the accident. I’m still getting used to everything.”
She settled her back against the mattress, and Bert stretched out beside her, his hand sliding into her hair as he kissed her again.
“Tell me what feels good,” Bert murmured against her lips. “Tell me if something doesn’t work. Guide me, Mary. This is about you feeling good, about us finding what brings us both pleasure.”
“Kiss me more,” Mary said, her fingers sliding into his hair. “Just kiss me and touch me and let’s see where it goes.”
So Bert did. He kissed her like he had all the time in the world, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be than right here with her.
His hands explored with reverent care, gliding over the curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulder, the softness of her skin.
Every touch was a question, every response from Mary an answer that guided him forward.
She unfastened her front-closure bra, and he assisted in taking it off. She was glorious, and he kissed his way down, paying attention to each breast. She groaned and pressed her chest toward him.
When his hand slid lower, Mary gasped and arched into the touch. “That feels good,” she breathed. “More of that.” Her voice broke slightly. “I want to know what I can feel, what still works. I want to know if I can—if we can—”
“We can,” Bert assured her. “Whatever that looks like for us, we can. I promise.”
They took their time, discovering together what Mary could feel and what she couldn’t, what brought her pleasure and what didn’t quite work. Bert listened to every gasp and sigh, watched her face for signs of discomfort or pleasure, and adjusted his touch based on her responses.
And slowly, wonderfully, they figured it out.