We talked all night, about growing up, and our families. We did a lot of the same things as kids, and I was surprised to learn that Jeanette was a little hellion, as a teenager. She laughed shyly about all the trouble she would get into, almost embarrassed. We talked about her first love, a boy she went to high school with. For me, there’s only really been Stacy. There were two other girls that I slept with when I was younger. I wouldn’t exactly have called that love, even then, but we talked about those too.
In the end, it was hard to talk about my life and not talk about Stacy being in it. Just as Jeanette couldn’t talk about hers, without talking about John and Emily. I thought it would hurt, to talk, and it did, a little, at first. I couldn’t hide my feelings from her, not with her so close to me. My heart would beat faster, or my breath would change. Maybe I just spoke quieter, or stopped stroking her back. Something would tell her that it hurt. She didn’t tell me to stop talking about it, or change the subject. Her hand, resting against my skin, inside my shirt, would stroke over my chest, until I didn’t hurt anymore. After a while, just her touch was enough. All she had to do was touch me, and it hurt less.
The hurt never really goes, but I was surprised to find that it can change. That’s it’s different, when the person you’re talking to doesn’t need you to hide what you feel, because it makes them uncomfortable. From the moment we first met, we had that in common. We both laughed a little, at things Stacy did, or that John did. For her, it was harder to talk about losing her little girl. I held her close as she spoke, my hand tracing patterns of it’s own up her side, to try to comfort her, as she comforted me. She would laugh about something Emily did, but it was still too close to her, losing her, and I held her while she cried a little. Not broken, just overwhelmed, not used to being able to talk about something that made other people so uncomfortable. We both held a lot inside, around other people, people who couldn’t understand the loss.
After a while, we couldn’t talk anymore, and I just held her, stroking her back until she fell asleep. Her hand, even in sleep, caressing my side, when I moved. Even in sleep, she knew, every time my breath hitched, she knew. Maybe she was just a light sleeper, or maybe it’s because she was sleeping on my chest. In my heart I knew it was because she not only cared enough to listen, but that she, being hurt the same way I was, knew what to listen for. I hadn’t thought I would ever feel like this again, that I would hold a woman and have it feel right. I swallow hard past the lump in my throat as I held her, as I fell asleep.
I wake a little before Jeanette, the sun already up. If it weren’t for the blanket, for the heat of our bodies, it would be cold out here. I probably could have picked a better night to sleep out on the porch. Except that if we weren’t on the porch, this might never have happened at all. I would have taken her home. She wouldn’t be here, asleep on my chest, right now.
I had pulled her shirt up in my sleep, wanting to get closer to her, and now I’m torn between wanting to fix her clothes before she wakes, and wanting to finish what I started. My hand caresses her warm skin, from the swell of her breast, down her side. Straddling my hip, her skirt is bunched up, leaving most of her thigh bare. There’s a small part of me that wishes I was dreaming, knowing how far I could take it then, that I would be making love to her now.
Her hips shift over me, as she wakes up, and I stay still, worried she’ll sit up. Her back stretches one way, pressing her bare belly into mine, her chest arching. Stretches the other way, her hips pressed into mine for a moment, before pulling back a little, not fully awake, but aware enough of my arousal. She doesn’t pull away.
“I thought I was dreaming.” Her voice is still half asleep, as her hand cups my jaw, playing with the stubble, a sleepy smile on her face.
“Morning, ‘Nette.” Regretfully taking my hand off where I had stopped, just under her breast, pulling her to me, my hand in her hair, to kiss her. The kiss deeper, but softer, meaning more, because she spent the night with me.
She watched me a moment longer, before bracing her arms. “‘Nette?” I thought she might be getting up, pulling away from me. My hand on her side to hold her, not wanting her to leave, and, if she was going to leave, at least not leave mad. Her shirt is bunched up at her bra, making it easy for her to pull it over her head quickly, which she does, tossing it onto the porch. She swallows hard, looking more vulnerable than I have ever seen her. Asking me with her eyes not to push her away, like I could do that. But there’s no way for her to know that I’m falling in love with her, that I won’t reject her, or worse, just use her. She’s trusting me not to hurt her.
I don’t look down at her near nakedness, watching her eyes instead, the skin between them bunched a little, as she unhooks her bra. I help her with the straps, dropping her bra on her shirt. Her head lowered to my shoulder for a moment, before looking up, to watch me. I stop touching her for a moment, to pull my shirt off. She’s biting her bottom lip, blushing, but not looking away either.
My hand smoothes down over her side, past her hip, nudging her thigh over, before flipping her over onto her back. I swallow hard, watching her as I let her down carefully. I miss the weight of her already, the heat of her body pressed to mine.
She breaks into a smile, her hand resting on my chest. “I’m so sorry, Sean.” I worried for a moment, but I’m not sure about what, exactly, when she started to laugh. Her hand moved up to the scrunched up spot between my eyebrows. I guess I do that too. “This porch isn’t the most comfortable place we could have slept. Your back must be killing you.”
“Maybe next time we’ll have to actually sleep in the house.” I grin back at her as I say it, leaning down to kiss her. Next time. The thought of the next time she stays with me makes it hard to catch my breath. We stopped last night because we weren’t ready, we weren’t prepared. That won’t be the case, when it comes to next time. Will we stop then? I don’t think so.
I trace a fingertip over her collarbone, to the hollow of her throat, tracing a line between her breasts. Break the kiss to watch her, as my fingers brush past her nipple, before I cup her breast. I lean down, to kiss her earlobe, the sensitive spot just underneath it. Kiss her neck and the hollow of her throat. My thumb brushes over her dark nipple, before I kiss it, sucking it gently at first, her back arching up to me, to give me better access.
“You’re so beautiful, Jeanette.” Her hand strokes the stubble at the back of my neck, her fingers splay out, her back arching a little more, when I lean in to take her other nipple, pinching it lightly in my teeth. I listen to her heart race, her breath coming fast, knowing mine is doing the same. I bury my face in her breasts, stroking and sucking, pulling at her nipple with my teeth before letting it go. Letting go, it’s so hard to let go.
The kiss is searing, intense, both of us already breathing hard before we started. A faint click of teeth, our tongues tangled, and our bodies wanting to follow, pressed close, bare skin on skin. My hand stroked over her breast, her belly, wanting to touch as much of her as I could. Stopping for a moment, when my fingertips caught on the fabric of her skirt. I pulled back a little, needing to watch her, my hand stroking once inside the waist of her skirt, stilling once I touch the fabric of her panties. Her body pressed hard to me, the both of us freeze for a moment. Like last night, realizing that we both have to stop. Unlike last night, it’s not because we’re not ready yet. We’re ready, we just aren’t prepared.
We kiss once, gently. Her slow blink, her soft sigh, when I take my hand out from inside her skirt telling me she wanted this as much as I did. “Next time.” Her voice is a little breathless, a little shaky, but there is nothing unsure in it. Her eyes let me know that, in other circumstances, I would be making love to her right now. And it would be love. It’s not just falling in love. I love her. It’s as simple as that.
“Next time, ‘Nette.” My voice as shaky and breathless as hers. I cup her mound once, gently, over the fabric of her skirt, before letting go. My hand skimming over her jaw, tangling in her hair, to kiss her again, softly, delicately, before pulling her to me and holding her tight.
“Alvarez will probably be here to pick me up soon.” I haven’t let her go yet, and I don’t really want to, either.
“Did you want to drop me off at home first?”
“No, I want you to stay, stay, and have coffee with me.” Our noses just touching, my hand stroking her hair, down her still naked back. “Damn, I’m a mess.” I say it under my breath, laughing a little, making her look up at me, curious. “I have cold pizza, and, unless the kids found them, I have cookies. I don’t have anything else here for breakfast. Alvarez usually brings stuff with him.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for cookies.” She grabs her bra and shirt, getting dressed quickly.
“I’ll be back in a minute, I think I need a cold shower, before Alvarez gets here.” I grin into her neck, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders.
She’s curled up on the top step, when I get back out, two cups of coffee beside her. She remembered how I like it. I move the blanket, and sit behind her, pressing close to her back, loving the feel of her so close to me.
“No cookies?” She’s nibbling on a piece of cold pizza, handing me a slice.
Laughing as she says it, “You had kids in your house, Sean.”
“Maybe I’ll have to hide them better.”
She’s really laughing at that, turning to look at me. “Good luck with that.”
We sat comfortably, silently, for a while. I played with her hair, tucking it behind her ear, so I could kiss her there. Holding her tight for a moment, my nose buried in the curve of her neck. “You’ll tell me if I’m moving too fast for you, Jeanette?” She turns her head, kissing my nose, her hand stroking my cheek.
“I trust you completely, Sean. I haven’t done that, just completely trusted someone, in a long time.” She turns to look out across the yard. “I trust you.”
My chest tightens, as I tilt her chin back to look at me, over her shoulder. A lump in my throat, fighting what I really want to say. “My heart belongs only to you, ‘Nette.”
copyright © 2006 xxxevilgrinxxx