Part 26
He was asleep again, this time more soundly. His pain had eased after he'd given himself over to her care.
She had tended him with hands and mouth, his entire body, from head to toe. She'd given him his happy ending after she'd worked the tension from his thigh then the rest of him. And he'd let her, willingly made himself vulnerable for every touch and kiss and caress of her tongue.
She'd bathed him with a cool cloth after and he'd touched her as she did. He'd skimmed his fingers over her hands and along her arms. He'd caressed her face then kissed her when she was done.
She'd felt love from him and gratitude. Both emotions had been clear in his eyes and she hadn't bothered to hide her own feelings for him throughout it all.
Laying next to him now as he slept, she felt at peace. She felt she was where she was supposed to be and who she was supposed to be with. She hadn't felt that way all that often in her life and never truly in relation to another person. Except once, briefly, with him in Michigan years ago.
Even though the room was dark, enough ambient light from the moon filtered in through the window for her to just make out the features of his face. Moving her hand from the pillow where her head rested, she gently brushed her knuckles against his cheek.
When he didn't stir, she extended her caress, drawing her fingers slowly through his hair. That's how she'd lulled him to sleep earlier, laying where she was but propped up on an elbow. She'd followed the same path again and again until he drifted into a clearly deep, exhausted, satiated slumber.
She was glad. He needed to rest. And so did she.
Moving her hand once more, she laid it on his chest then shifted to press a kiss to the warm skin of his shoulder. She settled then, her head on the corner of her pillow, close enough to breathe him in but not disturb him.
She slept 'til morning, waking to a sunlight-filled room, telling her it was still fairly early in the day. The warmth at her back told her that she wasn't in bed alone. That thought made her happy.
Taking a deep breath, she started to turn over, but was stopped by the arm of her bedmate. It was suddenly wrapped around her and pulling her back against his body. He was more than awake.
"Guess what I want for breakfast?"
It was said playfully against the rim of her ear as he nuzzled close to her. She couldn't help the smile it elicited.
"Me?" It was a pretty safe bet.
"How'd you guess?" A teasing whisper.
"Your penis is pretty adamant back there."
"Little Greg."
A moment's pause, then laughter. It bubbled up out of her. He named his penis!
"Little Greg?" she snickered.
"Big Greg was taken. By me. So Little Greg seemed the most obvious choice. But not in the literal sense."
Silly. Absolutely silly. And so him.
She covered his hand where it rested on her belly. "No, he's not little."
"True," he conceded with the appropriate lack of humility, "But Greg's Pleasure Wand doesn't quite roll of the tongue."
She smirked. "Little Greg does. Linguistically, and literally."
He went quiet behind her and his thumb moved in a slow, gentle arc against the fabric of her nightshirt.
"Thank you," he said softly and her heart responded to the sincerity in the two words.
She caressed his hand. "You're welcome."
He eased back from her, his hand moving to her hip as he did. Gentle pressure applied by his fingers prompted her to turn over. Once she was on her back, he moved over her. She looked up at him, pleased beyond words to see no sign of pain in the features of his face or in the brilliant blue of his eyes. She wrapped her arms around him as he descended and welcomed the kiss he gave her. It was tender and loving and arousing.
She welcomed all three and the gentle seduction he enacted. They kissed and caressed. He eased her out of her night clothes and shed his boxers. Then he was inside her and they were kissing again. It was passionate but unhurried lovemaking and she loved every second of it.
She loved him. And he loved her.
The need for sustenance eventually drove them from the bed but they ended up back there again, several times throughout the day, to satisfy the craving for each other. The rest of the time they'd been utterly lazy. They'd taken several naps, in the bed and on the couch after having dozed off watching some nature show. She'd read while he massaged her feet — something she'd never thought of him doing for anyone.
When evening rolled around, he told her he should probably go home for the night since they had work in the morning. He hadn't been happy to make the suggestion and she had been troubled to hear it, even if she understood the practicalities that prompted it.
She'd slept with him almost every night for the last week and the thought of sleeping alone came with a feeling of loss. She'd never felt that before, with any other lover, not that she'd had many sleepovers. Which she supposed made it all the more poignant, because she wanted it with him.
Later, when they stood at the door, she found herself asking him to stay, memories of that first night assailing her as she did. He didn't give her his back, though, and he didn't try to disabuse her of the notion. No, this time, he caressed her cheek then kissed her and told her he'd see her in the morning. It wasn't a dismissal but a promise and she let him go.
Once his bike was out of sight, she shut the door and locked it. The sound was almost deafening. She leaned back against the structure and stared down the dimly lit hallway. An overwhelming sense of emptiness came over her and it, too, was something she'd never felt before in her home. Lonely, yes, she'd felt that, but never alone.
She didn't like it.