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Chapter Three: Virgins and Mewling Monsters
~A thought often makes us hotter than a fire.~
--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Warm, so warm, were the three words that drifted across her sleeping mind. She buried her head even deeper, one leg intertwined with his, the other leg's thighs trapped between his two, her toes tickling his foot as they gently rubbed against it.
He caressed the soft flesh, running a hand over her yielding, smooth, strong calf muscles, tenderly chafing his thumb over it. "Mmm…" she moaned in her sleep, digging even deeper into him, almost instinctively. The precise moment her lips touched the base of his throat, enigmatic rust, maroon colored eyes sprung open as if shocked, his mouth slightly parted in a soft gasp.
And the sight before him made him ache so keenly, made him think of so many things that he had absolutely no business of reflecting on.
She was sprawled half on top of him, her arms all over him, her legs caressing parts of his without realizing. And by God, he should be shot if he took advantage of her openness, of her response to him, but Van Fanel found that very moment very, very tempting. Even more so than Apple and Cinnamon crepes.
This was the first morning he'd awoken before an enchanting woman that was not his lover.
What to do? What to do? There was a dull ache in his mind as it hammered that question on. There would be no crime in enjoying this, he told himself. He could just remain in that blissful position, with all her enticing curves softly molding on top of his body, or…
Slowly, very carefully, he untangled her hand from his waist, somehow finding that gesture highly odd when he'd done it countless times with other women. Aha! But there was a difference now. He didn't want to. It nearly sapped all his strength to move her soft skin away as he did meticulously, until she was on the bed and not on his body. Her one leg was cradled between his thighs and the heat that shot up to his lower body was intense. You're a bastard, Van. Get the hell away from her!! He lifted his leg, fumbled for a moment and set it away, far away. Next, he inched his other leg that was below hers until it rested just beside the other woman. When he breathed a sigh of relief and he whipped away from her, he found himself facing her.
Her hair had spilled across the pillows and in the little puny sunbeams that managed to grace their bed, she was the picture of what a goddess wished to look like. Her hair shone almost like dark, rich, gold, her face being grazed, caressed by the sunlight, giving it an ethereal, angelic glow. She was truly beautiful in her sleep and there was some semblance of her child-like innocence that glimmered. Until then, Van Fanel, had never thought of how potently attractive it looked. The women he bed knew how to pleasure men, and how to receive pleasure. His bed was no place for child-play or naiveté.
He dragged in a shuddering breath as he watched the soft rise and fall of her chest, covered by the ample bulk of the blanket. Her sleeping form was humbling; it made him feel like some lecherous man, some wicked dragon that had no right to breathe fire on such a damsel as pure as snow. Letting his hand wander under the covers, he found the hem of her pajamas and tugged it downwards to cover her legs. During sleep, they had ridden up to her knees.
Next, he straightened the comforters, covering her toes that he found were cool to the touch. He shook his head with an almost smile; how cold did his little damsel get? But the next dangerous question he asked himself had him frowning darkly, And how much of me would it take to keep you warm?
He was going to offer none of himself to her. Even if she wanted it, which he grinned grudgingly, she probably didn't if he kept acting in a way that made her fantasize of how she would murder him. But her response in bed was encouraging, very encouraging.
Encouragement that you'll just have to ignore, he reminded himself as he groaned and cautiously stepped out of the bed.
The carpet was cold. He was so tempted to just run back and jump beside her, pulling her close to him so that he could crush her body to him, and revel in her warmth.
He shook his head. He was really a bastard.
~*~
Tediously, her lashes fluttered like the tentative flight of a moth as she opened her eyes to the streams of sunshine in the room.
Her eyes were like slits in the sunlight as she propped up her hands on the flat mattress--
"G'morning, sunshine!" the light, pleasant tenor greeted.
--only to plop back
into the pillows, inwardly groaning. "Go away, Satan!"
He buttoned the last few buttons on his crisp, blue shirt and a grin stole over his features, "Sorry, sweetheart, your boy-friend's not around. He's missed your, err, hotness and gone to hell for a recharge."
She couldn't help it. She was baited fish. She knew it as sure as the unwelcome smile crept up and the low, gurgle of a giggle came from her throat. But, that however, did not stop her from aiming a pillow at him.
Being miserably helpless at sports, she was surprised when her aim hit her target in the stomach. "Ouch!" he doubled over in mock pain and then grinned like a lad as he threw it back on her, which promptly landed exactly where he wanted it to. On her face.
She bunched the pillow in her fingers and then turned her face and used the pillow to cover her head. "Oh c'mon, wake up! Admit it; you can't have a better wake-up call person than me?"
She lifted her head to retort when she gasped. Swiftly, he wrenched the covers away and her hands automatically, reflexive went around her chest.
He only raised her eyebrows as she sputtered. "W-what did you do that for?"
"You can stop that, sweetheart." Her arms slackened slightly, "You're not naked." And she couldn't explain why she felt that way. For God's sake, almost every inch of her flesh was covered!
Yet she felt bare.
She huffed, "You're really a Satan."
He gave a short laugh, "At least it gives me the miraculous ability to warm you. Maybe the fires of hell dwell in me," he winked at her incredulous expression.
"What?" Her eyes were rounded.
"Fires of hell dwell in me—"
"No, no, before that!" she said as she jumped off the bed as if being scorched herself by the fires of hell that he boasted about, her expression intense.
"I have a miraculous ability to warm you," his grin only widened.
Her brows knitted together in a frown, "...how? When?"
He barked a laugh and his eyes were almost smoldering, so dangerous they were, "Would you like me to show you how? As for when, I think anytime is a good time." he spoke huskily, a quality of voice that sent shivers running like mad little critters up and down her spine.
She edged away from him, "No, thank-you!" God, she tried to rack her brain from remembering. She was vaguely aware of little sensations, burning little sensations, like fireworks—
Oh. My. God! You've got to be the biggest two-legged fool! What the hell did you do last night? He could see her expression darkening, her worry that was expertly hidden.
"...nothing happened."
"Wha-?"
He gave a small smile that could be considered as innocent, "I didn't touch you anywhere objectionable." He made the statement calm, not even a flicker of emotion in the tenor of his voice. Of-course, he wasn't going to bend down to lying... He had touched her.
There was an instantaneous spray of a blush on her cheeks, God, Hitomi, you must absolutely earn a Ph.D. in the art of embarrassment! They won't even have to test you! One look at you and they'll be handing you the accursed diploma...
He snapped her out of her thoughts, "You'll be taking breakfast downstairs with me, then?"
She nodded mutely.
He gave a lazy grin, "The shower's yours."
She harrumphed, casting him a wary look and went to her suitcase to remove the miscenellaneous things.
He only shoved his hands deep in his pockets and whistled lowly to himself, looking out at nature's magnificence, but his eyes being far away.
~*~
The setting of the eating area was decidedly cozy. A cheerful fire crackled and couples sat at tables, talking, smiling, doing what any normal couple would do. But Hitomi and Van were not couples sanctioned and bound by holy matrimony. And they were definitely not average.
They bickered about the most senseless things. Seasons. Hitomi loved summer, the heat, the rain-showers, the rainbows that sprouted unexpectedly. Van loved the crisp chill, the blowing of the wind fiercely against the trees, the barren, clean look of land.
"Hmph! It fits your personality. Cold and...incorrigible!" she said exasperatedly as she plopped down on the seat which Van had instinctively pulled for her, a gesture that she missed and didn't notice.
He gave a strangled cough that made several people look in their direction, only to smile, "Incorrigible, maybe. But really, I don't think I am," he looked deliberately at her face, his eyes resting a second too long on her lips that were a tantalizing color of pink, "cold."
She averted her gaze, looking down at the suddenly, very interesting color of the napkins.
He gave a lazy grin as he observed her silently. She's pulled on a dark blue sweater over her French cuffed white shirt, accompanied by casual slacks. His grin widened. "Look," he observed and pinched his shirt, "we match." Indeed they did, His shirt and her sweater were of the same color.
She shook her head and said dryly, "What I solely live for, to match with you."
His stomach grumbled loudly and a reluctant smile curved over her lips, "The best way to kill a man is through the stomach."
She gave an unintentional laugh, "And all these years I though the shortest route to a man's heart was through the stomach."
His lips quirked beautifully into a smile, "There are many, many other things men hunger for than food, sweetheart."
"Like?" she shot back, not grasping the motive in his mind.
All too quickly, he reached over and
tweaked her nose. "Like Cinnamon and Apple crepes." Like your lips, your hair, your hands, your legs...
She wrinkled her nose all the while rubbing it. "I thought you said it wasn't food."
He laughed, "Well, my mother never considered such delicacies food. I guess more appropriately, you can call it, dessert." Something too delicious that you would want to relish each bit slowly, just like you...
A man beamed, the strains of stress
although visible, as he came over to their table, "May I help you two?"
Hitomi grinned up at the young harassed looking man, "Yes, please." She hastily looked down at the menu and was just about to say something when the dark haired man interrupted.
"Apple and Cinnamon crepes, please."
"And you, Miz?"
His eyes were glimmering with hints of laughter, "I think she'll take the same," he answered for her. The waiter was too busy scribbling to notice the frown on the 'Miz's' face.
"Very well. Anything to drink?"
"Coffee," she said firmly, her fingers drawing patterns on the napkin.
"Same." He drummed his fingers on the table to some silent tune that he only heard.
The man did a quick bow and hastily scuttled away with their orders.
"You had to do that!" she hissed.
"What's wrong if our tastes match?" he leaned in, giving the image of them having a very intimate conversation, "and plus, you know you wanted it." He winked.
"Still," she huffed, "you didn't have to order it!"
"I said that I didn't like being weak alone."
She shook her head and just the sheer hilarity of the situation hit her. She was complaining because he'd ordered the same thing, a harmless event really, maybe even flattering. She giggled, "I bet you were always getting cavities when you were young."
He feigned offense and he bared his even, flashing, white teeth in a way that distinctly reminded her of chimps that she'd seen on the Discovery channel. It bubbled behind her surface and she couldn't help but release the laugh. "These magnificent gems are not the product of the tooth fairy."
Her eyes sparkled and they resembled leaves sprayed with glistening water fresh after a rain shower and he stretched back and just watched her, quietly. The way her hair brushed her shoulders, the changing shape of her lips, and the little sprinkle of freckles just barely noticeable, only if you were really, very close...
"...has Allen ever touched you?" The question came so unexpectedly, so suddenly, and between her mirth, that when she stopped to register it, she hiccupped. But she wasn't the only one surprised. He couldn't explain how or why he wanted to know so badly if she'd been touched by Allen, or he realized, any man.
She eyed him apprehensively and immediately stiffened, "That's really quite personal." She was however, betrayed when his prodding eyes never left her face and she blushed, a pilgrim's blush.
He leaned in and whispered, his voice so silky that it was an almost caress and she could feel him touching her. "He hasn't touched you, sweetheart. Right?"
And knowing a thing or two about women, he could tell the difference between the flush of a woman not often touched and that of a woman being coy.
She didn't even confront his eyes because she knew what would happen. Her soul would be so terribly bare and exposed. He could read her like a novel.
Apparently he was also the master of knowing her all too well, to not even have to look into her eyes and know the truth.
And his eyes enlarged at the realization.
"By God, no you can't be a—a--virgin!" He said the word as if it was a foreign and he wasn't quite sure of its pronunciation.
Her head shot up and clearly met his eyes. Even sitting, she was proud, the thrust of her chin, the fierce look in her eyes indicated that she was no weakling. Nay, she was a firebrand, a woman born of fire and fight.
Forcing a dry smile she spoke derisively, "What lovely conversation topics we have."
He'd found exactly what he'd needed to know. He grinned lazily but behind his cool, rather, hot surface, little alarm bells were ringing deafeningly. What he realized too late was the acute sense of want, of possessiveness he felt when he'd found out. Damn! It would've been better if you hadn't known... what the hell made you ask her that?!
And now, he knew.
He would have her, if anyone would. He would be her first even though he may be damned. She hadn't been quite so wrong when she'd made the analogy of him being in likeness to Satan.
How, why, or when, he wasn't confident of.
But there were certain things that one knew and Van Fanel knew just that.
If she had the nerve to kiss the waiter, Hitomi Kanzaki would've done so when the man placed the food on the table and in that precious time an odd sort of
ease had grown between the two. They glided through one topic after another,
taking bites of their delicious crepes. It wasn't until he hit a sore subject
did the barriers, the defenses spring up as if magically. Allen.
"How did you even get involved with this guy?" He asked in that calm, matter of fact manner that she found utterly treacherous because it was in this way he managed to extract all the details of her life. Satan? Oh yes!
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and yet his eyes remained steadily on her and when she looked into them, she knew they were her undoing. They held no judgement, no harshness,just that calm, blazing fire whose intensity could be scorching.
"Well," she sipped her scalding coffee and wrung her hands for a few moments and then paused. A gaping pause.
"Well...?" he prompted softly.
She inhaled deeply, "Allen and I met under odd circumstances." Her eyes softened slightly as she went along, obviously encouraged by him, "Mamoru, my little brother, was a bit of a hacker a few years ago and he had cracked into the Schezar database," her face darkened and Van found himself so engrossed by the changing expressions on her face that he thought he could just keep on watching her, "Well, this one wasn't so successful. They were able to trace him down and it was that time actually Mamoru got very ill." She looked at him, and yet he knew that her eyes weren't on him. They were miles, and miles away, reliving that very instant. "I went in his place to see what consequences he'd have to face." She gave a short laugh, "And apparently, Allen found a reason to forgive Mamoru just this once. Only one bet." Her eyes riveted to his face and they were serious with hints of sardonic humor, "He wanted me to have dinner with him."
"Bastard," he muttered darkly.
Hitomi frowned, faintly amused by his reaction and the darkening of his face made her want to smile. She did. "Well," she sighed, "one thing led to another and, here I am."
"How very romantic. And so the prince and the princess lived happily ever after," he said sarcastically.
She gave a bubbly laugh, "I didn't know you cared for romance."
He bestowed a languid grin and his hand found hers as he made circular patterns. "Sweetheart, life is a big romance in which you have to fall in love with."
A slow, small, graced her features as their eyes held for the next few moments.
Sometimes, the fairy tales that we craved for were just an arm length away, but we, blind princess, failed to see them.
~*~
He was frowning. What the hell did he get himself stuck in? He couldn't believe it! He'd pinched himself secretly for about the fifth time!
Here he was, cleaning tables.
It had started out innocent enough, very innocently. Hitomi, being the heavenly creature she was had offered to help the mistress of the inn when she'd seen their panicked faces and how there was a lack of help because the assigned workers couldn't come in because of the storm. Thus, she'd donned on an apron, and helped as much as she could with her pathetic skills in cooking (Van of-course refused to wear a flowery-patterned apron; he wanted to hold onto the last threads of his masculine dignity). But, surprisingly, her foods were edible. Now, she could follow recipes, alright.
He sighed and wrinkled his nose when the strong musky scent of lilies hit his nose. Keeping the cursed flower a foot away from him, he brought it to the counter to fill it up with fresh water, when he nearly bumped into her.
"Watch out!"
She sidestepped in just the right second and when their eyes collided, they could only smile. Hitomi smiling cheerfully as if her smile was the sun itself, and Van's dark, like the moon. Her nose was smudged with flour and she looked comical with a tray full of fresh salads, like some minx of the forest.
He couldn't resist.
He tweaked her nose, rubbing it and she immediately backed away, spilling some lettuce and tomato. She sighed exasperatedly, "Now, look what you made me do!"
He laughed and before he could stop himself, before he could help himself to think, to reason, he bent down and quickly closed the distance between them, his lips brushing her nose. She stopped. All coherent words went out to the bin.
Oh my God! Her eyes, not obeying her, riveted to his face and the image she met softened her heart, a softening that wasn't welcome. By God, she just wanted to get out of one bad relationship and now...she couldn't possibly...nay!
He was smiling at her, that kind, beautiful smile that could knock one out cold for hours and keep throwing a bucket after another of water to cool the heat that effused through the body.
And then the crying reached their ears. Lusty cries of a baby.
They both whipped to the direction of the very audible sound. In the corner table, a little car-seat rested and they both instinctively headed towards the lone babe.
She hastily placed the salad on another table and followed Van. The baby was beautiful, his soft curly hair a caramel brown, and his eyes periwinkle blue.
She couldn't help it, the tenderness that moved through her and she automatically cooed, "It's alright, darling, it's alright." She caressed its head all the while cooing, and all the while the male watched her.
There was something utterly bewitching about the scene before him. She would fulfill the job of a caring, loving mother very well. Whoever's children she bore. And he knew, the man she'd marry would want very many from her. Very, very many.
And yet the thought irked and provoked him.
Why? He didn't even want to admit. Ignorance was bliss.
Her eyebrows met in a frown, "Come on Van, make yourself useful. Here, hold the baby. My hands still smell of salads."
"Wha—" Carefully, making sure the shawl wasn't soiled, she lifted the baby, muttering something about irresponsible mothers. She placed it in his arms that automatically, out of their own will, had stretched over to receive the fragile bundle.
He held it awkwardly and frowned deeply and the baby looking at his frown, began to cry with a pitch that could rival an opera singer's. She shook her head and he could tell she was amused when she spoke, "You obviously don't like babies very much?"
"Oh, brilliant observation, Kanzaki." Goddamn, what did you do with these...err...squealing little creatures? He tried to whisper but he doubted that the baby could even hear it.
"Shh..." she soothed the baby, caressing its stomach affectionately, having to go on her toes to actually do so since Van was holding him so high up. It was a comical, yet tender picture they made. An epitomical portrait of a perfect Gaean family, with her hair falling over, her face filled with blooming innocence, his frowning face that could be mistaken as that of a very worried, caring father's.
Blue eyes watched from the corner.
She giggled as he tried to mimic her in calming the baby. "Van, didn't you ever know? Babies like high voices. Female voices."
"Sexist."
She grinned, "More like smartest." She challenged him, her eyes still laughing, "Make your voice higher."
And he did.
And Hitomi thought she was going to die from laughing.
It was the funniest thing she had heard in a long, long time, and Van trying to make his honeydew tenor higher was simply beyond describing. He frowned, "Good for my ego. Keep on laughing."
She straightened, though her lips were wobbly and she harrumphed trying to clear away the last remnants of mirth but it still remained, "Yes, very bad. You know babies also know if they can trust you." She thought for a moment, "Like horses know if you've ridden one before or how much experience you have. They know who's potentially dangerous and might drop them." Her eyes glinted as his arms tightened, "Don't drop him."
The baby gurgled, forming a smile, "Mewling little monsters," he muttered.
She only laughed when the baby started to drool and then it crept down to the sleeve of his shirt. "Ouch. Wait," she giggled, "I'll get a napkin for that."
It was time to make her move, the woman knew. Walking as if she was strutting down the runway, the woman with very light, almost pale blonde hair and flashing blue eyes walked down, her extremely, long, shapely legs clearly visible through the stockings that she wore under the short skirt.
The poor man was too busy in how to communicate to the baby that it was improper to drool. "He's adorable, isn't he?" she asked softly, her voice carrying a seductive lilt more suited to the dark of a bedroom.
His eyes flashed up to her and he gave a small smile, "Yours?"
"Yes," she eyed him, noticing all his bold, sculpted features and finding it very aesthetically pleasing, "Care to share the burden?"
He gave a short bark of laughter, "He's all yours, miss."
There was nothing sexier than a sexy man holding a baby in a manner that he'd done it a million times.
Stiffly, he handed the baby, wincing inwardly when the baby started to cry again when his mother held him. "Charming kid."
She frowned, "He takes after his father."
"Oh," he said dumbly, finding himself quite out of place when she started to cuddle the little thing and soothe him to no avail. "He likes being caressed on the stomach." He added abruptly.
"Huh?"
"It makes him feel better." The woman gave a lazy smile, a thing that he found utterly disgusting to watch, where in his place, many men would've taken that as an open invitation.
"So, what are you doing tonight?" she asked as she followed his directions and found success.
He shrugged, looking above her shoulder, scanning the room. Hitomi was carrying the tray laden with salad and he found himself smiling at just her image. Her hair was falling into her face and she whipped up her head like a young, restless, colt trying to get it out of the way. How he wanted to brush it apart for her.
"Mmm...it's gotten awfully cold in my room. What about yours?" He jerked back to look at the woman.
He looked faintly amused though inwardly he wanted to reply in a steely voice. How obvious could you get?! His Hitomi wouldn't be caught doing this.
...when had she become his?
"My bed's hot." He looked up. Hitomi had disappeared.
The woman, however, took that in the wrong manner and saw it as an invitation. "Care to share the warmth?" She gave him a teasing smile.
He muffled a laugh, "It's already taken."
She pouted prettily, nay, ugly to him, and spoke coyly. "Don't tell me it's that little mouse haired woman?" She wasn't little, but in comparison to her, Hitomi was a few inches shorter. And he had decided that she definitely did not have mouse colored hair. It was much, much prettier...like liquid bronze gold.
Anger, hot as lava, boiled in his veins and he snapped, finding himself furious beyond reason, "That woman is my wife." Oh, really, Fanel? Why the hell did you just say that?!! Shut up! Stupid conscience... His eyes wandered to look for his absent 'wife.'
She watched them, his laugh, his smiles. Damnit, Hitomi! You don't care if he flirts! He's allowed to do whatever he wants. You don't care...you don't...YOU DON'T!
She did.
She told herself she wasn't jealous, but it would've been easier if the woman wasn't so damningly pretty. She had the svelte shape of a model, the body very finely toned, even a bit too skinny, but her hair gorgeously spilled down to her arms, all that light blonde mass that shone like the sun's rays. She was the stuff of men's fantasies. Specifically, more fitting to Van's fantasies and desires. She admitted to herself, they made a very, attractive, beautiful pair, she contrasting with her lightness and it definitely resembled family pictures in which the husband, wife and child were together in close proximity. A picture in which she was not included in.
...not that she particularly wanted to be, right?
You're damned, Hitomi... The blonde, leggy, witch is more to his taste. Why the heck should you even care? Yes, why should she care? She checked the time and found out it was already six in the evening. Her muscles were tired and all she wanted to do was to sink into a tub of hot water and forget all her worries. Aye, that's what she would do. Absently, she touched her nose where she could still feel the traces of his lips...
~*~
The smell of candles, a jasmine and juniper smell wafted through the bathroom as she luxuriously rested in the bathtub. It was hot and her skin flushed in a welcoming manner. She hummed to herself, the song playing in her ears through the earphones that were connected to the CD player. Oh how relaxing this was! She shifted in the water, the bubbles rising up to cover her nakedness, until only the flesh till her collarbone was visible.
She was in a contemplative mood. Thinking of Allen. She sighed deeply. He was different from Van in every level, physically, mentally. In every way.
Times like these she wanted the warm arms of her mother to tell her what was right, who was right for her. Too bad, she would have to deal with it now by herself. She was a strong woman, an independent one.
He walked into the room, closing the door softly, his mind deeply involved in his thoughts. Right now, he needed to jump into a shower, or at least wash his face. He needed to think straight. What was wrong with him?
He twisted the knob, looking at the floor, half-paying attention, his fingers automatically going to his shirt buttons on the top, and it wasn't until he looked up, did he pause. Frozen to the spot. Rooted. Dumbstruck.
There she was. In front of him, her one long, shapely leg on the base of the tub, her body covered with bubbles...her eyes closed, her lips parted slightly, her face oh-so-serious. And so very kissable.
He felt as if was going to do something that he would regret very, very much and the hardening of his body indicated so.
She felt eyes on her, the eerie sense of being watched very intensely.
Suddenly, her eyes shot open and she met the sight before her.
Oh God! Sink me! He was openly gaping at her, her body glistening as the water made her skin shine supremely like it was polished silk. His fingers were still paused at the spot of his collar where he had begun to unbutton and he was just staring at her, not saying a word.
And scaring the hell out of her.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" she hissed, slicing the silence sharply.
He closed his mouth, his arms slackened and his voice had a hint of anger, "What were you doing not locking the door? How was I supposed to know it was you in there?"
She frowned and shot back angrily, sinking deeply into the water, when she felt his eyes on the base of her throat, "I locked it!"
"Then how I did I open it?"
"For God's sake, turn around!" He gave her a deliberately long look, a look that had her heated up and she knew it wasn't because of the water.
He turned on his heel, shoving his hands in the depths of his pockets. The song could still be heard, very faintly.
"So here we go
Let's just dance
Teach my soul to take this chance
Put my heart
In your hands"
She switched it off, placed the CD player on the tiled floor of the bathroom. "All I know is that I locked it."
"Yes, and I picked the lock," he said sarcastically, "because I was dying to see you like this."
"Oh shut up! You should've known I was in here!" Her whole body was shaking for an unknown reason.
"I didn't see you downstairs so I thought you were busy somewhere else, and plus you didn't tell me you were going up!" he countered.
She grit her teeth, "Okay, fine. Can we talk about this later, preferably when I am finished bathing?"
"I don't think we need to talk about this," his voice had a roughness as he spoke and it widened her green eyes. No, sweetheart, we need to do something about this.
Well, that suited her just fine. Gosh, how embarrassing! She thanked the bubbles fervently that covered her up from his prying eyes. The moment she'd been cognizant of his presence, she had very, very, feverishly wanted to become a vapor and disappear into the air (after debating on many forms of death, she concluded that drowning would be an awfully painful one...she'd had many occasions when she'd wanted to become a vapor or just dust in the air). Oh wonderful life was.
~*~
Her hair was carefully blow dried and parted so that it fell in an orderly way. She sighed as she observed his wonderfully muscular back as he pored over a magazine. He carelessly threw it at the side when she stepped out and looked up at her, his auburn eyes like a rainy mist of autumn leaves. Rainy mists that she felt caress every part of her body and made her shiver like some mad leaf. God, woman, get a hold on yourself!
"And the Bathing Sleeping Beauty steps out."
She stuck her tongue at him, "And you're the Peeping Tom."
He laughed, "Sorry, sweet, not into voyeurism."
Her eyes crinkled. It was only with a few words that he made her feel unusually comfortable. "Everyone says that."
His eyes danced devilishly, "Does that mean you are?"
"Of-course not!" she huffed but she smiled soon afterwards, his next words making her aim a magazine at him.
"I'll leave the bathroom door open all the time for you to watch me shower." He winked roguishly.
She snorted when he ducked and her aim hit the wall. She just shook her head and went inside to heat up some milk. Milk always helped her to sleep and today she wanted to sleep fitfully.
"What are you doing?" he yelled from the miniature couch, his long, masculine legs stretched out on the carpet in a languorous manner.
"Getting some milk. Do you want some?"
"Yeah, sure." She stuck her head out of the kitchen to listen to him.
"Cold, warm, or hot?"
He grinned mischievously and said it in a suggestive manner, "I like it scalding, very hot."
She shook her head, "Fanel, I am offering you milk here, I don't know what's going in that mind of yours."
He looked at her grinning like some lad. I am sure you do. Exactly what I want to do to you I find myself thinking, it's never enough...
Her shoulders shook with laughter nonetheless and she rolled her eyes.
Then minutes later, when they'd drunk the milk, a yawn escaped her mouth and she found herself rubbing her eyes.
"You're tired."
"Mmhmm," she murmured, her eyes feeling drowsy. "I am so very tired." He helped her up, surprisingly very gentle and guided her towards the bed. He glanced at her outfit; it was a sweatshirt and some woolen pants, which looked somehow adorable on her. He shook his head mentally, and his mind here was turning into a bowl of mashed potatoes.
He shifted her on the bed until she laid comfortably, a careless smile playing on her lips, "Thanks, Van," she said softly.
His Adam's apple bobbed just looking at her, and he knew what exactly she resembled when he'd seen her in white.
An angel.
A creature of heaven, not to be harmed, not to be taken advantage of, but to cherished, protected, and above all, unconditionally, irrationally, madly loved.
He switched off the lamp, hearing the soft breaths that came from her lips. He'd already changed into a different shirt and going to the other side, he parted the covers and slipped in beside her.
For moments he stayed that way, not touching her, feeling the coldness of the bed envelope him, knowing that beside him, she was shivering.
He turned, and with a deeply content sigh, his arm went around her and he brought her close to him until her back was only a breath away. He stared into the darkness and softly, sure that she was asleep he said, "Sleep with the angels, sweetheart."
"Don't."
It took a moment to register her talk and he smiled warmly. She turned to face him and he allowed his arms to slacken for just those moments, then they were bands of steel again. "You're awake."
"You liked that woman, didn't you?" she asked, mentally berating herself, cursing herself for her stupidity.
"What woman?" he asked quizzically.
"Gosh Van, I am not blind! That blonde woman today!"
"What?" he asked, and damn him, because his voice sounded genuinely confused.
She couldn't believe how vicious her voice sounded when she spoke, but it did. And here she thought that she was above being a green-eyed monster. "That blonde witch with the baby, practically pushing her body on yours, hanging onto your every word."
"Oh, I didn't realize she was blonde."
Apparently that was not a good answer in her book. "Unhand me right this moment, Fanel."
"What's wrong with you, sweet—"
"Don't call me 'sweetheart'! I am not one of those women you can have a little fling with and then kiss goodbye the next morning! Not one of your conquests and I hate being called something that you've probably called countless women! For all I know, you were probably calling that ditz the same thing!"
So heated up she became, she didn't see the smile that was spreading like a tide on his face. His voice was low, very soft, very sweet as he whispered into her ear, "I didn't realize she was acting that way...because...I was looking at you carrying the salads. Your hair was falling out of place. I wanted to go and fix it for you."
She stopped.
Speechless.
Nooo! She did not, she gasped, become possessive of him?! She had absolutely no right! No claim over him at all! It didn't make things any better when he started whispering even more things in her ear, words that made her feel like she a blushing machine producing heat in massive immeasurable amounts, "All the while, I was thinking of how the woman didn't look like you, how I disliked her because she smiled in a certain way that was disgusting, how I wished I could see you smile, just once. How I wished," I could touch you, "I could make you laugh so that your eyes would sparkle in that way nothing ever can."
She gasped, his lips ever so close to her ears, his breath fanning her. She wasn't sure if it was an accident of if it was done purposely. She liked to believe it was the former...he didn't mean anything by his words, did he?
Just in the very slightest, softest, manner his lips brushed her ear and his arms deliberately tightened, enclosing her in his cocoon of heat. She shivered and her arms came around his, holding him close to her thundering heartbeat.
~It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that it has begun.~
--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A/N: Soo, it's here!! ^_^;; How was it? Hope I didna disappoint anyone...there's a bit less of humor in this one, a bit less of teasing as he usually does, but it had to be this way... The tension is growing between them and can you sense it? ^___________^;; Oh yes, I am going to *puts hand on heart* stick with the PG-13 rating here. XD! So, don't worry!!! ^___________________^ My God, don't even ask about how long this fic is going to be because I haven't a blasted idea!! *ruffles hair* I can tell you, atleast seven chapters and I hope to finish this before summer!! Oh yeah, doooooooon't worry that I won't be finishing this and abandon it! I won't!! Also, my other fics won't be updated anytime soon. I am just working on this. School is taking a huuuuge toll on me and really I need to concentrate and study for my two AP exams and my other classes! *ruffles hair exasperatedly* I am just out of time these days and a bit low on the inspiration...soo...make me feel better and review! Oh yes, that song was "Simple Things" by Rebecca Lynn Howard. Very pretty. ^___________________^;; xD also, the whole blonde woman scene was inspired by a scene from Kiss of The Highlander...you'll have to read it!!! It's gooood!! xD but it's not the same scene...in Kiss it was different.
Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers and faithful readers! Also, to those who read by don't review! I know you exist! XD But, review to be acknowledged! Bwhaha!
Ja-ne!! Oh yes, Happy Spring Break!!!!
