Title: Cabin Fever

Author: MindyH

Chapter: 11 No mistake

"Say it," I urge.

"Why?" she sulks.

"Just say it," I insist.

Kate sighs and twists on the white swing so she's reclining, with her feet propped on the armrest and her head in my lap. It's her favorite position of late.

The swing rocks gently as she settles and I look down at her face, her cheeks glowing from the early morning sun and her hair still in a disheveled state of bedhead.

She got out if bed and came to find me last night where I was sitting on the couch, staring at the fire, bourbon in hand. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop looking at her and allowing the doubts to creep in and claim me. So I left her to her peace. Then, just as I was starting to believe that we had both made a gigantic mistake, she appeared, half-asleep and concerned, wrapped in a heavy blanket.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a slurred sigh.

"Thinking," I replied, looking at her like an angel savior. "What are you doing?"

"I was cold," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and looking at me more clearly.

She was cold without my arms around her, without my body next to her. She remained standing until I beckoned her to the couch, the blanket trailing on the floor as she moved toward me. She grumbled tiredly as she climbed into my lap, draping the blanket over my shoulders and pressing her face under my chin.

All worry vanished with the warm weight of her in my arms. I stroked her lightly as she dropped off to sleep again and my own eyelids drooped with weariness.

This could be no mistake.

Kate had shifted gradually throughout the night, stretching out on the couch and using my thigh as a pillow. I woke at the break of dawn, looking down at the sleeping woman laid out before me, her eyelashes dark against her cheeks, her soft breasts pressed against my thigh through her thin cotton top and one hand curled about the hem of my t-shirt. I tried to shift her away a little so her warm breath wasn't brushing the material of my boxers, so her lips weren't tickling the hairs on my leg.

But unconscious Kate would have none of it, snuggling closer determinedly and pouting in her sleep. I couldn't help but groan at the incredible sight and feel of my little sex kitten sprawled over my lap and completely oblivious to the effect she was having.

The low noise woke her and her eyes snapped abruptly open. Big bedroom eyes climbed up to meet mine, holding my gaze for a heart-stopping moment and rendering me completely speechless. Moving with sinuous and deliberate slowness, she stole up against me, brushing my body with her own and unhurriedly planting a soft, open-mouthed kiss over my stunned mouth. I put a hand on her head, stroking her hair as she kissed me in godd morning.

"Mmm, morning," she whispered against my lips as she slowly pulled away.

Before I could recover or answer or open my eyes, she was on her feet.

"Coffee?" she asked, shuffling into the kitchen in t-shirt and panties and ruffling my hair as she went.

I think I grunted, not quite capable of higher brain function.

It was a rhetorical question anyway.

Kate's finished her coffee, but I'm still sipping at my second cup as we loll in the swing enjoying the sunshine that hits the front porch so brilliantly in the mornings.

"Just try it," I mumble to Kate, tracing the dip of her nose with one finger.

She settles her head in my lap more comfortably and grimaces adorably. Then she takes a deep breath and says softly: "Jethro."

Hah, I think triumphantly, I like it. I've always liked the sound of my second name from a woman's lips. It sounds breathy, soft, and sexy – even more so from this woman's.

Kate screws up her nose: "It feels strange."

"You're not used to it, that's all," I reason, vaguely offended.

She can't keep calling me by my last name. It's starting to get weird. I love the way she says it, with a little lisp at the end, and love the way she shouts it when we're in bed. But that's immaterial.

What if we get married? How are we going to explain it to people? How are we going to explain it to our kids? -- I don't voice that thought.

"Why 'Jethro' and not 'Leroy'?" she asks, arranging her robe over her thighs. We haven't even gotten out of our pajamas yet.

"'Leroy' is weird," I reply, taking a sip of coffee. It's almost strong enough.

"And 'Jethro' isn't?" she retorts amusedly.

"What's wrong with 'Jethro'?" I demand incredulously.

She grins impishly, having extracted the reaction she wants from me. "Nothing, nothing," she mutters, under her breath.

"Huh. Thank you," I huff: "Caitlin."

She frowns up at me and meets my eyes. "Jethro," she acquiesces, experimentally.

I cock my head to the side. "Say it again," I urge expectantly.

"Jethro," she murmurs, looking into my eyes.

"Again?" I ask and smile. I trace her hairline and jaw with one finger.

Her eyelids flutter as she breathes: "Jethro."

I nod: "Mmm. Again."

She smiles: "Jethro…"

"Yes, Katie?"