Chapter Six

Steve sat on the couch, staring at the door with his brain still foggy from sleep and the too-real dream he'd been having. The dream that hadn't been a dream; the one that still had his hand tingling where he'd touched Sharon's bare flesh, still had his lips warm from their kisses and still had - other things - remembering the feel of her against him.

He took a breath, sorting the jumble of thoughts in his head. They'd watched a movie on the couch last night, after coming into his apartment to put the art supplies away. It was a biopic he'd been wanting to see and Sharon had fallen asleep about half-way through. He'd finished the movie with every intention of moving Sharon to his bed so she'd be more comfortable but she'd seemed comfortable enough laying there with him and he, selfishly, had enjoyed the feel of her asleep in his arms.

He must have dozed off and then, as he did most nights, he'd dreamt of her; dreamt of the things he longed to do.

It isn't like I can control my dreams, he justified. He had a difficult enough time holding himself back when he and Sharon made out, to keep himself from crossing a line with a woman he respected and cared for deeply.

He shook his head and stood, the last bit of fog finally clearing.

After last night, he'd vowed to show Sharon what she meant to him, how much he cared for her. The look on her face when she'd run from his apartment made it obvious that he was already failing miserably in his endeavor.

Determined, Steve strode down the hall, knocked lightly on Sharon's door and listened for a response. When he didn't hear one, he knocked harder and pressed his ear to the door, the sound of the shower the only sound in her apartment.

He hesitated. They needed to talk, had needed to talk for a while, but he didn't know if forcing his way into Sharon's apartment was the best start. However, waiting for a "good time" to discuss their relationship hadn't done him any favors, either, and he didn't know if they could afford to wait any longer.

Deciding their relationship was more important than manners, he tried the handle with every intention of grabbing his copy of her apartment key if it was locked.

But the door opened easily and he called her name as he entered. He heard the water shut off and called her name again, walking cautiously down the hallway toward her bedroom.

He turned at the end of the hall and saw Sharon standing at the foot of the bed, the steam billowing out from the open bathroom door behind her. She was still in the pajamas he'd just seen her in, her clothes and hair dry. Her eyes were red from the tears he knew he'd caused and he hated that he had that power. Sharon was a strong woman, came from a long line of strong women, and his thoughtless words and actions had caused her tears on more than one occasion.

It wouldn't be much of a relationship if we didn't care enough to have our feelings hurt by the other, she'd told him before when he'd inadvertently done just that. It didn't do much to assuage the guilt he felt or make him feel like less of an emotional oaf - and it didn't offer him any solutions for removing the look of hurt from Sharon's eyes.

"I know you hate when I say 'I'm sorry' but I am," Steve said, stepping cautiously into the room. "I'm sorry I was out of line this morning. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you."

She gave him a weak smile. "You weren't out of line, Steve. I just don't think you and I are on the same page about this relationship or, if this morning was any indication, we might not even be in the same book."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You're upset that you took advantage of me and I'm upset that you stopped."

"What?"

"I told you before that you're probably never going to do anything to offend me, Steve. I want you to touch me. I want to touch you. And I want a lot more than we've been doing. I've tried to be patient, tried to respect that you were two decades too early for the sexual revolution. But I grew up in a very sexually aware time and I'm starting to think that maybe it's not that you're not ready, it's that you don't want me."

"How can you say that?"

"How can I think anything else? We've been a couple for six months, Steve, and I can't even get you to take your shirt off in front of me."

He sighed. "I can take my clothes off for you right now, if you want. I want you, Sharon. Every morning. Every night. Every day. That's why I'm careful about how much we touch, why I try to stay in control. Otherwise, with you I wouldn't be able to help myself from doing what I almost did this morning."

"And what was that?"

"This."

He must have moved at super soldier speed because Sharon went from sitting on the edge of the bed to suddenly laid out in the middle of the mattress with Steve stretched out over her. She'd never had any reason to complain about his kisses before, had enjoyed his range of gentle to passionate and all points in between...

But this...she never realized how much he'd been holding back, how he must have restrained himself and she thrilled at the intensity of his mouth on hers. And it wasn't just his mouth, his hands were all over her as well, caressing and exploring as he never had before.

"Tell me when to stop," he whispered as he again trailed his lips down her neck.

"Never," she panted as he pushed her sleep tank up, trailing kisses back up her torso as he slowly removed it and tossed it aside.

Exposed from the waist up, she watched his eyes darken as he took in the sight of her. His gaze more powerful than any words he could have expressed, she reached up and pulled his shirt over his head and threw it aside as well. She arched up, flesh meeting flesh, and matched his fiery kiss with her own.

His hands wandered lower with determination and she gasped into his mouth when he honed in on target. Where this side of him had been, she did not know, but she had a difficult time keeping up with everything he made her feel. Her soft moans became strangled cries, then whimpers and finally muffled screams as he continued to demonstrate his feelings for her.

When he was finished with his ministrations, she lay back as limp as an overcooked noodle.

He propped himself on his elbow and looked down at her, a slow smile spread across his handsome face. "I guess I did that right."

"Where..? How..?" she asked, still a bit dazed as she stared up at him.

"I did some studying," he confessed. "I wanted to make sure I was prepared when the time came."

His ears had reddened with embarrassment but Sharon was too weak to tease. Instead, a wave of emotion washed over her, too powerful to ignore this time.

"I love you, Steve," she said, her voice hoarse and breathless.

He kissed her in response, slow and gentle. Though he didn't say the words, Sharon's heart swelled just the same because there was no way he could have looked at her, shared with her what they'd just shared, if he didn't love her, too.

"I think we're on the same page now," she said, smiling in contentment.

He kissed her forehead. "We've got a couple of hours until those computer techs arrive. What would you like to do?"

"You," she said, her smile widening. "But after a nap. You wore me out, Captain Rogers."