I’m so fucking nervous as Ellie stands in my bedroom, looking at her plant. Not saying anything.
I would do anything to make this moment better for her. To be a regular man who could have wined and dined her, a man who took her to dinner after work a few times a week, and cooked with her the rest of the time.
A regular Joe.
That’s what she deserves.
“I have food,” I blurt out. “So I can cook something for you.”
She nods. “I’m not really hungry.”
I need to be so careful with her. She’s still healing. Still needs her rest.
“Do you want to lie down?” That gets me another nod. “We can talk more about you staying here. I shouldn’t have made a joke before. I just thought it was funny that you brought up the plant, and I’d already grabbed it.”
“Her.”
I smile. “Her. There’s no rush to talk about what comes next.”
She gives me a curious look, then slowly unbuttons her blouse. “Okay.”
It’s hypnotic. Her little fingers, the bare flashes of flesh as the fabric slides open. I shouldn’t be this easily turned on, not when she’s—
“Jason?”
“Mmm.” She’s not wearing anything under the blouse. Her breasts pebble under my gaze, her nipples pulling tight.
“I don’t really want to talk about the future.” She peels off her jeans, and stands in front of me in a skimpy pair of cotton panties—and a bandage on her side. “I want to have sex.”
I groan deep in my throat. “Sex.”
“It’s better than talking.” She reaches for me, her fingers sliding under my shirt and over the taut, warm skin of my belly. My muscles clench against her arousing touch.
“I shouldn’t— We shouldn’t—”
“Yes, we should,” she whispers as I lift her ever so gently and lie her on the bed.
I kiss her mouth. “I was so scared I’d lose you.” I kiss her jaw. Her neck. I rake my mouth over the fragile skin on her chest. But I can’t move any lower. I can’t look at that bandage. “I can’t hurt you now.”
“Gently, then.” She arches beneath me.
“Stop moving so much. You’ll rip a stitch.”
“I’m pretty healed up already.” But then she winces.
“Hold still,” I rasp. “Hold absolutely fucking still, and I will make you feel good.”
A nervous, ugly fear twists inside me as I ease her panties down her legs. But then she slides her thighs apart, revealing that pink sweetness I am intoxicated, and the fear gets good and tangled with need.
Gently, I settle in beside her, on the opposite side from her stitches. She has bruises all over her belly, too. But between her legs, she’s warm and swollen, just slippery enough for me to slick up her clit with her own arousal.
“I love you,” she whispers as I stroke her soft pussy lips. Up and down, then in just a little.
“I love you, too.” Up and down, then a little deeper this time. It takes an agonizingly long time for me to sink my whole finger into her, she’s impossibly tight, and there’s no way I’m fucking her until we get a clean bill of health for physical activities.
It’s enough to just touch her, though. I stroke her slowly, endlessly, as if she’s a precious china doll, and she does exactly as I ask. She holds perfectly still, even as her hunger to climax grows. Even as she begs me to go faster, and I don’t, but I ramp up the pressure on her clit, and then, just as she nears the peak, I add a second finger.
My name rips from her lips, then a gasp, her face contorting. I worry I’ve hurt her, but then a blissful expression slides into place.
“I needed that.” She rubs her cheek against the pillow. “Oh yes, I really did.”
Maybe I did, too. I pull the blanket over her and we curl up together, finally at peace.