Zeb…

I built a fire, put the soup on low and slow to heat and started to make her some hot tea to warm her up from the inside as much as the bath she was running would hopefully do for her frozen fingers and toes from the outside. She was silent, the strong sound of the water pouring into the tub drowning out any noise she might have been making as she moved around my bathroom. She’d left the door open, and more than just a crack this time. Then again, she’d had her clothes off for most of the night and I liked to think she was more comfortable around me even if we hadn’t gotten completely naked together yet.

The water shut off and I heard her get in. I steeped her tea and the fruity scent of one of the bath bomb things that girls seemed to go crazy over wafted out of the open doorway and permeated the open space of my flat. I liked it. It was nice having her here and it was more than just having something or someone beautiful here to liven the place up.

It was nice knowing she was safe here. That no one knew where it was, sure, but that she could breathe a bit easier knowing no one could find her here was something precious. That she could be herself and not look over her shoulder was nice.

I fixed up another cup of tea for myself after a second thought and carried both steaming mugs to the golden rectangle of light coming from my bathroom.

“Hey, I’m good to come in, yeah?” I asked before crossing the threshold and into her line of sight.

“Yeah,” she said gently. I went in and handed her down one of the steaming cups. She was huddled in the bottom of the bath, hugging her knees, the water pink and swirling with what looked like silver vapor through it.

I sat down on the floor and put my back to the wall, so I could face her. She took a tentative sip of the tea and closed her eyes, savoring it.

“Got some soup on, no worries, though. I don’t want you to rush.”

“Thank you,” she said. “The tea is good.”

“You looked frozen,” I said, taking a drink of my own.

“Kind of running low on clean laundry,” she confessed. “Usually Lia picks me up and I go over to her place with it. She lets me use her washer and dryer while we watch movies and I do some homework.”

“Sounds nice, eh.”

“Things are kind of all over the place now, though.”

I nodded and she looked a little lost, laying her head atop her drawn up knees, one arm around them, the other gripping the handle of her tea mug as it rested on the edge of the tub. I was suddenly more cross with her friend than I’d been before. She had no idea what she was doing with this and needed to leave well enough alone.

“Warm enough?” I asked and she smiled slightly.

“Much better, yeah.”

“Good. Did you bring something to sleep in?”

She closed her eyes and her shoulders dropped, “Shit. I hadn’t thought much beyond the whole I don’t want to go home, you know?”

“Yeah, it’s no worries. I have a shirt, I’m sure.”

“Thanks,” she murmured softly and I reached out, stroking some of her long, silky hair out of her eyes, sweeping it behind her ear and away from her scarred cheek. She didn’t flinch this time, which made me smile in appreciation. She was learning there was no bad here with me. No judgment or anything like that.

“I honestly don’t think I’m going to sleep that well today,” she said, and I nodded.

“A lot going on upstairs, eh?”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“I get it.”

She shifted and the water sloshed in the tub. I always liked the sound of water any way I could get it. Just something nice about it. Soothing and whatnot.

“You want I should read to you?” I asked.

She smiled and even though it held an edge of sadness, it made her go from beautiful to stunning. “Figured out that I like that, huh?”

“Yeah.”

I’d always had a habit of reading before falling asleep and even with her in my arms, I’d kept it up. I always had a paperback of some sort tucked into the inside pocket of my jacket or the back pocket of my jeans and the last few nights I’d brought it out to read while she’d rested against me as we’d gone to go to sleep. Two nights ago, she’d asked me to read out loud and I’d done it. It’d been awkward a bit at first, but she’d seemed to like it and now it looked like it was turning into one of our things.

I sat up and pulled the book I’d started at the bar that night out of my back pocket. I liked to read things that were useful to me and she didn’t seem to mind listening to anything I’d read so far. She watched me with those deep brown eyes of hers as I opened it to where I’d marked the page.

This book was by an American bloke in the security industry. Data had recommended it, and it’d just been the next one in my pile by the bed. It was about trusting your gut and how to listen to the unspoken little warning signs folks gave off before trying something stupid.

Tiffany closed her eyes and listened, taking the occasional sip of tea. Wrapping both her hands around the mug, before long she unfurled the length of the tub, sinking down into the fruity pink water with its swirling silver cloud of sparkling whatever. She just listened to me, and it took a lot of willpower to keep my eyes on the words and off her face… and yeah, the rest of her too. She was one beautiful lady and it was hard not to stare.

I finished the last of the chapter and closed the book, watching as she thought it over, simply sitting with her and relaxing.

“The water is getting cold,” she said finally and I nodded.

“I’ll get you a shirt and dish up the food, maybe drag the bed closer to the fire. You take your time.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“No worries.”

And that right there was one of the reasons it felt so good to do things for her. She was appreciative, never missed an opportunity to say a simple thank you, but what’s more, it was the look she gave me. Every time I did something sweet for her, she looked at me with this amazed gratitude that did more for me than anything ever had before. I felt needed, not just wanted, and I have to admit it was a serious boost to my manly ego.

I don’t think there was anything else that made me feel like half as much of a man as when she looked at me like that. I pushed to my feet and took her nearly empty mug of tea out with me. Refreshing both our cups, I dragged the mattress across the floor closer to the fire as I listened to her climb out of the tub. I couldn’t help myself, picturing the water sliding along her perfect skin, but I resisted the temptation to go to the door and actually look.

It was a struggle for me, making sure I was a decent man and not pushing her, but at the same time, not giving her the idea I was disinterested. Her job made things a little complicated for me in that arena. I didn’t ever want her to feel like I was one of the men that frequented her club. I wanted her to always know she was more to me than a perfect pair of tits. She was so much more than an object to be ogled.

I went over to the closet and fished through, finding a clean tee of mine and handed it to her as she stepped out of my bathroom wrapped in the towel I’d had in there.

“Here you go,” I told her. “Go by the fire and stay warm, eh. I’ll get us some food dished up. Got you some more tea already.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate this. I know you weren’t expecting we’d wind up here and I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re cool with my being here.”

“Ah, yeah, nah; don’t mention it, eh? I like having you here with me. I just wish I had more to my flat than this.” I waved a hand around and she turned and took in the Spartan flat with a charmed half-smile.

“I like the minimalist look and feel,” she murmured. I laughed and she moved off toward the fire, sitting down on the edge of the made-up mattress on the floor, wrapped in the towel, setting my tee on the bed by her hip. She fished through her bag coming up with a tube of lotion of some kind and flipped back the cap. I ladled up soup into a couple of bowls and was suddenly mesmerized by her as she smoothed the loose cream onto her long legs.

I confess, I set the bowl down and leaned on the bench, watching her as she completed the simple act of moisturizing her skin, pulled on a pair of hipster panties, and slipping my shirt over her head before letting the towel fall out from underneath it. I bowed my head and closed my eyes nodding to myself, my thoughts leaning towards not being able to hold out much longer. I wanted her, but I also wanted the time to be right, too.

She was staring into the fireplace, transfixed, almost hypnotized, smoothing a different, fragrant hand cream into her hands and wrists, up her arms when I sat down next to her. I handed her one of the bowls when she was done.

“Thanks,” she murmured and stirred the soup with her spoon.

“My pleasure, eh.”

We ate in a comfortable silence for a while and I liked that she didn’t hide the scarred side of her face from me anymore. That she was comfortable enough to leave her hair pulled back into one of those clip things in a messy bun.

She was the first to break the silence by saying, “Italian Wedding is one of my favorites,” and I smiled.

“Yeah? Wasn’t something I knew about until I came here; Sunshine, Trigger’s woman makes a mean one. The canned isn’t as good but it’s not bad.”

“I make a really good homemade vegetable soup.”

“Ah, yeah? Where’d you learn that?”

She laughed slightly, “The internet. I taught myself to cook for the most part. It was either that or starve.”

“Cooking out of self-defense,” I said with a laugh. “I like it.”

“I never thought of it that way,” she said with a rueful smile, bringing the bowl to her lips and drinking some of the broth. “I like it too,” she said after swallowing.

I was mesmerized by just about every movement she made. She had a natural grace that most women didn’t possess and it was something else. She sighed a healthy, satisfied sound and rose gracefully to her feet, taking her bowl with her.

“Tea is in the kitchen on the counter, just there.”

“Oh, excellent,” she remarked. She stood at the sink and washed out her bowl. I stood up with mine and went over to wash it, but she took it from my hands and did it for me.

It gave me idle hands which I put to her slender hips, stepping up to her back and pressing my lips to where her neck met her shoulder where the stretched neckline of my old tee left it bare.

She sighed out, her body relaxing back into mine, her hands covering mine and pressing them to her stomach where they’d ended up. She moaned slightly, one hand disappearing from the top of mine, touching lightly along the side of my neck as she encouraged what I was doing. Turning her head, questing for our mouths to meet.

Her kiss was sweet as, and I felt my desire for her spike, spiraling high and tight, sending me soaring. I spun her in my grasp and kissed her proper and her arms wound around my neck and shoulders, hands pressing gently, cradling the back of my head holding my mouth to hers.

The heat between us was something, really. Enough that I was pretty sure my clothes needed off. She clung to me, making these soft little whimpers of want against my mouth and I lifted her easily. Her long legs wound around my hips and I backed her up, sitting her on the edge of the sink, letting my passion carry us both.

She was into it, and I was so into her but something held her back. She moaned into my mouth and it held that quality of wait. I slowed my kiss but didn’t want it to end but when she pulled back, I let her.

“Not like this,” she gasped, “Not like this.”

“Right,” I murmured and backed off, letting her go. Chest heaving with the breath she’d stolen, I maintained my self-control – barely. I took myself to the bathroom to regroup and take a cold shower.