Steady (Indigo)

by Robinson, Ruthie

  “This Katrina . . .” he said, settling her over him, pushing her slowly down to take him into her body again, “. . . is so not steady.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Katrina woke up early the next morning and looked at Will asleep beside her. He was spread-eagle, face down, his head facing her. He looked so beautiful. Her thoughts traveled back to last night. That had been so much fun, but more intense toward the end than she was comfortable with. Unexpectedly, her inner voice issued a warning: Be careful. She ignored it and sat up. No movement, not a peep from Will.

  She stood up and moved quietly around the room, gathering her clothes. She quickly dressed, using Will’s T-shirt to cover her costume, and quietly backed from the room. He was dead to the world, jet lag, she’d bet, the same jet lag that had him wide awake at three in the morning, reaching for her. That man was something else, smooth, lean, and intense, staring into her eyes as he moved in and out of her body. She didn’t want to leave without letting him know she was gone, but she didn’t want to wake him, either.

  She stepped into the hall leading to the living room and continued to the kitchen, where she found a note pad and pencil. Hey, Will. Thank you for a wonderful evening. I went home. You can come over if you want to. Come through the backyard. I’ll unlock the door. She signed it Steady and smiled at his nickname for her. She went back to his room and placed the note on the pillow next to him, giving in to the need to look at him again. She stood there a minute longer and then tiptoed out.

  She quietly and quickly walked through his backyard and through the gate, down the greenbelt, and into her yard. She entered her home and went to take a shower. After she was done, she located a pair of old pajama bottoms and a T-shirt and went in search of tea.

  ***

  Will opened his eyes, immediately spotting the empty space next to him, thinking it would have been nice to start the morning as it had ended last night. He lifted his head and saw a note in the space where Katrina’s head had been. He reached for it, smiling at her use of his nickname for her. He turned over onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. Steady hadn’t been steady. He smiled at that thought, and at all the other images from last night running through his mind.

  He had about had a heart attack when he saw her in Lola and Oscar’s kitchen, standing at the sink dressed in her Playboy bunny outfit. Thinking of her comment about the rabbit being the nemesis of the gardener, he laughed. He wanted to see her this morning, but he would shower first.

  Dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt, tennis shoes on his feet, he walked out the back door and down the greenbelt to her home. He entered and looked around the yard, his eyes sweeping from left to right and landing in the middle as his eyes found hers. She was seated in the middle of her steps, a cup of something in her hand. She’d been watching him silently. Without saying a word, he walked up the steps, stopping just below her, staring into her eyes all the while.

  He leaned forward, not breaking eye contact. Her upper body moved back to lower itself on the steps above her, her eyes following his lips as he moved in to kiss her softly. Her body lifted to his; she couldn’t seem to get enough, even after last night. He placed his arm on the rails of the steps for balance as he continued to kiss her mouth, intertwining her tongue with his. Her arms slid to the bottom of his T-shirt and moved under it, touching him, loving the feel of him. He placed his arms around her and she wrapped her legs around his back as he lifted her and walked up the steps leading into her home. She reached behind her and opened the back door, and he walked them over to her couch and sat, placing her feet on the floor in front of him.

  She removed her clothes, pajama bottoms first, until she stood nude before him. He pulled her to him, his head leaning into her stomach, holding her still. He lifted his head and looked up into her eyes. She placed her hands around his neck and bent to meet his lips, softly and reverently kissing him. He slid his hips outward on the couch, unzipped his jeans and pushed them past his hips, stopping to dig a condom out of his wallet. Putting it on, he turned her so that her back was to his chest.

  He lifted her to sit on him and they groaned together as she took him into her body. He leaned back and pulled her with him, one hand on her breast, the other around her waist as he started to lift and then lower her. He closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of her wrapped around him, astonished still at how she managed to take control of him with such quiet authority.

  She continued, stopping when she felt he was close, to start over again. He couldn’t hold back much longer. His hand found the place where their bodies met to help speed her along. He came then, a quiet gasp the only sound he made; she moaned quietly as she came, too. He held on to her as if his life depended on it, more than a little stunned at the direction his life was taking.

  ***

  End of December

  “We better get going,” Katrina said to a half-asleep Will, standing next to his side of the bed and running her hand through his hair as he lay sleeping. This was the second time she had come in to wake him. He grabbed her hand, pulling her down to lie next to him.

  “What time is it?” he asked, closing his eyes again. “Give me thirty more minutes,” he mumbled, pulling her in closer and locking her in tightly to his side with his arm.

  “Nope, you made me promise to not listen to your pleas for more sleep this morning. Remember, you wanted to show me some bridge you’ve found for the gardens, and then we have to go over to the godfathers to help out,” she said, watching him closely, his head still resting on the pillow. She ran her hands though his short crop of hair again, loving the way it stood up.

  Today they were going to help the godfathers at the garden center with the Christmas rush after Will showed her this wonderful bridge he’d found. They were at his home. She had brought some clothes over last night and had already showered and dressed. She was hungry, and as soon as she could get him going, she was off to find some food.

  “Come on, Will. Let’s go.”

  “Okay,” he mumbled into his pillow, but then he rolled over until he was on top of her. He kissed her and then just as quickly rolled off, sitting up on the side of his bed, running his hand over his face and through his hair before standing. She sat on the bed and watched him as he walked toward the bathroom, admiring the body that she couldn’t seem to get enough of. He turned around and gave her a smile, the one that she liked so much, moving his black eyebrows up and down, teasing her. He knew she was watching. She always watched.

  A few minutes later she went to the kitchen and stood in front of Will’s refrigerator; nothing much there except the yogurt she had brought over earlier in the week. She’d gone down this empty refrigerator path before. She grabbed a banana from his fruit bowl, found a bowl, and added her banana and yogurt to it. She found a spoon, hopped onto the counter, and ate. She couldn’t believe she was here sometimes, approaching two months with him. This was all so new to her.

  She’d dated before, but it had never led to this; there was sex, maybe, but not this need to be around each other constantly, this wondering what he was doing when she wasn’t there and hurrying to get through whatever she was doing so she could get wherever he was.

  He walked into the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, grabbed a banana, peeled it, and walked over to stand in between her legs. He pushed into her lower body with his, touching her while he dunked his banana into her yogurt and took a bite. He chewed for a minute, and, before taking another bite, asked, “Ready?”

  “Almost,” she said.

  “I’ll meet you in the garage.”

  “Kay,” she said, watching him as he walked away.

  She finished eating, placed the bowl in the sink, grabbed her backpack, and followed him out the door. She’d taken about four steps into the garage before she pulled up short. He was standing next to his motorcycle, one helmet on his head and another one in his hand. She shook her head and started to walk backward. He placed the helmet he’d held for
her on the ground and, taking his off, walked toward her.

  “Come on, Katrina. Try it. I’ll be careful and I’ll go really slow. I promise,” he said, his face a study in contrast; his shining eyes were earnest and pleading, at war with his sexy, slightly cocky smile, the one she could never seem to resist.

  “Don’t be scared; I’ll be careful with you,” he said, losing the smile, serious now. She wasn’t sure he was just talking about the bike ride. He reached for her hand and slowly pulled her to the bike. He kissed her lips, smiled again, and quickly slid the helmet on her head before she could speak. He replaced his own and sat on the bike, waiting. She got on behind him, and he started the engine. It was quieter than she had thought. She moved her hands to circle his waist. He grabbed them and pulled them so that her hold on him was tight. He backed out, lowered his garage door, and took off. She held on, eyes closed, head resting on his back.

  They rode for about twenty minutes before she opened her eyes. He was up in front of an old beat-up barn with old stuff on the ground all around it. A middle-aged African-American woman was sitting in a chair by a tree. Will pulled in and stopped. Katrina climbed off first, followed by Will. Both took off their helmets. He looked at her and smiled and then grabbed her hand and led her towards the woman, who was now headed toward them.

  “Hello, Will,” she said, smiling, her eyes drinking him in.

  I’m feeling you there, sister, Katrina thought.

  “I see you came back,” she said.

  “Yes,” he said with a big smile and then introduced Katrina.

  The woman’s name was Sallie. They followed her to the back of her property, and Katrina thought most of the stuff she saw looked like junk; hell, the bridge looked a little like junk, too. She could see some potential, though. This could work, she thought.

  He thanked Sallie for holding it for him, paid her, and told her he would pick it up next weekend.

  He and Katrina left as unceremoniously as they had arrived. She opened her eyes and looked around at the traffic and the life around her as she rode behind Will. This wasn’t as bad as she thought. She was still a little nervous, but it had turned out to be fun. Who knew? She smiled to herself. She wasn’t going to tell Will; he was too sure of himself already as far as she was concerned.

  ***

  January

  Somehow, over the following weeks, Katrina found herself, after much prodding from Will, attempting her first long bike trip—the cycling kind. He’d already talked her into shorter rides with him around the neighborhood. But today they’d awakened earlier than usual and he was taking her for her first bike ride that would last longer than an hour. He was decked out in his usual Lance wear—just with longer pants in deference to the weather—and he’d picked out an outfit for her. She’d spent last night trying it on, wiggling into it, only to be interrupted by Will after seeing her in it proved more than he could take. So they’d spent time in bed helping her out of it.

  Truth be told, she didn’t think she’d be at this riding stuff long. Will had warned her that he’d be introducing her to new and different things, and, true to his word, he had, pulling her from her yard work for just a little while. It wasn’t going anywhere, anyway, so she let herself be coaxed away, trying things she didn’t normally do.

  She was once again preparing to try something new. She was in shape; she ran regularly on her treadmill, plus gardening, for her at least, was tough stuff. She hoped it was enough to keep up with him. She’d looked up some facts on the internet regarding bike safety, starting to enjoy his reaction to her facts and statistics. He found it amusing, and she liked it very much when he laughed at her jokes.

  “Ready?” That one-word question had become his standard question for her, as if she would ever be ready for all the new things he’d planned for her. If she were honest with herself, she would think they were fun, too. Work had been less pressing, less tiring, and less interesting now that he was here.

  “Did you know that statistics on bike injuries are under-reported? The police don’t even bother writing up a report if the cyclist or bicycle isn’t seriously injured.”

  “Is that so?” he asked, smiling. As if on cue, he asked again, “Ready?”

  “Ready as I’m going to be, but if I run out of steam, I don’t want to hear any comments from you,” she said, going for firm and serious. He just smiled, swinging his leg to straddle his bike, looking over at her as she stood there straddling his other one.

  “Don’t worry, Steady, let’s go. I’ve got you,” he said, smiling, and rolled outward, she trying to catch him.

  ***

  Will parked in his garage and let the door down. It was dark; the return flight always put him back into town late. He was a little tired from this trip, a short one out to California to check in with the head cheese, but he still wanted to see Katrina. He missed her; he also loved her, and had been saying that in his mind, adjusting to it, trying to figure out where to go from here.

  He dropped his bag near the door leading from the garage into the kitchen. He needed to get his mail; had promised himself he wouldn’t let it pile up again. He hadn’t called Katrina from the airport for fear of waking her. He looked around his home and decided to walk out back and over to her house. If she was up, he’d go in; if not, he would return to his home and call her in the morning.

  He walked out the back gate and down the greenbelt and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw lights on at her house. They’d exchanged keys, so he could let himself in. He entered her backyard and saw her sitting in what seemed like her favorite place in the yard, her deck’s top step.

  “I hoped you be up,” he said, walking up and sitting on the step just below her. She opened her legs and pulled him back to rest between them, his head near her waist.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” she said. “Scary, but I’ve gotten used to having you near.”

  “Why is that scary?’ he asked.

  “You may not always be here,” she said.

  “What if I were?”

  “What if you were what?”

  He looked at her. “You know what I mean.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Let’s talk about something else.”

  Not wanting to push, he changed the subject. “You’ve never told me about your backyard. Why the design?”

  “I like large and bountiful, large groups of color, the more variety the better,” she said. “I love the English gardens, as you know, even though I know they aren’t at all suited to our climate. It’s a lot like how I felt pre-adoption, not suited, so I found a way to make it work, adding natives when I can. I also have a fondness for native roses; they are some tough customers, don’t need much to survive, just sun, rain, and air.”

  “Well, you created a beautiful place here,” he said, taking her hands and holding them in front of him.

  “Thanks. It does for me here,” she said, pointing at her heart, “what yours does for you. It’s a simple pleasure, and it’s beautiful. In the spring when it’s still cool and the jasmine and honeysuckle are blooming, it smells like heaven and looks like it, too. It’s God’s gift to me.”

  “To you personally, huh?” he said, smiling, his head bent back, looking up into her face.

  “Yep. How was your trip?” she asked, bending over to kiss him on his mouth and then running her fingers through his hair.

  “It’s work,” he said.

  “Are you tired?” she asked.

  “Not too tired. Why?” he asked, pushing himself up to his feet and then turning and pulling her up, too.

  “Just wondering,” she said, leaning in to touch his lips with hers.

  He smiled and lifted her up. She swung her legs around his waist and he walked them up the steps and into her home. Will walked straight to her bedroom, depositing her on her bed. She wiggled out of her sweats and underwear, tugged her T-shirt over her head, and released her hair from its ponytail. Sitting on her bed Indian style, she watched Will undress.

&nb
sp; “I’m glad you made it back safely, although I know that flying is one of the safest forms of travel.”

  “Is that so?” he asked, unzipping his jeans and pulling his T-shirt over his head.

  “Yes, that is so.”

  “You and your facts are really growing on me,” he said.

  “Is that so?” she said, mimicking him, watching as he lowered his jeans; God, she loved his body. He shed his shorts and walked toward her.

  “Yes. Who knew that stats could be sexy,” he said, pushing her backward on the bed, untangling her legs, and moving his body to cover hers and then flipping over so she was on top.

  “Miss me?” he asked, pulling her head down for a kiss.

  “Missed parts of you,” she said.

  “Parts, huh? Which ones and how much?” he asked, moving his hands to her breasts, tugging at their tips, smiling at her intake of air. He pulled her down for another kiss, continuing to rub and play with her breasts. Katrina moaned loudly into his mouth, feeling his smile against her lips.

  When she could catch her breath, she said, “Did you know that, at age seventy, 73 percent of men are still potent?”

  “Really? Interesting,” he said, lifting her up and impaling her on him in one smooth movement. He didn’t move then, just lay there with her surrounding him, loving the feel of her body wrapped around his. He’d really missed her.

  “And did you know that the man is the most likely partner to be tied up during sex?”

  He lifted her and slowly lowered her to him, pulling another moan from her.

  “Do you want to be tied up, Katrina?”

  “No more talking,” she said, moaning at the pleasure she felt. He laughed. “You’re so weird,” she panted.

  He lifted her and pulled her down again, harder this time; then reversed their positions and commenced a demonstration of just how weird he could be. She loved it, if the volume of her moans was any indication.