Better Deeds Than Words (Words#2)

by Georgina Guthrie

  Daniel rummaged around in his bag and tossed the movie on the dresser, then headed to the washroom. I took the opportunity to examine the books on his shelf and the photos perched here and there, mostly family shots of summers spent at the cottage—he and his brothers playing in the water, all tanned, with mops of sun-kissed hair; the family gathered around the barbeque; Daniel with his guitar beside a fire pit; Jeremy roasting marshmallows; their mom sitting in the screened-in porch, drinking wine; his dad snoozing in the hammock…

  Irrational pangs of envy stabbed my stomach. I was coveting Daniel’s upbringing. My own had been so different. Once my mom and dad separated, life became very much a case of plodding along, one day rolling into the next with little to distinguish one week from another.

  Summers were long and boring. Part-time jobs were more and more crucial as my aspiration to attend university became firmly rooted in my mind, along with the realization that my parents’ income wouldn’t be enough to help me in any significant way.

  I frowned as I thought back over my adolescence. The last truly carefree summer had been the one before I’d started ninth grade, but if I was being honest, once my father had left when I was eleven, I’d begun to dread summers. Being a latchkey kid and an only child made for a lot of very long, quiet days. Of course I had a handful of close neighborhood friends, but they would inevitably go away on vacation or head off to camp. It was no wonder I’d become such a bookworm.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  Daniel was behind me. I hadn’t even heard him come back in. I was holding a picture of him sitting on the dock with his guitar, the setting sun in the background. I placed it on the shelf and turned, locking my hands around his neck.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You sure? You seemed very deep in thought.”

  He looked over my shoulder at the picture I’d been holding and rubbed my back.

  “I was thinking about my dad. When I was little, we used to go camping at Sandbanks. My dad would rent a boat, and we’d go out really early, just the two of us, to catch the sunrise. I loved watching the sun come up with the mist hovering on the water…” I shrugged. “It was our time, you know?”

  “Those are special memories. I love being on the water too. Being out on the lake in a boat when everything is peaceful? Nothing compares, especially when the sun’s coming up or setting.”

  He wrapped his arms around me, swaying gently. I was reminded of all the times we’d held each other, knowing an embrace was all we could share. I didn’t want to let go, but finally I did, unlocking my hands and easing myself back.

  “So, are we gonna watch this movie or what?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “You really don’t want to watch it, do you?”

  “I’m a terrible actress, huh?”

  “Not to worry. You have other far more interesting talents,” he said, scooping me up into his arms and lowering me onto the bed. I scampered up toward the pillows. He stood beside the bed, rolling his shoulders and rubbing his neck. “Frig, my shoulders are killing me.”

  “Are you implying that I’m heavy, sunshine?”

  “Not at all. I think it’s from marking exams—being hunched over for hours in the same position. Occupational hazard, I suppose.”

  I resisted the urge to ask him how I’d done on my exam. The question had nibbled at the edges of my mind all day, but I was firm in my determination to avoid putting him on the spot or making any reference to the TA/student relationship which was, thank the freaking Lord, over and done with. Instead, I focused on his muscle pain.

  “Do you want a back rub?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I’m serious.”

  “Fuck, yes, I would love one. I can’t even remember the last time —”

  I held up my hand. “Don’t want you to remember the last time, sailor.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  I shook my head. “It’s okay.” I patted the bed. “Lie down here, and I’ll see what I can do.” I cracked my fingers and shook out my hands, feigning an expertise I didn’t actually have.

  He grinned like a little boy on Christmas morning and peeled off his T-shirt, tossing it over his desk chair. He made a move to climb onto the bed, but I stopped him.

  “You might as well lose the pants too. I mean, you do want to be comfortable, right?”

  “Of course.” He smiled knowingly, removing his pants.

  I salivated at the sight of his long, toned thighs and the way his boxers sat just below his belly button, hiding what had quickly become my new favorite part of his body.

  How much longer until he was suitably recovered? Surely he’d be good to go now? I had such a one-track mind. Was I really an insatiable wench? Pfft. Who wouldn’t be, in my position? After weeks and weeks of delayed gratification, my patience had officially worn thin.

  Daniel made a big production of getting comfortable, stretching out on his stomach and resting his head on the pillow with his arms underneath. I straddled him, first running my fingers up and down his back and then rubbing his shoulders, pressing my thumbs into his muscles. He moaned approvingly. I loved his back. So strong and lean. Unfortunately, right now he was also sporting some rather angry red marks.

  “Wow, I did a number on you. I think I drew blood.”

  “I don’t care. It felt amazing. I love it when you scratch me like that.”

  “Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear.”

  He turned his head, trying to peer up at me. “Does that bother you?”

  “Does what bother me?”

  “Me being so vocal about what I want?”

  “No, why would it? It’s incredibly hot.”

  “I think so too.” He was quiet for a moment. “Are you always so reticent? About asking for what you want, I mean.”

  I rested my hands on his shoulder blades. “I’m reticent?”

  “A little. When you were pushing on my shoulders earlier, I got the idea, and hauling out a Shakespearean quotation was brilliant, but I’d much rather hear you ask for what you want.”

  I slid off and sat beside him.

  “I don’t know. I guess I was a little shy. It’s been a long time for me, too—since I’ve been with someone. I didn’t want you to think I was—I don’t know.” I covered my eyes with my hand, embarrassed again.

  Daniel pushed himself up onto an elbow.

  “You don’t have to be shy with me, poppet. I love you. I want you to feel comfortable saying anything to me, sharing everything. I wouldn’t think you were crude or crass or anything. You know that, right?”

  I shrugged.

  “Sex is an incredibly sensory experience. Different things appeal to different people. You felt amazing, and you looked incredibly sexy. I love the way you taste, the scent of your skin—but hearing you saying please over and over, and the way you reacted to my touch? You can’t imagine the effect that had on me. I guarantee if you want to see me lose my shit, talk to me. Tell me what you want. Or tell me what you want to do to me. I’ll be putty in your hands.”

  I nodded reluctantly.

  All of a sudden, he started back-tracking. “But if it makes you feel awkward, of course, you don’t have to. I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t made you self-conscious.”

  “No, it’s okay. I know what you mean about the effect words can have. When you touched me for the first time and said what you did—something about sweet velvet?” I smiled at the memory. “I just about fell apart.”

  “I did too.” He kissed my knee, gazing up at me from under his beautiful lashes.

  “I promise to try to be more communicative about what I want. I suppose I need a little more practice.”

  He chuckled. “When was the last time you looked at the clock?”

  “I hadn’t even noticed that your half-hour recovery time will be up in four minutes.”

  “I’m starting to get the picture. You just want me for my body. It’s okay, you can admit it. You obviously can’t resist—”

>   “All right, on your stomach, Mr. Ego. Let’s get on with this back rub.”

  He smiled wickedly and rolled over. I resituated myself and picked up where I’d left off, mumbling about insatiable wenches and recovery times. At first he snickered as he listened to me, but then he settled into the pillow with a sigh. I quietly rubbed his lovely shoulders, kneading his muscles and pressure points. He closed his eyes, moaning with satisfaction and occasionally flinching if I hit a tender spot.

  As his breathing deepened, I congratulated myself. I was better at this than I’d thought. He was really relaxed. When I heard him make a funny little snuffling sound, I frowned. “Daniel?” I whispered, kissing him softly on the shoulder.

  No answer. He was breathing deeply and steadily. Wait. He was snoring! The fucker had fallen asleep!

  My knee-jerk reaction quickly gave way to guilt. Of course he was exhausted. He’d spent the week doing cartwheels to please everyone—frantically marking to meet Professor Brown’s deadlines, attending all of his father’s social events, driving up here on Thursday to get things ready for me, and then getting up early today to pick me up and driving another two hours. He must have been completely wiped. It was a miracle he’d lasted as long as he had without nodding off.

  I carefully climbed over his body and tiptoed to the bathroom, where I got ready for bed and popped my birth control pill. I changed into a slinky nightie, figuring he’d at least get to see it in the morning.

  Back in the bedroom, I turned off the bedside lamp and surveyed the bed. He was dead to the world and lying the wrong way around—his head where his feet ought to be. I grabbed a pillow and carefully settled in beside him. I hadn’t really thought I was all that tired, but as I listened to his steady breathing, my own eyes drooped, and sleep quickly overtook me.

  When a voice roused me from my sleep, I thought for a minute Daniel had woken up and started watching the movie after all, but the voice wasn’t coming from the TV. Daniel was curled around me, his chest pressed against my back as he mumbled in his sleep. I peered at the digital clock on the nightstand. It was two in the morning. I snuggled back into his arms.

  “You’re mine,” he murmured. Then he breathed deeply a few times. “You’re mine.”

  We’d slept together twice now, and both times he’d talked in his sleep. This was obviously a nocturnal habit. What was he dreaming about? I wished I could be inside his mind, if only for a moment.

  Once more he uttered the same two words and then sighed contentedly.

  I smiled and turned my head. “You’re right, Daniel. I am yours,” I whispered.

  Chapter 29

  Not Imagined

  The dream’s here still: even when I wake, it is

  Without me, as within me; not imagined, felt.

  (Cymbeline, Act IV, Scene 2)

  AS SOON AS I WOKE UP on Sunday morning, my first thought was of Daniel. This was nothing new. What was new was the fact that this morning I would open my eyes and find him right beside me. I smiled and rolled over, expecting to see pillow-tousled sex hair. I didn’t. Instead, where his head should have been, there was a paper rose.

  I reached out from under the blanket to grasp the paper. Origami? Seriously? I fought the urge to laugh, instead trying to focus on the effort he’d put into the gesture.

  After a quick trip to the washroom, I headed down the hall to find him. He was in a sweatshirt and PJ bottoms, sitting on the sofa in the family room and quietly plucking away at his guitar, humming along. I’d wondered if I would get to hear him play this weekend when he’d brought his guitar case in from the car.

  I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt, so I wrapped my arms around myself and rested against the wall, listening to him strum. I didn’t recognize the tune. After a few moments, I crossed the room and leaned over the back of the couch to lightly touch his sleeve.

  “Good morning, handsome.”

  He glanced up at me, startled. “Hey, crazy legs. I didn’t hear you.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. That was a pretty song.”

  He waved his hand dismissively, propping the guitar on the coffee table and turning around to place his hand over mine on the back of the couch. “You must be freezing,” he said, motioning to my nightie.

  “A little. You don’t have to stop playing, you know.”

  He made his way around the couch and hugged me, rubbing my back vigorously. “I can play any time.”

  “Oh, you’re so warm.” I sighed, gratefully burrowing into his neck. “I was sad when I woke up and you weren’t there.”

  “Well, let’s go back to bed and have a cuddle.”

  He took my hand and led me back to the bedroom. After putting the pillows back where they ought to be, he slid under the covers fully dressed. I crawled in to join him, snuggling into the warmth of his chest.

  He flinched when I stuck my toes up the bottom of his pant leg. “Your feet are freezing.”

  “I know. Warm them up for me?”

  “I’ll try.” He rubbed his toasty feet against the little blocks of ice at the end of my legs.

  “Anything else need warming?” he asked.

  “Mmm, my lips are a little chilly.”

  He smiled and kissed me slowly, his hands pressed into the small of my back, drawing my hips against his. I moaned and clung to his sleeve. And then, out of nowhere, my stomach made a loud gurgling noise.

  “Someone’s hungry,” Daniel said.

  “Stupid stomach.”

  He perched on his elbow. “Do you normally eat breakfast?”

  “Yeah, I can pretty much eat any time,” I admitted. “I tend to start with a coffee, though.”

  “Me too,” he said. “I’ll go grab us a cup. I made a pot a little while ago.”

  He started to get up, and I grabbed the sides of his sweatshirt. “In a minute, okay? Can we hang out here for a bit longer?”

  “Of course.” He settled back into the pillow and gently brushed my hair off my face. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “Yes. Really well. You?”

  “I slept all right. Woke up really early and couldn’t get back to sleep, though.”

  “I hate that.”

  “Me too. It happens to me a fair bit. I’ve never been a great sleeper. Sometimes my brain just won’t shut down. And I had this very sexy dream in the middle of the night. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” He smirked.

  “Really? I had a dream too.”

  “You did? What happened in your dream?”

  “I dreamt that I was fast asleep, and you woke me up and ravished me,” I said, snuggling even closer to him.

  “Huh, that’s very interesting because I dreamt that we were curled up fast asleep and then you woke me up and ravished me. Seems to me, you were pretty desperate. It was hot and very sensual.”

  I laughed and shook my head, abandoning the pretense of the dream. “I’m surprised to hear you say that, Mr. Chattypants. Because it was very quiet, if I remember correctly. I thought you were a big fan of dirty talk.”

  He nuzzled my neck and kissed my shoulder, right where he’d nibbled on me in the night. “You’re right, it was quiet. I suppose as much as I love dirty talk, there’s something to be said for communicating with your body. There was a perfect serenity about it. I needed that.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “Thank you for giving me the space I needed to grapple with my demons last night.”

  “I was pretty understanding, wasn’t I?” I smiled at him cheekily. “I love you, Daniel, but for the record, you can tell your demons to fuck the hell off, or I’ll kick their asses.”

  “I’ll be sure to pass that message along.” He sighed contentedly, and we both lay for a while, lost in our thoughts. “You know, I don’t think there’s any better feeling in the world than waking up with the woman you adore cuddled up against you and knowing you can just make love to her there and then.”

  “I know. I’m so glad you woke me up.”

  “I didn’t wake you up, y
ou woke me up,” he insisted. “I guess you figured I’d slacked off long enough.”

  “Maybe I wouldn’t have been awake in the first place if you hadn’t been talking in your sleep.”

  “Oh, shit, I was?”

  “Yep.”

  “Uh-oh. Anything incriminating?” he asked, peering down at me.

  “No. Unless you weren’t talking about me, in which case it’s devastating.”

  “Oh, really? What did I say?”

  Now he wasn’t just curious; he was downright fascinated. I threaded my fingers through his.

  “You said, ‘You’re mine.’”

  “Huh. That’s interesting.” He seemed to be rolling the words around in his mouth. “It’s not surprising, though. You know how an idea gets kind of stuck in your head? I guess that’s what happened. I may have been asleep, but my brain was still processing the idea.”

  “So, the idea of me being yours is something you’ve been thinking about a lot?”

  “Let’s just say there’s a logical explanation for why those words were stuck in my head. But I can’t tell you what it is. Not yet, anyway. It’s a surprise. But I guarantee—I was talking about you.”

  “Does this surprise have anything to do with your trip to Orillia?”

  “I was wondering if you’d ask about that. I thought you’d forgotten.”

  I shook my head.

  “This surprise has nothing to do with it. But later on you’ll find out about that, too.”

  “So, you’re going to be full of surprises today? First origami, now this? You have so many hidden talents, Mr. Grant.”

  He laughed and patted my backside. “It would have been easier to buy you a dozen roses like my grandfather did when Patty finished her classes, but this seemed more original. And it was free.” He dropped a gentle kiss on my cheek. “Okay, time for breakfast in bed. You stay here,” he said, tugging the sheet up to my shoulders and tucking me in with a kiss and a wink that would have dissolved my undies, had I been wearing any.

  While he whistled his way to the kitchen, I thought about Daniel’s demons. Was he really at peace with everything? I was at a loss for what more I could do. I’d simply have to be patient and understanding. It went without saying that he was worth it. This sweet man had made me origami and was bringing me breakfast in bed! It was a no-brainer!