Chapter 23: The Cork on the Sill

The fourth stair creaked under both of us, and neither of us minded.

The loft was bright with late morning, the window open, sawdust drifting in the sun.

I put the cork on the sill.

Gabe watched me do it.

"That's a very small trophy," he said.

"It's the only one I want."

He stood at the top of the stairs with his hands loose.

He had not tried to touch me since the yard.

"You can," I said.

"I'm asking if you want it slow."

"I've had it angry. I've had it frightened."

I took hold of the front of his shirt.

"I want to be looked at. For a long time."

He undid the buttons of the yellow blouse I'd changed into, one at a time.

He took longer than he needed to, and he looked at each inch of skin as it came free.

"Gabe."

"Hold on. I've waited a year."

He slid the blouse off my shoulders and kissed the one on the left, then the one on the right.

My bra came away under his hands.

He put his palms flat on my ribs and held them there.

I could feel my own heart against his fingers.

"You're shaking," he said.

"So are you."

"Yes."

I pulled his shirt up over his head and put my mouth on the white scar across his ribs.

He breathed in sharply.

"Kaitlyn."

"I know. I want to."

He walked me back until my knees met the bed, and he laid me down on it with both hands.

He stripped my jeans off slowly and kissed the inside of each knee.

He kissed up my thigh.

I tangled my fingers in his hair, and he lifted his eyes to mine.

"Tell me," he said.

"Your mouth. On my pussy."

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