by Bryce Taylor
"I love you," I tell her each time we part.
The first time Em hears me tell Leigh that I love her she looks up at me with a surprised look in her face and I wonder if I shouldn't have said it in front of her before talking to her about Leigh and my relationship.
Em looks back to Leigh.
"I love you, Leigh," Em tells her with solemn gravity.
Leigh kneels down.
"I love you too, little one," she says warmly and something inside me twists, that there is only love in Leigh's voice, there is none of the undertone of worry that is in her voice when she says the same to me.
That the waiting is taking its toll on her far more than it is me.
That I have no idea how we are going to get from this place of limbo to where we are sharing our lives together.
Leigh glances up, sees the look on my face and her face shutters. She lets go of Em and stands up, lets out a long breath.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" she asks quietly, the edge of 'if you want to' in her voice.
"Yes," I tell her, wishing I knew the right words to say.
Chapter 26
That night there is a deluge, a downpour of rain, so heavy I can imagine that the lower half of the village is flooded, so completely unprepared we Irish are for this excess. I think I hear a car and see a faint white light beaming through the curtains of my bedroom.
It's not the usual yellowed light of head beams but the bright white beam of a lighthouse from the newest of new cars.
I have this sudden hope that it is Leigh and wait, on edge for a sound, a knock, a car door closing, anything. For long moments there is nothing, but I can't help the hope that flickers for a moment in my heart and is gone.
I think that I should check that the front gutters aren't flooding, that Em isn't awake.
She isn't, she is sleeping soundly as she always does, always the perfect child in every way, cuddled up to Mr Bear.
I open the front door, bleary-eyed, the hope of Leigh having faded now, just the thought remaining that I may actually end up being flooded tonight.
Except that Leigh is there, standing in the sheeted rain, halfway between her car and my front door, staring, looking desperate and half-drowned, her sodden t-shirt and jeans pulling on her narrow frame.
I think as I look back at her through the screen door that this is uncharacteristically illogical and rash for her, that I have never seen her do something quite so silly.
Then I think that it isn't, that she has been doing stupid and illogical things since I left her, since she got here, since she gave up her career and her life to be here in Mallow with me, to care for my brother and mother and everything else she has done, with no hope that I might I ever love her or that she might ever be able to let me love her in return.
"Do you want to come in for a cuppa?" I ask her, such an insanely silly thing to say, but my senses have left me and left me with only social niceties.
She flashes a grin at me, her blonde hair dripping with water.
"I'd love to," she says drolly.
I hold out my hand to invite her into the house, but she stops in the doorway and I turn back to her and see that she is worried about dripping on my tiles that only this afternoon Em and I stomped mud all over.
I don't even think, just tug her into me, my hand on her face, the jut of her jawbone resting in my palm and kiss her lightly on the lips, taste the rain.
"Leigh," I tell her firmly, "I don't give a fuck."
Leigh is laughing, a little at herself for caring far too much about this kind of thing and at me a little for not caring at all.
I drag her all the way into the hallway and watch as she carefully removes her shoes and socks, placing them just so against the wall, socks draped over the toes.
"Come on," I tell her, amused, thinking not for the first time that it is only going to be a few months of living together before I am going to be thoroughly sick of being the untidy one in the house.
I lead her into my bedroom, a fresh towel in one hand, her hand in the other. I pass her the towel and start rummaging through my wardrobe for something that she might plausibly wear. I spy a pair of Diarmuid’s old sweats and realise that I'm ok with her wearing them, that this one tiny thing that they could share is not causing the pain that it should.
I turn around and she is standing there in the centre my small room, her shirt off, just in wet jeans and a plain white cotton bra and somehow, I had forgotten how perfect she is.
How she may have been made for just me.
That she is so heartbreakingly gorgeous that I can't even bear to not tell her.
I stare into those flawless blue eyes and watch all the emotion choked up behind them.
"You are so beautiful, Leigh," I tell her, a whisper, my lips aching to touch hers.
She is staring back at me, the ice in her eyes melting at the edges and her lips are parted and she is tilting her head down towards mine, waiting, waiting for me to kiss her.
That I have waited for this moment since I met her, just this kiss, the one where I am kissing her with heat and she is letting me, that she is enjoying the part where she is being kissed, not that she is kissing me. That her lips are gentle and soft, pressed against mine.
I hadn't seen the distinction before, but the tiny noises of appreciation in her throat that says that she likes this are driving me crazy, that I want so badly to touch her, to hear her sigh because of what I am doing to her.
That Leigh can sense what she is doing to me, that I am so very much into this and her hand is reaching out, a finger curling around my wrist, pulling my hand to her side, telling me, that yes, she wants this too.
My fingers are spreading outwards, around her ribs, savouring the sense of smooth satiny skin, the edge of my thumbs caressing the edge of ribs pulling her more firmly into me, wanting her body against mine.
I forget that I'm supposed to be going slow, because Leigh is responding to every kiss of mine and when I wrap my arm around her neck and pull her in harder she is bending in towards me, just letting me take her. For once she isn't planning every action, she is just going to let this take us where I am directing.
That as long as I don’t give her reason to think she won't, she will trust that I won't do anything to hurt her. Her body relaxing slowly, our kisses deepening, my tongue tasting her top lip, her lips capturing mine gently tugging.
Till I slide my hand slowly up her side and she is not ok with this anymore. That I know her too well, can feel the tiniest signs that she is uncomfortable. Not because of what we are doing, but because she doesn't know what to do. Tension in her wrist, the slightest twitch of her bicep, that she is over-thinking in her head every possibility and that she truly does not like to not be in control of what is happening, to be trying to both react to what I am doing and in return touching me.
Suddenly I am struck by an insane thought of what we can do.
What I can do to fix this.
I take a step back from her and she darts a look at me, concerned that she has fucked up, her eyes narrowing around the corners. Knowing herself that she is not fine with where this is going but somehow thinking that I shouldn't be able to tell.
I look her straight in the eye.
"On your knees," I tell her quietly and firmly.
If I wasn't looking carefully I'd miss it, the flash of relief, the interest.
She grins at me in the next instant.
"Very funny," she says wryly.
I don't change my expression at all, continuing to stare at her flatly.
I wait until the smile fades from her face, till she realises I am completely and utterly serious.
Wait until she is looking back at me, torn between wanting to obey and the sense that she could be wrong.
"Down," I tell her, pointing to a spot in the middle of the floor.
She stares at me for the barest second longer and then kneels gracefully. It isn't until a wave of relief washes through me that I realise that I didn
't have an alternative if she didn't go for this.
I circle behind her, stare at her kneeling there motionless and try to compose myself, aware that if Leigh senses that I am not completely confident she won't be able to let go, to enjoy this.
Followed immediately by the understanding that I very much like her on her knees, that I need this as much as she does. That there is something deep inside me telling me that this is right and that there are enough imbalances in this relationship that need correcting.
Leigh is looking straight ahead and I wonder how she could possibly think that I know what I'm doing.
Then I remember that Leigh has never, not even once thought that there was something that I couldn't do. It is only me who doubts my judgement in this room.
I move in closer, my legs so close to her body that she must be able to feel the warmth of my body against hers.
"Leigh," I say firmly as I wind my fingers through her hair and drag her head back, resisting the urge to smile as looks up at me.
"Don't make me ask twice again," I tell her, my voice hard.
She doesn't say anything and I grip her hair just a little tighter and wait for her to understand what I expect from her.
She takes a short breath and swallows, still not entirely sure if this is real, that I am not going to tell her that I'm only kidding around.
"Yes," she says eventually.
"Good," I tell her, guiding her head back, so that she is looking straight ahead again.
I run my fingers ever so gently through her wet hair, caressing her head until the tension leaves the taut muscles in her neck and shoulders and she is bending in towards me.
I on the other hand am desperately trying to think of what the hell I am going to do with her. It doesn't help that standing she is a few inches taller than I am and I am less than comfortable with having one-sided sex, in either the giving or the receiving department.
The upside is that I am definitely very turned on by the idea of having my way with Leigh and I can think of at least ten ways immediately that I would like to enjoy her.
Only I can't see her being into any of that.
Leigh giving me control doesn't actually mean that she is ok with me dominating her, she just doesn't have a clue how to receive affection without being told how. Without being freed of the obligation to return it.
I want to sigh in frustration but that will alert Leigh to my dilemma and whilst she is generally the most unaware person of my inner thoughts, at times she is able to carefully put together enough evidence in her mind of my behaviour and jump to the right conclusion from the smallest combination of things.
First of all, I definitely need to get her out of these wet jeans that she is kneeling in and get her dry. She is shivering slightly, the skin on her arms raised in bumps.
At least that I can handle, I think ruefully as I take the towel and start to dry her hair carefully. I smile down at her, all I need to do now is work out how to get her undressed and through our first sexual experience where she is going to have an orgasm instead of me without her realising I am completely fecking clueless about any of this.
My eyes fall on a thin black cotton scarf hanging from the back of the door and at least I can think of one thing that might help.
I take the scarf and hold it taut between my hands and stand behind Leigh.
I might be freaking out but she seems completely relaxed, waiting calmly, her back straight, her hands resting palm down on her thighs. I shut my eyes for a moment and pull myself together.
"Leigh," I start, "all I need from you tonight is your promise that you will tell me if I am doing something that you don't want me to."
She thinks about this for a moment. "I promise," she says seriously, her voice low but steady.
"Ok," I tell her.
I take a deep breath and then start to wrap the scarf around her head firmly, covering her eyes completely, three full loops of her head and then tie it off, a dark band, a break in the light blonde of her hair.
Her head is tilted to the side, compensating for the loss of sight with what she can hear.
"Stand up," I tell her.
She does and I can't help the hard smile on my face, my fist clenching at my side, the anticipation of not just having Leigh, but of taking her, making her mine.
I wait a moment admiring her lean body and slender arms before moving in close to her, so near I can smell her scent, the warmth of vanilla. My hands clasping her shoulders, I know already that light touches are unbearable to her. As is not knowing what is happening.
"I'm going to take off your clothes and dry you off," I tell her firmly, waiting a moment to make sure that she isn't going to ask me to stop.
She doesn't, her hands relaxed by her sides, wrists turned out slightly towards me.
I take one hand off her shoulder and unhook her bra, let it fall to the floor.
If I had been struck by how much I wanted her just a few short minutes ago, now it is the roar of addiction, my hands are trembling and all I want to do is everything. I want her under me and I want to taste every last perfect inch of her.
My fingers are gripping her shoulder too tightly now but Leigh is biting her top lip and I force myself to push the urge down, pretending that I am not wanting to just rip the rest of her clothes off of her. I quietly take a deep breath in and out and in again, my hands moving to the top of her jeans, my fingers lightly brushing warm soft skin.
Leigh jumps a little at the contact and stiffens.
My first instinct is to tell her I'm sorry.
"Stay still," I tell her quietly as if she is a patient about to get an injection.
She smiles ruefully and her shoulders relax back into place and I immediately feel ashamed of myself. Leigh has more than a few issues with just about everything to do with intimacy and here I am barely able to stop thinking about what I want.
I quickly unbutton her jeans and drag them down with her underwear, the denim clinging to her legs, carefully taking them off one foot and then the other. Roughly towelling dry her body until she is warm, liking that she is a little off-balance and has to lean against me.
With my hands on her shoulders again I guide her backwards to the end of the bed, until her calves are pressed into the mattress.
"Sit," I tell her softly and she does. The rush of feeling I get when she obeys me is compelling me forward.
I brush my thumb across her lips and lean down and kiss her, capturing her top lip in mine, take her face in both my hands and caress her cheekbones warm and smooth under my fingers.
It hasn't escaped me that Leigh is almost naked and I am staring at her face which is the only part of her body that is clothed. I do take just a moment to eye her up and down because feck she is more than sexy.
I straddle her hips, wrap my body around hers, nuzzle her neck and draw in her scent, my legs tightening when she groans softly, her hands reflexively moving to my sides, wrapping around my waist.
Just as the thought flashes through my head that maybe we can just make love this time round and that we can explore slightly more kinky stuff later. Because I want to do what we are doing, very much so, it just isn't exactly what I want to be doing right now.
Only Leigh's hands are tense, her fingertips pressing slightly into my sides, the faintest tremble in them.
"No touching," I command her and smile when her hands draw back from my sides as if she has been burnt.
I plant my index finger in the centre of her chest, hard enough that I am pushing her back, that she needs her hands behind her to stop her falling onto her back.
"I can easily find something to tie your hands too," I tell her seriously.
"Yes'm," she says sounding just the tiniest bit amused.
There are definitely worse things that I could be doing on a rainy Tuesday night. Leigh, naked, beneath me, submitting to my wishes, letting me touch her and kiss her.
One hand resting on her collarbone, not a threat but a promise. The other windi
ng through her hair, tilting her head just so, tracing her top lip with my tongue and then her bottom.
Kissing her sensually, losing myself in her, time passing unchecked. My hands grazing down over her biceps, a thrill at the hard muscle there, my lips moving to her neck.
Leigh is trembling slightly, I pull back, take in the pained crease between her eyes and I don't know what to do.
I don't want to take this further when I can't tell if she even wants me to go further.