K-I-S-S-I-N-G

by Dana Pratola

  “You thought of everything, didn’t you? Absolutely everything.”

  “Ah, wait,” he said, pointing near the ceiling.

  Stenciled onto the wall, wrapping around the upper perimeter of the room, were the lyrics to the first verse of Pure Imagination.

  ~~ Come with me and you’ll be in a world of pure imagination ~~ Take a look and you’ll see into your imagination ~~

  “There were no outside stairs, so we did it here,” Caleb said.

  But before she could react, he took her by the hand and brought her back out into the larger space.

  “Try this out,” he said, gesturing to the butter yellow loveseat that practically filled the space along the back wall.

  Given the small dimensions of the room, it was a perfect fit. It was also plush and comfortable she noted, flopping onto it. She could only guess what it had cost.

  “I think you like that color, right?” he asked.

  “I love it,” she said, draping her arms across the back.

  She wanted to pull him down beside her, but he was excited to show her everything and she was excited to see, so she got back on her feet. She was still having a hard time believing this was all real.

  In front of the loveseat a narrow coffee table about the same length, with storage underneath sat on a multicolor woven cotton rug. A red leather chair stood at an angle beside a fully loaded bookshelf, facing the center of the room and the wall-mounted TV. On the opposite side of the chair was a small nook where he’d installed a yellow and red striped cushion in a window.

  “Is that….” Her voice fell away as she went to inspect it more closely, running a finger over the braided piping.

  “Your window seat, yeah.”

  “How did you do all this?” She spread her arms and twirled in a slow circle. “It looks…it’s…incredible!”

  “If I’d done it, you’d be looking at a few folding chairs and a wood crate. Professionals came in. Volunteers, actually. Some folks in town who wanted to start you off right.”

  Winsome ruthlessly brushed aside a joyous tear, refusing to ruin this moment by making him uncomfortable. Just knowing that there were so many caring, generous people willing to help her, presented her heart with the very real threat that it might explode within her.

  Caleb touched her shoulder and redirected her focus. “The kitchen.”

  Amazing. A small refrigerator, wood countertop that looked like walnut, and a bar-table with stools. Her gaze brushed white enamel canisters, red, orange and yellow dish towels and a square red vintage clock with thick black hands, over the sink. He opened a cabinet to reveal a stock of plates, bowls, cups and glasses.

  “There’s a lot of stuff you’ll need to get still. These are just the necessities.”

  It was honestly too much to take in right now, but Caleb took her by the hand and led her across the polished oak floor to the hickory stairs a few feet away.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to a door to the left, under the stairs.

  “The bathroom. Toilet, sink and shower. Not much to see, so it can wait.”

  “This all must have cost a fortune,” she said. “Practically the same as a regular house.”

  “Not that bad. And my aunt had most of it set aside.”

  Most of it. That meant he’d put in some of his own money. For her. The thought still humbled her, and made her deliriously happy and profoundly miserable at the same time.

  “Why did she do that?” she asked. “And you….”

  “Because she saw something special in you,” Caleb answered. “I didn’t want to see it at first, but….” He lowered his eyes.

  “Couldn’t resist me, huh?” she said, smiling up at him.

  He didn’t return the smile. “No. And I tried. Believe me, I tried,” he said. He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “It’s the best failure of my life.” He looked away suddenly, and gestured to the stairs with his chin. “You first,” he said, nudging her ahead.

  Winsome was up three steps before her head emerged on the next level and she saw into the loft. In her haste to get inside, she stumbled up the last few step, but managed to remain upright and stand in front of the queen-sized bed, arrayed in fabrics of purple and gray. She let out a squeal that made Caleb laugh out loud.

  “This is the coolest bedroom I’ve ever been in! And it’s mine!”

  A pile of pillows—more than she would ever need—cradled her head and shoulders when she fell back on the mattress. For a moment she just lay there, spread eagle, and sighed. Catching the glint in Caleb’s eye, she turned her head away to study the room from this angle. Retractable copper wall sconces hung at the ready on either side of the bed, when she wanted to snuggle in with a good book. To the left was a whitewashed nightstand with another lamp, and to the right, a tall, slim dresser and matching armoire.

  “Where did you find furniture to fit so perfectly in here?” she asked, getting up to pull open the door of the armoire.

  “They don’t make anything to fit, so I built it.”

  Yet again, Winsome gazed at him, awestruck. How could he have done all this is so short a time? And why? This was so far above and beyond anything she had envisioned, and she hadn’t seen it all yet. Caleb grinned and gestured with his chin toward the wall across from the foot of the bed, partially hidden by a gray and white ceiling to floor drape. She tugged it aside and gasped when she saw the view from the tiny deck.

  “What?!”

  He stepped outside with her, onto the narrow surface. It was about three-foot by six-foot and so high up!

  “I feel like I’m going to fall,” she said, looking over the edge down through the branches of the tree that held it. The ground looked so far away.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and pulled her close. “The main deck is nine feet. You’re at about twenty-seven here. It’s your own private perch. There’s room for a small table and chair if you wanted to add them. Or maybe a hammock. We could suspend it from the tree, right here and here,” he said, pointing out the branches.

  Inhaling the scent of the nearby pines, she turned in his arms, resting her head on his chest. His palms felt so right here, melding to the contour of her waist where it flared slightly to her hips. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, being held by him this way.

  “I wish I had words to say what I feel right now, Caleb. How much everything you’ve done means to me.”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” he said, and pressed his lips against her forehead.

  Tears stung her eyes, but this time she let one flow down her cheek before she tilted her face up to meet his. Slipping his right hand beneath the hair at the back of her neck, he traced the curve of her butt with his left, content to let his palm rest there as he kissed her gently. So gently she wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to accomplish. Was it to weaken her already downed defenses? To stir her to her soul, and call forth the hidden, broken child inside? That was the effect it was having.

  She’d believed that she was healing, in fact that she had made great strides toward recovery from the neglect of her past and the trauma of Dante’s abuse. But this sudden onrush of pain felt raw, like she was still bloodied and bruised, still panting to draw air into burning lungs, still afraid to stay, afraid to leave. Was she to carry this forever?

  But this was Caleb. These were his powerful arms, his firm, but patient lips, and it must be this contrast that even now caused her insides to tremble against his strong chest as it flexed with the movement of joining his hands at her back.

  Suddenly, she needed his strength more than ever. Despite being afraid and mistreated by another, she didn’t need Caleb to be gentle right now. She needed to be loved thoroughly, passionately, and skillfully, as only he could. Rising to her toes, she deepened the kiss, parting her lips and darting her tongue out in search of his.

  He froze, his eyes questioning as he looked down at her, and chuckled. “Are we in a hurry?”
>
  She licked her lips, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks. She wasn’t the type to initiate something like this, why would she think her lame attempt would produce anything other than embarrassment?

  “No, no hurry,” she said, glancing down at the deck, then back to his face.

  The dawning light in his eyes told her he realized what she was about, and she wanted to be relieved, but his silence told her that he needed her to say the words. Winsome didn’t know the words. She got embarrassed just thinking of the words.

  “What is it you want?” he asked softly, nuzzling her neck.

  In her mind, she sifted through an array of requests, none of which she could force herself to say with any degree of comfort. The sensations he was evoking in her as his hot lips pressed to the side of her neck, sending delicious shivers through her limbs, should have made it easy, but even with fire burning in her blood, her tongue couldn’t form the words.

  About the time she thought she would die of humiliation, Caleb leaned in and captured her bottom lip between his teeth. He gave it a cautious tug. When she answered with a delighted moan, he bit down a little harder. Pulled a little harder. She moaned again, and this time his answering groan was all the confirmation she needed that her unspoken request was understood and agreed upon.

  He wasted no time acting on their agreement, taking her mouth with a ferocity that might have frightened that other Winsome, the timid, hesitant girl that sat helpless and anxious, waiting to see what pleasant or unpleasant thing would happen to her. But she wasn’t that Winsome. This girl had made up her own mind to have torrid sex with the man she loved at a pace of her own choosing.

  Caleb backed her inside, not stopping when her calves bumped against the platform bed, but toppling her onto the mattress and all those pillows. He followed her down, moving aside just in time to avoid landing directly on top of her. But he quickly covered her body with his hands, reaching between them to cruise them over her breasts, down her stomach and underneath her shirt. Whether he used one hand or both to unbutton her blouse and part it, she had no idea, but she felt the air flow over her bare skin.

  “You’re so beautiful, Winsome,” he said, tearing his lips from hers long enough to look down at her exposed torso. “You’re all I want. All I’ll ever need.”

  She didn’t need the words right now, though they were sweet and she believed them. All she needed was the feel of his flesh on hers, in hers. Using her hips to speak, she told him so, thrusting upward, grinding against his hard body.

  Hands tangled, heads bumped, elbows and knees met ribs and crotches, in their haste to remove the other’s clothing. Naked, at last, Caleb wasted no time positioning himself between her parted legs and sinking in deep with the first lunge.

  That single flash of heat set the pace and tone, and she gave herself over to it, to the frenetic rhythm, the almost incomprehensible tension that built steadily and quickly, as he drove her further, faster toward the razor’s edge of release. Her fingers dug into his back, her heels hooked behind his thighs, and she held on for what felt like her life, riding with him to the brink of something magnificent and dangerous.

  It didn’t take long before she reached that brink herself. She couldn’t hold back if she wanted to, and without warning, the flash overtook her, propelling her into a free-fall of blissful release. Caleb slowed the urgency of his thrusts, but not the power, as he rocked into her, attaining his own release with a grimace of pure ecstasy and a groan that seemed to empty him of all strength.

  With Caleb motionless, panting on top of her, Winsome’s thoughts rushed by in blurred streaks, her brain’s attempt to recalibrate, while her heart thundered under his, partly from the exertion, partly from the emotions coming at her in waves.

  She’d be a fool to think Caleb’s love-making could drive away all memory of Dante and the abuse she’d suffered at his hands. Those kinds of memories couldn’t be erased like they’d never happened. They had to fade on their own with time and patience, until they became muted, the edges no longer so sharp as to gash when she came in contact with them. But what Caleb did for her spirit, not to mention her body, was another matter.

  When she was with him she felt brand new, able to accomplish anything, and knowing she had his support to do just that, was almost beyond belief. Knowing she had his love was so much more than she felt she deserved, and so humbling. But knowing she had his respect was worth more to her than anything.

  Still winded, he rolled off her and closed his eyes. “Was that what you had in mind?” he asked.

  Winsome giggled, surprised to find she could. “Exactly. Thank you.”

  She felt him nod, then his arm lifted over and behind her head, wrapped around her shoulder and drew her tight to his side.

  “Glad I could help,” he said.

  Turning to her side, she draped her knee over his thigh, her arm across his chest, feeling his heartbeat drumming under her fingertips. “Just wait until I get this stupid cast off,” she said, holding it up and rotating it. “I’ll rock your world once I’m back to a hundred percent.”

  “You already do, Sweetheart, but I look forward to the effort.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Cal was looking forward to putting Winsome’s promise to the test. She’d had an appointment to have the cast removed at two-thirty, and was probably back home by now. He couldn’t wait to get there and see her whole and well, maybe waving at him from a treehouse window. The idea made him happy, and he smiled. Everything about her made him smile.

  Well, almost. Those moments when she looked haunted by the past were disturbing. Though those moments were becoming less frequent, he hoped before much longer, that kindness would become the accepted norm for her.

  In light of that hope, and the unveiling of the treehouse in which she could start a new avenue of her life, it was fitting that today was the day she rid herself of the last visible reminder of Dante’s abuse. Cal intended to celebrate with her with a good meal at some place expensive and dimly lit, then a quiet—or not so quiet—evening at home.

  Just then, Jose sent him a smile and a nod, and he couldn’t help wondering if his feelings for Winsome were that obvious to everyone. He didn’t want to be like one of those love-struck fools he’d made fun of growing up, with wide, dopey eyes and dumb smiles on their faces. But even as he felt his lips pulling back over his teeth, he knew it was too late.

  He wanted to talk to her, but she didn’t have a cell phone, and unless she was in the main house, he wouldn’t reach her. Love-struck as he was, he decided to try anyway, walking down the soon-to-be paved driveway of the office building construction site, to avoid the noise. Winsome answered on the third ring, sounding slightly out of breath.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me,” Cal said, grinning.

  “Oh, hi!”

  “You sound like you ran to the phone.”

  “I did,” she admitted. “I was on the porch, reading.”

  “Oh, I assumed you’d be hanging out in your tree.”

  Her laughter rang clear and bright through the phone and he felt his heart lighten. It was amazing how that happened.

  “Even up there, I’d hear this ringer. Why is it so loud?” she asked, but kept right on talking. “I plan to get to work on some candle designs first thing tomorrow, I have so many ideas, but I’m really into this book and I can’t put it down.”

  He shook his head even though she couldn’t see. He read once in a while, when the mood hit, but he would never understand people who devoured one book after another as she did.

  “That good, huh?”

  “Yes, I’m half through. It’s about a woman who loses her cat and keeps seeing it passing her house every day on the number fifty-four bus,” she said. “It’s a black cat with white markings on its neck that look like a smile face, so she knows for sure it’s her cat.”

  He could tell from the tone of her voice that she was probably bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, and using her ha
nds as extensions of her words. He laughed. “I’d love to hear all about it, but I have to get back to work.”

  “I know, I know. And don’t worry, I won’t talk your ear off about it when you come home.” She giggled. “I’ll just read it to you.”

  They laughed. He really couldn’t wait to get home and was glad to be working close by today. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. There’s a few more things to wrap up, then we have to secure things. Storm’s coming.”

  “I know, it’s wonderful!”

  ****

  Occasionally, when a sudden gust fluttered the pages of her book, Winsome would look up to see the clouds slowly ambling in from the southwest. Each time she did, they were darker, more threatening of rain, until now, when they were racing toward her with what the author of the story she was reading might call steady resolve. She chuckled at her own embellishment.

  As long as she could remember, she’d loved storms. Although she didn’t like snow, she enjoyed the sights of a whirling blizzard, as long as she could watch it from a warm and toasty place. Rain storms were her favorite. Gusty winds, lashing rain, and even the boom and crackle of an electrical storm. It was somehow energizing, and while she had no desire to be soaking wet, or struck by a fifty-four-thousand-degree bolt of lightning, she always fought the strange compulsion to be out in the midst of it. But she could enjoy the smells and sounds of a good rain from the protection of the porch.

  She suddenly realized it might be even better from up in her treehouse, and like a shot, she was off across the path, book in hand. It hadn’t sunken in yet that this place, from the patch of earth surrounding, to each book on her shelf, was really and truly hers. For the next year, anyway.

  The door opened soundlessly, but for the tiny click of the handle mechanism, and she closed it just as quietly. It was only four o’clock, and the darkening clouds necessitated the turning on of a few lights, filing the space with a cozy, warm glow.