Something Blue

Chapter 23

Gabe

Well...

If he had known how this visit was going to go, he wouldn't have wasted the last three days dreading it with such intensity. If he had known a silly little stab wound would inspire such a swift return of the Katherine he had fallen in love with, he'd have gone and goaded some poor sap into a knife fight a long time ago. If he had known that she would make it so impossible to tear himself away, he'd have sent someone else to tell her it was time for her and Isobel to leave.

Just once in his life, he'd like for things to be simple.

No, that was a lie. He didn't mind these kinds of complications at all. Her body was so real in his hold, so much more substantial than his dreams of her. So much more solid than the broken, feeble form he had carried through the woods while Isobel clung to his back.

He didn't dare make any untoward movements. Once, long ago, he'd have slid a hand up her chest and palmed one of the rounded swells, or perhaps snaked a hand around and dug his fingers into the soft curve of a buttock. But that was before, when he had known what she liked and what made her hiss at him in displeasure. Now...

Now, he'd be damned if he made a move to stop this miracle, so he let her lead and kept his hands in safe areas. His right was curled around her leg, his palm pressed to the outside of her thigh. He could feel the heat of her skin through the fabric of her dress. It warmed him everywhere they touched, banishing the unnatural chill that had gripped him since his encounter with Edward Crenshaw's favorite hunting knife.

His left hand was buried in the soft strands of her hair, his palm cradling the back of her head. He didn't dare shift his touch, but he was content for now to relish in the silkiness of her hair and the knowledge that she was giving herself freely.

And all that was to say nothing of the kiss. Her lips and hands had always been as brazen as her words and demeanor were chaste. She plundered his mouth with her tongue, and it was no hardship to let her do so. She tasted of blue skies and racing frothy waters. Of silly games and laughter that made his belly ache with strain. This close, he could smell the lavender touch to her hair. Did she remember?

Her hands moved across his body like she was a blind woman, trying to picture him with her fingers. They combed through his hair and kneaded his shoulders, the back of his neck. Flat palms ran down his chest, his arms, his sides. It wasn't frantic. Everything with Katherine had always been deliberate, even the moments of spontaneity. She never did a thing she didn't mean. Never committed an action she hadn't pondered on with God sitting on her shoulder. He still remembered the night she had given him her virginity.

"God is love," she had told him. "And I love you. This is a gift. Not a sin."

Sometimes it felt like both. Maybe God had never meant it to be simple.

Pinpricks of light were flashing against the backs of his eyelids. He needed to breathe, but he'd die before he broke away from her. With a gasp, she pulled away and hot puffs of air hit his cheek as she fought for air. He did the same, still holding her. She pressed her forehead to his, and he smelled the salt of her tears.

"Kat," he breathed, but when he pulled back she held him, one hand cupped around the back of his neck.

"I'm happy," she whispered, and her lips whispered over his in a gentle reassurance. "Happy tears. I missed you." She shifted, winding her arms around his neck and pressing her face to his shoulder. He felt the heat of her tears on his skin as her words became a litany. "I missed you, I missed you, I missed you..."

"I missed you too, sweetheart," he murmured into her hair.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."