She's heading for the door, practically fleeing, and something in me snaps. I don't want her to go. Don't want to let her run from this thing that's been building between us since the moment we met. We’ve been taking things slow. Far slower than I normally would, because this is more than something physical for me, and I want her to know that.
But it’s getting damn hard to keep my hands off her, and when she’s looking at me like this, my control is close to snapping.
I move quickly, catching up to her in the entryway. “Jennifer.”
She stops but doesn't turn around. “I'm really sorry. I should have knocked louder or...”
“Look at me.”
Slowly, she turns, keeping her eyes stubbornly on my face. That flush is still high on her cheeks, and I can see her pulse jumping in her throat. She's breathing fast, shallow, and I want to press my mouth to that pulse point and feel her heart race under my lips.
“We're still doing the walk this morning, right?” I ask, keeping my voice gentle. “After I get dressed?”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” She looks relieved to have something normal to focus on. “I'll just... I'll wait outside.”
“You don't have to leave.”
“I think I do.” But she's smiling slightly now, the panic fading. “For both our sakes.”
I let her go this time, watching as she slips out the front door. Then I head to my bedroom, grinning despite myself and the throbbing of my erection. She’s not ready for more. Yet.
Twenty minutes and a quick shower later, dressed in running shorts and a T-shirt, I find her on the deck with her coffee, looking out at the lake. The morning sun catches in her hair, and something in my chest tightens.
“Ready?” I ask.
She turns, and her eyes do a quick sweep of me before she catches herself. “Ready.”
We take the lake trail at an easy pace. I've learned she's not a fast walker, and she slows down to notice things. The way the light hits the water. A bird call she doesn't recognize. The smell of pine warming in the sun.
It's teaching me to slow down in a way meditation apps never could.
“How'd you sleep?” she asks.
“Seven hours.” I can't keep the satisfaction out of my voice. “No interruptions.”
“Seth, that's amazing!” She squeezes my hand, and her smile is genuine and proud. “That's the best yet, isn't it?”
“Yeah. I haven't slept seven straight hours since...” I try to remember. “Honestly, I don't know. College maybe?”
“How do you feel?”
I take inventory. My head is clear. The constant low-grade headache that lived behind my eyes for years is gone. My chest feels loose, each breath expanding it without pain. “Good. Really good.”
“I'm proud of you.”
The words hit me harder than they should. When was the last time someone said they were proud of me for something other than closing a deal or hitting a revenue target?
“I couldn't do it without you,” I say quietly.
“Yes, you could. You just needed a reason to try.”
“You're my reason.”
She looks up at me, those brown eyes soft and gooey like melted chocolate, and I have to kiss her. Right here on the trail, with the morning sun warm on our shoulders and the lake glittering below us.
She tastes like coffee and something sweet, and when she sighs against my mouth, I want to forget the walk and carry her back to the cabin.
But I don't. Because what’s simmering between us, the slow build, the anticipation, and the getting to know her, is part of the healing too. Sure, I might want to tear both our clothes off and part her sweet thighs almost every moment I’m with her, but being with Jennifer is more than that. I can see a life with her, not simply a few pleasurable moments.
