Why did I have to find her at the wrong time, wrong place like this?
As our hands pull back from each other, her eyes dart to mine almost as if she heard me, and she hesitantly puts a small bit of lettuce to her lips, chewing.
I sit there patiently, waiting for her to gather her thoughts. As I wait, I find myself drinking in her pretty dewy skin, the curve of her shoulder, the litheness of her arms. I busy myself looking at the charms on her small bracelet that fall down her forearm.
The hug we shared enters my mind, throwing me off center. The feel of her against me is nothing like I've ever experienced before.
I inhale a sharp breath as she suddenly speaks, startling me out of my thoughts.
“Idowant to say thank you." Her eyes flick side-to-side, as if she's desperately searching for her words. "You didn’t ask for any of this. I was just doing my best trying to advocate for my client, and then it all went toshit. It just went tocomplete shit!” Sarah spits out.
Her use of expletives throws me off guard, but then her face pinches as she becomes even more overwhelmed with emotions. To my horror, she lets out a sob, throws her fork down, and puts her face in her hands with her elbows on the table.
Her tears break my soul.
I put my own fork down and get up to sit in the chair beside her. I understand the past she's coming out of, but I'm not that fuck-up of a man, and she needs comfort, badly. She's incoherently sobbing into her hands, hiding. I try to not let that bother me because I desperately want to see all of her, so I reach forward to tug her hands away from her face.
"Come here, sweetheart," I murmur, leaning into her and wrapping my arms around her gently. “Shhhh.”
When she shudders and sags against me, I click my tongue, gently pull her into my lap, and rest her head on my shoulder. I take only a second to revel in the feel of her soft body on mine. Rubbing up and down her arm gently, I press my lips to the top of her head, enjoying her silky hair against my lips.
Her tears soak my shirt.
My heart races as she wiggles before settling a little too perfectly into the nook of my body. Biting back a groan at the feeling of her pressing into me, I lick my lips, feeling an unusual warmth saturate me.
Intimacy.
I wonder if she can feel the beat of my heart as she lays here. My hand itches to hold hers and press it deeper into my chest. To make her feel me. It's what I desire the most. What I've tried and failed multiple times over the years to express to Johnathan. What I never could get from Hannah. What I've hopelessly searched and searched for within various women over the span of a decade.
I bury deeper into her. “You have nothing to be sorry for or ashamed of," I say quietly, stroking down her hair. "Bad things happen, and they tend to happen to people who least deserve it. I don’t consider you a burden, and I am glad…blessed,really, to be able to have been there when you needed it the most.” Resisting the urge to kiss her temple, I keep my focus on calming her, not on what I want.
God, she smells so good. So good. Like warm, vanilla, marshmallow, pillowy softness….
Sarah sniffles and pulls back slightly, turning red eyes to me, and brings up a hand to wipe the wetness off her cheeks. "I didn't deserve it?" she asks tearfully, almost bringing my heart to a dead stop.
"No, sweetheart. You didn't deserve any of it." My eyes flicker between hers, and I beg everything that's holy to let her believe me."None,"I stress.
Let her believe she's worthy.
“Are you sure?" Her bottom lip quivers. "I've been such anassto you—"
"No," I murmur, but she carries on, frantically talking over me.
"—Even though I meant what I said to you in that email. I really take my job seriously, you know?” Sarah says, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth and biting down.
At the mention of our rivalry, I can't help as my eyes crinkle slightly as I assess her face.
I hum, soberly. “Oh, I know. I mean, you were three seconds away from having my license revoked!” I wink at her, then grin, my eyes lowering to her lips for a split second. There's a little crease in the middle of her bottom lip that's just sodistracting.
Sarah's eyes dilate, and all too soon she's shifting to get off my lap, her cheeks staining pink again. Turning shy.
I clear my throat, thinking it best to change the subject. “Let’s finish eating. You think you might be up for a documentary after dinner?” Standing back up, I reluctantly go back to my seat.
As I sit, Sarah gives me a watery smile. “I love documentaries, especially animal ones. But I hardly get to watch anything. What did you have in mind?” she asks. Her momentary sadness disappears, and she twirls her food on her fork, making me relax.
“There’s a documentary calledThe Longest Third Datethat looks promising. Or you can pick whichever one you want. Want some more wine?” I ask, pushing my plate away and topping off our wine without waiting for a reply.
“Okay, well, let’s see what it’s about then!” It delights me that she sounds a bit more perky.
