Hunter Hill University: Reaching Rose Part 43

I still at her words.

She nods.

I slowly turn her onto her back and run a finger down the side of her face. "We don't have to."

"I know," she says, looking directly into my eyes. "I want to."

"You sure?" I ask, my hand still on her freckled face.

"Yes."

I get up and kneel next to her, sitting on my heels. "I don't have a condom," I say with a s.h.i.+t-load of disappointment.

She sits up next to me. "I do," she whispers.

I widen my eyes.

She blushes. "I went to the store this morning when you were at practice," she says, looking embarra.s.sed.

"Rose." I look at her in astonishment. "You really want this?"

"I really do."

Running my finger along her collar, I feel the zipper in the back. I stand on my knees and slowly unzip it. As I sit back down on my heels, I lower the dress down her shoulders. "You're positive? I'm really allowed to see all of you?" I ask, still not believing she really wants this.

"Yes." Her answer is more like a panting breath than a word, and it's one of many quickening breaths that cause her chest to rise more visibly.

I pull the dress down to her waist, then run my thumbs under her bra. "You are so amazingly beautiful, Rose."

She closes her eyes and inhales. With her exhale, she lets out a sated moan.

I grab hold of her dress again and slip it down further, lifting her a.s.s to maneuver it past her hips. I bring it over her ankles and sit back on my heels again. In her black lace bra and panties, and her black stockings, complete with garter belt, she is a paradox. Wholesome yet absolutely s.e.xy. "Holy s.h.i.+t," I say, tugging lightly on the garter belt, "I thought these were those full-length things. My G.o.d, you're s.e.xy."

She blushes. And her smile, so innocent, makes me wonder if she's ever done this before.

"Rose," I say, sliding my palm up her right leg, but stopping at mid-thigh and lacing my fingers around the belt. "Have you ever done this before?"

She shakes her head, but keeps a small smile on her face. "No."

"You sure you want..."

She stops me. "One hundred and ten percent sure, Ben."

I start by unhooking the stocking on her right leg.

"Don't. Please. Keep them on."

She's biting her lip and looking nervous.

"At least this first time," she says quietly. "I don't want to be conscious of it. Not tonight."

"Of course," I say, looking directly into her eyes before hooking the stocking back to the belt. Then I appreciate the contours of her body with my hand, but bring my gaze back to her eyes. "If that's what makes you most comfortable. But please know...it will never bother me. Ever."

"I know that. But for tonight, I want to forget about it."

Running my other hand up her body, I gently lower her to her back and slowly peel off her bra and panties, taking my time to appreciate every inch of her perfect body with my eyes, my hands, my mouth. When there is not one part of her that's gone untouched, I slip on protection, and with all the tenderness and love I have for this flawless angel beneath me, I make love to her finally and completely.

41.

ROSE.

"You're sure I didn't hurt you?" Ben asks me for the third time since we made love an hour ago.

Extremely sated and very sleepily, I a.s.sure him he didn't hurt me. "You could never hurt me, Ben." I let out the yawn I stifled to answer him.

He squeezes me tighter and I snuggle closer into him, resting my head on his chest instead of his shoulder. Ben plays with my hair while I listen to the steady beat of his heart.

"Not that I want to leave this position, but aren't you supposed to take the prosthesis off?"

I sigh into his chest and then I groan. "Yeah, I guess I should."

"Can I do it for you?"

I lift my head to look at him. "You want to?"

He smiles. "I do."

His touch when slipping off my garter and stockings and unlatching my prosthesis is as tender and loving, and ironically, almost as erotic, as when his hands were exploring my body before he made love to me and gave me the most pa.s.sionate experience of my life. At first it hurt...the moment he entered, but he was gentle and slow and made me feel like the most important person in the world. He even kept his eyes open to look at my face, so he could know for sure if he was causing me pain by my facial expressions. He wasn't. He felt so good. And I loved being connected to him that way.

"How'd I do?" he asks, and I'm so completely lost in the feel of his touch on my skin that I hadn't even paid attention to what he was doing.

"Oh." Now that I realize I'm completely naked - without anything covering me, not even the sock on my...residual limb - I am thoroughly and extremely self-conscious. Oh my G.o.d, my scar is out, and it ends so abruptly at the end of the limb.

I clutch the comforter on my bed and tug it up, but Ben is on it, and it doesn't cover anything but my foot and ankle of the good leg.

Ben gets off the bed and covers me with not only the comforter, but the sheets too. Then he climbs back in, slides under the covers with me, and holds me again. He doesn't say another word, and I silently thank him for that. Then I close my eyes and drift asleep in the crook of his arm.

I wake up before Ben, so I take the opportunity to rub my leg down and put the prosthetic back on. Then I go to my drawer and slip on my yoga pants and chartreuse cotton cami.

"That color green looks good on you."

I turn to find Ben sitting against the headboard, his arms crossed behind his head. "When did you get up?"

"Just when you were bending over to put on your pants."

"Oh," I say, realizing he probably got a full view of my b.u.t.t up in the air.

"The sight of your rear end when I first wake up in the morning is a wonderful thing, half-pint," he says, grinning, confirming my thoughts.

He pats the bed next to him. "Come back to bed, Rose."

I do. I climb under the covers and sit next to him. He grips my waist and pulls me between his legs, then lets me rest my back against his chest, my head against his shoulder.

"Thank you for last night," he breathes into my ear.

"Thank you. Thank you for making me feel special."

"You are special, half-pint. Are you going somewhere?"

"No. Why?"

"Because you're dressed."

"Oh. Well." I don't know what to say.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you are, Rose?"

He must know why I'm dressed. "Thank you."

"And how absolutely heavenly you looked last night?"

My heart pounds at his words.

The backs of his fingers graze the spot just below my ear, and a wave of tingles crashes over my skin from the spot he touches all the way down to my toes. His fingers act like a drug on me. Especially after last night. I can't get enough. I lean my head to the side to give him better access to my neck. This accomplishes what I need him to do. His fingers travel beneath my jaw, down the front of my neck then one of them dips down the crevice between my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. It's amazing how his touch can transcend me beyond my fears. When he's touching me, I almost forget I'm not a whole person. It's when they stop touching me that I remember.

With both his hands, his fingers continue to journey the center of my body, under my s.h.i.+rt, under the band of my pants, when he says, "Every single inch of you is more beautiful than the last." Though his hands are beneath my clothes, he only encircles my stomach area, never dipping below my navel or up over my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Whatever sets you at ease, puts me at ease. You want to stay clothed, or covered, or anything, then that's what I want you to do too. But please know" he talks into my ear, his fingers still navigating my belly- "that all I see is you. What you see as flaws, I see as something that makes you unique and extraordinary. Rare, Rose. Like a mint-condition 1955 Roberto Clemente rookie card..."

Turning to look at him, I interrupt his comparison. "A baseball card?" I can't help but crack up. "You're comparing me to a baseball card?"

"A one-of-a-kind, Rose. Do you know how much it's worth?"

I shake my head in laughter.

"Seriously, Rose." He cups my chin in his hand. "You're a rarity. And you chose me. Do you know how much that means to me? One leg, two legs, s.h.i.+t, scars or no scars, all I see is perfection when I look at you, Rose."

Oh my G.o.d. Really? "Really?"

"Really. So if the next time we make love you want to stay covered or you don't, that's fine with me. But for the record...your naked body trumps your clothed body any day."

I close my eyes and let his words sink in. He wraps both his arms around my chest and pulls me back against him. I rest my head on his shoulder again.

"I love you so much, Rose."

"I love you too. Ben?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you scared?"

"Scared as s.h.i.+t, Rose."

"I wish I could make it all disappear for you. The cancer, I mean."

He doesn't respond right away. "Me too," he whispers.

"Can I come visit you?"

Again he takes his time answering. "I'd like you to, but I have no idea what state I'm gonna be in. Will you feel comfortable?"

"No. I'd be upset for you. Scared, kinda...but...I still want to be there. If you want me to."

His lips find my ear again. He kisses it, then whispers, "Then please." He drags out the word. "Be there. To wake up from surgery to your gorgeous face...it'd be like I'd died and gone to Heaven."

"Oh, please don't."

"Never. Not while you're in my life."

The two of us sit silently like this for a long while after we decide I would be there for his surgery tomorrow. Staying in bed seems to be our version of time standing still - we don't want today to end, so we sit rooted to this spot. On my bed. Ben's arms wrapped firmly around me. My body tucked neatly and comfortably within his.

42.

BEN.

I don't think I ever want to wake up without my arms around Rose again.

It's frightening.

For more than a week now, I've been waking up with Rose tucked safely in my arms.

Even this morning.

Last night, she followed me home to my house in Cherry Hill. I told her she could use my car while I'm laid up, but she insisted she's more comfortable in her big-a.s.s old pick-up truck.