A Lantern in the Window by Bobby Hutchinson

smell
and feel of her.
    She smelled of soap and of some other
essence that was singularly her own, that he’d come to recognize, a
musky, warm odor that inflamed his senses.
    “ Ohhh, that feels so good,
Noah. Do it again, please.”
    He was trembling as he rinsed the
cloth, soaped it again, and resumed the long, sensual stroking.
This time, his hand slid around to cup her small breast, and the
nipple rose hard against his palm.
    He groaned and lost whatever battle he
was fighting.
    "Annie.” The word was wrung out of
him, low and tortured.
    He slid his hands under her arms, and
in one smooth motion lifted her dripping from the tub. She made a
small, startled sound and he gave her a rueful grin.
    "I do believe you’re quite clean
enough,” he said with a catch in his voice, snatching up the towel
from a nearby chair and wrapping her in it, blotting her dry,
loosening it to dab gently at a shoulder, a narrow hip, a long
stretch of thigh.
    He scooped her up and laid her on the
bed. It was cool in the room, and he covered her naked form with
the quilt until his own clothes were off and he could slide under
the sheets.
    The first contact with her warm, damp
nakedness made him shudder. He gathered her close, wrapping his
arms and legs around her, drunk with the feeling of skin against
skin. He took her head in his hands and held it, kissing her lips
and the long line of her throat, taking first one nipple and then
the next into his mouth, moving down the satiny, narrow ribcage,
nipping at prominent hipbones until at last his mouth found her
center.
    “ Noah!” There was both
shock and pleasure in her protest.
    When she overcame shyness and relaxed,
her body began to move instinctively, in a rhythm impossible for
him to mistake. The small, desperate sounds she was making were
more than he could bear. He slid up and in one long, steady motion,
he entered her, half mad with wanting, but mindful that he mustn’t
hurt her.
    Long, careful moments later, she
exploded beneath him in a paroxysm of delight, and he muffled her
cries with his mouth, delight taking hold of him until he lost all
control.
    His seed spilled and spilled, and he
was too far beyond thought to pull away. She fell asleep in his
arms and didn’t wake when he gently untangled himself and got up to
blow out the candle.
    When he lay down beside her again, he
made certain her bare shoulders were well covered, but he moved
until there was the usual distance between them so that no part of
her warm body was near enough to touch him.
     
    * * *
    In the darkness, she awakened from a
dream, knowing that she was falling in love with Noah.
    His lovemaking had changed her, and
she knew that her perceptions of herself were forever altered. Her
body had depths and needs she'd never suspected, and in her heart
was amazement and tenderness, gratitude to the husband who’d taught
her these mysterious truths about herself.
    But instead of lying warm in his
embrace, she was facing his back. She slid one tentative arm up and
around him, snuggling close and curling herself like a spoon to fit
his sleeping shape.
    He wasn’t asleep. His body stiffened
in her embrace, and after a moment he carefully lifted her arm and
moved as far away as the bed would allow.
    Annie’s body stiffened with hurt. She
swallowed, her face and body burning with humiliation. She stared
into the darkness, fighting the tears that threatened.
    It hurt. It hurt more than she would
have believed possible, this constant, quiet rejection of her love.
It told her more plainly than any words that Noah might succumb to
the desires of his body—he’d even make very certain she, too,
enjoyed the marriage bed—but anything beyond that coupling was not
allowed between them.
    Companionship, laughter, conversation,
the elements she instinctively knew constituted deep and abiding
love, those were things Noah was unwilling to share with her. Those
were the things he’d shared with his Molly, and he guarded