white, her shoes were yellow patent leather, ankle-strapped wedgies, and she had a wide white-and-yellow polka-dot bangle on one slender wrist. Something about the way she stood and the wary expression in her big blue eyes made Zeke think of a young deer on the verge of bolting into the safety of the woods.
He put the album on and hurried back over to her, snagging an arm around her waist as he headed for the kitchen. He turned her sideways as they went through the narrow door, shouldering his way through the multicolored strands of beads that hung from the header.
"Pretty slim pickings," he said when he opened the refrigerator. "I've got Coke or orange soda." There was a bottle of wine, too, but he didn't offer that. He didn't want her to be able to say, later, that she hadn't known what she was doing. "Which will it be?"
"Coke, I guess."
"Two Cokes." He reached into the refrigerator and snagged the bottles by the neck. Resting first one, then the other, firmly against the edge of the counter, he rapped the neck of each bottle with the heel of his hand and popped off the caps. "Do you want a glass?"
Ariel shook her head. "The bottle's fine."
Zeke grinned. "Good choice. I don't think any of the glasses are particularly clean. Jack's on KP this week," he said, reaching past her to hold aside the strands of beads that filled the doorway. "After you."
Ariel smiled nervously and sidled past him. The beads fell back into place as he followed her into the living room. "Sit down?" he invited, gesturing toward the sagging madras-covered sofa.
"Okay," she said softly and sat down, smack-dab on the middle cushion.
Zeke smiled to himself. It was a signal. If she was thinking of changing her mind, she'd have chosen one of the beanbag chairs or sat on one of the end cushions of the sofa. But the middle... well, that left him plenty of room on either side of her. He put his unwanted Coke on the coffee table, sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.
She shot him a quick, nervous look out of the corner of her eye and then looked back down at the bottle of soda clutched between her hands. But she didn't move away.
He bent his head and kissed her bare shoulder.
She took a tiny sip of her soda and refused to look at him.
He ran his fingertip down her arm.
She shivered, tightening her grasp on the bottle, but still wouldn't look at him.
He transferred his touch to her knee, running his fingertips lightly, delicately, up the top of her white-stockinged thigh to the hem of her little yellow dress and back down again.
She gasped and closed her eyes. And didn't move.
"Ariel?"
"What?"
"Are you afraid?"
"No," she lied.
"Have you changed your mind?"
"No."
"Then would you look at me, please?"
Slowly, shyly, she turned her head against his arm and looked at him. Her blue eyes were wide and wondering and just a little bit frightened, despite what she'd said.
"You know I won't hurt you, don't you?" Zeke whispered.
"I know," she whispered back.
"We'll go slow. As slow as you want. And we'll stop whenever you say," he promised. "You don't ever have to be afraid of me."
"I'm not. Really." She smiled tremulously, trying to reassure him. "I'm just a little nervous, is all."
"So am I," Zeke admitted.
That seemed to surprise and please her. "Really? Why?"
"I've never made love to a virgin before. What if I mess it up for you? Or do something you don't like?"
"I don't know what I like yet. Except when you kiss me," she hinted, emboldened by his admission of vulnerability. "I like that."
Zeke felt something in his gut tighten. "Are you going to drink that Coke?"
In answer, Ariel leaned forward and placed it on the coffee table next to his. And then she leaned back against his arm and tilted her face up to his, inviting his kiss.
Zeke reached up, his hand trembling slightly, and brushed back the soft blond hair at her temple. "You're incredible, do you know that?" he said softly, awed by the trust she'd placed in
He put the album on and hurried back over to her, snagging an arm around her waist as he headed for the kitchen. He turned her sideways as they went through the narrow door, shouldering his way through the multicolored strands of beads that hung from the header.
"Pretty slim pickings," he said when he opened the refrigerator. "I've got Coke or orange soda." There was a bottle of wine, too, but he didn't offer that. He didn't want her to be able to say, later, that she hadn't known what she was doing. "Which will it be?"
"Coke, I guess."
"Two Cokes." He reached into the refrigerator and snagged the bottles by the neck. Resting first one, then the other, firmly against the edge of the counter, he rapped the neck of each bottle with the heel of his hand and popped off the caps. "Do you want a glass?"
Ariel shook her head. "The bottle's fine."
Zeke grinned. "Good choice. I don't think any of the glasses are particularly clean. Jack's on KP this week," he said, reaching past her to hold aside the strands of beads that filled the doorway. "After you."
Ariel smiled nervously and sidled past him. The beads fell back into place as he followed her into the living room. "Sit down?" he invited, gesturing toward the sagging madras-covered sofa.
"Okay," she said softly and sat down, smack-dab on the middle cushion.
Zeke smiled to himself. It was a signal. If she was thinking of changing her mind, she'd have chosen one of the beanbag chairs or sat on one of the end cushions of the sofa. But the middle... well, that left him plenty of room on either side of her. He put his unwanted Coke on the coffee table, sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.
She shot him a quick, nervous look out of the corner of her eye and then looked back down at the bottle of soda clutched between her hands. But she didn't move away.
He bent his head and kissed her bare shoulder.
She took a tiny sip of her soda and refused to look at him.
He ran his fingertip down her arm.
She shivered, tightening her grasp on the bottle, but still wouldn't look at him.
He transferred his touch to her knee, running his fingertips lightly, delicately, up the top of her white-stockinged thigh to the hem of her little yellow dress and back down again.
She gasped and closed her eyes. And didn't move.
"Ariel?"
"What?"
"Are you afraid?"
"No," she lied.
"Have you changed your mind?"
"No."
"Then would you look at me, please?"
Slowly, shyly, she turned her head against his arm and looked at him. Her blue eyes were wide and wondering and just a little bit frightened, despite what she'd said.
"You know I won't hurt you, don't you?" Zeke whispered.
"I know," she whispered back.
"We'll go slow. As slow as you want. And we'll stop whenever you say," he promised. "You don't ever have to be afraid of me."
"I'm not. Really." She smiled tremulously, trying to reassure him. "I'm just a little nervous, is all."
"So am I," Zeke admitted.
That seemed to surprise and please her. "Really? Why?"
"I've never made love to a virgin before. What if I mess it up for you? Or do something you don't like?"
"I don't know what I like yet. Except when you kiss me," she hinted, emboldened by his admission of vulnerability. "I like that."
Zeke felt something in his gut tighten. "Are you going to drink that Coke?"
In answer, Ariel leaned forward and placed it on the coffee table next to his. And then she leaned back against his arm and tilted her face up to his, inviting his kiss.
Zeke reached up, his hand trembling slightly, and brushed back the soft blond hair at her temple. "You're incredible, do you know that?" he said softly, awed by the trust she'd placed in
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