Page 40 of A Brother At My Back

I’d always had a habit of reading before falling asleep and even with her in my arms, I’d kept it up. I always had a paperback of some sort tucked into the inside pocket of my jacket or the back pocket of my jeans and the last few nights I’d brought it out to read while she’d rested against me as we’d gone to go to sleep. Two nights ago, she’d asked me to read out loud and I’d done it. It’d been awkward a bit at first, but she’d seemed to like it and now it looked like it was turning into one of our things.

I sat up and pulled the book I’d started at the bar that night out of my back pocket. I liked to read things that were useful to me and she didn’t seem to mind listening to anything I’d read so far. She watched me with those deep brown eyes of hers as I opened it to where I’d marked the page.

This book was by an American bloke in the security industry. Data had recommended it, and it’d just been the next one in my pile by the bed. It was about trusting your gut and how to listen to the unspoken little warning signs folks gave off before trying something stupid.

Tiffany closed her eyes and listened, taking the occasional sip of tea. Wrapping both her hands around the mug, before long she unfurled the length of the tub, sinking down into the fruity pink water with its swirling silver cloud of sparkling whatever. She just listened to me, and it took a lot of willpower to keep my eyes on the words and off her face… and yeah, the rest of her too. She was one beautiful lady and it was hard not to stare.

I finished the last of the chapter and closed the book, watching as she thought it over, simply sitting with her and relaxing.

“The water is getting cold,” she said finally and I nodded.

“I’ll get you a shirt and dish up the food, maybe drag the bed closer to the fire. You take your time.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“No worries.”

And that right there was one of the reasons it felt so good to do things for her. She was appreciative, never missed an opportunity to say a simple thank you, but what’s more, it was the look she gave me. Every time I did something sweet for her, she looked at me with this amazed gratitude that did more for me than anything ever had before. I felt needed, not just wanted, and I have to admit it was a serious boost to my manly ego.

I don’t think there was anything else that made me feel like half as much of a man as when she looked at me like that. I pushed to my feet and took her nearly empty mug of tea out with me. Refreshing both our cups, I dragged the mattress across the floor closer to the fire as I listened to her climb out of the tub. I couldn’t help myself, picturing the water sliding along her perfect skin, but I resisted the temptation to go to the door and actually look.

It was a struggle for me, making sure I was a decent man and not pushing her, but at the same time, not giving her the idea I was disinterested. Her job made things a little complicated for me in that arena. I didn’t ever want her to feel like I was one of the men that frequented her club. I wanted her to always know she was more to me than a perfect pair of tits. She was so much more than an object to be ogled.

I went over to the closet and fished through, finding a clean tee of mine and handed it to her as she stepped out of my bathroom wrapped in the towel I’d had in there.

“Here you go,” I told her. “Go by the fire and stay warm, eh. I’ll get us some food dished up. Got you some more tea already.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate this. I know you weren’t expecting we’d wind up here and I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re cool with my being here.”

“Ah, yeah, nah; don’t mention it, eh? I like having you here with me. I just wish I had more to my flat than this.” I waved a hand around and she turned and took in the Spartan flat with a charmed half-smile.

“I like the minimalist look and feel,” she murmured. I laughed and she moved off toward the fire, sitting down on the edge of the made-up mattress on the floor, wrapped in the towel, setting my tee on the bed by her hip. She fished through her bag coming up with a tube of lotion of some kind and flipped back the cap. I ladled up soup into a couple of bowls and was suddenly mesmerized by her as she smoothed the loose cream onto her long legs.

I confess, I set the bowl down and leaned on the bench, watching her as she completed the simple act of moisturizing her skin, pulled on a pair of hipster panties, and slipping my shirt over her head before letting the towel fall out from underneath it. I bowed my head and closed my eyes nodding to myself, my thoughts leaning towards not being able to hold out much longer. I wanted her, but I also wanted the time to be right, too.

She was staring into the fireplace, transfixed, almost hypnotized, smoothing a different, fragrant hand cream into her hands and wrists, up her arms when I sat down next to her. I handed her one of the bowls when she was done.

“Thanks,” she murmured and stirred the soup with her spoon.

“My pleasure, eh.”

We ate in a comfortable silence for a while and I liked that she didn’t hide the scarred side of her face from me anymore. That she was comfortable enough to leave her hair pulled back into one of those clip things in a messy bun.

She was the first to break the silence by saying, “Italian Wedding is one of my favorites,” and I smiled.

“Yeah? Wasn’t something I knew about until I came here; Sunshine, Trigger’s woman makes a mean one. The canned isn’t as good but it’s not bad.”

“I make a really good homemade vegetable soup.”

“Ah, yeah? Where’d you learn that?”

She laughed slightly, “The internet. I taught myself to cook for the most part. It was either that or starve.”

“Cooking out of self-defense,” I said with a laugh. “I like it.”

“I never thought of it that way,” she said with a rueful smile, bringing the bowl to her lips and drinking some of the broth. “I like it too,” she said after swallowing.

I was mesmerized by just about every movement she made. She had a natural grace that most women didn’t possess and it was something else. She sighed a healthy, satisfied sound and rose gracefully to her feet, taking her bowl with her.

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