Page 18 of Aim High Mountain Man
He looked in my eyes, his hands holding onto my arms.
“If Johnnie's mom doesn't blame you, why should you blame yourself?” I questioned.
I could see the internal fight. He wanted to believe what I was telling him, for the sake of his own sanity, his own well-being. But I also understood his pain and suffering, and his mindset. I could also understand how he withdrew and how he felt that no one would understand him, no one would be able to deal with his twisted feelings.
More importantly, I could see how that was the basis of his nightmares. His sense of failing was only his problem, though, one I know he could work through.
“It's logical,” he whispered, making me smile.
“It's more than that, and you know it. But I can see you, can see the truth in your eyes. This tore you up so much more than you admitted to anyone, Chance. Let it go now.”
Before I could blink, he leaned forward, his lips against mine, and I moaned.
Countless moments later, he pulled back, his arms wrapping around me and lifting me with ease.
“Shower,” was all he said.
***** Chance *****
I wasn’t sure why I wanted to wash her, but I did. I had such an urge, it almost terrified me.
But I knew that if she left, this would be a memory that I’d want. And after the tears of the last few days, hell, it felt longer than that, I felt that a washing would be helpful. That it would be a cleansing, almost.
And being able to spoil her like that was something beautiful to me.
So, I easily carried her to my bedroom and to the bathroom, setting her down on her feet, then slowly taking her clothing off of her. I took her all in.
One could not peg her as pushing forty. She looked far too good for her age.
“You don’t have to do this,” she told me.
“I know I don’t have to, Johanna, but I want to. Just give me this. If you leave, I want something beautiful beyond all the mind-blowing sex.” I looked at her closely, seeing her wince, but over what I wasn’t sure. I don’t think it was the comment about the sex because she started part of that too, so I could only deduce it was the part about her leaving.
Did she not want to leave?
Did I not want her to leave?
Truthfully, no, I didn’t.
“I think we have lots of beautiful moments.” She cupped my cheek, lifting me up. “I think I want many more, too. Starting with now.”
With that, she lifted my shirt, stripping me with the same care I stripped her. She tossed the clothing, her hands running over my chest and scars.
I turned the water on, warming up the bathroom, then helped her step in.
“This feels nice,” she murmured, closing her eyes to enjoy it.
I ran the wet cloth over her shoulders and her back, massaging her as I went along.
“We talked about me, what about you? Johnnie has been gone for a year and a half, why didn’t you date?”
Her head fell forward, the water dropping down, as I ran my hand over her back. She sighed, rolling her shoulders under my touch.
“I don't have a true, honest answer for that. I pushed myself to live and my friends helped. But I guess, I don't know, to me, men wanted more than I could give. I know Johnnie wanted me to find happiness, but I guess finding someone who understood me was hard.
“I don't like to be smothered and I'm fine with mixing things up. Date nights in are wonderful things, and simple can be better. Most men don't want all of that. When I went out, I was told I was too high maintenance. Not in the money way, but in being all over the place with how I was or what I wanted.
“I guess to put it simply, I'm a huge mood person. And men didn't like that. So, even after he passed, being just me seemed easier.”
