Shattered Bonds (continued)

A chime sounded, indicating that the water was ready. She rose, relieved by the interruption. It not only gave her something to do, however briefly, but also possibly prevented her from saying yet something else potentially embarrassing.

She prepared the tea for each of them and brought the two mugs over to the table. She placed one in front of David, having to peer at its color again to ensure that she had presented him with the correct one. Sitting down across from him, she looked down at her mug, watching the steam rise from it. Her eyes moved toward David’s face to find him staring down at the contents of his own cup.

His eyes came up and met hers. They locked for a moment before, David’s cheeks splotching with pink, his turned away. Wendy fought back a smile.

I really need to stop. It’s not nice . . . or fair.

She picked up a small chunk of cheese and chewed it slowly. The ferocious edge to her hunger had abated, but her stomach told her that it was more than willing to accept more.

Gods, I’m going to balloon up like one of the sows.

That thought, however, did not prevent her from reaching for another piece. To her mild surprise, David reached for one too. He stared at it, as if still afraid that it harbored some deadly pathological agent, and then bit into it carefully. He swallowed it and, upon discovering that he did not immediately succumb to an agonizing death, placed the rest of it into his mouth. When he finished it, he sipped at his tea.

Chamomile, Wendy thought, was a good match for the buttery cheese. She was not so sure about the mint. Judging from David’s carefully controlled expression, it was not the best combination that he had ever tasted, but he did appear to loathe it either. Wendy noticed, also, that he did not reach for another piece.

“Thank you for walking me home,” she offered, trying to fill the silence with something that did not sound too awkward or forced. She added small, but sunny smile.

David averted his eyes, appearing the perfect model of modesty.

“It was nothing,” he murmured, and then, a little more loudly, added, “Um. You’re welcome.”

Wendy smiled gently and patted his hand lightly. David stared down at it as if it were a serpent preparing to strike. He did not, however, move his hand away. Wendy moved hers away slowly and then used it to lift her tea to her lips. She was surprised to find it nearly gone.

It might have been coincidental timing, or a subliminal reaction to the discovery, but Wendy found herself trying to stifle a yawn. She glanced quickly at David, but he seemed not to have noticed. Sipping from the mug again as cover, she tried to decide how badly she wanted this little tête-à-tête (where had she learned that word?) to end, or whether to concede to her body’s demands for rest.

The next yawn, which she felt as if she nearly strained her jaw muscles trying to hide, settled the matter for her. She drained the small remaining amount of tea and allowed the next yawn to show—although contained to slightly more ladylike dimensioned.

“I guess you’d better put me to bed now,” she said, trying to covertly watch David’s expression.

He did, she thought, a creditable job of managing not to appear too surprised. His eyes still widened slightly, but he did not appear quite ready to bolt this time.

Wendy rose and held her hand out for his cup. He handed it to her, making an effort to avoid contact with her fingers. Wendy smiled gently and turned to place the cups in the sink. She would wash them in morning. If Greg came home and found them there . . .

Well, let him think what he wanted.

Wendy managed to keep her smile from taking on any smug undertones—or least she hoped so. David did not withdraw any further, so she assumed that she had been successful.

“It’s this way,” she said. “The second room on the left.” She led the way, knowing full well that David would not.

She turned the light on immediately, hoping to put him at ease. She wished immediately that she had not. With a quiet groan of despair, she saw that she had left the bed unmade and that her clothes were tossed everywhere. Taking a slow breath, just stared at the mess, unwilling to view David’s reaction.

“I’ll just change real quick,” she told him with quiet meekness.

Gathering up the long tunic that she usually slept in, she moved past him and headed back into the short hallway. She closed the door to the bathroom, but not all the way, leaving a sliver of it open. There was no sense, she decided, in making David force the door open is she began to faint again.

Slipping off her shoes, she pushed them with her foot into a corner with the intention of gathering them back up in the morning. She slid out of her pants, definitely noticing that her body’s center of balance had changed in the past few weeks. Standing up, she caught sight of the mirror. Reflected through the narrow slit of the doorway, she could see David still standing in the hallway. She could not be certain, due to all the refractions of light, but he did seem to be looking in her direction.

So much for being the perfect gentleman, she smirked, rather enjoying the sensation of being the object of such covert voyeurism. He probably thinks I can’t see him.

She looked down and then frowned. “Damn,” she whispered, wishing she had worn panties that were little more provocative than the more comfortable ones she had started wearing recently.

Still, she considered, my ass is still in pretty good shape.

She took a quick glance to reassure herself that, in fact, it still was, and then smiled with approval. Next, she pulled her tunic up over head, tossing it over the edge of the sink. Her eyes flashed quickly up at the mirror: David had not moved. Unfastening her bra, she left it fall open and then had it join her tunic. She did not turn around, but knew that, if David really was looking, he had a clear view of her breasts in the mirror. She was both surprised and pleased to see that her nipples had grown hard. Apparently, she was finding this whole exhibitionist thing quite a turn-on.

She was tempted, although only slightly, to turn around and give David a complete view, but she feared that might finally send him over the edge and he would run off.

Might be fun, though . . .

Sighing, she pulled the oversized tunic over her head. She never slept with a bra on anyway, but she knew those nights were coming. Gathering up her pants and shirt, she turned and opened the door. David quickly looked away. Wendy hid a small, smug smile.

“It’s okay,” she called to him, trying not to laugh. “I’m dressed.”

David’s eyes came up and then widened slightly as they passed her breasts. They remained there for probably a moment longer than he intended before moving back to her face. Wendy regarded him evenly, as if she had seen nothing. She knew what he had seen. The tunic she now wore did little to hide the natural shape of her breasts or their aroused state.

“I think I’d better go to bed now,” she softly as she walked past him. She was aware that David’s eyes followed her intently.

Entering the bedroom again, she tossed the clothing she carried onto one of the existing piles, along with a silent promise to do some washing the next day. She turned to face David, who remained just on the other side of the doorway.

“Thank you for everything,” she told him, while taking a step closer.

David’s eyes watched her, flowing every moment of her body. His mouth worked, but no words came forth. Wendy leaned forward to kiss him lightly on the cheek, but at the last instant changed her mind.

Her lips met his, softly at first. He reacted with surprise, but did not pull away. Wendy figured he was too stunned to react and began to pull away. That was when David surprised her.

His mouth found hers. Wendy melted into his arms and let it happen. His lips were warm and undemanding. He held her gently, supporting her without restricting her movements. He kissed pretty well, Wendy decided, even if a bit tentatively.

It was not a long kiss, but more than sufficient for Wendy to feel its effects throughout her body. Her nipples had grown hard again and she could not deny the moist feeling between her legs. She was certain, from the touch of their bodies, that David was experiencing the male equivalent.

To hell with this . . .

“To hell with this . . .” She whispered it aloud and leaned her face back up toward David’s.

Their lips had just touched when she heard the front door open.

“Wendy?”

Greg’s voice sounded more inquisitive than filled with concern.

DAMN it!

David moved hastily away from her. He wiped at his lips, which, Wendy knew, was unnecessary, as she had not been wearing any lipstick. If he were trying to wipe the guilt away . . . well, that was a whole other issue.

She sighed heavily, glancing for only a moment at David. Crossing her arms over her chest, she called back.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I’m here.”

David’s eyes were wild with apprehension. Greg was not known for his violent behavior. Occasional verbal assaults, sure, particularly when a little drunk, but nothing physical.

Wendy looked at him calmly, hoping her expression would wind him down a little before he said—or did—something foolish. She heard Greg coming toward the hallway. He stopped there when he saw the two figures standing just outside the bedroom. Wendy could not see his expression clearly, but his tone weighed heavy with suspicion.

“I’d heard you’d been hurt . . .” his eyes played over David, “. . . or something.”

“It just felt weak, almost fainted,” she said. She nodded toward David. “David brought me home. He’s with Security, you know.”

And he was about to conduct a full-body search, if you hadn’t interrupted.

She could not decide yet whether the last was a good or bad thing.

Greg studied David warily, but his stance relaxed.

“Oh,” he said flatly. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” David replied, He nodded toward Wendy, his expression impassive. “Dr. Aimes,” he said to her. “I’ll be going now.”

“Thanks, David.”

She gave him a slight, hopefully neutral smile, and watched silently as she he left.

“So you’re okay then?”

Greg sounded more annoyed than relieved, she thought.

“Yeah,” Wendy agreed softly, breathing a slow sigh. “Just . . . tired. I’m going to go to bed.”

“Want me to come?”

“No,” Wendy replied, perhaps a little too quickly, she thought.

No! I’m turned on as hell. And like hell am I going to let you watch me masturbate while I think about another man.

“I’m going to bed,” she repeated. “You can go back to the harvest party . . . or whatever, if you want.”

Greg stared at her and then shrugged. “Sure,” he said, “if that’s what you want.” He looked Wendy over one more time before heading back down the hallway.

Wendy heard the front door close a few moments later. Part of her wanted to cry; another part wanted David to come back. Neither of those parts, she realized distantly, wanted Greg to return.

She turned and went back into the bedroom. Turning off the lights, she dropped onto the bed, ignoring any clothes that might still have remained there. She sighed, noticing that her earlier feelings of intense arousal had fled. It was now just her . . . and the tiny little being growing within her.

That was the last that she remembered before sleep took her. That, and the memory touch of young David’s lips on hers.