Dear Readers,
Welcome back. I apologize for the wait, but I hope you find it worth it. Please feel free to leave feedback, good or bad. I always love hearing from you guys. And a big thanks to AlreadyTaken, for willingly putting up with my horrific writing and setting me straight.
Enjoy!
Titania
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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"I want a little sugar
In my bowl
I want a little sweetness
Down in my soul
I could stand some lovin'
Oh so bad
Feel so lonely and I feel so sad
I want a little steam
On my clothes
Maybe I could fix things up
So they'll go
Whatsa matter Daddy
Come on, save my soul
Drop a little sugar in my bowl
I ain't foolin'
Drop a little sugar in my bowl"
"I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl" Nina Simone
Despite the lateness of the hour they had at last gone to sleep, Denny was pulled awake just as the dark morning sky was turning gray by a gentle motion in the bed next to him. He instantly recognized the movement as Alessa's ritual as she surfaced from sleep. He cracked his bleary eyes open and saw only her head as her gently undulating body was snuggled deep in his blankets. Somehow, they had become separated through the night so he shifted nearer to bring her back into his arms. But as his arms wrapped around her, it wasn't her creamy skin he touched, rather the pajamas she had doffed before climbing into his bed. His brow was curious as he wondered when she had slid her clothing back on. And why.
It was gradual, her mind transitioning from sleep to slow-moving consciousness, but he felt it all the same because she stopped moving her feet against each other. He propped himself up on his elbow, his smiling face resting on his hand as he looked down at her, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. Denny felt her ribcage expand with a deep breath, and then she was turning over toward him, her eyes slumberous, but tinged with cagy consideration. Her mouth was soft and almost pleasant.
"Morning," he greeted, his hand finding the bottom edge of her top, his fingertips sliding over the warm skin there.
Her smile was shy and small. She said nothing, waiting for him to make a move. Denny merely tugged the bottom of her shirt and lifted a dark eyebrow, a silent question coated in playful rebuke. Her mouth twisted as she fought a smile. She shrugged and looked away.
"I woke up cold," she lied. "I had to go to the bathroom and I was cold so I put them back on." She turned her blue eyes back to him, daring him to disagree. But Denny simply gave her a piercing, scrutinizing look, indicating he knew it wasn't the truth, but his choice to say nothing allowed him to hold the power.
"Hungry?" he asked. When she nodded, he offered breakfast. "What would you like?"
"Oatmeal?" she stated in a question, hoping he had it available.
Denny thought the choice a little boring, but decided to give her what she wanted. "How about eggs, too?" Again she nodded. "Okay, well, I'm going to make myself my grandma's monkey bread, and you have to at least try a bit, okay?"
She smiled at the funny name. "Monkey bread?"
"Yeah, pull-apart bread. You'll love it," he promised, placing a quick kiss on her closed mouth and then sliding naked from the bed. Seeing his bare backside, Alessa smiled and quickly turned her gaze away. But why should she? So her eyes slowly slid back to watch him reach down and pull his boxers back on. She watched the bunching and playing of muscles across his back and legs as he walked to the bathroom, disappearing inside. She could hear him relieve his bladder and then run water and brush his teeth. She laid there, the sounds of another's life washing surrealistically over her.
Denny left the room dressed in his pajama pants and t-shirt, headed for the kitchen, and when she could hear more sounds indicating he was busying himself with their breakfast, she emerged from the blankets and went to the bathroom herself. She stopped in front of the mirror, smiling at seeing her toothbrush laid out with toothpaste already applied. She quickly cleaned her teeth and washed her face. As she pulled her chaotic mess of brown locks up in a ponytail, she found herself studying her face, looking for any trace of a change, or trace of recognition. Who was the woman staring back who had said and done the things she had last night? She noticed she blushed and sighed with a roll of her eyes. She was hopeless.