Page 31 of Bartholomew
It was an act of temperance, this game I had begun with her. I could neither ignore her nor fulfill the thoughts that were running amuck in my brain. Thoughts of showing her just how good it could be between two people: between a husband and a wife. Her admission last night had been the most raw and honest thing I had seen in a long time, and it only made me hungry for more of her. There was something underneath the polished surface that was Delilah.
The rest of last night had been full of laughter and smiles. So had most of today. She had shown me little slivers of the person who lay beneath that surface, and I was desperate for more. I wanted her to be herself more than just about anything in this world. And I wanted to kiss her again. That kiss had been the product of my sheer inability to keep myself from flirting with a beautiful woman. I had intended to entice her with that kiss; to show her a tiny taste of what was to come should she want it. Instead, she had stolen my breath just as much as I believe I had stolen hers. There was a sensuality in her kiss that you just couldn’t teach. She reacted to me as though our lips were caught up in a dance only we knew the steps to. Those were only the first steps of said dance, but I was ready to learn more. I thanked the proverbial sky daddy Jesus himself for that question that had popped into my head at that last moment. I hadn’t known what to say or how to react. All I had wanted to do was pull her into my arms and show her just how good my lips would feel on other parts of her body. The question of snacks had popped into my head and then she had enticed me further with the promise of this mythical loaded popcorn.
Loaded popcorn. My mouth almost watered at the memory of the decadent treat. I would never have put that combination together in a million years. It had opened the door to more conversation about Delilah’s life growing up. As the oldest of five sisters, she had a burden she carried with her, even now. Throw in the abuse hurled at her from every angle. It was no wonder she was timid and quiet. It was no wonder she did her best to hide away. She hadn’t come out and said that her family had been abusive, but the foundation of every story she told made it clear, even the good ones, about things like sneaking loaded popcorn into their rooms as kids.
The undercurrent of snarky comments and vitriol from her family had started long before I would have ever imagined. And that was something I simply would no longer abide. So, I had made a promise to myself to work on Delilah. To show her she had worth exactly how she was, and that worth had nothing to do with what she could do for people. She had value, just as she was.
Things would have been a million times easier had we both grown up in the “real world”. Hell, one trip to Abditory would show her just how valued and desired beautiful, curvy bodies were in the kink world alone. But we had not grown up in the real world. We were from Zion; a place where misogyny reigned supreme and where women were little more than owned breeding stock.
It was like a lightbulb had switched on in my brain. Hearing her talk about her childhood and these brief moments of joy had made things clear. Yes, it was obvious how the people of Zion treated her. Yes, my own parents had issues as long as a grocery list. But never had I expected that her own family — her parents and her sisters — would treat her how everyone else did. No wonder she was shy and quiet.
It didn’t matter how they had treated her, not anymore, at least. This home would be just as much of a safe space for her as it was for me, and I would make that happen if it was the last thing I did.
“Delilah?” I called, making my way down the hall from the bedroom. Most of our day had passed with small talk and finding a new level of comfort with one another. It had been easy, relaxed, and wonderful. But I was ready to pick up where last night had left off. I had a plan, and I was ready to put it into action.
“Ollie? In here,” she called from the kitchen. I bee-bopped my way into the kitchen with a spring in my step and a smile on my face. Today would be the day that I showed Delilah that I fully accepted her for exactly who she was. Okay, that was the sweet answer. It was also the day that I was going to show Delilah that she was beautiful exactly how she was, and there was only one way to do that. Operation Get Your Flirt On was… well… on.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I walked into the kitchen to see her on the floor, laying on her side with a bucket of water next to her.
“I’m cleaning the cabinet baseboards,” she stated, huffing in a breath as she scrubbed away at the bit of wood between the cabinets and the floor.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes dramatically. “Come on. Up you go.”
I reached out a hand to her to help her from the floor, but she brushed me off.
“It’s alright. It does me good to get this deep cleaning done, and it passes the time during the day,” she explained as she rigorously scrubbed.
“There are much better ways to pass the time during the day, sugar,” I chuckled. Her eyes didn’t leave that bit of wood; however, a pretty blush marred her cheeks, and I was in. Game on. “Ways that can keep us occupied for hours. And we’d work up just as much of a sweat,” I drawled out slowly, hoping to entice her away from her cleaning.
“Sweaty? Oh mercy,” she muttered, looking down at herself.
“You’re not sweaty, Delilah, but I don’t want you deep cleaning when I’d rather be doing a deep dive into your… um… questions. Yes, the game we never finished yesterday!” I watched her face and breathed a sigh of relief when she hadn’t caught onto the fact that I had almost blurted out just where I wanted to dive into.
“Twenty questions? From last night?” she asked, standing and brushing off the front of her dress, though not a speck was on it.
“That’s the one. It has been on my mind all night and all morning and I’m ready to play.” I couldn’t stop myself from letting my eyes rove down her body and back up again. I could tell she had missed my double entendre, but Sky Daddy Almighty, it was the truth.
“Okay, well, only if you start this time,” she smarted off, picking up the bucket of water and dumping it in the sink.
“I’ll submit to that request. But only that request.” She mumbled the last sentence, but I knew she had heard me. Heard me and not comprehended my meaning. I wondered what that conversation would be like. Telling her everything; telling her the truth, just as Levi and Ruth had done.
“Do I have time to shower first?” she asked, her lower lip stuck between her teeth. I reached out, brushing my thumb over the place where her teeth indented into her skin, her eyes wide on mine as I did so.
“I think we could arrange that,” I murmured softly. She gulped once, releasing her hold on that plump lip before scurrying off towards the bedroom and leaving me chuckling at her retreating form. I busied myself with cleaning up the last bit of things that had gotten left out in the kitchen. The house had been spotless since the day we had arrived here. Delilah was nothing if not fastidious, always diligent in what she considered her household duties. But that was just it. I didn’t want that from her. We were both fully functioning adult humans who could clean a house. It wasn’t solely her responsibility, no matter what Zion had to say about it.
“Okay, let’s get this game over with,” she grumbled as she walked back into the room. The slight smile on her face gave her away. She wasn’t upset about the game at all. If I had to wager a bet, she was nervous, possibly embarrassed. Delightful. My delightful Delilah.
“Yes, indeed. Shall we go back to the living room? I think it’s the perfect night for a fire, so why don’t you grab us drinks and I will start the fire?” As I made my way past her, I let my hand brush against her back. It was no figment of my imagination that she tensed slightly under the touch, but I could see the blush bloom over her cheeks, letting me know that all was well. Good. I wanted her to get more comfortable with my touch.
In no time at all, a fire was roaring beneath the mantle. Delilah perched on the couch, looking like a stiff surfboard. That simply wouldn’t do.
“What refreshments have you made us tonight, Delightful Delilah?” I asked with a grin.
“Delightful Delilah?” she questioned, her nose scrunching in distaste.
“Yup, and get used to it ‘coz that nickname is sticking,” I teased.
“I made you a drink, and I have water for myself,” she answered, gesturing to the glass sitting on the side table nearest me. I picked up with a nod of thanks and took a sip.
