Chapter 96

Surrounded by bags of icing and dishes of sparkly decorating sugar, Cilla eyed the pile of buttery sugar cookies. She had two dozen princesses and fairies to decorate for Abby and now, with Sid headed for home, the shop closed for the night and her music blaring, she could get them finished without interruption. Picking up the first one she debated before reaching for the first bit of icing.

With the music up she didn’t hear the door open. Jon stood and watched her for a moment, his gut clenching just like it had the first time he had ever seen her. She was here in her kitchen, decorating cookies as if she hadn’t a care in the world, like the last few months hadn’t ever happened. Would their lives ever get back to being this simple again? He moved so his shadow would fall across the table. He didn’t want to scare her.

Cilla was just sprinkling the fairy wings with glittery sugar when a long shadow crept over her work space. With a smile she looked up. “Hi.”

He reached out and stroked a finger down her cheek, wiping away a smear of sugar. “Hi. You’re working awfully late.” He was hoping to take her out to dinner. They hadn’t been able to go out much lately. With his schedule and her not feeling her best, they had been staying in a lot.

“I want to get these done so I can bring them with me tomorrow.” She looked up at him “want to help me?”

He crooked an eyebrow, “you want me to help you decorate cookies?” Was she kidding? He couldn’t remember ever decorating a cookie. Not even at Christmas when he was growing up.


She got up, turned the music down and dragged a stool over. “Come on, surely even the big, bad rock star can sprinkle sugar on a cookie.”

Sitting down next to her he looked over at what she had done so far.

She had given them all dark hair and blue eyes, trying to make them look as much like Abby as she could remember. The dresses on the princesses were each a different color and the icing had a sheen that shimmered in the light and the wings on the fairies sparkled like highly polished gemstones.

“These are amazing” he told her as he reached for one.

She grabbed his hand. “They aren’t for you. No touching.”

“I wasn’t going to eat it. I just wanted a closer look.” Pulling his fingers from hers, he picked one up and studied it. “You made them look like her, didn’t you?” Their conversation from the other night came back to him and he remembered her description of the little girl.

Cilla nodded. “Yeah. I thought she might get a kick out of it.”

He had no doubt the girl would love them. “What do you want me to do?”

She motioned to the sink, “first, you need to wash your hands.”

Obediently he did what he was told. “Now what?” he asked as he sat back down.

She nudged a bowl of the decorating sugar toward him. “When I’m finished with the icing you can sprinkle the sugar on the wings. Think you can handle that?”

He watched quietly as she transformed the plain golden sugar cookie into a lovely little fairy with practiced ease. It was fascinating to him to watch her work. She made it look so easy bringing that little fairy to life with nothing other than a few colors of icing. When her lips pursed in concentration he had to laugh.

She dropped the icing bag and looked up at him. “What’s so funny?”

“I didn’t think anyone made that face but me.”

Her brow wrinkled. “What face?” Had she been making a face?

“This one.” He gave her his best duck face.

She laughed. She had seen that face so many times, but never up close and in person. “I did not!”

Smiling, he shook his head. “Yes you did.”

Still chuckling she shrugged it off. “I did? I must have been concentrating and didn’t realize I was doing it.” She slid the cookie she had finished toward him. “You ready?”

He pinched a bit of sugar between his finger and thumb. “Just sprinkle it on?”

Leaning into him, she laid her hand gently over his, “like this” and she directed his hand and helped him dust the wings of the fairy with the glittering sugar.

When his fingers were empty of sugar he slid his hand down her side and cupped her bottom, pulling her closer as he turned his head. “How’d I do?”

She closed her eyes, his lips were right there; barely grazing her skin and his warm breath raised goose bumps as it ghosted over her. Her tongue snuck out to wet her lower lip. “You’re a natural.”

He pursed his lips, brushing them against her cheek. He was ready to forget the cookies and take her right here on her work table. The days since the fundraiser, when she had last been in the mood, had been for him anyway, long and frustrating. “How many more?”

“Ten.”

He growled quietly. “Let’s get them done.”

She started on the next, not knowing what to do. How could she tell him that while her heart and head wanted nothing more than to say 'screw the cookies and let's go home,' her body just wasn’t cooperating? She felt her need for him in every part of her but one. How could her body betray her like this?

They worked quickly, getting the cookies finished and put into the cooler to set. She cleaned up the mess and got things ready for the morning without a word; she just couldn’t find the right ones.

After she had locked the door Jon cupped her cheek, raising her face to his. The gray eyes he loved so much were troubled and sad. “What is it Sweets?”

Looking up into his earnest blue eyes she just opened her mouth and let the words tumble out. “I want you Jonny, I do, but I’m not … I don’t know if I …” she trailed off, hoping he would understand.

He nodded slightly. Now he understood her abrupt turn around. He had actually been waiting for this. The doctor had told them that there could be trouble in this area for her, but there were ways to deal with it. He had a plan and something that would help her. They just needed to get back to his apartment. With his lips he shushed her. “I’ve got it covered babe. Let’s go home.”

Taking his hand she followed blindly. What could he possibly mean by that? What did he have covered? How was he going to get her body to cooperate when she herself couldn’t? He was persuasive, she would give him that, but persuasiveness only went so far. If her body didn’t respond, what could he possibly do to change that?

They stopped at Lure on the way, picking up some dinner before continuing on to his place. He was constantly touching her; a light stroke of his fingers up her arm, a slight caress across the back of her neck. He wanted to keep her focused on him and nothing else. Detouring to the kitchen he put their dinner on the counter, keeping his fingers laced with his. Back tracking, he led her up the stairs and into his room.

Stopping by the bed he let her hand go long enough to turn on the light. Turning back to her he could see the wariness on her face. One slightly calloused fingertip trailed lightly down the side of her face. "Trust me Sweets” he whispered as he moved behind her. “It's going to be all right." His fingers slid up and loosened the knot of her hair, letting it fall down her back.

She closed her eyes, feeling his hands move over her. Reaching behind her she gripped his hard, denim clad thighs. His touch, his movements were an echo of another time, their first time together. Her head dropped back, resting against his shoulder as his hands skimmed up her sides. When he nudged at the collar of her shirt she turned her head and caught the corner of his mouth with her own.

He kissed her fully, turning her in to his embrace. He worked the buttons of her shirt, dropping it to the floor, groaning into her at the cami she wore underneath. He knew what that meant. Cupping her, cotton and all, he dragged his thumbs lightly back and forth across the distended tips. Sliding the cami up and off, his mouth closed over one pretty pink nipple; circling it with his tongue, sucking it gently between his lips.

Drawing on a patience and control he didn’t know he had, he urged her back, laying her across the bed. Peeling off his shirt, he ignored the growing ache in his jeans, his focus entirely on her. He kept his touch feather light, drawing out her sighs of pleasure and pleas of more. He wanted her totally wrecked, destroyed beyond reason. The only thoughts he wanted in her head were of him. Only him.

She writhed beneath him, his touch was agony and ecstasy at the same time. Her hands moved over him, his chest hot and hard under her palms. When her hands slid lower, he stopped her, lacing his fingers with hers. “Jonny, I want to…” he cut her off.

He couldn’t let her touch him. He would never make it. “Just let me take care of you baby.”

Then his mouth moved over her any thought she had was forgotten.

When he moved over her, when she had him cradled between her thighs, his hand moved between them. What had always been a warm, easy glide for him, wasn’t quite what it used to be. Reaching for the night table, he found the bottle he had stowed there. He coated his fingers with the lubricant and slid them easily inside her, his thumb pressing against the knot of nerves above.

His name was a scream off her lips when the release came. He kept his fingers moving, pushing her up and over once more before pulling his hand away. Poised above her, he waited, watching her face, her eyes clearing. When he was sure she was with him, he pressed forward, sliding home gently, easily. He kept the movements slow, pushing them both toward the rise and when they fell, they fell together, giving each other everything.

When only the echo of their love making remained, still they clung tightly to each other. Where he stopped and she started he couldn’t say; he didn’t care. She was all that mattered and he couldn’t, wouldn’t lose her.