The Right Thing

Roy barely registered the forest anymore.

All he could see was her.

Elaine was warm against him, her body pressed close as she kissed him with an urgency that caught him off guard. Not tentative. Not careful. Her mouth moved against his with need behind it, hands gripping his shoulders as if he were the only solid thing left in the world. He tasted salt on her lips and wondered, dimly, if it was sweat or tears or both.

He should have stopped it. He knew that. But he did not.

His hands came up of their own accord, one settling at her back, the other sliding to her waist. She made a small sound at that, something between a sigh and a sob, and it went straight through him. She shifted, climbing onto his lap without asking, knees bracketing his thighs, the movement confident and **** all at once.

God help him, he liked it. Even with all the sexual activity he'd already had in the past two days, he wanted it.

Her fingers fumbled at the hem of her shirt, tugging it upward, breaking the kiss only long enough to pull it over her head and let it fall to the ground beside the bench. She leaned back in, kissing him again, her skin warm beneath his palms, her black lacy bra a stark, intimate contrast against the green and brown of the forest around them.

This was wrong.

This was very, very good.

Her hands slid to his chest, unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time, slow but intent, as if grounding herself in the small, familiar act. Roy felt himself respond despite every warning bell in his head. His heart raced. His body betrayed him completely.

Then he saw her eyes.

Just for a second, as she pulled back to catch her breath, he saw it. The shine there. The wetness she had not wiped away. The grief still sitting behind the desire, heavy and unresolved.

Something in him twisted. He gently caught her wrists before she could undo another button.

"Elaine," he said, her name strange and precious on his tongue.

She froze.

Her eyes flicked over his face, searching. Fear crept in around the edges of her expression. "What? Did I do something wrong?" she asked quickly. "I can stop if you want. I just thought..."

"No," he said, too fast. He softened his grip, keeping his hands warm, steady. "No. You did nothing wrong. I just... we need to slow down."

Her brow creased. "You don't want me?"

He swallowed. The answer to that, threatening to burst through the material of his khaki pants, was painfully obvious. He gave a short, humourless laugh. "That is very much not the problem."

She waited, still straddling him, hands resting on his chest now as if afraid to move them again.

"You're grieving," he said carefully. "You just said goodbye to your husband. To the life you had with him. And I don't want to be something you reach for because it hurts too much to be alone right now."

Her eyes filled again, but she did not pull away.

"So what are you saying?" she asked quietly.

"I am saying we can keep going," he said. "Just not here. Not today. You deserve the space to feel what you are feeling without turning it into something else."

She stared at him for a long moment.

Then she smiled.

It was soft. Sad. Full of something that made his chest ache.

"I love you," she said. Just like that. No hesitation. "And you get better every day I know you."

Roy felt that land somewhere deep and unguarded.

She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his for a moment, then carefully climbed off his lap. As she stood and reached for her shirt, he became acutely, painfully aware of how aroused he had become. His body had not gotten the memo about restraint, as a huge tent was showing in his pants.

He shifted on the bench, trying and failing to be subtle.

Elaine noticed.

Her lips twitched.

"Sorry about that," he muttered, gesturing vaguely downward. "Apparently my conscience and the rest of me are not on speaking terms."

She laughed softly, the sound easing something tight between them.

"Come on," she said, slipping her shirt back on and offering him her hand. "We should head back."

He took it, grateful for the distraction, and rose carefully, still hoping the forest was forgiving of human awkwardness.

As they started down the trail together, her fingers laced through his, warm and certain.

And despite everything, Roy found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, he had done one thing right.