The House that I Grew up In

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity for Annabelle. In the mornings, she would head out right after her shower to spend time with Quinn. They went to the movies, to the beach, even just to the grocery store and then back to his house to watch TV and eventually make dinner.

Then Annabelle spent her evenings with Christy, watching movies, listening to music, and often just talking. It was as if Christy’s coldness just days before had disappeared, their friendship right back on track the way it had been before she had ever moved. Although Annabelle had a nagging feeling that her new friendship with Quinn was a part of the reason; the two really could not stand each other.

But the following Saturday, Christy was officially taken off grounding, and Annabelle didn’t see her for a few days as she tried to make up for lost time with Josh and The Girls. Despite a little sting from being so easily dropped, Annabelle had a hard time being annoyed as this left more time for her to spend with Quinn.

Which is exactly what Annabelle did. Although she slept at Christy’s house, most of the rest of her time was spent with Quinn. And Karen. And Forest. And Quinn’s other friends. It was as if, within a week, everyone in Quinn’s life warmly accepted her. Which was such a huge shift from the people in Christy’s life.

And to make matters better, Annabelle was hearing from her mother more frequently now that a phone had been installed within the small town where she was volunteering. Shortly after their trip to Queens, Annabelle had opened up to Quinn about her fears about not hearing from her mother.

It was their first trip to the beach together, and Quinn and Annabelle had been lying on a blanket in the sand side by side. Quinn had been trying to ignore how lean and toned Annabelle’s body was in the simple black one-piece she was wearing, but was failing miserably. If he had only realized that at the same time, Annabelle had been shocked by how much she appreciated Quinn’s tight chest, flat stomach and naturally olive skin, he might not have felt so guilty…

“You’re being quiet,” Quinn had observed, leaning up on his elbows and looking out towards the ocean, trying to turn his attention away from Annabelle’s nearly-naked form beside him. “Is everything okay?”

Touched that Quinn had sensed things weren’t quite right, Annabelle had removed her sunglasses and turned onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow and resting her chin in her hand. “Thank you for noticing,” she had said softly, pausing before continuing. “I don’t want to be a downer…”

Raising his eyebrows in amusement, Quinn had turned his head to meet Annabelle’s nervous dark eyes. “You’re saying this to the guy who, two days ago, brought you to see the house of his best friend, who died in a motorcycle accident where I was driving, high off drugs.” His expression had sobered for a minute, but then he pushed on. “Please, if something’s bothering you, I want to try to be here for you like you were for me. I swear I do. I swear - what did you say the other day? – on our friendship.”

Annabelle had smiled at Quinn’s kindness while she looked into his open face. Biting her lip, she had allowed herself – for the first time – to admit that she was attracted to him. It wasn’t just his mesmerizing green eyes, or the beautiful smile he seemed to save just for her, or his dark hair that was growing out a bit, curlier than she had expected but very sexy. More than that, it was his friendship that attracted Annabelle – the way he put aside his instincts of distrust and had faith in her; his excitement whenever he saw her or introduced her to someone he knew; and the kind, sensitive attention he paid to her emotions. Like he was doing just then.

Surprised at just how attracted to Quinn she was, Annabelle had suddenly sat up. He had done the same, just a moment later, watching as she pulled her long tanned legs up and rested her chin on her knees. Then he had waited patiently until she was ready to continue.

“It’s my mom,” Annabelle had admitted softly, no longer able to meet Quinn’s eyes. “The area where she’s volunteering… it’s very volatile. And I haven’t heard from her in a while – over a week, actually – so I’m just a little nervous.”

Without thinking, Quinn had reached over and placed his warm, strong hand on her bare shoulder. “I can’t believe you haven’t said anything before this,” he told her kindly. “You’ve been listening to all my shit from the past, and you’re worried about your mom’s safety?”

Quinn had been looking at Annabelle with an expression she hadn’t been able to read. If she could have read his mind, it probably wouldn’t have helped much anyway; his mind was a jumble of thoughts.

Quinn was amazed at Annabelle’s selflessness, helping him while she had her own issues to deal with; he was slightly annoyed she hadn’t given him a chance to help her sooner; he felt empathy for her, knowing his mother was the person he cared most for in the world and knowing Annabelle seemed to feel the same way about her mother; but mostly, he felt compassion for the wonderful girl beside him, so far from her familiar world and dealing with the unspeakable burden of worrying about her mother’s safety.

Annabelle had continued talking suddenly, telling Quinn all about the political upheaval of the area where her mother was and the deepest fears she had, which she hadn’t yet even admitted to herself. “I know how much good my mother does,” Annabelle’s voice was fading, filled with sadness as she pulled her knees closer to her chest. “It’s just sometimes… sometimes I wish she wouldn’t do it.”

Steeling herself, Annabelle had expected Quinn to say something sharp about how selfish she was being and how her worries didn’t nearly equate with the good her mother was doing for people desperately in need. After all, these were the thoughts that were going through her head at that moment.

Instead, though, Quinn had shocked Annabelle by leaning over to kiss her cheek, just inches short from her mouth. “Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real,” he whispered softly, intimately, into her ear.

Turning her head nervously, Annabelle had still averted her eyes from Quinn’s. She was embarrassed by her admissions, and completely confused by his statement and action. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said as she stared down at the blanket.

Reaching over with one hand, Quinn had tossed Annabelle’s long auburn hair over her shoulder and cradled her cheek in his palm until she had looked up and met his eyes. “You’re scared for your mother’s safety,” he said softly, the bow in his upper lip prominent as he spoke seriously. “And you haven’t heard from her. You’re scared. You wish you knew she was safe. There’s nothing wrong with that – there’s more than nothing wrong… God, you’re just such a great person.”

Hearing such admiration in Quinn’s voice, and seeing such openness evident in his stare, Annabelle’s eyes had filled with tears as she leaned her face nervously into his hand. “I just don’t want to be selfish,” she whispered.

Smiling a cute, crooked smile, Quinn had shaken his head. “I don’t think you’re capable of being selfish,” he had told her honestly, with evident respect, his face moving slowly closer to hers until Annabelle could feel the heat of his breath against her lips. “You don’t know how to be selfish. Or mean. Or dishonest-”

At that last statement, Annabelle had suddenly been pulled from the warmth and closeness of her moment with Quinn. Jerking her head back, she had surprised Quinn so much he moved his hand as if it was on fire. “I’m sorry, Annabelle,” he had stuttered out quickly, afraid he had done something wrong. Yes, he had wanted to kiss her – but maybe it had been wrong to try to do so when Annabelle was being so open about her mother. He suddenly felt like an ass.

Of course, there was no way Quinn could know the real reason Annabelle had pulled away. It had nothing to do with the fears in his head. Instead, it was guilt that had formed in Annabelle’s gut, knowing Quinn thought she was so honest, yet knowing herself that she hadn’t told him anything about her issues with Christy or how she had lied to Christy’s parents for her.

For a long while, both Annabelle and Quinn had sat silently on the beach, watching the waves breaking on the shore and sure that both were awful people. But their strong feelings for each other eventually took over, and they made a few uncomfortable jokes until each was comfortable enough to believe they had time to make up for their sins to the other.

-----

After the night that Annabelle first heard from her mother, she was so happy she could barely sleep. All she could think about was that her mother was safe, and that she wanted to tell Quinn – who had been so kind to her in her time of need.

The following morning, Annabelle arrived at Quinn’s house just as Karen was walking out the front door. The older woman gave her a welcoming smile, but Annabelle could tell how tired she looked. The hospital where she worked was short-staffed, and Karen had been working long hours for the past couple weeks.

“He’s asleep,” Karen told Annabelle with a grin as she walked towards the teenager. It was hard for Karen to believe that it had only been three weeks since the sweet girl had arrived on her doorstep – literally – and had taken her formerly sullen, depressed and closed-off son by storm. Karen hoped that, one day, she would get to thank Julia Murphy again for giving her not only her sobriety, not only her career, not only her home – but also someone for her son to trust.

Tilting her head to the side, Annabelle gave Karen a concerned look. “How many 12 hour days have you done in a row?” she asked accusatorily.

Laughing, Karen put a hand on Annabelle’s shoulder. “We have two new nurses starting Monday,” she told the concerned girl. “So I promise, only a few more days of this. Now go in and wake my son’s lazy butt up, okay?”

“Okay,” Annabelle smiled back at Karen. “Will you be home by seven? We can have something ready for dinner, if you will. I’ve been wanting to show Quinn how to make chicken parmesan.”

Karen didn’t know if it was her own circumstances, or the pure heart of the sweet girl before her… She heard so many complaints from women at work who had teenage sons themselves, complaints about the girls who came by their houses, rude and distant and ‘dressed like tramps’ (their words, not Karen’s), trying to ‘steal’ their sons. Karen had none of that sort of animosity towards Annabelle. All she felt for the beautiful girls was admiration and respect.

“I should be home by seven,” Karen told Annabelle appreciatively.

With a wave, Annabelle skipped up the front steps of Quinn’s house – although, the closer she got to Quinn and Karen, the more it felt like her old house. Climbing the steps inside the house, she knocked on Quinn’s bedroom door before turning the handle.

Apparently, the knocking hadn’t had much of an effect on Quinn. He was laying on his back, one arm crooked over his head and the other resting on his stomach. His sheets were bunched around his knees, and aside from a pair of thin cotton boxers, he was naked.

Feeling her cheeks heating, Annabelle paused to look at Quinn sleeping. His hair was definitely getting a bit longer – maybe only an inch or two – but much longer than the nearly shaved look he had when she had met him, and the dark curls became his angular face. And although he spent almost no time – aside from his time with Annabelle – outside, his skin glowed a warm olive hew.

Against her will, Annabelle’s eyes moved down over Quinn’s body, and she took in a short breath at how tight and attractive his muscles were. She especially liked his small waist and the way his narrow hips peeked from the top of his boxers.

Having moved to Mexico at thirteen, Annabelle had been given little opportunity before this to have a crush – although she hadn’t realized she’d been missing much. Aside from spending time with a few impoverished boys her age in the town where she lived in Mexico – in a town so poor that neither Annabelle nor the teenage boys in town thought of much besides keeping people healthy and fed - her experience with boys before this summer consisted solely of a few parties in seventh grade she had attended with Christy.

Nothing in her experience could have prepared Annabelle for how beautiful she found Quinn’s sleeping form before her, nor how much she wanted to be closer to him.

Just as Annabelle was having these un-Annabelle-like thoughts, Quinn’s deep green eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times, trying to take in the morning before him. He was confused as he saw Annabelle standing beside his bed blushing, and wondered momentarily if he was dreaming. But unlike in books or movies, in real life it was usually pretty clear when you were dreaming and when you were awake.

Which meant Annabelle WAS standing next to his bed. Where he was lying in just his underwear. And she was blushing.

“Morning,” Quinn mumbled, unsure what he was supposed to say in this situation.

“Morning,” Annabelle’s face was scarlet. “I only just walked in the room,” she suddenly added. “Just this second. Your mom was leaving for work, and told me to wake you. I didn’t realize you weren’t… dressed.”

Leaning up into a sitting position, Quinn rested momentarily back onto the headboard, trying to pull himself out of morning grogginess. God, he thought as he glanced at Annabelle and ran his hands over his face to wake himself up more, could she be prettier?

“I’ll let you get up,” Annabelle quickly stuttered, looking absolutely embarrassed, to a degree that actually amused Quinn. Yes, he was discomfited by the confusion of the moment. But Annabelle seemed downright mortified. “I’ll wait downstairs.”

Just as Annabelle turned, Quinn rose from the bed quickly. Grabbing her hand, he gently turned her towards him. “You don’t have to be so embarrassed,” he told her softly, his voice gravelly from having just woken up. “I mean, I’m the one in my underwear, not you,” he grinned a little.

Looking up into Quinn’s face, Annabelle felt her stomach tumble. “Still, it’s not appropriate,” she said, her cheeks still pink. “I’ll just wait for you downstairs.” She turned again towards the door, feeling Quinn reluctantly releasing her wrist.

“Annabelle,” Quinn’s voice as a bit gentler now, and she turned questioningly.

“Yeah?”

Biting his lip, Quinn looked at Annabelle before him, in her khaki shorts and white tank top, no makeup, hair in a ponytail, looking like she had since he had met her – unadorned, natural, beautiful. Could he say what he was thinking?

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Feeling like the wind got knocked out of her, Annabelle’s eyes widened. “Right now?” she asked, overwhelmed.

Having gotten past the difficult question, Quinn relaxed a bit. “Not necessarily,” he told her with a rueful smile. “I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet. I just mean… do you ever think about it? About kissing me?”

Turning five shades of red, Annabelle didn’t have the courage to continue meeting Quinn’s stare, and had to look at the hardwood floor. “I have… I’ve thought about it. Once or twice.”

The elation that took over Quinn’s body at Annabelle’s words was more that he ever would have expected. “Well, okay, then,” he stuttered, a big grin on his face. “I was just… you know, checking.”

Glancing up and seeing Quinn’s sweet grin, Annabelle couldn’t help but relax a bit. He wasn’t going to try to kiss her just then, which took a big weight off her shoulders. “Okay, well… now you know.”

There was a brief silence, and suddenly both people burst into peals of laughter at the awkwardness of the moment. Quinn sat on the bed and leaned over as he chuckled, while Annabelle had to lean against the doorframe to support her weigh as she laughed heartily.

“Well, I guess I’ll take a shower now,” Quinn couldn’t believe that he had been laughing so hard, tears had begun to fill his eyes. Standing up, the laughter that had taken over the room for the past few minutes finally subsided. “So, I’ll see you downstairs? And then we’ll head out to the art gallery?”

“Sounds good,” Annabelle smiled warmly at Quinn, nodding as she finally headed downstairs. As uncomfortable and strange a moment as that had been, she knew it felt nice – for both of them – to know they were thinking the same things.

Even if Annabelle wasn’t sure she’d ever have the nerve to follow through with actually kissing Quinn…

-----

Despite the initial nervousness that followed between them when Quinn came downstairs a few minutes later, he felt no need to hold back from hugging Annabelle when she told him about her mother’s call the night before.

“She’s safe!” Quinn was ecstatic as he hugged Annabelle tightly, although he didn’t know Julia Murphy at all. “I’m so relieved.”

“Me too,” Annabelle smiled warmly, finally pulling back from Quinn’s hug. The elation of the moment had wiped away any embarrassment about what had happened in Quinn’s room a few minutes earlier.

Both of them sat on the couch and talked about Annabelle’s relief and what was going on with her mother now. After half an hour, they finally fell into companionable silence. “Well, are you ready to head to the gallery?” Annabelle finally asked, glancing at her watch.

Suddenly, Quinn became silent. Annabelle knew he was thinking about something important by the way he bit his lip and avoided her gaze as he wrenched his hands in his lap. Finally, he looked up. “I want to show you something first.” At the nervous look on Annabelle’s face, he burst out laughing. “No, nothing like that. Perv,” he teased.

Blushing, Annabelle watched as Quinn rose and headed towards the stairs. Nervously she followed him, the knot in her stomach growing larger each step they took closer to his room. But suddenly, Quinn stopped and reached towards the ceiling.

Annabelle watched as Quinn pulled down on a rope and a staircase towards the attic opened. She had forgotten there even was an attic! Looking at Quinn questioningly, she waited for him to say something.

“I’ve told you all about my arrest,” Quinn met Annabelle’s eyes completely. “And about Jason. And everything else about my past. But the day I started telling you all that, you hadn’t been actually asking about my past. You asked about how I spent my time. So I wanted to show you.”

Looking up towards the attic, Annabelle looked back at Quinn. “I’m very interesting in seeing,” her voice grew a bit teasing. “Unless you plan to tell me you lock people in your attic and make coats out of their skin.”

“It rubs the lotion on its skin,” Quinn said in his best imitation of Buffalo Bill.

“Funny,” Annabelle replied, not nervous about going into the attic with Quinn because she was afraid he might hurt her. She was more afraid of being in such closed, dark corners with him because she might like it… But this didn’t matter. “I was just kidding,” she told Quinn, giving him a warm smile. “I’d be honored if you showed me how you spend your time.”

Following Quinn up the stairs and into the dark attic, Annabelle gasped as he pulled on a cord and light filled the room. All around her were canvases – drawings, in pencil and in chalk – and all were incredibly impressive.

“I hadn’t so much as lifted a crayon since kindergarten,” Quinn’s face was filled with a rosy hew as he pointed around the attic. “Until I went to juvi. They make you go to a sort of reformatory high school there, and I was forced to take art. Since I didn’t suck at it, my counselor started making me use it as therapy.” Pointing towards one wall, Quinn’s expression suddenly became sullen. “Those are from when I first started. They’re all…” his voice came to a halt.

Moving to stand before the drawings, Annabelle took in a deep breath at the depth and talent glowing in each, almost as expressive as the emotions obviously being articulated by the artist.

“They’re Jason,” Annabelle said simply, looking at the five or six canvases before her; although she had never seen so much as a picture of Jason, she was sure of it. In each drawing, a small, thin, kind-faced young boy looked at her with longing for approval. “They are, aren’t they?” Annabelle looked over her shoulder towards Quinn, her voice softer than usual.

Nodding, Quinn said nothing. “Turns out, I’m not so bad at drawing,” he shrugged, trying to look away from Jason’s accusatory stare, as he always did when he was in the attic. “Plus, I aced the regular classes in juvi, so my parole officer said I should continue with the art. She thinks I could possibly get a scholarship next year.”

“I think you can,” Annabelle said without hesitation. “Quinn, seriously… these are amazing.”

In each drawing, not only was a person’s image projected onto the canvas, but so much more… their personality, the issues they were dealing with at the moment, their fears and hopes, that exact moment in time in their lives. “You are a brilliant artist.”

When his parole officer said it, or his mother, Quinn normally shrugged away their compliments, assuming they were trying to aid his ‘recovery’. But he trusted Annabelle completely; she wouldn’t lie to him. If she said she thought he was brilliant, she did. “You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that,” Quinn smiled shyly at Annabelle. “Your opinion means so much to me.”

At that moment, their short conversation earlier that morning in Quinn’s room flashed through Annabelle’s mind. She had thought – more than once or twice, to be honest – about kissing him. And he had admitted the same to her. Now the intimacy of the moment got to be too much.

“Well, if you’re ready to go to the gallery,” Annabelle said suddenly, with a small grin. “I’d love to have the opinion of a real artist on the modern art exhibit they have going right now.”

As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, Quinn was a bit deflated that Annabelle wanted to go straight to the gallery. He hadn’t shown her his drawings in the hope of being allowed to touch her finally; but it would have been a big bonus.

“I’m ready,” Quinn forced himself to smile at Annabelle. “Let’s go.”

-----

After visiting the art gallery, and then going to the grocery store, and then preparing dinner, Annabelle and Quinn finally sat down on the couch around 6:30. Moments later, the phone rang, and Quinn answered it.

“A double?” Quinn’s voice was filled with hostility, and Annabelle immediately realized what was happening. Karen was calling to say she had to work another shift at the hospital. After listening to Quinn sadly argue with his mother – concern evident in his voice – he finally conceded and hung up.

“She works too much,” Quinn sat back down on the couch, frowning.

“She does,” Annabelle agreed, reaching over to squeeze Quinn’s hand soothingly.

For several minutes Quinn said nothing, focusing all his energy on feeling Annabelle’s hand in his own. When she finally suggested that they eat dinner, he reluctantly released her fingers from his grasp.

During dinner, Quinn and Annabelle discussed many things: Karen working too much; Julia’s safety; Quinn’s art; Annabelle’s experiences in other countries. They talked long past when they finished their food, and even past when the sun had set.

“Oh, it’s pretty late,” Annabelle noticed it was almost nine. She was shocked, as she couldn’t believe over two hours had paced while she and Quinn had spoken. It had felt like almost no time at all.

“Wait, if you can I mean,” Quinn stood up from the table. “You’re usually hanging out with Christine after dark, so I never get to show you this.”

Annabelle, curious, followed Quinn out back. The back porch was much as she remembered it, with a small patio set to one side and a barbecue to the other. But set out on the grass was something that hadn’t been there when she lived there.

“What’s this?” Annabelle asked as she approached Quinn on the lawn. He was already maneuvering the contraption.

“Jason loved science,” Quinn’s voice was soft as he leaned forward, moving some dials on the machine. “Especially stars. This was his pride and joy – his telescope. He got it for his twelfth birthday. His parents gave it to me after…”

Annabelle didn’t say anything as Quinn continued fiddling with the telescope. Instead, she went inside quickly to grab a blanket and returned back outside, where she spread the blanket on the lawn.

Once everything was set, Quinn brought Annabelle over to look through the telescope. Though he, himself, had never had much interest in science, Jason’s love of the stars had been contagious. Despite his bad-ass attitude, Quinn had gotten very lost in his interest in astronomy.

As Quinn showed Annabelle a few constellations, his voice grew with excitement. Annabelle loved seeing him like this – innocent, energized, candid, childlike. After nearly an hour, they finally sat down on the blanket and looked up at the stars with their naked eyes.

Sitting in silence, Annabelle was awed by the wide black expanse above them and laid back to take in as much as possible. Quinn followed suit, and soon they were both on their backs, side by side, watching the stars.

After a while though, it was only Annabelle watching the stars. Quinn had turned his head to look at Annabelle’s profile in the moonlight and was taken again at how naturally beautiful she was.

Annabelle didn’t notice Quinn looking at her until he reached for her hand and entwined his fingers with hers. Tilting her head, she blushed as she smiled at him. “This is really nice,” she said softly. “Thanks, Quinn.”

“It is,” Quinn leaned up a bit on one arm and over towards Annabelle, using his free hand to run his fingers over her cheek. “But the truth is, it would be a lot better for me if I could kiss you right now.”

Suddenly, Annabelle turned her face from Quinn but said nothing. A moment later, she felt him shift his weight closer to her and whisper in her ear. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, that’s okay,” Quinn’s voice sounded sad. “I just thought… after what you said this morning…”

Turning her head back to face him, Annabelle’s cheeks were red with embarrassment. “I do want you to kiss me, but…” she stopped short, looking down towards their entwined fingers.

But Quinn wasn’t about to let this go without at least discussing it. He’d waited almost a month, and if Annabelle didn’t want to kiss him, that was one thing. But if she did, but something was holding her back, he’d be damned if he didn’t get to the bottom of it.

Sliding his hand over Annabelle’s bare arm as they both moved onto their sides facing one another, Quinn refused to say anything until Annabelle finally met his eyes once more. “Was I reading you wrong?” Quinn asked her gently, locking his gaze with hers. “Do you not want to kiss me?”

Unable to pull her eyes from his, Annabelle felt ridiculous, but knew Quinn deserved the truth. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” her voice was nervous. “I just… I’ve never… I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Looking at the strikingly beautiful, kind, funny, generous seventeen-year-old girl before him, Quinn’s eyes opened in surprise. “I never even thought of that,” he admitted, feeling admonished. “I’m sorry I was pushing-”

Suddenly, and out of nowhere, Annabelle leaned her face towards Quinn’s and gently pressed her lips to his. They both closed their eyes as they softly and innocently kissed, both unconsciously moving closer until they were pressed flush against one another. At that moment, Annabelle’s mouth opened a bit nervously, and their kiss deepened.

Annabelle felt a warmth move over her whole body as she rolled onto her back and brought Quinn with her, blanketing her body. His mouth was hot and moist against hers, his tongue gently probing hers in a way that made her skin heat up. His hands quickly slid into her hair as she wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him closer. The kiss seemed to last forever, but then it was over too soon. Quinn quickly slid from Annabelle’s body to her side, but kept his arms securely around her waist.

“I wasn’t trying to push you,” Quinn reiterated the point he had been trying to make before Annabelle kissed him. “But I’m glad you pushed.”

Laughing, Annabelle buried her face into Quinn’s neck. “I was afraid I wouldn’t know what to do,” she admitted, admiring the scent of his skin as she lay close to him. “I didn’t want to be terrible.”

With a warm chuckle, Quinn hugged Annabelle close. “Well, you certainly weren’t terrible,” he whispered into her hair. “That may have actually been the best first kiss in the history of mankind.”

Leaning up on her elbow and meeting Quinn’s stare, Annabelle was blushing, but her eyes were twinkling. “Should we dare try a second?” she asked, smiling mischievously.

“Oh, I think we’ll have to try way more than a second, or third, or forth,” Quinn pulled Annabelle down to him as she dissolved in giggles, which quickly subsided as her mouth met Quinn’s again. This time, there was no fear or nervousness; just the warmth of his breath, the strength of his lips, the comfort of his embrace, the hardness of his body below hers…

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