This is the last chapter. I tried to do something different with this one, make it a little more plot driven, play with my writing style a bit, and I'm not too sure it was successful, but thanks to those of you who stuck with it.
Tracey thanks for the compliment! But if I really did write for CJ, Woody and Jordan would have hooked up a loooooong time ago!
One year later...
She swirled the wine in her glass and stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. Woody sat at the other end of the bed with her feet in his lap.
"You're not sleepy, are you?" he asked.
She smiled dreamily. "No. The fire was just making me kind of drowsy, I guess," she murmured back and shut her eyes.
It had been Woody's idea to come here. She had objected when he said he wanted to take her to a bed and breakfast for a weekend get-away, but as she lay stretched out in front of the fire on the canopy bed, she found herself enjoying the silly romance novel fantasy. It had been just what she needed.
"Because if you want to just go to sleep, that would be fine. I want you to be perfectly comfortable," he said with understanding, although she could detect the hint of disappointment in his voice.
He'd been very patient this last year. They had avoided the subject of their relationship while they were both in counseling. It was too soon. Then, he had returned to work, Kevin Weems' trial had ended, and as the weather warmed, they had begun a slow dance toward each other.
The emotional part had been surprisingly easy. It was what she wanted; she finally knew that, but the physical part had been difficult. There were the initial awkward fumblings, like eighth graders at a school dance.
But she could finally sense the feelings of desire spilling back into her, the way it feels to come into a warm room after being out in the cold air for a long time. It had not been taken away from her after all.
She had always been at ease with her own body and her sexuality, but the thoughts of the inevitable, ultimate physical intimacy terrified her. Her mind flashed back to the debacle of the night when she had invited Woody into her bed and then had scratched at him with a blinding panic.
She wanted it; she wanted that closeness with Woody. But what if it happened again?
Now, here they were together, her body warmed and relaxed from the wine and the fire. She smiled a slow smile and sat up.
"I don't want to go to sleep, Woody."
She leaned over and kissed him, long and inviting. When the kiss broke he searched her face.
"Are you sure, Jordan?" he asked with a whispered concern.
"I'm sure." Without breaking his admiring gaze, she slowly slipped off her shirt and then moved her fingers to his buttons.
He slid his arms around her bare back and pulled her in for another kiss. "You're shivering."
"It's okay. I'm just chilly, I guess."
"Jordan, we're sitting in front of a roaring fire," he said gently.
She looked away and ran her finger down the length of his arm. "I'm a little...nervous," she said in a small voice.
He kissed her softly. "It's okay. It's just me."
She nodded and nuzzled in next to him. "You're shaking, too, Woody."
There was a pause. "Am I?" He covered her shoulders with small kisses. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmured. "If you're not sure about this..."
She put a finger to his lips and answered him by stretching back out on the bed and pulling him down to her.
It had been a difficult year. Perhaps the memories would always be there, but she felt as if her strength was finally returning to her after a long illness.
She smiled up at him. "No. I'm sure."