"We're sorry, Lainey," Dolores had said sincerely. "We didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I keep forgetting that times have changed."
"Just be careful," Ralph had said, giving Lainey an affectionate squeeze. "We love you, and we can't help worrying."
"We just want you to be happy," Dolores added.
"I know," Lainey had said, loving them the more for caring, for understanding.
The strain had eased between Lainey and her parents after that, and she and Micah had spent several pleasant evenings with her folks, either at home watching TV, or going out to dinner and a movie.
After two weeks, it seemed as though Micah had always been a part of her life; after three weeks, she wondered how she'd ever lived without him; after a month, Lainey knew she was hopelessly in love.
With a flourish, Lainey typed "The End" on the last page of her manuscript. At last, it was finished!
She sat back in her chair, grinning broadly. She'd written furiously for the last month, anxious to finish her book so she could spend all her time with Micah, and now it was done.
And it was good.
She backed up her work on a floppy disk, turned off the computer and went into the kitchen. Tomorrow, she would send a copy of the manuscript to her editor.
Tonight, it was time to celebrate.
She was reaching for the bottle of champagne she'd bought for just this occasion when she felt Micah's arms steal around her waist.
"You are done early today," he murmured, his breath warm against the side of her neck. "Is something wrong?"
"No." She leaned back against him, everything else forgotten as his hands teased their way up to cup her breasts. She stared at his fingers, so long and brown, at the thin layer of webbing between his thumb and forefinger, at the faint blue glow of his skin, and thought he had the most beautiful hands she had ever seen. "The book's done. It's time to celebrate, just the two of us."
"Lainey..." He bent forward and pressed his cheek to hers. How had he ever thought his life complete before now? He had spent years traveling through space, seeking, searching for some-thing to add color and light to his life and he had found it in the heart of the woman enfolded in his arms.
He whispered her name, his body coming to life, swelling, surging with desire, with the need to hold her, to be a part of her. To make her a part of him. He would never forget the first time they made love, never forget the sense of wonder, the feeling of humility, that had washed over him when Lainey had allowed him to hold her, to touch her, to learn what it meant to be a part of another being. There were no words in his language to describe what he felt when they made love, no words to express the depth of emotion that filled his soul. No words to tell her how grateful he was for the precious gifts she had given him - the gifts of her love, her trust.
He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the flowery, feminine scent. If he were deaf and blind, he thought, he would be able to find Lainey by her scent alone.
She turned in his arms, her mouth seeking his. Heat suffused him as she pressed against him. Her breasts were warm against his chest, her hands eager as they roamed across his back, slid over his buttocks, caressed his thighs. His breath quickened and he groaned low in his throat as her tongue teased his lips.
"Micah..."
He looked down at her, his body trembling with desire, and still he waited, waited for her silent nod that said it was all right for him to take her. She often kidded him about that, but even though they had made love every night for the past three weeks, and often during the day, he still waited for her to tell him it was all right.
"Why do I have to give you my permission every time?" she had asked him one night. "You must know I want you as much as you want me.''
And he did know. He had learned to recognize the smoky look in her eyes that meant she wanted him, but her loving was too precious, too great a gift, to ever take for granted.
A faint smile curved Lainey's lips as she gazed up at him, and then she nodded.