It’s that way for me, too. His erection proved it.
He pushed back from the table. Are you ready for dessert? I ordered chocolate cream pie.
I’m always ready for chocolate anything.
He pulled two individual chocolate cream tarts from the cooler and set one before her and one at his place.
She took a bite, closing her eyes with pleasure. The food is amazing. All of it. The smoked meats, the cheeses, this pie.
It came from a deli in Coeur d’Alene. He tasted the tart. He had to admit it was the best thing he’d ever eaten
You went all the way there?
It wasn’t far on the hover scooter. Only a dozen miles down the main highway. He would have gone a hundred miles, a thousand miles to please her.
She licked chocolate from her lips.
You missed a spot. He reached across the table and blotted the corner of her mouth with his napkin.
You missed a spot, too. She stood, and, with a swing of her hips, walked around the table, and kissed him.
Oh, that is a much better way. He pulled her onto his lap. Their lips melded in a heated caress, and her low seductive moan heaped fuel on the fire. He swept his tongue in her mouth. She tasted like chocolate, whipped cream, and woman.
She nibbled at his mouth. He trailed his lips along her exposed shoulder.
Though desire strummed a heavy beat, he limited himself to passionate kisses and over-the-clothing caresses, conscious of her inexperience and the growing hunch she could be his genmate. There should be no doubts for either of them when they consummated their bond. Besides, an open gazebo did not afford privacy.
He’d shared more of himself with her than anyone. She invited confidence with her open, acceptance of who he was, what he could do. For the longest time, he’d felt isolated from his fellow castaways, sensing their wariness. Wingman, especially, had been suspicious, although Psy had won him over. But he did not take acceptance for granted.
She pressed her face to his throat and released a happy contented sigh. This has been the best date of my entire life. Not that there have been that many. Her self-deprecating laugh sounded sweet to his ears.
It’s the same for me.
You’re a special man. She stroked his cheek with her finger. You’ve given me a huge gift. Communicating with you makes me aware of how much I’ve missed, how much I don’t say because writing is so laborious. I’ve never been able to have a long conversation with anyone like I have with you. My interactions with people are shallow. Most aren’t even personal!
She flipped through the pages of her notebook, showing him preprinted messages.
Hello, I’m Cassie. I can’t speak, but I can hear, and I can write. How can I help you today?
I can ring you up. How would you like to pay for that?
I’m fine. How are you?
Yes, thank you.
No, thank you.
She snapped the notebook closed. I’ve discussed more with you today than I have with anyone in my entire life—including my mother.
Her pensiveness washed over him. I didn’t mean to make you sad. Since she couldn’t speak, telepathy had seemed like a logical solution. Most communication is just idle chit chat. Audio filler. A person asks, “How are you?” but he doesn’t expect a genuine or personal reply.
There’s still the potential for deeper conversation. She slid off his lap and stalked to the edge of the gazebo, staring at the field. A bee buzzed at her face. She gave a little squeal and swatted it away.
Psy rose from his chair and came up behind her.
The sun hung low in a blushing sky, the sunset hues reminding him of ’Topian skies, which were always pink. Homesickness crept in, but he pushed it aside because looking backward couldn’t restore what had been lost. His future resided in the present, on Earth. With Cassie.
He recalled again her laughter, her passionate moans, the little squeal she’d just made. For a woman who couldn’t speak, she emitted a lot of sounds. Her vocal cords hadn’t developed by birth, but what if that had changed? What if she had acquired the ability to speak since then? When were your vocal cords examined last?
She turned. When I was a baby. Why?
Maybe the situation has changed.
It hasn’t.
How do you know?
I just do. She touched her throat. If I try to speak, my throat closes up, and I can’t breathe.
Odd. He frowned. That doesn’t happen when you laugh or groan, does it?
No.
I’m no expert in human anatomy, but I’ve noticed you make noises. Maybe that’s a sign you might be able to speak.
Dogs bark, growl, howl, and yelp, but they can’t speak.
Maybe they are speaking, but humans don’t understand their language.
Like you said, you’re not an expert in human anatomy—or canine anatomy for that matter. My mother took me to every expert she could find.
Maybe your medical science has advanced in two decades.
Why do you keep harping on that? I will never be able to speak! You’re acting like all the rest! You prefer a speaking person!
That’s not what I’m saying at all! He raked his hands through his hair. He was botching this. She’d said she preferred open, direct questions, but obviously, he’d touched a nerve.
Pleasure and intimacy had vanished. Anger and hurt filled the void.
Her face reddened, and she balled her fists. What happened to me is unfixable! I believed you accepted me, disability and all. You don’t. You’re trying to change me. I’m not good enough the way I am.
He was horrified she’d misunderstood. That’s not true. I asked about it because you seemed upset at not being able to speak.
They had brought a med pod with them from ’Topia. The unit hadn’t been calibrated for human anatomy and physiology per se, but perhaps it could repair or regenerate her vocal cords. No guarantees, but wasn’t it worth a try? He’d hoped to broach the possibility, but she would not be receptive right now.
Take me home. She crossed her arms and pressed her lips together.
Please…wait, listen to me. He should have allowed her deeper access to his mind so she would see he’d had the best intentions. She desperately yearned to speak. He wanted it for her because she desired it. Whether she spoke or didn’t speak didn’t matter to him.
I’m done talking to you. Get out of my head! Now!
The Code of Conduct left him no choice. She’d rejected the mind-link, and he had to withdraw.
I’m sorry. He retreated.
She pivoted, charged down the steps, and stomped through the lavender field.
Chapter Six
“You’re home early.” Rosalie shifted her attention from the television.
Cassie had hoped to slink into her room unseen. However, it wasn’t even nine o’clock—of course her mother still would be awake. And since this was Cassie’s first date in years—she would have waited up no matter what the time.
The start of something wonderful had ended badly, and guilt had begun to needle her, although none of what had happened was her fault. She had a right to be angry and disappointed. Psy’s acceptance had been a sham. He was no different than anyone else.
Her mother scanned Cassie’s face. “It didn’t go well?”
She shrugged.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. What happened?” Her mother switched off the TV.