”’m sorry, ’bout earlier," he said, breaking the silence between them. Edith shrugged, ”who was he, anyway?”
”I don’t know, attention.”
”Why does it bother you so much?”
”You heard me," she stepped closer to him. Arthur's heartbeat quickened, “why does it bother you when men pay me attention?" she raised her eyebrows.
”Doesn’t bother me," she was looking up at him through her eyelashes. His jaw worked and his hands flexed at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.
”You can give me attention too, you know," Edith’s gaze moved to his lips for a split second and then back to his eyes.
”Maybe," Arthur’s head reeled, his breathing quickened. The gap that separated them became smaller and smaller, their chests almost touching. Almost.
”I don’t deserve you,” his voice was low.
”You’re too good for me.”
”Shut up,” she rolled her eyes, ”you think I don’t see it?”
”See what?” his chest heaved.
”The way you look at me.”
”And what way would that be?”
”Like you want me,” she tilted her face towards his.
”Yeah,” her voice was breathy, low. Without thinking Arthur grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in, their lips crashing into each other. His hands moved to her hips, his fingers curling into them, not rough but firm. A moan escaped Edith’s lips and Arthur swallowed it hungrily. The kiss was soft at first but it soon grew deeper, hungrier, needier. Arthur was lightheaded, his knees weak as he grew hot with desire. Her hands were on his chest, pulling at his shirt. No, not like this. He pulled back, to her disappointment. He rested his forehead on hers, catching his breath. His grip was tight on her hips, there was no denying what he wanted.
”You’re too drunk, I’m too drunk," he said, stepping back. Edith followed him, shaking her head.
”Not too drunk to know what I want," Arthur sucked a breath in through gritted teeth. He cursed under his breath.
”You don’t have to be so honorable all the time,” she bit her lower lip. Arthur huffed, there was nothing honorable about the way he was thinking about her right now.
”You know what I mean,” his voice low, he gave her hip a pat and let go, ”we ain’t in a rush,” Edith rolled her eyes and pouted.
”Well, at least help me get into bed," she said, already taking the key from his hand and unlocking the door. He shook his head and chuckled. She walked inside, threw herself on the bed and lifted her foot, ”take off my boots, will you?”
”Ain’t gonna give you what you’re wanting right now," he said, walking over to the bed. Edith groaned.
”Just want you to take my boots off, you ain’t getting lucky with that attitude," she giggled. From under the brim of his hat Arthur took in the view; Edith, sleepy and sprawled out on the bed, looking up at him with hungry eyes. Arthur's jaw was tight as he looked down at her. He took her foot one at a time and pulled the boot off, gentle and taking his time. She shuffled further up into the bed and laid her head on one of the pillows. She gestured towards the empty space beside her. Arthur stuck his thumbs in his belt, ”I don’t bite.”
”Not sure that’s such a good idea right now,” very aware of the growing bulge in his pants. Edith rolled her eyes.
”Just get in here and sleep, Arthur," she closed her eyes, laying on her side, ”no funny business,” Arthur shook his head and sighed, cursed his lack of self control and took off his boots, laying down next to her. It was intoxicating to be this close to her, to be lying in bed next to her.
”Only until you’re asleep,” she hummed, almost purred, ”Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispered. She smiled.
”Goodnight, you silly man,” Arthur chuckled. Sleep came quickly, he didn’t go to the other room.
The morning sunlight reached Arthur through the window. He had slept better than he had in a long time. As he began to wake up, he became very aware of the warm body in his arms. Edith’s back pressed up against his chest, still sleeping, her scent was dizzying. He had one arm around her waist, pulling her in close. His other arm was under her head. Her backside against the growing bulge in his pants, his cheeks were flushed. He kept his eyes closed, soon he’d move, just as soon as he’d gathered himself; he didn’t want to wake her. Her deep breaths, her warm body against his; relaxed, calm, peaceful. Arthur couldn’t help but notice that their bodies seemed to be made for each other; every curve, every bend; a perfect fit. This was exactly the place to be, he never wanted this fleeting moment to end; wanted to have her in his arms until the end of time. Wanted to be her shield, her port. But his stomach dropped as she started to fidget awake. As gently as he could he freed his arm from her and got out of bed, but his boots on and waited. He fiddled with his spurs, with the curtain, with the buttons of his shirt. Finally Edith stretched and sat up.
”Mornin’,” she said, sleep in her eyes and in her voice, she looked so sweet.
”Good mornin’," something fluttered in his belly. She was perfect like this. If anything was holy in the world; this was it. He memorized the scene. Later, in his tent, he drew it in his journal. Gentle with the pen and careful not to miss a single detail. She got ready and they walked downstairs, the others were waiting for them by the horses. Good mornings were shared before they mounted up and started the ride back to camp. Arthur couldn’t take his eyes off of Edith; couldn’t stop thinking about his lips on hers, how alive he felt, how right it had felt to kiss her.
They didn’t talk about the kiss. There was no point in talking about it. Somehow, both of them knew that there was an eventuality between them; there was a later to be discussed then, when they were ready to give in, fully. No point in talking about a drunken kiss. Though when they found themselves drinking together after that night, sometimes they would inch closer together; like magnets being drawn to its other half. If they found themselves alone - at a table, leaning against a tree, getting a drink from the crate behind Pearson’s wagon - sometimes their hands would graze each other, their shoulders would brush or they’d get stuck looking into each other’s eyes; daring the other to close the gap. The memory of the kiss they had shared kept them going back for more, and more and more. Every time they did find themselves in that position, Arthur pulled back, his desire be damned. If he was going to kiss her again, he’d do it sober. He needed to know she wanted him. Although, sometimes it would happen sober too and Arthur’s cheeks would flush and he’d pull away then too; it wasn’t the right moment. Whatever that meant. As time went on, it became harder to break away from her, especially when she was looking up at him through her eyelashes, those big, pretty eyes. Her warmth, her scent. It was a true test of his own restraint.
