"Cat, you can tell me off the top of your head just exactly what Pythagorean's Theorem is, word for word, can't you?" David looked at her curiously. She managed to reach the tip of one of her dark brown curls to her mouth and sucked on it, concentrating hard on not looking at him. She just shrugged. "Well, tell me then."

"The sides of a right triangle are related by the equation a squared plus b squared equals c squared, where a and b represent the lengths of the legs and c is the length of the hypotenuse," she muttered, turning her right shoulder toward the opposite wall, away from him.

"Right." David shook his head, thoughtful. "I don't understand… you're so smart…

"Well obviously I'm an idiot when it comes to geometry, ok?" Cat stood up fast, the chair clattering over behind her. "Just put a dunce cap on me and put me in a corner, all right? There is no point to any of this! I'm done with geometry! I'm done with Pythagorean's Theorem…and I am most especially done with you, David Slater!"

She kicked the chair as she passed it, heading for the front door—no books, no coat—tears making the world fill with sudden prisms. David caught her arm, and she tried to jerk away, but he was too strong. She stood there, head down, tears falling onto the hardwood floor between them. David saw them, and tilted her chin up. When she met his eyes, his quiet, watchful eyes, she simply burst into tears.

"Catherine, Catherine…" He folded her into his arms and held her, rocking with her.

"Beautiful Catherine…you are so bright, please don't ever believe I don't think the world of you." He murmured into her hair, words and more words—brilliant, lovely, smart, delightful, wise and wonderful. She found herself holding onto him, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against the buttons of his shirt. The more he whispered, the harder she cried. He finally eased them both down to the floor of the foyer, leaning against the door while she attempted to curl her long limbs into a small enough shape so she could fit into his lap.

She found her forehead pressed against the side of his neck, her fingers hesitantly rubbing at his collar, grazing the skin at the hollow of his throat. His rocking slowly subsided with her tears. She sniffed as quietly as she could. She was afraid to move. She thought if she could match her breath, even her heartbeat with his, he might forget she wasn't a part of him, that they shouldn't be tangled here in a heap on the floor together, that this was the way it should be. And then his hand crept to her hair. At first she thought he was just brushing the unruly mess out of his face to keep it from tickling him, but slowly, as the sensation of being petted tingled from her scalp down her spine, she realized he was doing it intentionally.

She very bravely lifted her head to meet his eyes. She didn't want it to stop—didn't want to break whatever spell they were under—but she needed to see him. It was all there, in the way his lips were slightly parted, they way his eyes moved over her face. She held her breath and leaned into him and did it quickly, without thinking, just letting her body lead her. His mouth was soft and he tasted like oranges and cloves. The feel of his tongue, the jolting realization—he's kissing me back!— made her squirm in his lap for more. His mouth slanted across hers as he pulled her head closer, his hand now a fist in her hair,. He made a soft, hungry sound in his throat when she rolled her lanky frame to stretch out between his legs and press fully against him.

The angles were all wrong, with David leaning against the door and Cat trying to arch her back to keep her mouth on his and still have every single part of her body touching him all at once. Cat sucked greedily at his lips and tongue, oblivious to the discomfort, but David found a solution. He grasped one of her thighs with his hand, hooking her knee, and pulled it toward him. It forced her to pull her other leg up, too, and she found herself straddling him, discovering the frustrating friction of denim against denim as his hands pulled her tucked-in t-shirt out at the waist and slid up the length of her back.

She delighted in running her hands through his hair and especially thrilled at touching that spot at the nape of his neck where she'd seen that woman touch him the other night, feeling as if she were defiantly telling someone a deeply kept secret. She was all arms and legs, trying to encircle him completely now at odd angles. David hoisted her a little higher on his waist, using his legs as leverage against the door to lift them both to standing. Her eyes opened in surprise and she looked at him in wonder as he smiled and carried her wrapped around him across the room. Her mouth sought his again, aching for more of the sensation, and he obliged, kissing her deeply into a reclining position onto the sofa.

She sank, the weight of him making it harder than it was already to catch her breath. His mouth slid hotly across her neck, his hands working her t-shirt slowly up as she arched against him. She pushed at him a little, gasping for breath, and tugged his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans, working at the buttons with one hand. He kneeled up to give her easier access, watching her flush more deeply as she fumbled with each upwardly successive button. As he watched her, his eyes darker and even more serious now, she realized he was letting her do this— this was David's very clear "yes." This was not a drifting, or an accidental staying-too-long, an errant kiss or glance or touch. He meant this. He wanted this.

That realization made her hands shake as she exposed his belly, his chest, her hands as awed as she was when they met smooth skin. His eyes closed at her touch and he drew in a deep breath. Her hands explored him eagerly, with unskilled wonder, fascinated by the smooth planes of muscle, hard in all the places she was soft. Her breath caught as her finger found his navel and followed the length of dark hair that disappeared below his belt. She lifted her eyes to his and found him watching her intently again. She bit her lip and smiled a little mischievously, her attention drawn to the silver buckle that had found its way into her hand. She tugged at it, shivering at the sound of the snap and zip that followed. Boxers. She smiled, pleased.

"Catherine, wait." He caught her hand, moving to stretch out beside her, propped on his elbow. She shook her head and he smiled. "I know, but listen…" He traced slow circles on her bared belly with his index finger. "If we don't stop now, we may not be able to stop…"

"But David…don't you…you don't want me?" Her voice was very small.

He groaned, dropping his forehead to touch hers. "You have no idea how much, girl, and how long… no idea!" He closed his eyed and drew a deep, shaky breath. "Bloody hell! Do you know the amount of self-restraint I have to maintain around you? Your flashing eyes, your bouncing little curls, the curve of your neck, your cheeky smile, the way you pout and fight and spit…my god, you are just like a little cat sometimes, all sleek and purring."

She was blushing now, still shaking her head. "I don't understand. So you do want me?"

"Want you?" He groaned again, pressing his hips against her thigh, and she could feel him through his jeans, a clear pronouncement. "Do you feel that? That's all you, Catherine. Since the very first day you walked into my flat… bending over to get another biscuit with your knickers showing under your skirt… "

She blushed more, her face on fire. "But listen to me," he continued. "I'm your tutor, and as such, I'm in a position of a bit of responsibility here. One of us has to keep our wits about us… while we still can."

"So you don't want to… do anything?" The look of disappointment on her face must have been clear.

"Don't be daft, girl," he teased, kissing her again, softly now, a sweet apology. "Of course I want to. But I want you to be clear, and I want to be clear, before we get carried away. I don't know that you are used to having a man, and I am most definitely not some high school boy who will simply fumble with your bra strap and settle for sloppy wet kisses." His hand rested fully open and warm at her navel. The heat was incredible.

"I'm not wearing a bra," she whispered, smiling a little lopsided smile. He laughed and the sound rumbled through her like the beginning of a storm.

"Minx…" He kissed her forehead. "You know what I meant."

"Ok, I guess you should know… that I'm a virgin," she admitted quietly after a moment.

"And I… oh, I don't know, part of me wants to wait until I find the person I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. And… well, you know, guys don't much like the flat-chested types who hang out in the shop at school… so…" She left it there with a shrug, avoiding his eyes again.

"So are you telling me you haven't because you haven't had the opportunity, or because you are afraid?" His fingers brushed the fine hairs on her belly. It made her wiggle, as if she were a cat being petted the wrong way.

"I don't know, maybe both."

"Well, let me say this then… we will go slow… and I will stop, whenever you want me to stop. I don't want to hurt you, it's the very last thing I want to do." He brushed a tendril of hair away from her forehead.

"Ok," she breathed, grateful and simultaneously more afraid and more eager than she had been before.

"And Catherine… if I do nothing else in the time we spend together, I am going to convince you of one thing…" His mouth against her ear made her nipples harden immediately.

"Yes?"

"Those shop apes are daft, because you are beautiful." His eyes trailed down her body. "Every glorious inch of you…and I'm desperate to see all of you." The urgency in his voice made her tingle. She slid off the couch and stood, turning her back to him. He settled back into the sofa, watching. She eased her t-shirt up over her head, looking back over her shoulder at him with a wicked little grin, and then tossed it at him. He held it to his face for a moment, breathing in the smell of her, then dropped it to the floor.