Promise

by Trinidad West

  The jar she kept her ground coffee in sat empty on the counter, and she remembered leaving it there the day before as a reminder to grind more before she went to bed. So much for plans. She closed the door to the porch so the noise wouldn't wake James and ground enough for a half pot, just in case he stuck around for breakfast. That would depend on his mortification factor, of course.

  Just as Dennie flipped the switch on the coffee maker, James stepped into the kitchen, wearing nothing but his boxers. He didn't look at all mortified, but maybe he was just being polite. She couldn't look at him as he walked across the kitchen and kissed her on the cheek. He stepped back from her and looked at her, his head tilted questioningly. Would he believe the coffee maker would only work if she kept her eyes focused on it?

  "Good morning?" he asked hopefully.

  Dennie ventured a quick glance at him. "Good morning. The only working bathroom is the one upstairs, by the way."

  He kissed her cheek again and wandered off toward the stairs, yawning.

  Oh, God! She couldn't remember how to handle mornings after. How many years had it been since she'd woken up with somebody she hadn't planned to wake up with? Deep breaths, Dennie. Don't let him see what a wreck you are. With luck, it would look like she was enjoying the aroma of the coffee, not trying to keep herself from hyperventilating.

  She had almost calmed herself down when she heard a soft footstep behind her and felt James' arms wrap around her waist and pull her in tight against him.

  "I'm sorry I didn't get to wake up next to you," he murmured against the nape of her neck, sending a little tingle down to her toes.

  Dennie opened her mouth to say something, but just then James pressed his mouth against her neck and she felt his tongue hot against her skin. Whatever she had been going to say came out as a sigh. Didn't he know they were supposed to be eyeing each other warily over mugs of coffee right about now?

  "You smell like flowers," he said.

  "Soap," she said breathlessly.

  James nudged the collar of her robe aside and kissed her shoulder. He cupped his hands over her breasts. The silky fabric rubbed deliciously across her nipples. He moved his hands down to the sash that held the robe closed with a loose knot.

  "Let's see what you're wearing underneath this."

  "Just me," Dennie said, and she turned around to face him, covering the knotted sash with her hands.

  James stepped back. "Show me."

  Dennie hesitated. Letting him look at her in the dark was one thing. The bright daylight in her kitchen would reveal every flaw. It wouldn't let him forget how much older she was than him.

  "Dennie?"

  The desire in his eyes was clear, but it was joined by doubt now. Doubt? Could he possibly be as uncertain of himself as she was?

  "Does any of this scare you at all, James?"

  He smiled and ran his fingers through is hair. "I've wanted you forever, Dennie, but I never expected this to really happen. Every time I reach out to touch you, I'm terrified that you're going to pat me on the head and tell me to run along."

  The sounds of a summer day drifted through the open kitchen window. A neighbor's lawn mower coughed to a start, then revved and hummed. A heavy truck drove by, and the little dogs next door sounded the alarm, but Dennie could hear her heart pounding over it all as she untied the sash and let her robe fall open.

  After taking a long moment to let his eyes drift down her body, James stepped forward and put his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. Neither of them moved, but within a minute Dennie felt the heat growing between them.

  He groaned, then released her. "Follow me. There's something I've been wanting to do." He hooked a finger around one of hers and led her out of the kitchen.

  Dennie allowed her curiosity to overcome her trepidation as James sat her down in one of the shrouded armchairs in the dimly lit living room. He sat down in front of her just as he had the night before and lifted her foot onto his leg.

  "Feeling better?" he asked, his voice oddly strained.

  Dennie nodded. She felt weak with desire and anticipation. How did he do this to her? Then again, how could she not react this way to him? A single kiss on her leg, the way his lips lingered softly against her skin, conveyed his longing more clearly than the heat smoldering in his eyes when he looked up at her to gauge her reaction.

  Dennie leaned down to kiss him, and his mouth met hers eagerly, but when she started to slide off the chair to join him on the floor, he pushed her upper body back and set her hands firmly on the arms of the chair.

  Dennie leaned down on her arms to push herself all the way back into the chair, but James grabbed her by the hips to stop her.

  "You're perfect there." He bent his head to kiss her just above the knees.

  Dennie relaxed back into the chair. Her butt was forward, almost to the edge of the cushion, and James was running his hands up and down her calves. She closed her eyes and focused on the warmth of his hands and the little tingles that shot through her every time he kissed her legs. When he nudged her knees apart, she didn't resist. He kissed the insides of her knees, and Dennie opened her eyes and laid her hand on his head to touch his hair. He turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm. Then he looked up at her.

  "Open your legs for me, Dennie."

  She felt no urge to flee this time, just a surge of heat through her body. She moved her feet apart, opening herself up to him. James looked down at her and she felt herself grow wet just from knowing he was looking at her with such desire. She watched as he lowered his head to kiss the sensitive skin of her thighs. Up and down her thighs he kissed, pushing them ever farther apart, until she was panting and sliding farther down the chair. He slipped his hands under her butt and squeezed, drawing a long moan from her, and then she felt his breath, cool on her hot skin, as he hovered above her pussy, and then finally, his tongue, tentative, even a little timid, on the hard nub of her clit.

  "Oh, God," Dennie gasped. "I think maybe it is possible to die of pleasure."

  "I'll keep you safe," James said softly against her fevered skin. "I promise."

  Dennie remembered to breath, and James began exploring her with his tongue returning every few seconds to the hot core of her desire until she was crying out. She felt his hands on her, spreading her further open, then his fingers inside her. His hands were everywhere they could reach, sweeping up to her breasts and down to her legs, pausing to squeeze and pinch, driving her into an oblivion of pleasure until she exploded, pushing herself against his mouth in little spasms that went on and on.

  Finally he had mercy on her and sat back to smile up at her.

  "I guess you'll be staying for breakfast, then," Dennie said when she caught her breath.

  "And lunch?" James said hopefully.

  Dennie slid off the chair to join him on the floor. She wondered if they were even going to get around to breakfast.

  "One meal at a time," she told him. "That's as far ahead as I can think right now."

  She pulled him down to the floor with her, heedless of the dust and the smell of paint remover, not thinking about anything at all.

  * * *

  About the Author

  Men, dogs, and books. These are Trinidad West’s favorite things. She’s never met a dog she didn’t like and she can find something appealing about almost every man she meets, but she’s a little more critical about books.

  Trinidad started writing stories about girls and their dogs when she was ten years old and made a natural progression over the years to stories about women and their men.

  When she isn’t writing, Trinidad thinks about writing, copyedits scientific texts, takes care of her family, and never quite gets around to cleaning her house. She lives in California in a house full of books with her family, a dog, and a surly cat.

 

 

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