The kitchen was separated from the great room by a granite-topped counter and the open staircase. A gleaming refrigerator and gas stove matched the black sink. With the sparseness, the lack of dividing walls, and a massive window opposite of the loft, the house conveyed openness and space. It could have been a picture in Southern Living. The only thing missing was a fire in the fireplace. And a table. And some chairs. And every other piece of furniture you would expect in a house, except the recliner and that bed.
“Very lovely,” I commented purposely not looking at the you-know-what.
“I don’t really have any place for us to eat.”
“Where do you usually eat?”
“Either at the counter or on the recliner or out. I’ve only been here a week.”
I didn’t respond, and we watched each other until I swear I heard sparks crackle. Breaking eye contact, Scott walked to the fridge. “Want some wine?”
“I thought you didn’t drink,” I said as he pulled a bottle out, opened a drawer, picked up a bottle opener, and proceeded to open it.
“I don’t, but you do. At least, you did.”
“I do. Sure, I’ll take a glass.” If he even had one. I didn’t think it would be very lady-like to turn up the bottle for a drink. “You’re not trying to get me drunk, are you?”
He smirked as he pulled a drinking glass from a cabinet.
“No, I’m not trying to get you drunk.” Pouring the red wine, he set the glass on the counter in front of me. He picked up the bottle which I recognized as what I had been drinking the night Scott had eaten dinner at my apartment, placed it back in the nearly empty refrigerator and picked up a bottle of water for himself.
I took a sip, loving its sweetness. “Why don’t you drink?”
When he opened another cabinet, I noted there was a stack of four plates. He placed two next to the boxes of pizza.
“I saw Sarah get drunk quite a few times in high school. I think it took the attraction out of it.”
“You can drink without getting drunk.”
“Then what’s the point?”
“It tastes good, and one glass is very relaxing. You’ve never drunk alcohol?”
“No.”
“Why don’t you try a glass with me?”
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
I opened a box and set a slice on each of the plates. The pizza wasn’t as hot and ready as it had been.
“No. But it would be neat to be your first time.”
“My first time, huh?” He gave me one of those heated looks that made my toes curl in my shoes.
I slid the plate and my glass toward him. He picked the wine up and drank.
He grimaced. “It’s a little too sweet. It goes down warm, though.”
“Yeah, that’s the feeling I like.” I bit into the pizza.
We leaned against the counter while we ate. Scott told me about how he was settling in at the ATF office and finding it a lot less stressful than undercover work. When we finished eating, Scott put the leftovers away. He took another swig of my wine and set the glass on the counter top.
So, now what?
Passionate love making in the great room?
“What do you want to do now?”
“Watch T.V.?”
“We’d have to go to Mom’s.”
I gave him my best come hither look. “I did have an idea. It involves that bed in there and something I bought at the airport while I was waiting on my flight.”
Scott didn’t reply. I saw the pulse beating in his neck. He was so much fun to mess with. And I did owe him for that Vivian comment.
“Why don’t you build a fire in the fireplace? Afterward, I’ll pull out my little…present.”
Without another word, he walked into the great room toward the fireplace. I toed off my shoes and sat on the bed with my purse beside me. The wood was already placed for the fire. Scott knelt on the hearth to light it allowing me to study his broad shoulders and the nape of his neck exposed by his shortened hair. I loved him. I absolutely loved that man. Where were we going with this? Weekends here and in Clavania? Could I live with that? Could he?
The fire caught and crackled. Scott threw the match into the new flame, straightened and turned to me.
I crawled on his bed and leaned back on my elbows. “Wanna play?”
Not moving from the hearth, he studied me. The brightening light behind him created quite an effect.
I crooked my finger at him. Come here, big boy.
Instead of approaching me, he turned a knob on the wall, dimming the light. With measured steps, he walked to me and the bed. I reached into my purse and pulled out a small box.
Reaching down, he pulled off his boots and joined me. When he saw the cards, he arched an eyebrow at me.
“I’m in, babe. But I have to tell you, when I wasn’t sweeping the parking lot at the center, I was playing cards with the homeless guys at the shelter. I’ll beat the pants off of you.”
Sitting up, I pulled the deck of cards from the box and shuffled.
“That’s what you’re hoping will happen.”
He grinned. “What do you think I bought the bed for?”
“Nuh-uh. Where were you sleeping before?”
He shrugged.
“With some bimbo named Vivian?”
“Deal the cards, Abigail.”
I ignored the fact that he didn’t deny it. “You know how to play ‘War’?”
He nodded. “I hope you’re not a sore loser.” He stretched his legs out. Even his socks were black.
“I hope you’re not because I’m going to beat you so bad, you’ll be begging for mercy.” I shuffled the cards again and dealt. I loved this game because you had to sit close to play it. As foreplay, I figured it would go pretty well.
From war we moved to poker. In a lightning quick motion, Scott had me flat on my back pinning me to the bed.
In a mock serious expression, he held up the Ace of Spades that I had been hiding under my thigh. “What is this?”
I glanced at it. “I was only going to use it if I needed it.”
“That’s cheating.”
I grinned. “Your point?”
He flicked the card in the air. It landed somewhere on the floor. “Ready for bed?”
I shook my head. “I want some answers.”
He arched an eyebrow, shifted and rested his elbow next to me cradling my body.
“Where have you been sleeping?”
“Back porch. Want to see?” He slid off of me and the bed. “Come on,” he motioned with his head for me to follow him. I did so.
He opened the back door and invited me to precede him. I walked out onto a screened in porch with a small pallet suspended from corded ropes attached to the ceiling. A rolled up sleeping bag rested on one end. He had been sleeping out here? I looked back at him for confirmation, and he nodded.
I stepped to the screened wall and gazed out at the darkness. Only twenty feet of new grass separated us and a dense tree line. In the brisk October night, the wind hummed through the trees, rustling leaves to the ground. Walking over to the cot, I tested the weight with my hand and sat on it. It barely moved.
“How much can this hold?”
“A grown man, at least.” Scott came over and sat beside me. “A grown woman, too, it seems.”
I watched him, but couldn’t see much from the dim light spilling from the house. I bounced, but the pallet absorbed my movement. “Why doesn’t it move?”
“It’s secured from the top and bottom.”
“Did you do this?”
“No. I have to admit, though, it was a selling point of the house. I couldn’t really imagine myself living in there, but I could see myself living on the porch.”
A lump rose in my throat. “Because you haven’t lived in a real house in so long?”
His arm was warm against my back. “I guess so. I’ve either been on the street or in a hotel room. All the space of a house feels….” He shook his head.
“Overwhelming?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that why you put the bed in the living room?”
He shrugged. “I need to spread out in degrees, if that makes sense. Right now keeping everything confined to the great room is tolerable. Sleeping on the porch is comfortable.”
“You haven’t slept in your bed yet?”
“You can be my first time.” He grinned and closed his hand around my waist, bringing me flush against him. “How would that be?”
“I’d like to be your first time. What about Vivian?”
Scott stood up and pulled my hand until I stood up, too. “I don’t want anyone’s legs wrapped around my naked body but yours.”
He led me back inside and shut the door. “Just to be clear here,” I said. “There is no Vivian, right? You were just messing with me.”
Scott led me to the bed and lifted me to sit on the edge. He walked over to the fire, and placed another log on it. Straightening, he came to stand in front of me with a crooked grin on his face. “An agent from the Clavanian office had come to visit me the day you called. Delia is his supervisor. I asked him to grab the phone because he was closer. When he did, he knew the woman who identified herself was not Delia. He recognized your voice.”
“Who was it? Bryant?”
“No. Conley. He was one of the guys who was with me at Waffle Mania the night I took you to the E.R.”
Scott had known. I was almost proud of him except I had been the butt of the joke. My dad had this saying which came to my mind. If you can’t take it, don’t dish it out. So, this was an exercise in taking it. I decided to do so graciously.
I reached forward, grasped his hands, and pulled him to me. Reaching my arms around him, I kneaded his cute butt and gave him my best come-hither look. Putting one knee on the bed, he sat beside me and tucked some of my hair behind my ear. In silence, he studied me taking in each of my features as if he were trying to memorize them.
“You gave me quite a scare that day,” he murmured.
I took his hand, turned it up, and kissed his palm. “I’m sorry.” I scooted closer, kissed the corner of his mouth, then kissed him fully on the lips. With his arm around my body, he pulled me with him as he lay down. At my leisure, I tasted his mouth, neck and after dispensing with his shirt, his shoulders. Content to let me explore, he lay still, and I straddled him watching him watch me as I unbuckled his belt and unsnapped his pants.
I ran one finger inside the edge of his briefs and traced an invisible line up toward his belly button, an inny, in case you were wondering. And just as cute and hot as a guy’s belly button could be. Leaning over him, I licked his nipple making him shudder. Sitting up, I pulled my shirt over my head. I had this scenario in mind when I had put on this maroon bra with the tea lace edging. Being one of those ‘make your boobs look bigger’ bras, it had padding underneath so I knew my boobs were looking plump. I didn’t feel too guilty about misrepresenting myself. Scott and my boobs had already been acquainted.
I scooted off and settled my full length beside him. His mouth connected with mine, gentle and warm. One large hand cupped my shoulder and smoothed my back coming to rest on my backside. Is there anything better than touching and being touched in a safe and comfortable space with someone you love? I slid off my pants without breaking our kiss. His went next. In the few nights that we had spent together, I had learned that Scott had this way of slow and deliberate love-making. He cherished my body in sections. He tickled the skin behind my knee. I had no idea it was a hot spot until he’d discovered it. While his fingers touched the back of my knee, he kissed my knee cap.
As if he had all the time in the world, he leisurely continued up my legs bypassing ground zero—much to my frustration—and spent a few minutes tracing my hip bone with his tongue. Northward he continued, learning the curve of my waist until nearly out of my mind, I grabbed his head and directed him to my neglected breasts. Yes, I was all for finding erogenous zones, but the ones I definitely knew about wanted some attention, too. Was it enough to just kiss and suck? Not for my guy. He laved and blew. When I realized the panting I heard was coming from me, I flipped the man on his back, made use of the condom he’d pulled out of his discarded pants pocket, and guided him home.
When I awoke the next morning, I met Scott’s eyes. He lay on his side with his head propped on his arm watching me.
“Hi.” I smiled and ran my fingers over his stubbled chin. “How long have you been awake?”
“A while.” He scooted closer, reached and pulled me flush against him.
Oh, yes. He’d been waiting for me to wake up so he could love me some more. How sweet. Moving my leg, I wrapped it around his and snuggled closer.
His cell phone rang from the vicinity of his pants at the foot of the bed. He ignored it and kissed me.
“Should you get that?” I asked against his lips.
“No.” His hand pushed my backside into him and he rocked his hips against mine making me catch my breath.
“It might be important.”
He growled. Holding me to him with one arm, he sat up and reached for his pants. Fumbling in the pocket, he pulled the phone out, and we lay back down. Holding it in front of his face, he glared at the screen and snorted. The phone continued to ring.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Mom.”
“Well, answer it.”
With a scowl, he did.
“McIntyre,” he snapped. I swatted him. He met my gaze, but his tone didn’t improve. “Hi, Mom…Yeah, she’s here…no. We’re not coming for breakfast.”
I snatched the phone away from him. “Hi, Emily, how are you?”
“Abby. I’m fine.” I could hear the smile in her voice.
“We’d love to come for breakfast.”
Scott threw the covers back and got out of the bed. “No, we wouldn’t,” he grumbled striding across the floor.
I watched that gorgeous, naked bod head for the stairs. Promising to be sitting at Emily’s breakfast table within forty-five minutes, I ended the call and went to find Scott. He was in the shower in a bathroom the size of my bedroom at home. I stepped in and spooned his back hugging his waist.
“I told her we’d be there in forty-five minutes,” I said over the shower spray.
“It’ll take us at least twenty to get there.”
Wrapping my arms around him, I placed my hands low on his abdomen. I gently kissed his skin graft.
“Can you feel me kissing you?”
“Not really.”
The feeling hadn’t come back where he had been burnt. I wondered if it ever would.
He turned around and lifted me up against him. Backing me up against the wall, he glowered at me. “I don’t want to share you with my family. I want to stay here and make love to you all day.”
“Look. I’m sure your mom needs her car back. We’ll go out there, eat breakfast and come back.” I wiggled my hips against him. “We’ve got twenty-five minutes to get ready. Wonder what we could do in twenty-five minutes?”
Chapter Fifteen
We were late, but only by ten minutes. It was a wonder we’d made it out of the shower at all. Scott’s house had one of those perpetual water heaters so that the shower never got cold. We were waterlogged but sated and clean when I finally announced my intention to get out and get dressed. He didn’t complain. In fact, his mood had noticeably improved. That’s what shower sex will do for you.
Emily set before us plates laden with pancakes. A platter piled high with bacon sat in the center of the table. A squeal and running feet announced Amanda and Daniel as MeMe and Tuck also joined us. MeMe settled the baby in the high chair. I loved a family meal. Beside me, Scott slid the syrup toward his nephew who had claimed the chair next to him.
“How about it, Daniel? Want some syrup?” he asked the boy.
“Yeah!” Daniel grabbed the bottle and was ready to empty its contents on the plate Emily had placed before him, when Scott took hold of t
he bottle.
“Let me help before your mom starts hollering at us.”
With each of them holding the bottle, they poured a generous amount on the pancake.
“Is that enough?”
“I think two more drops.”
The bottle dipped again with the small and large hand guiding it. Daniel declared it, ‘Just right.’
When breakfast was over, Scott seemed in no hurry to leave, so we stayed a while longer and visited. He was different with these people than he had been two weeks ago—warmer, at ease. It was a good change. When the mantle clock chimed eleven, Scott declared it was time to leave. He stood, grasped my hand and pulled me off the couch. We said our goodbyes, and he opened a door in the entrance foyer. Reaching in, he pulled out two helmets. One he handed to me.
Oh, boy! The only time I’d ridden on a motorcycle had been when James Woodrow, a boy in my church youth group had taken me for a ride around the parking lot. At fifteen, I had thrilled at the potential of danger of being on the bike and with a seventeen year old—an older man. We walked outside to the carport where the motorcycle was parked. Trying to hide my excitement, I followed Scott’s example by putting on the helmet and securing the strap under my chin. Scott raised the mirrored visor and asked me if I was ready. At my nod, he mounted and started the motor. The engine revved right along with my libido. Let’s be honest. Isn’t there something about a man on a motorcycle that’s so sexy?
“Can you mount?”
My gaze shot to his goofy grin which I returned. “Smart aleck,” I said as I grabbed his arm for support and I lifted my leg and slid it over the seat. This was going to be so much fun. He turned his head toward me.
“Hold on.”
I scooted forward and wrapped my arms around him. Could it get any better than this? I realized it could when we rode down the drive way and onto the road. With the cold wind whipping by us, I was thankful for my jacket and the visor of the helmet. He turned off before the interstate, and I decided he must be taking us a back way. The houses thinned out until we were on a country lane. Up ahead a covered bridge came into view. Scott slowed as we approached. Stopping, he held up the bike with one leg and turned back to me.
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