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“What?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you sitting there just staring at me? Do you not like it?” she says with a full mouth of spaghetti.
It’s then that I realize I’m sitting back in my chair with one arm over the chair next to me and my glass of wine in my other hand. I really was just sitting back and watching her eat. She must think I’m some sort of weirdo with a strange food fetish or something.
“Sorry, I didn’t even realize that I was staring. I must have been lost in my own head there for a minute.”
I place my wine glass on the table and start eating. It only takes a minute for the awkward moment to end and for our conversation to pick up again. While we’re cleaning up after dinner, Emily squeals and does a little jump as she turns to me with glee in her eyes.
“Hey, how about some dessert? I know I don’t need any more food after eating half of the loaf of bread myself, but I need something sweet.” She opens the freezer and pokes around.
“Not sure we have anything other than vanilla ice cream, but that works for me if it works for you?”
Standing right behind her so we are just barely touching I say, “Come on now, Em, you know I like ice cream, but vanilla isn’t my favorite flavor now is it? My fondest memories of ice cream are of you and chocolate.”
She slowly turns around with the carton of ice cream in her hand. The blush I love to see brightens her cheeks and makes my heart skip a beat. I take the carton of ice cream out of her hands and set it on the counter. Sliding my hand into her hair, I gently tilt her head back and expose her neck. The passionate whimper that comes from deep inside her the moment my lips touch her makes me hard in an instant. Her hands run up my chest and then back down again as they journey towards my waistband.
I hate myself for what I am about to do, but I grab her hand and stop her from going any further. I lean my forehead against hers still holding her head in my hand and whisper to her.
“No, Em. I hate telling you no because there is nothing that I want more than to take you on this kitchen floor right now, but no. I need to know that if we go further you are ready; that you are 100% in. I am not going to mess this up by moving too fast. You mean too much to me to take the chance of messing up whatever possibility we may have.”
Once again I find myself putting it all out there for her. It wasn’t planned, but I can’t seem to ever follow any plan when it comes to this woman.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yep.”
“Can I sleep on the couch again? No expectations and no hidden agenda. I just don’t want to leave the two of you here alone, and I kinda want to see what all this Downton Abbey hype is all about.”
“Okay.”
After getting another one-word answer from her I pull back so I can look her in the eye.
“So, when does your show start?”
She looks over my shoulder at the time on the microwave and says, “We still have two hours since it doesn’t come on until nine.”
“Cool, so we can get the laundry going before your show starts then. Sounds like your Sunday schedule will stay intact.”
“Yep . . . wait . . . don’t you work tonight? Shit Jonathan, you’re late!”
Time to fess up Kelly. She’s going to think you are a fucking stalker, but you just have to rip the band-aid off and tell her.
“Nope, not late.”
“What do you mean?”
I casually grab the ice cream off the counter and put it back in the freezer. I can feel her staring a hole through my back waiting on my explanation.
“We’ll get this out when the show is on. Don’t want it to melt while you sort out the laundry.”
“I thought you worked Sunday through Tuesday?”
“I do.”
