I didn’t expect my ears to tingle. Or to feel like a thousand fingers are running up and down my back. Nothing in my entire life has prepared me for her.
Pulling her closer, right into my lap where I wanted her, I let her play, loving her soft nips and teasing licks. But all too quickly, teasing isn’t enough. I thread my fingers through her hair and angle her head, so I can take over.
Groaning, we fall into the kiss, tongues teasing, diving. I’ve never felt anything this good in my entire life. I never knew people could feel like this. I know, for sure, that I’m an idiot, thinking I knew what attraction was. The subtle shift of her hips against me has my brain melting. This is so fucking big I can’t get a full breath.
I’m mentally calculating the quickest way to get her undressed when she pulls back with a gasp, hands pressed to my shoulders.
“Oh my god. Oh my god.” She scrambles backward, off my lap. I lunge, trying to catch her, but she’s crazy fast, crab-walking until her back hits the bed. “Sorry. First date. Woah. Too fast.”
Her ‘too fast’ turns my brain back on. She’s right. It’s been three years, but it’s also been only a couple of hours. It is too fast, but holy fuck. Nodding, trying to control my erratic breathing, I sit back on my ass.
“Right. You’re right. But,” I say with a snort, “I guess you like the picnic?” I’m teasing her, maybe expecting her to laugh or tease me back. I should have known better. This woman is far from predictable.
“I’ve never had someone do something so sweet for me.” Her hands press to her chest. “I love it.”
“G—good,” I stutter, distracted by that chest and by the sincerity of her words. I was hoping she didn’t hate it, but I didn’t realize she would react this way. “So you don’t think it’s cheesy?”
“Oh, it’s completely cheesy. But it’s also really thoughtful, Dec.”
I can’t wrap my head around her surprise. She has men falling at her feet. Why wouldn’t they do something like this for her? Their fucking loss. I’m relieved I don’t have to worry about competing with some other guy. Some other memory. For sure, I’d come up wanting.
I busy myself unpacking the picnic basket onto the colorful blanket. Grace, the owner, let me borrow one of her handmade quilts. The bright squares create a zig-zag across the entire surface. I’m slightly terrified we might spill something on it. I can tell she loves it by how carefully she had it packed away. I get it.
I mean, I don’t.
I don’t have anything like this. Handmade with care and could be passed on to generations. I don’t have a history. My life before I was two years old is a blank slate.
Cara, oohs and aahs over everything I unpack. The jam, the fresh biscuits, the sliced ham, and salad. It all looks amazing. There are even homemade chocolate chip cookies at the bottom. Grace and her husband deserve a great tip. Maybe I can pay off the mortgage on their hotel or something.
Cara crawls back over, settling onto the blanket with me. Fingers tracing over the blanket, a small smile on her lips. She still hasn’t brushed her hair, she’s got a crease from the pillowcase across her cheek, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
I serve her a little of everything, then myself, and we tuck in. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.” I feel like I can’t get it in my mouth fast enough. Who knew food could taste this good?
Cara giggles, nodding, trying her jam-covered biscuit. Judging by the way her eyes roll back in her head, she agrees. “Maybe she’ll give us the recipe.”
“Do you know how to cook? Could you make these?” I ask hopefully.
Cara snorts. “They’re biscuits. They’re pretty hard to fuck up.”
“Oh. So you could make them, right?”
She laughs, licking jam from the corner of her mouth. “Why can’t you guys cook? I mean, I know how you grew up, but don’t you get tired of eating out all the time?”
“I don’t eat out all the time,” I say defensively.
Cara’s eyebrows raise. “Really? What do you eat at home?” My cheeks heat, and she cackles. “Let me guess...cereal, fruit. Anything ready-made.”
I scoff, but she’s bang-on. Except, “I eat frozen pizzas too. I know how to turn on the oven and everything.” I don’t mention that the first time I turned it on, I forgot I had stored some computer parts in there, and my whole place smelled like burned plastic for a month. Why the fuck I thought that was a good storage place, I do not know.
“Well, that’s so much better.” She leans forward. “But seriously, I don’t get it. You took driving lessons. You learn stuff all the time. Why not cooking?”
“I went...once. I didn’t go back.” I shudder, remembering that night.
“Why not? What happened?” She leans forward. My thoughts drift away as I take her in. The light streaming through the window behind her, combined with her wild mane, creates a halo effect. She looks like an angel. My angel. Every moment with her feels like a miracle. For a man who never believed in God, that’s pretty fucking earth-shattering. What are we talking about? Right…cooking.
“It wasn’t what I thought it was going to be. It was a basic cooking class. I thought there would be people like me there. But there wasn’t.”
She frowns. “Who was there?”
