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“Knitting.”
“And giving a serious answer, apparently.”
“It is a serious answer.” He chuckled when she rolled her eyes. “My grandmother lived with us until I was sixteen. My whole life, she was constantly knitting, making these great blankets, then donating them all to charities and fundraisers. Every time I’d ask if I could have one, she’d tell me if I wanted a blanket, I’d have to learn to make one for myself. One day, I called her on it and asked her to teach me. She tried, but I never got the hang of it. Took me an entire year to knit a square the size of a facecloth, and it wasn’t a good one.”
A sweet picture popped into her head. Sam, sitting with his grandmother, the two of them knitting. He must have been adorable as a little boy.
“That’s so cute. How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
She felt her eyes bug out from her head. “Fifteen? Wow, I was not expecting that.” Then the math kicked in. “You said she lived with you until you were sixteen. Did she move out, is that why you stopped trying to knit?”
“She died. Went in her sleep.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.” More than a decade, yet sadness lingered in his eyes.
Setting her fork aside, she stood and moved around the table to kiss him. Quick and gentle. A kiss of compassion.
Until he pulled her onto his lap. Holding her sidesaddle, he threaded his fingers through her hair, slid his hand beneath her blouse, stroked his thumb across her nipple while kissing her breathless.
“You taste good,” he said, between sweeping plunders of her mouth.
“Like beer and Mexican food?”
“Like Leigh. My favorite flavor.” Abandoning her breast, he skated his palm up her thigh, under her skirt.
“What about dinner first?”
“Decided I’d rather eat your enchilada all night.”
Her laugh became a moan when his fingers reachedherspicy main dish. Their crowded position didn’t allow her to open her legs, but it didn’t matter, Sam made it work. With his soft petting and teasing pressure on her clit, he had her wiggling and needy. More than ready to offer up her body as his all-you-can-eat buffet.
Even her aching need for a Sam-induced orgasm couldn’t block her obsession for order when he carried her away from the table, leaving it laden with food and drinks. “We should put dinner away first.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I can’t help it.”
“I know.” He smiled down at her while opening the balcony door. “And it’s adorable.”
“You think my compulsive need to stay on top of things is adorable?”
He nodded. “Everything about you is adorable. When we get to the bedroom, I want you to put that need to stay on top of things to good use and put your sweet little pussy on my face.”
“And ride like a rodeo champion?” she asked, as he locked the balcony door with one hand.
“Fuck, yes. Exactly like that.” His grin waned momentarily when knocking sounded from his front door.
“Don’t you want to answer it?”
Halfway through the living room, he shook his head. “It’ll be Mrs. Fewster again. It’s always her. We were probably making too much noise on the balcony.”
“But we weren’t loud at all.”
“My existence is too loud for her.”
