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My gaze follows in the direction she pointed, and I take a literal step back when I see the trays and trays of fresh cookies, neatly laid out to cool on the small dining room table in the alcove.
“Ah, you look great,” I say, unsure of how to address the pile of baked goods. And she does, look great. Even disheveled and even with flour in her hair and on her face, she looks incredible. With her back to me, I notice the way that the dark jeans cling to her. The white shirt has a stretched neck that falls off one shoulder, exposing her smooth, alabaster skin. She’s wearing no shoes, just bright pink socks with donuts printed on them. She’s adorable.
“Are you baking for something in particular?” I ask, my mind thinking of all the charity events and fundraisers the LAPD hosts.
“Oh, just for fun. You know.”
“Fun?” I stare at the cookies. There have got to be six dozen of them, all different kinds, all neatly stacked like they’re ready for some epic baking battle on late-night television.
Catherine chats as she fills the vase with water, her sentences backing into one another. “How was the drive?” she takes a sidetrack. “Traffic can get bad coming this way in rush hour. You know, I didn’t even think about that when I asked you to come. I’m sorry, that was-” She stops talking when I round the island to her.
Placing my hand over hers on the faucet, I turn it until the water stops. I don’t let her go. I look at her face. Her green eyes watch me with caution. With my hand still locked over hers, but touching her nowhere else, I lean forward and touch my lips to hers.
She sighs, relaxing little by little into the kiss. When she dips her tongue into my mouth, seeking, lust slams into me, but, still, I keep my mouth gentle. My hands don’t move. One holds her in place at the faucet, the other is lax by my side.
I wasn’t expecting her to be nervous. I imagined her waiting for me, knowing exactly how she would want me and for how long. I imagined that she’d take the lead, and I was prepared to take a backseat this first time as she had her way. It wasn’t purely selfless. I’m nervous too, and I wanted to take the time to learn. I want to know what she likes, and I want to know what drives her wild. I want to be on equal footing because she’s so much more knowledgeable in this arena than me.
I don’t want to disappoint her.
“I’m sorry.” Breaking the kiss, she gently rubs her lips back and forth over mine. The gesture, that slightest friction of skin on skin, is intensely intimate. “I’m nervous.”
The words cost me my pride, but I won’t ever lie to her. “Me too.”
She arches one perfectly manicured brow. “Youare?”
“I am.” Realizing that I’m still holding her in place, I raise my hand, taking hers too, and place them both over my thudding heart. Her skin is cool under mine, her fingers impossibly delicate against my palm.
When she tilts her head to meet my gaze, there is relief in her eyes. “That’s good.”
“It is?”
Her hand grips my shirt slightly where I’ve placed it. “I don’t know why; it just feels better knowing I’m not the only one who’s nervous.” She chuckles lightly. “This hasn’t happened to me before.” She flushes. “I mean the nerves part.”
“I know what you mean.” Moving my hands to her hips, I guide her back towards the counter until I’ve caged her in. She looks up at me, expectant, but when I lift her and place her on the cold surface, she gives a little yelp of surprise and puts her hands out to steady herself.
I leave her there for a moment. Taking a discarded dish towel off the counter, I run it under water. Catherine watches me in complete silence, but when I bring it back to her and start cleaning the flour off her face, she smiles, forcing a deep ache in my chest. “Happens every time,” she tells me.
“It’s really cute,” I say honestly. The only reason I’m taking it off at all is because I know it’s what she’d do if she’d known it was there.
It only takes a minute to get the flour off her face, but I find that once I start touching her it’s difficult to stop. Her breath tickles the back of my hand, each flutter of warmth against my skin seeming to heat the blood beneath. Her eyes watch my face intently, and I amacutely aware of her open legs, one resting on either side of my hips.
When I start to step away, she hooks her feet around the backs of my thighs, holding me in place. “You missed a spot.”
I can tell by the cheeky grin on her face that she’s teasing, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let the opportunity pass. “Looks like I did.” Putting the towel down next to her, I lean forward and kiss, first, one cheek, and then the other. Taking my time, I trail my lips to her forehead and then slowly move my mouth to hers. Finally. When her arms snake around my neck, I shift my hands back to her hips, and, hooking my fingers in her belt loops, edge her forward on the counter until I’m completely scissored between her open legs.
We stay like that for a while, testing, tasting,teasingeach other with nothing but our mouths. Catherine’s mouth is soft and warm and wet, and every time that I taste her, the need in me grows. My hands run up and down her thighs, never getting enough, never finding a resting place.
Her legs are still wrapped around mine as if she wants to keep me as close as possible, as if I am capable of walkinganywhere.The fingers of her right hand play with the hair at the nape of my neck, lighting a fire that travels down my spine like a dynamite fuse, igniting the rest of my body. It’s something she does a lot, and I love it; every light touch from her fingers on my neck short-circuits my brain until every thought I have leads straight to my dick.
This is how it’s supposed to be, I realize with wonder. Each touch and stroke, each whisper from your partner as seductive as if you were touching and stroking in a dark club, surrounded by people but, still, completelyalone. As intoxicating as if you were whispering words of love at home, bottles of shared wine later.
This is new to me.
Forty years old and I am still capable of a first.
The revelation astounds me.
So much so that, for a small moment, I pull back and just stare down into Catherine’s green eyes.
