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I step closer, taking her hand again. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, and I apologize for making comparisons.” She nods her head, but it’s still not enough. “I’ll try harder to leave the past behind. I promise.”
“And will you try harder not to feel jealous?”
“I’ll do my best.”
She pulls her hand from mine, which doesn’t feel great, until she brings it up and rests it on my chest. “Okay. Let’s just forget about it, shall we?”
I put my hand over hers and lean in, kissing her a little harder this time, and taking a full minute before I pull back. She’s slightly breathless, but so am I, and we gaze at each other for a second or two.
“I’m sorry. I—”
“I thought we were gonna forget about it,” she says, smiling, and I have to smile back before we turn and continue on our way.
I’m planning on walking to the creek via a track between the trees behind the gym, and the quickest way to get there is to go along the back of the shops.
The wind has picked up a little, and it catches Zara’s hair as we turn behind Dawson’s bar. She pushes it out of the way, just as a drop of rain lands on my face, followed by another… and another. “That’s rain, isn’t it?” she says.
“Yeah.” We stop walking and look at each other for a second. “Shall we move this picnic to my place?” I suggest. “It’s closer than yours, and I don’t wanna sit in the rain.”
“Neither do I.”
I pick up the pace and walk her straight to my apartment, where I unlock the door just as the heavens open, letting her in ahead of me. She pauses, waiting for me to close us in, and I take her hand, leading her to the door on the left, which I open, flicking on the lights, as Zara looks up the stairs.
“After you,” I say with a smile, and she climbs ahead of me, which may have been a mistake on my part, because it’s impossible not to admire the way her dress clings to the contours of her hips and ass. My permanent state of arousal becomes a painful one by the time we reach the top step, where Zara moves aside and I quickly turn on the side lamps before returning to her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
I take her cardigan, placing it over the back of the chair, and she puts her purse on top.
“Can I get you a glass of wine?” I ask.
“Yes, please.” I step away, pulling the backpack from my shoulder and heading for the kitchen, just as she says, “It’s lovely up here. Did your wife design it?”
“No. She never liked this place and refused to do anything with it. After she left, I repainted every room.”
“To eradicate her?” she says with a slight smile.
“No. To give myself something to do.”
I take the wine from the backpack, pouring some out, but leave everything else for now, and return to Zara, handing her a glass. We clink them together and take a sip, her lips twisting upward into a smile.
“This isn’t exactly what we had in mind for the evening, is it?” she says.
“No. But I’m sure we can still make something of it.” Her smile widens and I hand her my glass. “You sit down. I’ll fetch our picnic, and we’ll eat in here.”
She does as I say, and I return to the kitchen, offloading all the food from the bag and carrying it through to the living room, where I set it out on the coffee table. She’s already placed our wine glasses there too, and I add plates and silverware.
“This is lovely,” she says, turning to me, as I sit beside her on the couch.
“Yeah… it is.”
I lean in, all thoughts of food forgotten, my lips dusting over hers. She sighs in to me and I let my tongue delve, finding hers in a gentle caress. She moves nearer, and I place my right hand on her hip, cupping her cheek with the other as I tilt my head and deepen the kiss. As she arches her back in to me, I move my right hand down over the swell of her ass to the outside of her thigh and she lifts that leg across mine. It’s a sexy move, and it requires a response. I just hope I don’t screw this up, and I move my hand further down beneath her skirt, my fingers meeting the bare flesh of her toned thigh. She gasps, her tongue darting deeper into my mouth, which I guess means she likes what I’m doing.
I need to see more, and without breaking the kiss, I tip her onto her back, bringing my hand around the front of her dress so I can pull it up. The movement seems to startle Zara, who grabs my wrist, halting me, and I lean up, staring down at her.
“Sorry. Was that too much?”
She shakes her head, which is confusing. “It’s not that. It’s just…” Her voice fades, but I’m in agony here… in more ways than one.
