“Dammit Clare, you really are trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he whispered, scattering kisses down my neck and shoulder.
He sighed, his eyes taking one last lingering glance at my body before saying, “We need to get back to the house before I say f**k it and just f**k you.”
Damn.
~Logan~
Somehow we made it back to the house. I couldn’t remember the actual trip and I think I may have cried or at least whimpered a little along the way.
I might not survive Clare. She was truly my ultimate temptation. I never wanted anything more and yet fought so hard against it. But I knew I needed this. I knew she needed this. I had to start this off right. She deserved it, she deserved everything.
I had planned this quiet date so we could get to know each other more. Our phone calls and texting had done a fairly good job so far, but I was selfish and wanted her to myself for the entire day.
This, however, was not how I envisioned the day going. Not that I was complaining.
No, definitely not complaining.
But Christ, she was a widow. She hadn’t touched a man in over three years. I had planned on being careful, conservative and sensitive. What I had not planned on was her kissing me, followed by us nearly ripping each other’s clothes off in the middle of an old woman’s garden.
Clare was quick with words and comebacks and we had a great time joking with each other. But while she was bold with words, she was timid with physical contact, blushing at the mere mention of something dirty. I understood that considering her circumstances. Her husband had died and in the last three years she had been a mother only. I think some part of her had forgotten how to touch a man, and in a way, made her innocent again. As happy as I was to be the man to show her again, I understood I had to go slow. What I hadn’t counted on was her gaining the courage to make a move so bold, so soon. When she leaned over on her hands and knees and kissed me under that giant dogwood in the garden, I lost myself.
“What are you smiling about?” Clare asked as we approached the front door to the house.
“Mmm...Not telling,” I teased.
“Well, that’s not fair,” she pouted, folding her hands over her chest in mock indifference.
I stopped just inside the beautiful white house and turned, looking into those piercing green eyes of hers.
“You. I’m smiling because of you. You’ve taught me to smile again.” I didn’t think I would ever have anything to smile about again. Now, I just had to make sure I didn’t f**k it up and lose her.
She looked at me, stunned. Shit, did I go too far? Say too much, too soon?
“Thank you,” she whispered, gently rising on her toes to kiss me.
“No, thank you.”
The house tour Ms. Thompson gave us was outstanding and I loved seeing Clare so animated and full of life as she asked questions and made discoveries in each new room. Built before the Civil War, the house had quite an extensive history, and Ms. Thompson, a direct descendant of the original owners, knew it all. With each new room she had a new story to share including stories about her own family which included four children and twelve grandchildren.
I glanced over at Clare, who was currently looking out the window in the ornately decorated dining room, which showcased much of the gardens we’d been in earlier. I wondered if she was remembering our picnic because I know I certainly was. She looked over her shoulder at me and blushed, quickly looking away. I guess that answered my question.
Our host came in carrying yet another covered silver dish and set it down on the large table.
“Ms. Thompson, do you know if we are supposed to get a storm?” Clare asked, still looking out the window, but her gaze had shifted upwards toward the sky.
I joined her at the window, looking up and noticed the sky was turning black.
“I believe the weatherman said there was a slight possibility of a thunderstorm, but its only late April, so I wouldn’t worry,” she replied as she set up the table for our meal.
Clare nodded her head in agreement but took one last look up at the clouds again. They did look ominous. And if there was one thing I had learned in the short years I’d lived here, Virginia weather was unpredictable.
I rested my hand on her waist, pulling her to my chest, loving the feel of her there against my body.
“Let’s eat. If a storm comes we can always drive home after it passes,” I reassured her.
Letting out a breath, she nodded. Her smile and the light mood from earlier returned.
“You’re right, I’m sure I’m worrying for nothing.”
Ms. Thompson finished up and made herself scarce. We seated ourselves at the table, looking at all the prepared food. The table was covered, with barely an inch of wood showing due to the massive amounts dishes and platters covering the surface.
“Did she know it would be just the two of us?” Clare asked, her eyes surveying the table.
I laughed, “Yes, but I don’t think she remembers how to cook for two people anymore. Plus I think she might have a crush on me.”
“Oh, she definitely does. I caught her giving you a once over on the porch when we arrived, and I saw her checking out your ass when we went upstairs a bit ago,” Clare quipped, completely amused.
“That’s one randy old lady, I’ll give her that,” I added, not exactly sure how I feel about a Grandma checking out my ass.
“Well, at least she has good taste...but if she gets handsy, I may have to bitch slap her.”
“Defending my honor, huh? That’s kinda hot. Well, minus the Granny part,” I added.
She gave me one last amused look before we began our meal. Ms. Thompson might be one of the best cooks I’d ever encountered. She had taken southern cooking to a whole new level, creating modern dishes with a down home feel. No wonder her Bed and Breakfast is one of the best in the country.
I heard Clare moan as she took her first bite of the pork loin smothered in a cranberry and peach chutney.
“Oh my God, we’re taking this woman back with us. Go find a bat. I’ll get the duct tape,” Clare declared, taking another bite.
I laughed. It really was good.
We dined on pork loin and ratatouille, roasted sweet potatoes and asparagus, and baskets of bread. It was divine.
Around our second glass of wine, the rain started. One thing I loved about Virginia was the rain. It could be sunny one minute, and pouring the next.
Right now the rain was coming down in sheets, beating against the roof and rattling the windows. The sun had long since passed and the deafening sound combined with the darkness outside made it feel like we are the only two people in the world.