Page 114 of The Only Thing That's Real
“I’m glad I’ve gotten to experience it both ways.”
“I get that.”
We fall into another comfortable silence. He reaches for my hand kissing the back of it before releasing it to gaze into the forest ahead of us.
“I remember as a kid, sitting at the dinner table dreaming about going to fancy restaurants instead of eating the same thing every week and doing the dishes after,” I say after a while. “Well, I’ve been to restaurants all around the world. Now, I dream about home-cooked meals and doing my own dishes.”
“You don’t eat at home back in the city?”
“I mean, I do. But cooking for one isn’t much fun and I’m not good at it. I’m tired of eating on my couch in front of the TV.”
“Then we’ll eat at the table every night,” he states matter-of-factly.
“And we’ll cook at home,” I add.
He tilts his head to the side, a look of confusion on his face. “You got a mouse in your pocket?”
Now it’s my turn to look confused. “What?”
“You saidwe’llcook. So, you must have a mouse in your pocket because you can’t be referring to me.”
I giggle and pat my pockets. “No mouse.”
“Honey, I can’t cook for shit.”
“Neither can I,” I admit.
“Well, your dream of home-cooked meals may not come to fruition then.”
“We’ll figure it out together,” I assure him.
Standing, he moves until he blocks my view, providing aneven more spectacular one. He holds his hand out, inviting me to join him. “We will.”
Then, with the water bubbling at our feet, his hands cradle my face as he kisses me as though he’s making me a promise. He’s found me and he’s never letting go.
If I ever doubted his feelings for me, this kiss erases my insecurities. I can only hope he feels the same love and reverence I feel for him.
“I love you, Knox McKinnon,” I whisper against his lips.
His kiss intensifies, but it’s my wandering hands exploring his body that turn our precious moment into a needy one as I grip his hardening cock through his shorts.
“Hey, little lady. You better not start something you can’t finish.”
Hoping his threat is a promise, I slip my hand beneath his waistband. The moment my fingertips caress the tip of his erection, it bounces beneath my touch. When he growls, I know I’m about to get my way. “Who says I can’t finish what I start?”
“Scandalous, Miss Jameson. What about the birds and the bees?”
“I say we show `em how it’s done.” Tugging on his hand, I coax him to follow me out of the creek, but he doesn’t budge. “Don’t be shy, old man. Come on.”
“What about our stuff?”
“It’s not going anywhere.”
I step out of the water, drying my feet on the towel as I do. Slipping my flip-flops on, I head toward the truck. On my way, I pull my tank over my head, letting it drop to the forest floor. The splashing of water tells me my planis working. Before I’ve made it to the truck, his arms are around me, his bare chest against my back.
“Is this your way of telling me you’re an exhibitionist?” he whispers against my ear, the heat of his breath and the warmth of his body melting me in the best possible way.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere. Who’s gonna see us?”
