“Then I’m happy with this.” She opened her arms to encompass the room and the bed. And him.
“Then how about I sweeten the deal and make you breakfast?”
Anna squeezed her eyes shut as she dropped her head back to rest on the wall. “Yes!”
He picked up the sketchbook and pen, handed them to her, and took her empty mug with him. “Here, have a look. I’ve sketched out some ideas for furniture in there too. And if you think of anything else to add to your list of desires, feel free to write it down.”
She curled onto her side, slowly flipping through Liam’s sketchbook while watching him work his magic in the kitchen.
He pulled a butter dish from the refrigerator, set a frying pan to heat, and lifted the lid on the carton of fresh eggs. He cracked four into a bowl and whisked. “Do you like fresh salsa on your eggs?”
“Mm, sounds delish.” She wondered if he knew his butt muscles tightened while he was standing there.
“And toast?” he asked, untwisting the tie on a bag of bread.
When he looked over his shoulder, she got to admire the spiraling action in his torso. More delicious muscles. More pleasure.
“No toast, thank you, just the eggs and salsa.”
Pleasure.
Liam seemed to derive pleasure from seeing to her happiness in bed and outside of the bedroom. He knew very little about her, but for a woman who’d been disengaged from her sexual side for years, she seemed to be having no problems reconnecting with her body under his inquisitive touch.
They were feeding each other, she reckoned, physically and sexually feeding each other necessary nutrients. She was discovering parts of herself, and he was gaining trust in his body’s ability to respond and perform. There was a decided lack of anxiety in their rapport.
He sprinkled a handful of cheese over the omelet before folding it in half in the pan and letting it sit, buttered two pieces of toast, and loaded their plates with the egg dish and a scoop of chopped tomatoes and other vegetables on the side.
“Here you go.” He handed her a fork rolled into a napkin, pulled over the wood chair he’d been sitting on next to her side of the bed, and set her plate on the seat. “Buon appetito.”
Liam settled at her feet in his favored cross-legged position while she lifted the plate to her nose and inhaled.
“This smells delicious,” she said.
“It makes me happy to cook for other people. Dig in.”
The wind had picked up while he was cooking, driving more rain against the windows and roof in loud bursts, as though someone was throwing half-empty buckets of water at the house.
“Is weather like this typical for the time of year?” he asked.
“We get a lot of rain in the fall, so, yes. Not always so stormy, though. It won’t be this heavy where you’re going camping. You’re still planning to leave this afternoon?”
He nodded. “That’s my plan. Unless we get torrential rains and flooding and you can’t make it home, and we’re forced to stay in my bed, in which case I’ll be delayed a day or two.”
Anna soaked in his flirtatious talk and his exaggerated, lascivious look. She deserved to be flirted with, and her self-admission made her blush. She flirted back, played at licking the edge of her fork. “There’s nowhere I have to be today, and if you can clothe and feed me, I guess I’ll just have to stay.”
“You didn’t happen to bring the coconut oil with you…?”
“It’s in the pocket of my coat.” She picked at the chunks of tomato that had fallen out of the omelet, pretended not to care nearly as much as she did.
“Then I think I know what we’re doing for the next couple of hours, and it involves my hands and your skin.”
Later, after another orgasm and a very short shower, Anna returned home. Liam’s car splashed through the water-filled potholes punctuating the road, the horn beeping when he passed her house. Anna breathed into a rogue wave of melancholy, listening to the sounds fade. They’d said their goodbyes and agreed to reconnect when he returned.
She shook off her sadness and picked up her phone. A dozen messages and texts waited, from Gigi, Elaine, Daniel, and two of her customers. There was nothing urgent in any of the communications, which was good. Because right now, she wanted to revel in the feelings of being the sole object of one man’s desire and being satiated by that desire.
Liam continued to refrain from full intercourse, but his imaginative use of fingers and tongue left her feeling like she didn’t need his penis to feel aroused or to orgasm or even to feel wholly female. And the best thing was, satisfying her seemed to satisfy him.
Anna hung her coat on the hook by the door. Gigi left a hand-drawn note on the kitchen counter, a small heart with the words, “See you soon.” She’d have to call her son to finalize details for the family gathering, but she could put that off until tomorrow. For the rest of this day, she wanted to continue to savor what it felt like to be with Liam.
Covered in coconut oil, by a fire, and naked.
Curled in bed, by a fire, and naked.
Wrapped in his shirt, eating breakfast he’d prepared.
There was no guilt in the pleasure she was experiencing, not in this moment. She could distinguish her feelings for whatever this was with him from her upcoming trip to see Daniel. She could be grateful to Liam, for this time where foreplay with one man prepared her for being with another man.
Anna Granger, who would have predicted you’d be thinking like this?
Not me. Not in a hundred years.
Chapter Eleven
All the familiar holiday smells were present and accounted for at the Granger’s Thanksgiving table. Roast turkey stuffed with sage dressing. Homemade cranberry sauce with a dash of orange peel. Pearl onions and peas. Sweet potatoes
