Page 18 of Pining for You

While I’d enjoyed our encounter in the living room, I wanted to take this part slow. To explore Chloe, to find out what things excited her, what didn’t, to learn everything I could about her.

I started off by kissing her, gently at first, until her hands slid over my back and dug into my butt. She lifted her hips, pressing herself against my erection. Damn it all, if she kept this pace up, I’d come again far too fast and our fun would be over for several hours.

With a growl, I shifted my weight until I was lying beside her, one leg thrown over her hips to hold her in place. Then I lowered my head and trailed my lips down her jaw, which she tilted up with a hum. I kissed down her neck, tasting her, smelling a hint of some perfume or maybe it was soap she’d used, memorizing it because I wasn’t sure I’d ever get another opportunity to do this again.

The whole time my hands were exploring, stroking up her arms, and down her body until I cupped her breasts. Her eyes closed and her breath hitched when I captured one nipple with my teeth and slightly tugged, then used my tongue until her hips writhed beneath me, and she was begging me to do…something. Anything.

Her hands were exploring me too, tangling in my hair to keep my mouth right where it wanted to be, in possession of her. Then she loosened her grip and tried to roll toward me, to take charge, but I stopped her.

“My turn,” I whispered.

“But I want you to—” Frustration filled her voice.

“I know what you want, and we will. Soon. But I’m not doing this in a rush again. I want you to enjoy this.” To remember me as giving you everything you need.

As I switched to give her other breast its fair share of attention, I flattened my hand over her belly, over every sinuous curve leading down to her slick, welcoming folds, and slid one finger deep inside her. She moaned when my thumb found her clit and set up a rhythm that had her arching into my touch.

I lifted my head to watch her expression as her body tightened around my fingers. She moaned and writhed with each thrust, until she begged me to fuck her, damn it, then arched and came around my hand with a cry. Followed by yet another fuck me, damn it demand.

Who was I to deny her—or myself—such pleasure? I grabbed one of the condoms she’d tossed on the nightstand, donned it, and plunged into her depths. We set up a rhythm that started off slow, then increased until we were both shuddering in fiery pleasure. I was sweating at holding off my own release until she’d found hers once more. Then I thrust one last time and came so hard, I had trouble breathing and collapsed on top of her.

7

BRAD

I’d woken to find Chloe’s side of the bed empty, a note on her pillow. “Hey there, sleepyhead. I had to get to work but you looked like you needed the sleep. Feel free to help yourself to coffee. Sorry there’s not much breakfast food—I usually eat mine at work. I enjoyed last night. Need to do it again. Soon.”

I wanted to call her right away, to make plans to drive to Peterborough and visit my sister’s tea shop. Would calling her so quickly appear too needy? Plus, it meant I’d have to introduce her to Joy. Who would inform everyone in my family who I was dating. I liked the idea of getting to know Chloe before springing my family on her.

With that thought in mind, I logged into the family chat again, said the date had gone well, and I wanted to ask her for a second date, but how long should I wait? I didn’t mention Chloe or Pemberley’s Parlour.

Shelly replied first, recommending I wait a day before contacting my mystery woman. Cynthia recommended a week. Joy initially said not to wait but to ask her that morning, then she saw Shelly’s texts and backed off. Which was typical for my sisters.

In the end I took Shelly’s advice and held off until the next day to text Chloe about wanting to see her again. She’d texted me back a half hour later and agreed to a second date for the following Saturday evening since she had a family obligation during the day. Which relieved me because it meant I could put off the high tea and introducing her to Joy.

Everyone I’d met the rest of the day had asked me why I was smiling. I could hardly tell them I’d had the best sex of my life. Or that I thought I’d met the one. It was only our first date and there was no reason to open myself up to mockery.

Saturday night I’d driven Chloe over to Peterborough, where we’d had dinner at one of the classier restaurants overlooking the Otonabee river. Like the first night, we’d ended up back at her place. Once again, I couldn’t stop smiling all the next day, prompting a grumbled comment from John, and more than a few pointed jokes from other team members.

The third date, last night, we’d met after work and wandered along Port Paxton’s main street, then stopped off at the piano bar. Over several beers and a plate of shared appetizers, I’d been surprised to learn Chloe hated working outside because she’d spent her summers pruning trees on her grandfather’s Christmas tree farm, spent her Decembers freezing at the barn where he sold them, and in between cleaning cottages or mowing lawns for her father’s clients on the summer weekends. In the eleventh grade, she’d made a pledge to herself that she’d choose a career that let her work inside with heating and air conditioning. And that she’d spent four years at a university in southwestern Ontario studying business management.

Marilyn had already told me some of the basics of Chloe’s life when she was matchmaking—I wondered what she’d told Chloe about me—but I celebrated that Chloe was finally opening up to me, trusting me.

Though I’d love to see her every day, I was relieved that John had hired someone else for the Prunery, and I wouldn’t have to recommend Chloe for the position. She deserved better. Unless Molly was willing to quit being office manager and handed the reins over to Chloe. Which wasn’t about to happen, from the latest grumbles by John.

When the bar rang their last call bell, Chloe asked to see my apartment. We walked hand in hand along the nearly empty main street, stopped for a few kisses in the shadows of the side streets. Luckily, my apartment was in the upstairs of the newly renovated coach house behind a big Victorian where my friends Ellie and Malcolm lived. Their lights were out, so no one could spy on us when I’d taken Chloe standing up against my front door. Her idea, by the way, but I wasn’t about to turn down that invitation.

BRAD

Sweat dripped down my face, stinging my eyes as I maneuvered to a different spot on an ancient oak. I cursed under my breath when I noticed the new hire John had set on me two days ago had let go over the line and wandered away to light up a smoke.

“Kegan, get over here and grab that line. I’m about to cut this branch. If you don’t hold onto it, it could end up going through Mrs. Jones’ patio doors.

“I’m having a fuckin’ smoke, man. Give me a fucking break.” He continued with a stream of profanity that carried clear across town.

Aware of the client standing in her open kitchen window hearing the exchange, I lowered myself to the ground and stomped over to Kegan.

I kept my voice low so Mrs. Jones couldn’t hear. “You’re still learning the ropes here. Literally. Part of the job is how to behave in front of a client who happens to be watching us through her open window and can hear every word you’re using. Now do your job, or you’re done here.”

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