Page 78 of Burning for You

“You’re only five years younger than me. It’s nothing.”

“Huh! Nothing?” I say. “Have you been with someone younger than me?”

She thinks for a while. “No.”

“Same age as me?”

“Not really,” she responds while studying me.

“How could you say five years is nothing, then, if I’m the youngest… the youngest… lover that you’ve ever been with?”

“Because it’s nothing. Have you got a problem with that?” I challenge him.

“Of course not. You’re too fucking sexy to have a problem with.” For that, I grab her thigh.

She sighs in lusty comfort.

“By the way,” I continue. Carolyn shows her disappointment when I withdraw my hand. My heart simpers. So she wants it. But I let her frustration linger. “How did you know I’m twenty-three?”

“I know everything about you. And your accomplice, Grant Barnes.”

Of course she does.

“Hey, let me show you something,” I say.

Feeling jubilant from her earlier praise of my domestic feat, I want to show her something else I’d created. I grab a clear folio from my desk drawer and rush back to Carolyn.

“Levi! These look magnificent.” Her carnal frustration is wiped off her face as she gapes at my sketches in amazement. I spread them on the bed.

“This is the house I’m planning to build by the Little Random Lake, not far from the ranch. Dad bought the land for me, while Jesse gets to keep the ranch.”

“Look at these details,” she says, studying my favorite sketch, the southeast projection of the house with the lake meandering about two hundred yards from it.

“Don’t ask me to work for Brilliance,” I say, flipping her a wink.

“The New Fountain project doesn’t need another architect,” she winks back. “I know it’s not your calling to work for big corporations. By the way, is Brilliance after this piece of land too?”

I nod, scooting myself closer to her.

“I’m embarrassed,” she says.

“I told you, you’re only human.”

She nods her head and rests it on my shoulder. “Levi, honestly, these works of art take my breath away.” She shuffles my sketches once more, revisiting the whole set. “You have talent.”

“They’re just a dream of mine.”

“These are more than a dream. You’ve planned it, and visualized it.”

I hug her. “Suppose… just suppose,” I say, stretching every syllable, “after everything goes back to normal and you decide to stay with me, what would be the prospect of us sharing this cottage?” I hold up that favorite sketch to her and myself at the same time.

“The probability is one hundred percent.” As her words echo in my room, her hands meander under my t-shirt.

“Had enough of talking about our future dwelling?”

“Let’s imagine we’re there now,” she whispers, her fingers fiddling with my pecs.

She slips her head under my t-shirt, kissing my abs and rolling her tongue on my belly button.

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