Page 46 of Bottle Rocket
“If you’d get your own hands dirty, this would go faster.”
“Okay.” He placed one last gentle kiss on the space between her shoulder blades, which were exposed because she was wearing a tank top.
That washer spot.It was guaranteed to make her wet. Hot tingles zipped along her spine, and she felt her pulse in her throat. She turned in his arms. His eyes were full of fire, and for once, he didn’t wait for her to kiss him or to order him around.
He licked into her mouth like he was trying to get to the center of her. Like he was reaching for the pit, digging it out with his tongue. She moaned, stunned by the viscous desire flowing through her.
Her palms were sticky and covered in peach, so she tried not to touch anything, holding her hands out to the sides. He brought her hand to his lips, then he sucked her thumb into his mouth, his tongue twining around it, and swallowed.
A high, shocked noise left her throat. She painted a stripe of juicy rosy-orange fruit across his bottom lip before following the path with her mouth. Their kiss tasted of summer.
“This is not sanitary,” she said breathlessly.
“Live a little, sweetheart. We’ll wash our hands.”
* * *
Their twenty-minute interluderesulted in an astounding blowjob—in the living room because Rosie was fastidious about food safety—and Leo needing a shower to wash off the juice from Rosie’s sticky hands. Leo couldn’t help but notice that giving him head hadnotbeen on Rosie’s summer sex checklist. She’d stepped outside her plans, which he found heartening. Maybe she would be able to see the possibilities for them, that they could be more than a fun experiment.
Now, Rosie was arranging all the jars of peach and ginger jam on her counter. She had this bright-eyed look about her.
“What are you thinking, Rosie Posey?” he asked.
She smiled—a big, uninhibited one that about took his breath away. He was gone over this woman.
“I have a label maker. I could create adorable labels for this adorable jam and give it to everyone I love.” She put her hand over her mouth. “I sound like a mommy blogger.”
He laughed and pulled her into his arms. “Do I get any of this love jam?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”
“Come on, let’s eat some.” He grabbed the one jar where the seal hadn’t taken on the lid—meaning they needed to eat it immediately—and a loaf of raisin bread he’d bought at the farmers market. Then he headed for the backdoor.
“Where are you going?”
“To sit outside. Grab a picnic blanket, please?”
She eyed him suspiciously but retrieved a handful of silverware and a blanket from her living room. He helped her lay it out in the shade of the big tree in her backyard.
It was hot outside, but the shade made it bearable. They heard kids lighting firecrackers in the street. Loud reports and pops followed by giggles. It was the best summer picnic soundtrack. Leo sliced them bread and slathered it with fresh peach jam. Rosie made herself comfortable with her head on his thigh and hummed as she took her first bite.
“This is perfect,” she said, her eyes closed. She was wearing a baseball cap—she’d turned it backwards during the makeout and blowjob—but he wanted to play with her hair, so he removed it.
“It is.” He ran his fingers through her tangled strands.
She opened her eyes. “I loved making the jam,” she said slowly.
“Good.”
“No, you don’t get it.”
He took a bite, enjoying the sweetness of the peach, the citrus burst from the lemon zest, and the zing of ginger. “Tell me then.”
“I want to make more. Oh my.” She sat up. “I was just lying here thinking about how I could make jam for people for their birthdays and Christmas and potlucks and parties, and all the different recipes I could try. I could make tomato jam or blueberry vanilla or jalapeno strawberry. I could be the jam lady.”
“Okay.” She was obviously having some sort of epiphany, but he wasn’t quite following it.
“I want to be the jam lady. Leo!” She gave him a smacking kiss on the lips. “That was the most fun I’ve had in ages—sex with you notwithstanding, of course.”
