A harder slap again, and this time it produced a different response, unexpected to both of them.
“Yes, sir.”
He rubbed his hand over the offended area. Yes, sir. Wow. If he’d been capable of it, he had a feeling his cock would have sprung back to full, iron hard reaction to the address. It sure felt that way in his head.
“Good,” he said, after a brief pause, not so long that she’d think she’d done something wrong. “Lie down now.”
She lowered herself to her side facing him, though her head was down, her hair curtaining her face. “Will you stay with me?”
He grunted. “No choice. After sex that intense, I don’t think I can walk. Oh, wait.”
That tiny smile again. He’d go to the bathroom and handle that necessary clean up first, but before he did so, he leaned over the mattress, touched her face, pushed the curtain of hair away from her eyes. “I would love to go to sleep with you in my arms.”
That smile disappeared from her lips, but only to move up into her eyes, mixed with a surfeit of emotion he recognized as what was in his own heart.
“I can make you breakfast in the morning,” she said.
“Only if you wear my shirt while you do it,” he said. “And nothing else.”
Her lashes flicked up, and at last her gaze met his. It was only for a second, but when she looked back down, her voice held need and pleasure both. “Yes, sir,” she murmured.
Chapter Ten
The next morning, those two syllables stayed in his head, along with every other detail of the night, there to revisit, consider, savor.
When he’d had his first sex as a teen, he’d been possessed by a goofy euphoria. During the next week or two, at random moments, three words would pop into his mind, laced with a wonder, satisfaction, and excitement for more.
I’ve had sex.
It had seemed like a major milestone at the time, and he supposed it had been, but in reflection, it was like getting his driver’s license. It was a threshold. Once crossed, it opened him up to deeper opportunities.
Far deeper.
She’d made him breakfast as promised, and had worn his shirt. They’d sat at her small table, her turned sideways in her chair, her bare feet braced on the wheel of his as she worked on a piece of toast and the egg she’d scrambled for herself. She’d made him a ham and cheese omelet with cut up green peppers and garlic pepper seasoning.
The one thing his mother and sister hadn’t had to teach Daralyn was how to cook. She’d told Les that Oscar or Burton would cook something they wanted her to make, and then she was supposed to remember how to do it. Though her reading skills had been poor, her memory was exceptional. And once she was cooking with Les and his mom, she’d shown she had an innate talent for it, improving the flavoring and textures when encouraged to do so.
Leaving her was difficult. He wanted to hang out with her all morning, but she had her appointment with Dr. Taylor, and he had his workout session with Red.
Rory didn’t skip workouts, and it wasn’t a vanity thing. Since a variety of uncontrollable things could muck up his physical regimen, he knew the dangers of voluntary lapses.
After that, he’d be relieving Johnny at the store, since Johnny was handling opening this morning.
Rory eased his impatience with the separation by reminding himself she’d be at the store in the afternoon. And by claiming a good lingering kiss from her. Which meant when he left her, she had a soft look to her mouth, a shine to her eyes.
His last, long look from the front seat of his van was a picture that could carry him through the day.
Through the picture window he saw her sitting at the kitchen table where he’d told her to stay and finish her breakfast. She had her knees pulled up, her bare toes curled over the seat edge. Since she wasn’t wearing any panties, he could nicely torment himself by imagining what that looked like.
There’d been a schoolbook lying on the table. After he left, she’d probably open it up, lay a case knife on it to hold it open. Pick bits off the remaining piece of toast as she read.
But right now she was looking out the window at him. As he raised a hand in farewell, she did the same, giving him what he thought might be a