Meanwhile, I’ve been spending my days with Dottie. She’s taught me how to cook a lot in her kitchen, as well as shown me how to master some sweet treats. I haven’t gone into town with her yet. I’m not sure if we are supposed to, so I figure it’s best to stay back and play it safe.
I’ve been sleeping better, too. I’m not sure if it’s the medication that I’ve been taking, or the fact that I’ve fallenasleep in Thomas’s arms every night, but I’m sleeping, and no longer plagued by the constant anxiety and worry over falling asleep at night. It’s still there, but the medication and Thomas help quiet some of the noise.
Every morning when I wake in his arms, it helps me put in perspective how real he is. He cares for me, that much is apparent. I care for him too, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been feeling more and more heat rising between us, in a good way. It all feels a little too good to be true, especially since our so-called engagement is fake. It doesn’t feel fake in those moments.
He’s so good looking, I have to remind myself that he has said he’s attracted to me. It can be hard, especially for someone who’s never been on the receiving end of this type of affection before, but I’m starting to crave his kisses, his touches, to the point where I am ready for more, but I don’t know how to take that step.
Even thinking about him, how it might feel to have him hovering over me as he’s inside of me, his hands on my bare skin, sends a tingle of pleasure right to my pounding core.
How do I show him I’m ready? That I want to slowly take another step? By now, he’s surely figured out I’m a virgin, even though it’s never been blatantly said. But with my admission of his lips being the first to kiss me, as well as my telling him he took me on my first date and that I’m not good with people, he must know.
Do I take the first step?CanI take the first step? I’ve felt his hardness against my back and my stomach every morning we’ve woken up, and seen the way his eyes linger on my body and my face. There’s a lustful heat in his eyes in every gaze and longing look.
The pond in front of me glistens in the sunlight, the water shimmering as the soft wind moves it. The sound ofcrunching footsteps pulls me out of my thoughts as I turn in the swing to find Arson ambling up to me, Thomas a few steps behind him.
Sunlight seeps through the trees behind him, making him glow with an ethereal look. There’s dirt on his arms from a hard day's work, and his hair is tousled and mussed.
“Hard day?” I ask as he approaches, sitting on the empty swing beside me.
“Not bad, just hot,” he says, swinging toward me. He reaches out with one hand, the other holding onto the rope as he cups my cheek, kissing me sweetly. “How was your day, freckles?”
My belly flips as he moves his hand from my cheek, sliding down my neck and my arm, to finally rest on my thigh, his thumb stroking my bare skin.
God, his touches are enough to drive me wild.
I clear my throat, feeling the burn of my neck and cheeks. “It was good. Dottie taught me how to make homemade chicken pot pie. There’s some inside waiting to be heated up for dinner.”
“That sounds amazing,” he says.
“It’s really good.”
“Ron was telling me that their son is coming to visit in a few weeks,” Thomas tells me.
“That will be nice,” I reply, but my gut churns inside. More people to try and interact with.
“Mhmm,” Thomas says, but I get the feeling he isn’t really focused on a conversation as he eyes me closely. His hand has moved up toward the apex of my thighs, grazing the hem of my shorts. I’m wearing denim overalls and an orange tank top underneath. I glance down to watch his hand as he grips my thigh, squeezing gently, making goosebumps prick across my skin.
A simple touch is enough to make my core clench and heat burn low in my belly. Thomas leans forward in the swing, taking my face in his other hand and kissing me. His lips expertly trace the curve of my bottom lip, teasing it open and deftly swooping his tongue inside. I let him take the lead, as always, as I lose myself in his kiss.
When he pulls away, I have to hold back my whimper of want at the loss of his taste, his warmth.
Thomas chuckles softly. “There, did I get you to stop thinking for a minute?”
I pull further away from him, quirking my brow as I work to steady my breathing. “What do you mean?”
“The moment I mentioned the Graffs having a visitor, you shut down. I’ve learned that when I kiss you, your brain shuts off. Did it help?”
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “Yeah, it did.”
Thomas leans forward, kissing me once more, chaste and quick.
“Good. Now, why does the Graff’s son coming stress you out?”
I shrug, not really wanting to dive into it.
“Hannah, you can tell me. That’s what I’m here for. I want to be your sounding board, your person, someone you can lean on.”
I turn my eyes to the pond in front of us, watching the glistening water as I try to form words. “It sounds stupid.”
