The sound of the sauce bubbling over jolted them apart, and Clara laughed. ‘We’re burning dinner.’
‘Switch it off.’ The commanding nature of his voice surprised even him. Her eyes flashed as she obeyed.
‘Yes, sir.’ Clara flicked off the stove with a decisive click, her eyes never leaving his as she stepped back, a fiery glint in her gaze. She stretched out and gently closed the door with a soft thud. ‘Let’s make sure Skye stays in the living room for now.’
Sam cupped her face, thumb tracing her cheek before drawing her into another deep kiss. Clara melted against him, a soft moan escaping her lips as his tongue explored her mouth. She tasted of the berries from earlier, sweet and lush.
Their kisses grew more urgent. Sam’s fingers found the hem of Clara’s top, ghosting along the warm skin beneath. She shivered at his touch, breaking the kiss, and pulling back to tug the top over her head.
Sam let out a low breath, drinking in the sight of her. Clara grinned a little wickedly as she reached for the buttons of his shirt, fumbling slightly in her eagerness. Sam helped, shrugging off the shirt and pulling Clara flush against him. The skin-to-skin contact made him groan.
He leaned in and their lips met again, hungry and desperate. Sam’s hands roamed Clara’s back, unhooking her bra and sliding down the straps. She let it fall, pressing even closer. The hard planes of his chest against her pert breasts sent tingles of electricity through his body.
Clara’s hand brushed against him over the zip of his jeans. He drew a sharp intake of breath, as she palmed him firmly through the fabric.
He gasped. ‘Please.’ He wasn’t sure what he was asking for, but he wanted… needed something.
She met his gaze. ‘Yes?’ She gave him a squeeze that made his hips jolt.
That was all the encouragement he needed. In one fluid motion, he lifted her onto the counter, stepping between her legs. She wriggled out of her cropped trousers as their kisses grew more frantic, tracing the muscles of Sam’s abdomen, dipping teasingly below his waistband. Sam groaned, his hips pressing forward instinctively. He trailed kisses along her jaw, down her neck, savouring the soft sighs that escaped her lips. The exercise he’d done for his own benefit to stay healthy was paying off now in other ways. He was in pretty good shape, and she obviously wasn’t complaining.
‘Wait.’ Clara pulled back, breathless, hands still on Sam’s shoulders. He looked at her, confused, until she gave him a reassuring smile and slipped away to her bag. When she returned, holding up a small foil packet, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Sam reached for it, but she just grinned. ‘My pleasure,’ she teased, her touch sending a shiver down his spine.
Moments later, their laughter faded as heat and longing took over. Sam lifted her gently onto the sturdy oak table, nestling himself between her legs. They paused, foreheads pressed together, simply breathing each other in.
The world seemed to blur around them – just hands and lips in all the right places, whispered words, the rhythm of hearts pounding as one. All the tension, the anticipation, surged between them in a rush of sensation and emotion. This time it was quick, intense.
Clara clung to him, her breath quickening as he held her tight, thrusting deep as she squealed with delight. They moved fast, lost in each other, until pleasure and love collided – leaving them trembling, breathless, and wrapped around each other.
‘I’m wrecked,’ he whispered, trying to catch his breath. ‘What have you done to me?’
She chuckled into his shoulder. ‘I don’t know, but never have I ever donethaton the kitchen table before.’
He let out a low laugh. ‘Me neither.’
Their bodies were slick with sweat, hearts still racing as they remained in a tight embrace. Clara’s fingers traced lazy patterns on his back, her legs still wrapped tight around him, while he held her, inhaling her intoxicating scent.
She sighed. ‘That was…’
‘Incredible,’ Sam finished, lifting his head to meet her gaze.
Clara smiled softly, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. ‘More than that; it was perfect.’
The abandoned pots on the stove had long since cooled.
Sam reluctantly pulled away, helping Clara off the table. Her legs were still a bit wobbly, and he steadied her with a gentle hand on her waist. They shared a conspiratorial grin, like teenagers who had just got away with something naughty. Acar door banged outside, and Sam silently thanked god that the kitchen was at the back of the house as the blinds were wide open.
‘Just my neighbour.’ Clara winked at him. ‘She’s an artist who’s mad as a box of frogs, so even if she caught us doing anything, she wouldn’t care – though she might try to paint the scene.’
‘Oh, jeez. I’m not sure I want to think about that.’
‘We should probably clean up.’ Clara retrieved her discarded bra from the floor with a giggle, holding it up with a raised eyebrow. ‘I think we got a bit carried away.’
‘Great fun though,’ Sam said. ‘I might use the bathroom.’
‘It’s upstairs—’
