She throws me a bright smile, causing me to feel a little helter-skelter as I hold my glass up to my lips. I get up from the table and hold out my hand to help her up, seeing she’d eaten almost all of her plate, and that pleases me greatly.
I'd like to know more about her.
“Hey, when’s your birthday?” I ask, looking down into her face while we walk towards the lounge. I tuck her arm into mine under the guise of keeping her steady. But really, I'm wanting her closer.
“Oh!” Sarah's brows pinch, and she looks caught off guard. "It’s August third. I'm…I'm twenty-nine,” she replies rather disdainfully.
“Hey," I say slowly, "your birthday's during our trip!” I pull her to a stop just before we get to the lounge and face her headon, crossing my arms. My feelings are a bit hurt. “Were you even going to say anything?” I ask accusatorially. Trying my hardest to make my tone playful, I arch a brow at her. "And what's wrong with twenty-nine? That’s a good year!”
It really is, too. I was twenty-nine when I got the building for my practice.
Sarah smiles at me. “Oh, come on, I’m likethisclose to being a washed up spinster,” she jokes, scrunching her nose up and forcing my eyes to the tiny hoop in her nostril.
“I like your nose ring a lot. It’s so delicate, a lot like you, I think...” I say quietly, catching us both off guard now.
“Oh,”Sarah says, rubbing her hand down her arm and turning to the side slightly, obviously feeling vulnerable. I take her hand this time and pull her deeper into the lounge. “And yours is July second, right?”
I glance at her with a cheeky grin. “Yes,” I reply. A little thrill goes through me at the fact she’d noticed that from the code to my house. “Is your favorite color purple?”
“Yeah,” she giggles. “Like Barney."
“What’s that?” I ask inquisitively, making her break out in peals of laughter. She doesn’t answer my question, merely giving me a little head shake. "I'm assuming it's before your time."
I scoff.Ouch.
I keep her hand in mine as I lead her to my plush living room; it’s the only other room besides the kitchen and the study that I’d worked very hard to make mine, erased completely of Hannah's influence.
It's a dark green room with cream floor-to-ceiling drapes that are electric powered. There's a rich golden leather couch that faces a huge, mounted flatscreen television that hangs over a stone gas fireplace that's lit. The room boasts recessed lighting that's currently dimmed, giving the room a romantic glow.
In front of the couch, there's a long, chunky wooden table that looks like a weathered trunk. I’m so thankful I don’t have any glass tables. Under the tall, glittery expanse of windows sits a long cream-colored chaise lounge, and I momentarily imagine laying her there to kiss her.
She sits on one end of the leather couch, the rich leather creaking softly under her weight. A hesitant, tiny spark of pleasure flickers in my chest at the thought that with enough use, the couch might actually get broken in. Visions of her lying right there, just like that, night after night until the leather gets soft and smells of her becomes a want that settles deep inside me, becoming incessant.
“Hang on, darling,” I say, reaching into the trunk and grabbing a couple of chunky beige blankets. Our eyes lock when I spread one over her legs, and something passes between us. Tingles erupt across my skin, and not wanting anything to come across wrong, I break it before reaching for the remote.
“Thank you,” Sarah says with a smile, sitting back and curling her feet under her.
“Get comfy; this is going to be good. I hope anyways,” I mutter, finding the show and hitting play.
I walk behind the couch and over to the end table next to her to turn off the lamp, just leaving the recessed lights dimmed behind us.
She throws me a shy look as I sit down on the other end and kick my legs up on the table in front of me. We sit back comfortably as the movie starts, nursing our glasses of wine and staying quiet. I notice Sarah’s fingers rub together, and I wonder if she's still feeling the grip of my hand around hers.
I know I'm still feeling hers.
We watch the show, and I truly get a kick out of her gasps and breathless“Oh my Gods.”She's so expressive
As we near the end of the movie, Sarah gets quieter. Curious, I look over and see she slid deeper into the cushions and has tilted further onto her side and tummy. Her eyes flicker, and her chest rises and falls slower and slower. Simply watching, I take a lazy sip of wine when a soft snore comes from her. Chuckling, I lean forward and adjust her blanket further onto her. I pause when I feel something press into my thigh and draw my gaze down. My chest heats with pleasure at the sight of her small feet poking out from under the blanket.
I go still at her pretty, chocolate tipped toes. Boldly reaching forward, I brush my fingers over them, admiring the feel of her soft skin. Her lips part on a quiet whimper, and her toes wiggle.
I wonder when the last time was that she had her feet rubbed.
My eyes roam up her body, still seeing her deeply asleep, and I take one of her feet gently in my hand, pressing and circling my thumb into her soles, and finish the rest of the movie before getting up and lifting her carefully in my arms. I walk slowly, cradling her weight in my arms, careful not to press her breasts against my body.
No need to overly tempt myself if there's no need to.
Rounding into the spare bedroom, I lower her to the mattress and once again fuss around with her hair, ending up twisting it into loops onto the pillow. Covering her gently, I make sure the fan is on high like she seems to like it and leave her bedroom to clean up the kitchen, not minding in the least the clean-up after cooking.
