Chapter Four
Mark
I made her nervous. But I have to give it to her, she hasn't found a quick way to leave tonight. She's stuck it around, even after I told her I want to kiss her. Part of me wondered if that would send her running, but we're sitting here on the back porch again.
I'd asked her if she'd wanted to watch a movie, but she'd said no and had pointed back out here.
I get it, because this is my happy place.
It's where I come when the job gets to be too much, when we've had a hard call, and I need to get closer to nature.
It's everything to me, and I'm excited to spend the time with her here.
"Tell me about Cora," I mention her daughter.
She smiles, and it goes all the way to her eyes. They crinkle slightly at the corners, and her face washes with pride. "She's the best."
"Yeah?" I lean back in my chair, genuinely wanting to hear this. The joy showing on her face is enough to make me excited for her. The way Trish and Gunner talk about Cora really makes me want to meet her officially at some point.
"She's so smart, Mark." The pride in her voice gets even thicker. "Like, scary smart. Her teacher called me last week actually, because they want to move her into some accelerated classes." She pauses, and the pride shifts just slightly into something more complicated. "I'm just not sure about it."
"How come?"
"She's seven." She turns her wine glass slowly between her palms. "I don't want her to feel like she has to perform, you know?
She's already perceptive enough that she picks up on stress, on mood shifts, on things she shouldn't have to be paying attention to at her age.
I don't want to pile more expectations on top of a kid who's already grown up quicker than she should. "
"That's a hard call," I say. I was one of those kids who grew up quicker than they should’ve. With a single mom who had sometimes asked me questions that were better suited for adults. I don’t tell her that my mom and I no longer have a relationship, because I feel like her recognizing the situation is more than my mom ever did.
"But the fact that you're even thinking about it that way tells me she's got the right mom making it. "
She looks over at me like she's not quite sure what to do with the words I’ve said.
"How's she handling everything else?" I ask carefully. "The divorce."
Trish exhales slowly. "Better than I expected, honestly.
Kids are resilient in ways that'll break your heart.
" She pulls one knee up to her chest, resting her chin on it.
"She asks about her dad, but she's settled into our routine. She knows what to expect from me, and I think that’s helped her. The harder part is…" She stops.
Fuck me. She’s still fucking covering for this asshole. "You can say it."
"She doesn't see Derek as much as she should." Her jaw tightens slightly, and I can see her trying to stay neutral about it. "He's got a new girlfriend, and his attention is.." She makes a small, vague gesture with her hand. "Elsewhere."
"That's got to be hard."
She surprises me then, because she shakes her head.
"Not for me. Not the way you might think.
We hadn't had anything exciting between us in a long time. No sparks, no pull, nothing." She says it matter-of-factly, without bitterness. Like she made her peace with it a long time ago. "I grieved that marriage while I was still in it. By the time I got out, there was nothing left to miss. He chased other women, I don’t necessarily know for sure if he cheated on me, but he wasn’t getting it at home, so I have to assume.”
I stall for a second, thinking over how I want to word this. With this woman, I want to give her whatever she needs, and the only way to do that is to verify. To ask questions, and then I won’t have to wonder. "What do sparks look like to you?"
She goes quiet.
Slowly, she sets her wine glass down on the little side table between us, and the soft clink of it is loud in the quiet of the night.
Surprising me, she stands, looking down at me.
Her shoulders are set, and it looks like she’s made some sort of decision about whatever it is she’s been thinking about. I don’t interrupt her.
I watch her, not wanting to break the spell, as she closes the distance between our chairs and swings one leg over my lap, settling herself onto my thighs like she's been thinking about doing it the entire night.
My hands find her hips on instinct, steadying her, and she rests her forearms on my shoulders and looks at me.
"Sparks," she says quietly, "feel like this." And then she closes the gap and kisses me.
It starts soft, as if she’s learning to kiss again, feeling out what I like, and maybe what she likes now.
Even though I want to, I don’t rush it. I don’t dig my fingers into her hair and move her mouth the way I want to.
It takes everything I have, but I let her lead, let her set the pace she needs, my hands staying on her hips while she figures out what she's doing.
Then she exhales against my mouth, and the kiss deepens, and my hand slides up her back and pulls her closer.
She tastes like wine and fucking forbidden fruit.
I take my time like I promised myself I would, if I ever got the chance to sample.
Even though my length hardens and presses into her, I do my best not to let that attraction and arousal dictate where this goes.
I purposely pull back and shut the lid on my needs.
This is all about her. There’s no urgency to this.
It’s a lazy exploration of what promises to be a hell of a good time if we allow ourselves to have it.
I growl in the back of my throat when her fingers curl into the back of my neck like she's anchoring herself.
We stay like that for a long time. Kissing slow, pulling back just enough to breathe, then finding each other again. Her forehead drops to mine at one point, and neither of us says anything. There isn't anything to say that the heat between us isn’t already saying.
When she finally eases back, her eyes are soft and a little unfocused, and there's a curve at the corner of her mouth that I feel unreasonably proud of.
"See?" she murmurs.
"Yeah," I agree. "I see."
I’m still hard when I walk her out to her SUV when it's time, my hand resting at the small of her back. The street is quiet, the neighborhood settled in for the night, and there's a full moon guiding our way. It’s magical as anything else ever has been.
She stops at the driver's side door and turns to face me. She's smiling, surprise flaring in her eyes.
"Thank you," she says. "For dinner. For the porch." She pauses. "For the kiss."
"Anytime." I mean that in every direction. “I’m going to bed with either the worst case of blue balls, or I’m going to have to take care of myself before I get any kind of sleep, but trust me, Trish. You were fucking worth it.”
She laughs softly and ducks her head, and when she looks back up her eyes are bright. They’re full of heat, and a promise of what might happen next time. "That was the first kiss I've had in two years, you know. There was a lot riding on it."
"I know. You told me. Did it meet expectations?”
She lifts one shoulder, a sassy smile spreading across her lips. "It did. I just wanted you to also know that it was the best one of my life."
I lean down and press one more to her forehead. My cock throbs as she runs a finger down my stomach.
"Drive safe, Trish."
She gets in her SUV and I stand in the driveway until her taillights disappear around the corner.
Then I go back inside. I’m equal parts frustrated and grinning like an idiot. Truth is, I wouldn’t change any of it.