Chapter 8: Rain on the Kitchen Table

The rain came in at four and by six the creek road had turned to a river.

He arrived at my porch soaked to the skin.

His wet shirt was plastered to his chest, and rain ran off the end of his beard.

In his hand was a paper bag of oranges.

"Will you take the Queen's Chair?"

"No."

"Thank you for the answer."

I took the oranges, put them on the floor, grabbed his collar and hauled him inside.

The door banged shut behind him.

I had him against it before he could say another word.

I kissed him with rainwater on my lips, and his mouth opened under mine, hot as a stove.

"Moira," he said into the kiss.

"Shirt off."

He peeled it over his head and it hit my floor with a slap.

His skin steamed in the warm kitchen.

I put my palms on his wet chest and felt his heart slamming.

"Good," I said. "I've waited since breakfast."

"It's been two hours since you saw me at breakfast."

"It was a very long two hours."

He laughed, and I silenced him with my teeth on his lower lip.

His hands went to my sweater and dragged it off.

My bra followed, and then my jeans.

I stood in the lamplight in nothing but my wool socks, and he stared at me with his mouth open.

"I love your body," he said. "I love every inch."

"Show me."

He looked around the kitchen.

His gaze landed on the table.

It was a big old pine one that had come with the house, scarred and square, with a jar of honey standing on it.

His gaze darkened with heat.

"Turn around," he said, low.

My stomach clenched.

I turned.

I put my hands flat on the pine and felt the wood, cool and a little sticky under my palms.

He came up behind me, slow.

I felt the heat of his body before he touched me, a wall of it along my back.

His hands settled on my hips and pulled me back into him.

I felt his hard cock fit into the cleft of my ass through his wet jeans.

"Garrick," I said. "Stop asking if I want it."

He huffed a laugh against my neck.

His lips found my shoulder, then the line of my spine, kissing downward in a trail that left me trembling.

"Lean on your elbows," he said.

I did.

My breasts pressed to the table.

My ass was in the air, and I heard him breathe in.

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