I tied it around my waist to cover the important bits and set about making fresh coffee before pulling out all the fixings for pancakes. Turning on the music, I decided I was going to make her understand what it would be like to be with me. And that meant breakfast and coffee every day before work. It meant dancing in the kitchen. It meant mornings just like this.
It also meant long, hard days of work for both of us. But the coming home, the being together, would be worth it.
I pulled out a carton of eggs and smiled when I saw the uneven writing with backward letters. I knew where these came from. Winston Farms. Carlene and Judson Winston had eight kids. The oldest was my age, but their youngest was only five. She'd been a surprise. And she was one of our town's little darlings. Everybody loved her.
The note on the eggs said, To Miss Clara, Thank you for making our chickens better. Enjoy some eggs. Everly’s E was backward. I opened the carton to find she still had eight eggs in the container, which meant I'd have enough for pancake batter and some fried eggs. Protein was important, especially after the exertion the both of us had experienced last night and this morning . . . and if I had anything to say about it, tonight too.
I started dancing around the kitchen, unable to stop myself. I couldn't help it. Music made me move. Especially when I was happy. I hadn't been happy like this in the last two years. I hadn't had a reason to dance, to smile, to look forward to much, except for Clara. Thinking back, she was the only reason I did smile most of the time. Seeing her parked outside our stable made me smile. Locking eyes with her no matter what she was doing, I’d smile. Picking her up to take her to every single wedding in Sunrise, I sure as shit smiled.
Every moment I spent with her now all seemed to be leading up to this revelation. She was my reason. Goddammit.
“So, what's for breakfast?” she asked, sliding up behind me and running her hand along my waist before curling her arms up and around so she held me tight.
My back to her front, she rested her cheek between my shoulder blades. From the feel of the fabric on my skin, I could tell that she was, unfortunately, not naked.
“Naked breakfast. That's what's up.”
“Naked breakfast? I guess I didn't get the memo.”
“That's all right. We can take care of that before we sit down to eat.”
She didn't release her hold on me. Instead, she moved with me as I swayed to the music and began to mix the pancake batter.
“You know,” I said. “We seem to have this habit of not actually cooking the food when we're in this kitchen together. I spied a couple of perfectly seasoned steaks we left in the fridge last night.”
“Funny, I don't even feel hungry.”
“Oh yeah? I find that hard to believe.”
Her stomach growled so fiercely, I felt it rumble against my back.
“Your stomach says otherwise.”
“Maybe you're right.”
“Okay, so naked breakfast first. And then, well . . . I think then we need to try again.”
“Oh my God, I have created a monster.” Her teasing tone made my chest swell . . . and other parts.
“Hey, we have a limited window of time. I want to make sure that we do our very best to knock you up. I'm doing this for you. It's always for you, Clara.” I turned around, glad I was wearing that apron because it did at least a little bit to hide my already hard cock. “I’m sorry I wasted all this time, thinking you were off-limits.”
“I’m sorry. I thought I was off-limits too.”
Shaking my head, I took a deep breath. “I should have made a move. I want you to know I understand that this is my fault. I should have told you. I should have tried from the moment I met you, but instead, I sat around with my thumb up my ass.”
She laughed hard then. “What a visual.”
“You know what I mean. I hesitated until the moment was gone, and then I lost sight of the truth. I'm not gonna do that anymore. Not with you.”
“Okay. One step at a time.”
I leaned in, then cupped her face and brought my forehead down to hers, staring deep into her eyes.
“One.” I kissed her. “Step.” I kissed her again. “At a time.”
She moaned in my mouth, and I kissed her deep this time. Gripping the edges of her robe, I slid it off her body, letting it fall to the kitchen floor.
She whispered against my lips, “What about breakfast?”
“The batter needs to wait five minutes to be ready. That’s plenty of time for me to make you come.”
Her shiver of longing sent a throb straight between my legs. I wanted nothing more than to sink inside her, but this wasn't about me. This was about her knowing that she could feel good, that it was okay to want to feel good, to be a little selfish. I picked her up and set her on the edge of the island.
“It's gonna be cold, baby.”
She bit her lip, and that look in her eyes had me stopping.
“What was that about?”
“You've never called me baby before.”
“I know, it just kind of came out.”
“I like it.”
“You don't like it when I call you darlin’?”
“I like that too, but baby, I don't know, it's something more intimate. Darlin’ is something you use when you want to show a person you like them. Or maybe you more than like them, but baby . . .” She grinned. “Nobody's ever called me baby before.”
“Do other people call you darlin’?”
“Sometimes. You know, like the cowboys who use it as sort of everyday endearment.”
“Well, I want to be the only man who calls you baby.”
“Good. That's what I was getting at.”
“All right then. Lay back, and I'm gonna show you exactly why I'm the only one that gets to call you baby.”
Her nipples were rock hard, pink and enticing. But again, that was not what I was after. She lay on the marble top, letting out a little squeak of protest as soon as her skin hit the cold stone.
“Don't worry. We'll heat it up real soon.”
Then I spread her thighs, and I had my dessert before breakfast. I had her moaning and writhing, her legs over my shoulders, my thighs burning from the position I was staying in until I made her come. And when she did, I had to hold her steady so she didn't fall off.
I backed away, helping her up with one hand as I used the back of my other to wipe her arousal off my mouth.
“See, naked breakfast is always the way to go.”
She gave me a coy smile and batted her lashes. “It seems I've been missing out.”
“Not anymore.”
I helped her hop down from the counter, and I grinned when her legs were just a little bit wobbly. She tried to regain her balance.
“Do you need help with breakfast?” she asked.
“No, I think if you're in here any longer, we aren't going to eat.”
“I could take care of you while you take care of cooking.”
As enticing as that was, I didn't want to risk hurting her. “If I wasn't going to be working with hot ingredients, maybe. But around you, my control is nonexistent. I don't want you to get hurt.”
“Well, I guess I’ll just go relax. I've never done that before. I'm always the only one here. If I don't make breakfast, I don't eat.”