“My bottom thanks you. The pumpkin comparison was quite flattering. I’ve heard that it’s like a rock before, but there isn’t much to love about rocks. Often, they’re quite flat and lifeless.”
“I beg to differ,” Becki blurts out, her cheeks reddening. “I think rocks can be quite beautiful, which is why people spend tons of money collecting them. Rocks are versatile, and they can be painted or used for building, landscaping, or crushed up to make…um…other things.”
“Well, then. I guess I should be flattered by that too. The carrot, though, that’s what really got me. It was quite inventive. Juicy and gritty, huh? My compliments to your imagination.”
“Argh!” she berates herself, looking more ashamed and embarrassed than ever.
“So, can I?”
Becki’s chest heaves, and her eyes darken. “Can you what?”
“Disprove your theory?”
“It’s not really a theory per se.”
“I think it is. Although, you don’t have much scientific evidence to base it on.”
“I didn’t realize we were talking about science here.”
I close the distance between us in a few strides. Becki gasps and goes totally rigid. I’m not sure I’m welcome for real, even though her pupils are huge, her cheeks are pink, her lips are parted, and her breath is uneven. Those are some pretty clear signs to me, but maybe it’s just her body, and the part that truly matters—her brain—doesn’t want to get involved with theories and science experiments. Yeah, I’m talking about kissing, which I know I shouldn’t do either, but right now, the parts of me that don’t matter are in rebellion against the part of me that does—my brain—and they’re not having any of my feeble protests.
I’ve been thinking about kissing Becki since I heard her talking in the barn, and all while I mowed the grass, where I got one hornet sting and three fly bites I didn’t tell her about. I’ve been thinking about it all through dinner, through going out to the barn and getting everyone settled down for the night, and while she was showering. I knew I shouldn’t have come in here, but here I am, talking about theories. So close. So close to making all those thoughts I’ve had a reality.
“If you don’t want me to kiss you, then I won’t. Not every theory needs to be proven.
Becki’s chin juts out, and her bottom lip trembles. “Because you don’t want to? Really? You were just trying to be nice about it? Proving it out of pity?”
“No. That wasn’t my intention at all. It wouldn’t be proving anything.”
“So…so you want to do this because you…because you want to?”
“Yes. Very much.”
“Not because you think I’m some pathetic country bumpkin who doesn’t have a life, who might be going a little bit crazy because I talk to my cow and compare bottoms to pumpkins? Not because you’re bored, and I’m here, and it’s easy to toy with me?”
I can’t help it. I can’t not touch her. I can’t bear to hear those things she’s saying—some of them humorous, some of them not so much. Okay, not at all. I cup her cheek. Her skin is so soft that I can’t think of a comparison. Certainly not a vegetable, and not velvet. Not even peach skin. She’s softer than all of those. My hands feel rough against her skin, even though they’re still relatively smooth, thanks to the gloves I wear while working outside.
“No. For one, I think the term country bumpkin might not be correct anymore.” Becki has no idea why I’m grinning when I say that, somewhat sheepishly, because it brings to mind myself in the lawyer’s office. I can’t believe that it was just over a week ago. I feel like a totally different person now. “And I’m not bored. I would never toy with you. I’m asking you because I want to kiss you. I’ve thought about it all of today, all of yesterday, and all of the day before.”
Becki lets out a squeak higher than a mouse could ever make.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s not an ideal situation.”
“You’re still basically a stranger.”
“Kind of.”
“You’re here to discover what life on the sanctuary is like. What if things get all messed up because of a kiss?”
“I’ve thought about that too, and it’s what’s been stopping me.”
“I don’t think your grandfather had this in mind when he said different experiences.”
“I’m not so sure about that. He wanted me to look at the world in a different way. My life was just my work, and I didn’t make time for much of anything else.”
I gently brush my thumb over Becki’s trembling lower lip. She’s so soft there, too—soft and lush. I barely keep a groan in. My cock barely keeps a groan in. Bet you didn’t know Mr. Happy could groan, but I’ve just become aware, right now, that he can. If my balls become any heavier, I think they might fall to the floor with a bang that will also be easier to hear, which makes me think about cannonballs hitting the deck. Yeah. I think it’s a good comparison.