Not things to do with Emmanuel, but from before.
She had to tell him, she knew that. It was the right thing to do, really theonlything to do, and yet she couldn’t quite squash the worry that it would change things.
So far, Matthew had been understanding about everything, and it hadn't seemed to affect the way he saw her, but this was different. This couldn’t help but make things different.
* * * * *
5:46 P.M.
He could stare at her forever.
In fact, Matthew had to keep reminding himself that as much as he was looking forward to spending this time with Grace, he was here to protect her.
Maybe if he kept repeating that he’d stop getting distracted by those long limbs and soft curves.
It was obvious that Grace hadn't been outside in years. Her skin was as white as snow, and she’d been diligently reapplying sunblock every hour, so she didn't wind up with horrible sunburn. Even though she was short, only five-foot-three, her legs were long and slim, and the small curve of her hips had him wanting to dig his fingers into them as he thrust into her until both their worlds exploded into pleasure. Her breasts weren’t large, but they were the perfect size to fit into his hands and all he could think about was how sensitive her nipples would be when he finally got his hands—and his mouth—on them.
When, not if, because he could feel the sexual tension building between them.
Not that he would do anything until Grace was ready. This was her show, and she would have to be the one to let him know when she was ready for more.
Grace stretched, the movement sending a jolt of blood straight to his groin and he shifted uncomfortably. He was sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs dangling in the water. Grace was lying on a towel on the tiles around the pool, soaking up the sun’s rays.
“Matthew?” she asked as she sat up slowly, blinking in the bright sunlight.
“Right here.”
“My stomach is rumbling so loud it woke me up. You want to go inside and have dinner?”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.”
She paused in the act of standing up and shot him a sweet smile. “I like when you call me sweetheart. I never thought I would be affected by pet names like that, terms of endearments, but every time you say that I get this tingly feeling in my stomach.”
Matthew dove into the water, swam across the pool, and climbed out on the other side. He stalked toward her like a predator stalking its prey only this prey very obviously wanted to be caught if the fluttering of her pulse and fire in her eyes were anything to go by. When he reached her, he yanked her up against him, no soft and sweet this time, he plundered her mouth in a scorching kiss that put the summer sun to shame.
“Come on, sweetheart, let’s go do dinner,” he said when he was able to drag himself away from her. Matthew managed it only because he knew if he didn't stop there, he wouldn’t be able to stop at all.
Hand in hand, they headed back inside. After spending the afternoon outside it seemed overly dark inside, but they still had several hours yet before the sun would set. Once it did, he would be on high alert as he doubted Emmanuel would try anything until he could use the cover of darkness. For now, he was just going to soak up every second of time he got to spend with Grace, falling for her further with each new thing he learned about her.
“What do you want to eat?” he asked. They had a well-stocked fridge and cupboards, so they could pretty much make whatever they wanted.
“I’m not in the mood to cook much. We could make a pasta salad?” she suggested. “That was my favorite summer dinner when I was growing up. Oh, and while we leave it in the fridge to cool down, we could make meringues for dessert.”
“I thought we’d make S’mores and sit by the firepit later.”
Grace made a face. “I don’t like S’mores, marshmallows are icky.”
“Icky, huh?” he asked with a smirk.
“Totally. I always just used to eat the cookies when we make S’mores, and the chocolate of course. But meringues, they’re delicious, and we only need eggs, sugar, and a little vanilla. Ooh, and if we have food coloring, we can make multi-colored meringues! I’d been wanting to make some with more than one color but then Emmanuel and … well you know what happened there.”
“Okay, pasta salad and meringues it is.”
“What do we have in the fridge?” Grace opened the fridge door and answered her own question. “Tomatoes, cucumber, you want an onion in there?”
“Sure.” Matthew grabbed a pot and filled it with water, turning on the gas and leaving it to start boiling while he found a bag of pasta in the cupboard. While he got that cooking, Grace started chopping the vegetables. Or was it fruits? Matthew always got confused with tomatoes and cucumbers. Were they fruits? Vegetables? Did it matter? Absolutely not. “I've never made meringues before. How do we make them?”
“They’re really easy. A few eggs, we only need the whites not the yolks, a little cream of tartar, beat them until soft peaks. Then add the sugar a bit at a time, beating until its stiff and glossy. Then beat in the vanilla, and color if we have any. Then we put them in the oven and cook them until they’re hard on the outside, not sticky. Usually I can tell because you can move them without them sticking to the paper.”