Page 84 of Perfect Assumption

Tearing my mouth away, I bury my face in the side of her neck, breathing heavily, “We need to slow down.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Her voice is both breathless and confused.

I lift my head and find her pupils almost completely dilated. That wasn’t a sound of distress; that was pure enjoyment. I trace a single finger over her breast and around the hardened tip.

She tosses her glorious head back. “Oh, God. Never…”

And that’s when it hits me like a bucket of cold ice water.Never. This brave, resilient woman I’m holding has never experienced the feelings I’m churning inside of her.Time to slow down, I warn myself. I shift Angie forward so she’s resting against my chest but still with her back against the arm. “Because I think we need to spend some time acclimating you to my touch,” I tell her matter-of-factly.

“Oh. I just don’t want…”

I tip her chin up. “Don’t want to what?”

“To disappoint you.” She blushes to the root of her hair.

“Angie, listen to me. I may have acted like a jackass in our not-so-distant past, but that’s because I have my own plate of issues none of which have to do with you.”

She chews her lip nervously. “Are you sure?”

I nod decisively.

“Then I’m getting off your lap to start prepping for part two of our overnight date.”

She stumbles to her feet before I ask, “What’s that?”

“Dinner. And before you make any further assumptions, you should know, I did date before all of this happened to me.”

Now, my mind is spinning. Planning. “And how does this one rate?”

She tosses out a saucy wink. “I’ll let you know later. I don’t want to mess with your ego or anything. Oh, how does foil-packet chicken dinner sound?”

I push to my feet to help her in the kitchen. Grabbing the candles, I follow her. “I can’t believe you know how to cook like this.”

“I can’t believeyoucan.” Angie reaches quickly into the fridge and grabs defrosted chicken, veggies, and barbecue sauce. Tossing it all onto the counter, she grabs foil, a cutting board, and a knife.

I lean over the counter and pluck a kiss from her lips. “That’s why we’re dating.”

Before I can back away, she says, “I never expected this.”

“From me?”

“From anyone,” she admits before she turns away to prepare the food.

But her words resonate deeply with me. She didn’t expect this; what else would she not expect?

And then an idea strikes. “How long will these take to cook?”

“It depends. No more than an hour. I might try to clean myself up a bit after I prepare these.” Angie’s nose scrunches up. “I’d rather be freezing cold but clean.”

“That sounds like a great idea. In fact, do you mind if I use the shower first?”

Angie waves her hand. “Be my guest. Upstairs through the guest room where the spare clothes are.”

Perfect. That will give me more than enough time to calm the turbulent emotions rioting inside of me and to prepare something special for the woman in front of me.

* * *

While Angie’s been upstairs,I cleared away our sleeping area and pulled the coffee table back in place. Hoping she’ll forgive me for rummaging around, I swiped the candles from her dining room table and a tablecloth and china from the buffet. “God, please let this turn out right,” I mutter as I light the last wick. My eyes roam over the setting to make certain I have everything in place. Cup, saucer, teaspoon. Over at the fireplace, I’ve put the french press, coffee, and teakettle filled with water. Wondering if our dinner’s ready, I use the fireplace tongs to nudge a packet to the edge when something in the air changes.