Eight Days a Week (18 page)

Her footsteps clicked down the hallway and stopped short at the entrance to the kitchen. I looked at her, and she raised her eyebrows to appraise what I was wearing.

“Don’t you look nice,” I said, stepping forward to get a better look.
 

She smiled, dropping her head to glance at her sundress and flip-flops. Then she held up a basket and gave me her most confident smile. “I made a picnic.”

I leaned in to give her a gentle kiss and ran my fingers along her jaw. “I love it.” I took her hand and led her to the garage, and we loaded the car and drove to the park for whatever she had planned.
 

It was quiet there, since most people were headed home to get dinner or tuck children in to bed. But we didn’t have the kids that night, so we were free to do as we pleased.

“Follow me.” She stepped off the path that led to the playground and statues. Her focus was on the ground as she led me deeper into the woods until the trees broke open revealing a huge field of white dandelions. She pointed to a dilapidated shed under an old oak that had a little wooden swing hanging from a thick branch.

“Are we going to get shot?” I asked as I looked around.

“No one lives here. It’s part of the park, but hardly anyone knows about it. I figured it would give us some privacy.”

We sat on the blanket, and she unpacked the food.
 

“When Bryan would get upset or need some time alone, he would come out here.” Her hand froze midair, and she snapped her mouth shut. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about how that would sound.”

I smiled and shook my head. “I appreciate your bringing me here. You’re letting me in a little.”

She turned her attention to the spread before us and opened the lids on some containers. “I’m no chef, since I’m not the one who went to culinary school, but I can make a mean macaroni salad.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I teased.

While we ate, I looked up toward the trees and pointed. “Lightning bugs.”
 

“We can catch some if you want.”

I jumped up and emptied the mason jar I was drinking lemonade out of, reached for her hand, and we abandoned our food. She emptied hers in a rush to follow.
 

“Come on!” I shouted.
 

“No squishing their butts, Andrew. My cousin used to do that. It’s inhumane!” she called as I dragged her toward the trees.

A little bug’s wings buzzed in front of my face, and I leaned back before bringing my hands up to catch it. We chased them around and deposited them into the glass jars until the forest grew too dark and we had to head back toward the clearing to see the last of the sunset. I carried my jar and Gwen carried hers until we stood next to the shed as the last of the pink dipped from the sky and night began to roll in.

“Now what?” she asked.

My eyes met hers and I gave her a smile. “Now we let them go.”

She laughed. “After all that? We chased them for almost an hour.”

I nodded and leaned down closer to her ear. “But they’re so beautiful when they’re free. On the count of three.”

I straightened and counted, and then both of us lifted our hands off the jars at the same time to watch the tiny bugs fly away in a frenzy, their lights blinking rapidly, celebrating their freedom. It was like watching stars rising through the night sky as they ascended into the warm summer air. I linked my fingers with hers, and we leaned against the side of the decaying building while the bugs disappeared into the forest again.

Pulling gently, I led her over to the swing. “Is it sturdy?” I asked.

“I’ve never used it.”

I tugged on the ropes and then hoisted myself to plant both feet on the wooden rung. I leaned back and jiggled it a bit, and it stayed strong, much to my satisfaction, so I extended a hand. “Climb up.”

“No thanks. I don’t want to break my leg.”

“Trust me. Just once?”
 

She sighed and placed her hand in mine, and I helped her up until she planted her feet on top of mine. I wrapped an arm around her waist and used the other to rock us back and forth.

“When was the last time you had fun like this?” I asked, running my fingers across her spine.

She blinked back tears. “The summer before my dad died, I guess.”

“That’s a long time.”

We swayed on the swing and watched the world darken around us. The chorus of the crickets grew louder, and the moon rose overhead. I looked down at Gwen, and she was staring at me.
 

“Put your arms around my waist,” I said.
 

She did, then buried her face into my shirt.
 

“Hold tight.”
 

She secured her hold, and I leaned back and rocked us to the side, then whipped us around until the rope was creaking from its new twisted position. Then we were spinning out, slow at first, then faster than I thought the swing could go.

I laughed, watching the world spin by in a blur. When we’d slowed to a gentle rocking again, she pulled back to look up at my face. Her eyes were alive and glittering in the moonlight.

I bent forward and kissed her, slow, like we had all the time in the world. Like it meant something. I ran my hand up her spine and tangled my fingers into her hair, securing my mouth against hers with an unyielding grip until the night grew so dark we had to leave.

Back at the house, she gave an exasperated sigh. “Time for your present, I suppose.”

“I told you I don’t need presents.”
 

She waved a hand and pointed to a chair at the kitchen table. “Sit.”

I complied, giving away my excitement with the steady bouncing of my knee under the table. She turned to the counter, keeping me from peeking by blocking the gift with her body while I waited. With a steadying breath, she turned around and presented me with a homemade birthday cake.

“Happy birthday.”

My eyes widened, and I looked from the cake to her face and back again.
 

“Do you like it?”

I rose to my feet and placed my hands over hers where they held the plate. My jaw clenched, and my eyes stung.
 

“It’s the nicest birthday present I’ve gotten in years. I can’t tell you the last time I had a birthday cake. Especially one that was homemade.”

“Good. Have a seat and I’ll serve it up.”

I let go of her hands reluctantly. After I sat down again, she placed the cake in front of me and turned to grab a knife and plates. I wrapped my fingers around her wrist, and she looked down at me, her brow furrowed.

She had icing all over her thumb.

“Oops. I must have thumbed your cake. Sorry.”

I lifted her hand, opened my mouth and, wrapping my lips around her thumb, worked my tongue over the icing and scraped the flesh with my teeth, all the while staring into her eyes.

“Is it good?” she whispered, transfixed.

“You haven’t tried it?”
 

She shook her head.
 

“That’s too bad. It’s delicious. Just like you.”

I pulled her down to my lap, spreading her legs to straddle me and hiking up her skirt so I could get as close to her as possible. I stared at her mouth and leaned forward, lifting my hand to her face with a finger full of icing. I traced her lower lip with the butter cream, and my eyes widened as she licked it off. Then I attacked her mouth with mine, sucking on her lower lip and cleaning it off, my teeth tugging as I let it go.
 

She took my hand and lowered her mouth to taste my finger, working her tongue and sucking hard around the tip. I knew she could feel my reaction against the underside of her thigh as I trailed my hands across her spine and pulled down the zipper on the back of her dress. The tight fabric gave way and fell from her sides, and I didn’t even have to ask before she had her arms above her head, waiting for me to slide it off.

“Damn it,” I croaked when the dress had been discarded and she was straddling me in just her panties. “No bra?”

“Are you disappointed?”
 

She laughed when I shook my head, and then I lowered my face to her chest and placed a single kiss over her heart.

Her head swayed to the side, and she gave a breathy sigh. I dipped my finger into the cake and traced her collarbone, the scent of sweet icing filling my nose again as I spread the smooth confection there and licked it off.
 

She massaged my scalp with her fingertips, and I slid the chair back to lean her against the wood table. I pinched a bit of the cake between my fingers and brought it to her lips. She bit it, then licked it off, her eyes fluttering closed as I smeared more across her nipple with my other hand. I bent to lick it off, and she bit down on my thumb. Her fingers were twitching, legs tightening against my sides while I rolled my tongue across her breast.

Her hands dropped to my shirt, and she pulled herself forward to kiss me hard, grinding against my lap. Mouthwatering sugary sweetness invaded my mouth as I sought out her tongue and kneaded her breasts, my thumbs circling in a slow torture.

I trailed more icing down her sides and across the top of her panties. She kicked her shoes off, cursing the flip-flops, muttering something about dirty feet. But that was the farthest thing from my mind, so I lifted her off my lap and set her down on the table, wrapping her legs around my waist while I went to work cleaning up the mess I’d just created on her ribs and hips. She pulled my T-shirt over my head and tossed it away before running her palms over my skin.
 

I licked her neck, tracing wet circles with my tongue where my fingers had just painted her with cake. I rolled my hips into her, and she tightened her legs and tilted her hips to meet me.
 

I sighed and ran my palms over her hips and under her thighs, gripping them and pulling her closer to my hard-on. Then I bent over to work my mouth across the waistband of her lacy underwear. I dipped my tongue below the fabric, and she bucked against the table. Her eyes closed when my hands cupped her ass cheeks and squeezed, lifting her hips toward my face in one fluid motion.

“Wait.”
 

My head shot up.
 

“The kids eat breakfast here.”

I let out a frustrated grunt and buried my face in her neck, rocking against her. She surveyed the demolished cake, crumbled and littering the tabletop, and giggled.
 

“You really,
really
liked your gift.”

I ran a sticky hand across her cheek before leaning in and kissing her jaw. “We need to get you clean.”

“My shower is bigger.”

I secured her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist, unwilling to waste another minute. Our bodies were pressed together, sliding with sweat and sticky friction, our mouths fused and breathing as one while I climbed the stairs. I didn’t even know we’d reached the bathroom until her loud breaths echoed off the tiles.

She slid out of my arms and turned on the water, then swiveled to watch me disrobe. Naked and ready, I spun her around, slipped my thumbs into the top of her lacy panties and rolled them down her legs. She stepped out of them and into the shower, and I was right behind her, never leaving more than an inch between our skin as we stood in the spray.

We took turns under the water, and I couldn’t stop staring at the way the beads and drops played along her skin, glittering in the light and curving over every inch of her body. She soaped up her puffy sponge, and I took it from her and ran it up her belly. She giggled when I reached her underarms.

“Stop wiggling,” I said, laughing, and she relaxed under my touch.

I lathered up her chest and stomach before pulling her hair over her shoulder and reaching around to her back. She leaned into my chest and closed her eyes as I moved my hand lower to her ass, then her legs.

I slid my hands up from her feet, and the buzz of anticipation made me dizzy as I rested them between her thighs. My eyes lifted to hers while I rubbed in gentle circles, and her breathing grew heavier. Smiling, I rose and pulled her under the water and let her rinse off while I soaped up myself.