Chapter 7

Rory woke up with newfound determination. Sunday. Today she was going to do what she wanted, and she wanted Ethan. Now, how?

Sun brightened the lace-covered windows. She rolled out of bed full of energy, her mind busy, and peed, showered, and started dressing almost mechanically. She stopped dressing.

Today she wanted to be sexy for Ethan. What would he consider sexy? She browsed her underwear drawer, selecting and discarding panties and bras. Blue nylon? No. The white pair with a lacy front panel? Maybe. Or...

Rory shook her head. She was doing this all wrong! She should wear things that made her feel sexy! If she felt sexy, he’d respond and see her as sexy. Wasn’t that what he’d said?

It made her choice easy. She was dressed in a flash. She returned to the bathroom and used a touch of eyeliner, studied the effect, and nodded to herself. Of all her features, she liked her eyes the most. Since she was eight years old, Ethan had told her the flecks dancing in her she eyes were pure gold, “The most beautiful eyes in the universe, Rory.”

She straightened, brushed her dark, thick hair again, smoothed her light blue and yellow blouse, undid one more button, straightened her short matching blue skirt, and nodded to herself. Ready. Watch out, Uncle!

He was standing at the kitchen sink sipping coffee from a chipped mug and staring out across the back garden to the dock. She paused to admire him. Not too tall, slender, muscular but not muscled. Her favorite part was his slender waist and great ass. Why? Who knows! But that ass!

“Happy World UFO Day,” she said.

Ethan turned with a smile, paused and studied her, foot to head, then grinned. “Be still my beating heart. Now I know what I want for breakfast.”

Rory laughed lightly, pleased. Her nipples puckered up and rubbed against her silk blouse, teasing, nice. She liked not wearing a bra. It felt like being free, naughty and fun. Just wait until she rubbed them against him!

“What’s for breakfast?” she asked, moving into the kitchen area.

Ethan nodded towards the refrigerator. “I’ve made fresh fruit salad. There’s granola and yoghurt to go with it if you want.”

“Yum!” Freshly made fruit salad was one of her favorite breakfasts. She loved the complex mix of grapes, strawberries, different melons, peaches, apples and seedless oranges all in their own juice. Who needs granola?

“Let’s eat on the patio before it gets too hot,” she suggested, opening the fridge. “Get bowls and cutlery.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered with a smile.

“And take those glasses off and put contacts on. It’s Sunday. You’re not working today,” Rory added. He only wore the horn-rimmed glasses for work.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hurry up. I’m hungry!”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

Rory straightened with a large bowl in one arm, a yoghurt container in another hand, used her butt to close the fridge door, and said, “Stop ma’am-ing me and get moving.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded, putting the mug of coffee down and heading to the bedroom.

She liked his deep laugh. “You’re such a numbnut!” she yelled after him.

She had the patio table set up before he emerged. Morning sun was bright. It hadn’t burned away the dew or slight coolness on the hardy Bahia grass. Tall palms formed by off shore breezes, bent like arthritic old men, providing shade. Tropical plants flowered everywhere adding a profusion of colors and scented the air. A large royal Poinciana tree next to the side of the house was in full bloom - a fifty-foot torch; its large fire-red blossoms so full they obscured the leaves. Rory inhaled deeply. She felt really good.

“Finally! It took you long enough,” she commented when he sat at the table.

“Contacts didn’t behave,” he told her, helping himself to a bowl of fruit salad.

Rory finally ate; cold, delicious fruit bursting with juice and flavor in her mouth. “I’m heading into town to meet friends today,” she told him, watching him closely. She liked the flash of disappointment in his blue eyes, gone almost as fast as it had arrived.

“Okay.”

“What’s the matter? Did you have other plans?” she asked nicely.

He shrugged. “Nothing that can’t wait until International Town Criers Day.”

“When’s that?”

“Next Saturday.”

Rory laughed. “You don’t play well.”

Ethan grinned. “Not if you’re going to be in town today.”

“So, what do you suggest?” she asked sweetly.

“Anything you want.”

I FELT A SPIKE of excited fear at the expression in Rory’s face. I was the mouse, cornered again. It was so thrilling, especially now when I knew there was intimacy in the equation.

She looked absolutely edible in her silk blouse and short skirt. And I knew from watching her move and how the blouse draped on her that she wasn’t wearing a bra, which only excited me more.

Perhaps best of all, it was clear Rory had plans. It was the hunger in her gold-flecked eyes, and how she asserted herself that made me almost shiver with anticipation. She was gorgeous. And I was being hunted. Fantastic!

I loved her confidence. I knew I’d gladly go wherever she led me.

We ate in quiet comfort. Rory finished her second bowl of fruit salad, drained her glass of orange juice, and sighed; her stomach dealt with.

Then those eyes turned to me, speculative, assessing. A hint of a smile curled the corners of her mouth. My hand was a bit shaky when I put the mug of coffee down.

She stood and moved to me, staring at me, swung one leg over my lap, and settled; a light, slender, and gorgeous girl.

“Today,” she informed me, her hands settling on my shoulders, “you’re giving me more kissing lessons.”

A shudder of excitement hit me. With a hint of a smile, I asked, “Remind me. What did you learn yesterday?”

Rory’s eyes twinkled. She leaned closer, her face near mine. I could smell orange juice on her breath. She stared into my eyes.

“This,” she murmured, kissing the corner of my mouth lightly. “And this,” she added, kissing the other corner.

My hands settled on her slender waist.

“And this,” she said even quieter, brushing her soft lips over mine.

My heart rate jumped.

With a small smile, her dark eyes expanding to fill my vision, she continued, “And this.”

Rory pressed her mouth to mine, her lips silken and warm and exciting. She murmured and moved her lips. I responded, my hands stroking up her back to hold her. Drowning, I closed my eyes. Then Rory sucked my lower lip and brushed it with the tip of her tongue.

Her quiet, “Mmmm,” vibrated through me and, when the kiss ended, it took me a moment before I opened my eyes. I wanted to burn the kiss into my brain. It was the single most exciting kiss I could remember.

She was watching me, her face hovering close, her breath wafting at me.

“Jesus, Rory,” I sighed.

This time, I pulled her back into another kiss, tilting my head, my mouth settling on hers fully. With silky lips pressed to mine, with the excitement of kissing her - such a young girl - thrumming through me, I tasted her with the tip of my tongue, brushing her lips.