Page 9 of Charlotte
6
CHARLOTTE
The house is far from complete, but already I can see the potential. I try to imagine the siding up painted a vibrant blue color and a light-colored trim, with bushes and new grass put in on the lawn. My mind can even see the neighborhood growing around it. I've heard that this is the up-and-coming neighborhood near the city. Thomas did his homework picking this location to start.
“Are you going to show me around inside?” I ask, looking back at him.
He seems surprised but eager at my willingness to head inside. He grabs the picnic basket from the backseat and jumps out. I barely opened the door before he’s around the truck and helping me out.
“Shall we?” he holds out his elbow for me to loop my arm in with his.
“Lead the way.”
We walk up the cracked path to the front door. Thomas pulls out his key and opens the door, and gestures for me to step inside. The sun is already so low in the sky that I wonder if we should have brought flashlights or lanterns, but as I look around, I see flickering light near the back of the house.
Thomas gives me the tour, telling me all about how the house used to look before rebuilding it to what it is today. The layout is much more open, and the flow from each room to the next makes this place perfect.
“I can’t believe you did all this by yourself,” I tell him in amazement.
“I did most of the work, but I had some guys come in for the electrical and fixing up the foundation.”
“It’s more than most people can do.” I smile at his modesty.
For someone so open and confident on stage, showing me this new side of him makes me like him even more. We turn the last corner, and I finally see what the flickering light is coming from. Thomas has laid out a red and white checked blanket on a folding table with matching metal chairs and candles surround it.
“Are those real?” I ask, wondering how flammable this place could be with all the work that’s been done and is being done.
“Don’t worry,” he squeezes my hand. "They are real but battery operated."
Thomas pulls out one of the metal folding chairs for me to sit down on. He sits down too and unloads the food. The food is simple but delicious—turkey and cheese sandwiches, pasta salad, baby carrots, and sparkling water. It’s like we really are having a picnic.
“You’ve done an amazing job,” I tell him as I take a bite of my sandwich.
He looks around the room, pride radiating off him, and I can’t help but feel the same with him.
“It’s coming along.”
"Do you plan on keeping this house for yourself or selling it?"
"I'm not sure yet. The plan was to sell, but I can't help but feel connected to this place already. I think it would be tough to let this one go to some stranger. I've poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this place.”
“Tears?”
“Oh yeah, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.” He points towards the area the will become the kitchen. “I smacked my thumb with a hammer pretty good over there. I thought I broke it.”
I chuckle, knowing he’s probably teasing about the tears but telling the truth about smacking his thumb. I hold out my hand to him.
“Let me see.”
He reaches across the table and shows me his thumb. I examine it, and I can still see some purple bruising under the nail.
"Poor thing," I say and kiss his thumb.
All the humor leaves his eyes, and there is a lust that grows in its place. I'm feeling it too. I have been since I saw him face to face when I walked out of my apartment. I thought that I’d be able to hold back, and maybe I could have before when I thought he was just a beautiful face and a panty-drenching body. But after tonight, there is so much more to Thomas. He was right to ask me to give him a chance. I could have missed out on so much more.
I stand up and walk over to him. He pushes back from the table. I straddle his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. Thomas hooks his hands behind my knees and pulls me tight against him. I can feel the hard press of his cock against my aching center. I shift my hips forward and find that I can’t hold in the moan that escapes my lips. Thomas kisses the swell of each breast before running his fingers into my hair and pulling down to meet his mouth. The eagerness of our kiss is explosive the moment our lips meet. I’m suddenly overwhelmed with a need to be closer to him that I can’t explain. I thrust my hips forward again, allowing the friction of our bodies to ease some of the pleasurable ache building between us.
I get a sudden idea about what I want to do to him next. I can't take all the credit. One of the characters inKiss the Miss Goodbyeperforms a striptease for her love interest, and I think it only fits that I do the same.
