the kitchen counter. On the way to the door he grabbed his lambskin jacket and headed out, putting it on as he tromped across the yard. The snow was falling in large cluster flakes and the night felt wonderful. He felt wonderful. There was something right about this night. About her, about them; she knew this too, regardless of how she protested. Obviously she was realizing this because here he was on his way to her house for dinner and a game of pool. Bottle of wine in hand, and a determination to show her that they were meant to be, no more lollygagging.
He noticed that she hadn’t shoveled her walkway to the porch yet, nor the porch for that matter. That would kill some time. He wouldn’t be late. Nor would he be too early. He would be there, but still allowing her enough time to do whatever it was that women did when awaiting men. Setting his bottle of wine down on the porch, he stepped over to the garage, opening the door he clicked the light on. Entering, he looked around for the snow shovel. There was one hanging on a utility rack on the wall.
Chapter Eleven
He was late! Ten minutes late! Sylvia came up the basement stairs and walked to her living room picture window to look out across the street, when he walked past it across her front porch. She gasped in surprise, went to the door, opening it she leaned out asking, “What are you doing? How long have you been here?” He glanced over his shoulder after pushing a load of snow over the edge of her porch. “I sure hope you have dinner done, I’m starving! I’m almost done, I’ll be in in a minute.”
“Sir, if you haven’t noticed, it’s still snowing.”
“I know, but if you let it pile up, the job to remove it is bigger.”
"If you say so.” She stood a moment, ignoring the cold to look at him. She’d never met a man like this before. He stood looking back at her, then turned slowly and walked up to her. The evidence of the cold showed on the breaths he took. Sylvia swallowed, mesmerized as she stared up at him, now that he was up close, placing the shovel down by the door. She noticed that his arms were long when he braced his hands on the door frame to stand over her, his body large and warm, radiating heat despite the cold. His nose and cheeks were red. Was it the cold, dark night standing behind him with the light of her porch shining a soft yellow that made his eyes so blue…when other times they were gray? He was growing a mustache, adding to the masculinity that was already overwhelming. He was so close…so very close. Her gaze caressed his face with a soft dreaminess that she had no will to stop. From his eyes, down the length of his nose, to his parted mouth. She could hear him breathing. Her gaze drifted back up to his. Finally his voice broke the spell.
“This is the one and only time I’m going to give you options, lady. As I stated, I’m hungry, and that’s plural. Which are you willing to feed?”
Sylvia was frozen in place and unable to move. From low in his throat, there came a deep, “Emm, good choice.” Suddenly his warm mouth was over hers. His cold nose softly brushing her skin. She whimpered, feeling a capable hand at her back pulling her against him as he stepped into her front door. His warm, moist mouth tasting hers with proof to his hunger as his tongue entered to taste deeper. His body strong and hard, Sylvia noticed with her hands pressed against his chest. Easily he closed her door, never breaking the contact of his mouth on hers, turning her against it as it clicked shut. With her heart pounding, she found his other arm around her. Her body lifted against the door, pressed there by his large body. Her mind was racing with what was happening to her. She battled mind and heart. Her heart wanted him with a passion she could not deny. Her mind warning her that this was happening too soon. That she was being foolish to let him manipulate and mold her as he no doubt had done many others before her. “Nooo!”
He noticed that she hadn’t shoveled her walkway to the porch yet, nor the porch for that matter. That would kill some time. He wouldn’t be late. Nor would he be too early. He would be there, but still allowing her enough time to do whatever it was that women did when awaiting men. Setting his bottle of wine down on the porch, he stepped over to the garage, opening the door he clicked the light on. Entering, he looked around for the snow shovel. There was one hanging on a utility rack on the wall.
Chapter Eleven
He was late! Ten minutes late! Sylvia came up the basement stairs and walked to her living room picture window to look out across the street, when he walked past it across her front porch. She gasped in surprise, went to the door, opening it she leaned out asking, “What are you doing? How long have you been here?” He glanced over his shoulder after pushing a load of snow over the edge of her porch. “I sure hope you have dinner done, I’m starving! I’m almost done, I’ll be in in a minute.”
“Sir, if you haven’t noticed, it’s still snowing.”
“I know, but if you let it pile up, the job to remove it is bigger.”
"If you say so.” She stood a moment, ignoring the cold to look at him. She’d never met a man like this before. He stood looking back at her, then turned slowly and walked up to her. The evidence of the cold showed on the breaths he took. Sylvia swallowed, mesmerized as she stared up at him, now that he was up close, placing the shovel down by the door. She noticed that his arms were long when he braced his hands on the door frame to stand over her, his body large and warm, radiating heat despite the cold. His nose and cheeks were red. Was it the cold, dark night standing behind him with the light of her porch shining a soft yellow that made his eyes so blue…when other times they were gray? He was growing a mustache, adding to the masculinity that was already overwhelming. He was so close…so very close. Her gaze caressed his face with a soft dreaminess that she had no will to stop. From his eyes, down the length of his nose, to his parted mouth. She could hear him breathing. Her gaze drifted back up to his. Finally his voice broke the spell.
“This is the one and only time I’m going to give you options, lady. As I stated, I’m hungry, and that’s plural. Which are you willing to feed?”
Sylvia was frozen in place and unable to move. From low in his throat, there came a deep, “Emm, good choice.” Suddenly his warm mouth was over hers. His cold nose softly brushing her skin. She whimpered, feeling a capable hand at her back pulling her against him as he stepped into her front door. His warm, moist mouth tasting hers with proof to his hunger as his tongue entered to taste deeper. His body strong and hard, Sylvia noticed with her hands pressed against his chest. Easily he closed her door, never breaking the contact of his mouth on hers, turning her against it as it clicked shut. With her heart pounding, she found his other arm around her. Her body lifted against the door, pressed there by his large body. Her mind was racing with what was happening to her. She battled mind and heart. Her heart wanted him with a passion she could not deny. Her mind warning her that this was happening too soon. That she was being foolish to let him manipulate and mold her as he no doubt had done many others before her. “Nooo!”
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