Shadows of Summer

Chapter Three: Kitchen Flames

The weekend arrived with a quiet that unnerved Mara. Lily was at a sleepover, the house empty save for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant crash of waves. She'd spent the day avoiding the shed, the memory of Theo's hands on her thighs a persistent ache she couldn't shake. At 38, she knew better--knew the risk, the wrongness--but her body didn't care. Her auburn hair hung loose, tangled from restless pacing, her fair, freckled skin flushed as she stood in the kitchen, now in a lightweight blouse and fitted shorts that hugged her gentle curves and bared her toned legs.

A knock jolted her. She peered through the window--Theo, alone, his 6'1" frame shadowed by the porch light. His dark curls were damp from a shower, his green eyes sharp with intent, his lean, muscular build outlined by a tight t-shirt and jeans. He'd come straight from a late practice, she guessed, his strong hands flexing as he waited.

She opened the door, her voice shaky. "Theo, you shouldn't be here." Her hazel eyes darted to the empty street, then back to him, her resolve fraying.

"I had to see you," he said, stepping inside before she could protest. The door clicked shut, locking them in the dimly lit kitchen. "You didn't tell me to stop last time." His voice was low, a challenge, and she felt it in her core.

"I'm telling you now," she whispered, but her hands trembled, betraying her. He moved closer, his scent--cedar and clean sweat--flooding her senses. "This can't happen," she added, stepping back, the counter hitting her hips.

"Then push me away," he said, his green eyes locked on hers, daring her. His hand hovered near her cheek, not touching, but the heat of him was enough to make her breath hitch. She didn't push. She couldn't. Her hesitation crumbled as he closed the gap, his lips crashing into hers with a hunger that stole her air.

She resisted for a heartbeat, her hands flat against his chest, then melted, her fingers curling into his shirt. He groaned into her mouth, tasting her surrender, and lifted her onto the counter, the cool tile a shock against her thighs below the hem of her shorts. Her blouse shifted as her legs parted, his hips pressing between them, hard and insistent. "Theo, wait--" she gasped, but her nails dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer.

"No more waiting," he murmured, his lips trailing to her neck, teeth grazing her freckled skin. He tugged her blouse up, exposing the gentle curve of her hips above her shorts, his strong hands roaming her bare thighs. She shivered, torn between shame and need, her body arching as he kissed lower, nipping the swell of her breasts through the thin fabric.

He pulled back just enough to peel his shirt off, revealing the taut lines of his football-honed chest, sun-kissed and glistening faintly with sweat. She stared, her hesitation fading, and reached for him, her fingers tracing the ridges of his abs. He unbuttoned her blouse and slid it off, then tugged her shorts down, leaving her in panties, her slender and petite frame with gentle curves bared to him--full breasts, a delicate waist, the strength of her legs trembling beneath his gaze. He shed his jeans, kicking them aside, his arousal evident, hard and ready.

He guided her down to the rug by the sink, the plush fibers soft against her back. She lay there, breathing fast, as he hovered over her, his eyes drinking her in, lingering on the graceful lines of her petite form with quiet awe. "You're beautiful," he said, voice rough, and she flushed, vulnerable yet ignited. He kissed her again, slow and deep, his hands cupping her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples until she moaned, her hips bucking against him.

"Tell me you want this," he whispered, his lips brushing her ear, his fingers slipping beneath her panties. She hesitated, her mind screaming no, but her body answered, hips lifting to his touch. "Yes," she breathed, her voice trembling with a longing that had simmered since their first encounter while she was making the strawberry pie, a desire she could no longer deny. "Yes, Theo--I've wanted this, wanted you, for so long... please." The words spilled out, raw and desperate, her hazel eyes locking on his, pleading for him to fill the ache that had haunted her since that first kiss.

He stripped her bare, his naked form joining hers fully, and started above her, missionary and deliberate, sliding into her with a groan that matched her gasp. She clutched his shoulders, the stretch of him overwhelming, her legs wrapping around his waist as he moved--slow at first, then deeper, each thrust rocking her against the rug. Her auburn hair fanned out, her freckled skin slick with sweat, her hazel eyes half-closed in a haze of pleasure. The kitchen echoed with their ragged breaths, the slap of skin, her soft cries as he found a rhythm that unraveled her.

"More," she panted, surprising herself, and he grinned, pulling out to flip her onto her knees. She braced on all fours, hesitant again--*this is too much*--but he gripped her hips, entering her from behind with a force that made her moan louder, the angle hitting deeper, sharper. His hands roamed her back, fingers digging into her gentle curves, her breasts swaying with each thrust. She pushed back against him, matching his pace, the hesitation gone, lost to the raw need consuming her.

He slowed, pulling her up to sit astride him, her thighs straddling his lap. Face-to-face, she rode him, her hands in his damp curls, his green eyes locked on hers as she moved--slow circles, then faster, her breaths hitching as his hands guided her hips. He kissed her hard, swallowing her moans, his fingers pressing into her lower back, urging her deeper. She felt him tense, his groans vibrating against her lips, and she clenched around him, the wave building until it crashed, her cry muffled against his shoulder as she shuddered, him following with a guttural sound, spilling into her.

They collapsed together, her atop him, their sweat-slick bodies tangled on the rug. Her auburn hair stuck to her face, her fair skin flushed from neck to thighs, her gentle curves pressed to his lean frame. His chest heaved, his strong hands stroking her back, his green eyes soft now, sated but still hungry.

"We shouldn't have," she whispered, her voice shaky, guilt creeping in as the heat faded.

"But we did," he said, brushing her hair back, his touch gentle but firm. "And I don't regret it."

She didn't answer, her head resting on his chest, the steady thud of his heart a tether she couldn't yet break. The kitchen lay quiet, the pie unfinished, the night stretching ahead with questions she wasn't ready to face.