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and offer me a glass of lemonade and her company. In all my unexpected visits, not once has she seemed anything less than happy to see me.
    Her call to my cell for help is the reason for my visit today. Even when I’m busy on the farm , a call from her makes me stop whatever I’m doing. Bess notices but hasn’t said anything. She doesn’t have to. She already looks like the cat who ate the canary. When I first met Bethany, I planned to keep any feelings I was developing for her on hold. I’m a farmer. I know a seed takes time and nurturing to take root.
    At first , I planned to wait a year to ask her out and I’ve been reevaluating and lowering that time frame mentally every time I see her. Just two days ago, it was down to two months. Standing here, in this kitchen I helped her repaint a couple of weeks ago, my patience has reached its end. She’s cradling my hand in both of hers. Quietly, flustered since I got hurt, not noticing my other arm snake around her waist until I’ve crushed her body tightly to mine.
    Her hands are still between us, one now pressing against my chest, the other protecting my hand. Her wise eyes are more green than brown, her pretty lips forming an O. Gently, I tug my injured hand from hers and slide it up her back and into her damp hair. Any pain I feel is outweighed by how right her skin feels against mine.
    I keep my eyes locked on hers as I slowly dip my mouth to hers. This way, I know she knows it’s coming. She has plenty of time to stop me. So close I can almost taste her, my eyes drift to her lips and have just enough time to see the corners tilt up before I claim them. Her hands drift up to wrap around my neck. The dampness of her shirt seeping through mine is nothing compared to her firm breasts rubbing against my chest.
    I ha ve no plan in place for this kiss, other than the absolute certainty that I need to put my mouth on hers. Once I have, it becomes another absolute certainty that I need to taste her tongue. When I have, I am absolutely certain I’m not going to stop anytime soon.
    She seem s as greedy to consume me as I am for her. Her tongue sweeps into my mouth, changing my outlook on patience as she does. Her teeth nip at my lips lighting the spark to my fuse. I only hope, as her hips rock against my very apparent appreciation toward every single thing she is doing, I won’t embarrass myself by blowing a load in my pants. Turning, I lift her and set her onto the counter, my lips never leaving hers.
    Stepping between her legs , my hands flex on her waist as her fingers dive into my hair. Bess has been after me for a couple weeks now to trim my hair. I can safely say I may never cut it short again. I’d hate to risk losing the almost painful jolt of pleasure it brings as Bethany tugs it. Her shirt is wet, and clinging to parts of her I’d like to explore. It’d only be polite to remove it, right?
    My hands drift under the damp material . Similar to the start of our kiss, I move slowly. I wait for her hands to release my hair and stop my hands and their upward progression. This does not happen; instead, her lips drift from mine to my ear.
    She kisses my neck first before her nose ghosts over the shell of my lobe as she whispers , “Do it.”
    Verbal confirmation heard and acknowledged , I tug her shirt from her and fling it behind me. It lands somewhere with a slap. My hands reach to cup her breasts. Her swift intake of air as her back arches, pushing them further into my hands, a giant turn on. She inches forward on the counter, hooking her legs around my waist as she grinds against me.
    My thumbs massage her nipp les through the lace of her mint bra. I drop my mouth to one, sucking her nipple into my mouth through the lace as my hand works the cup down of her other breast. She gasps, her hands once again in my hair as she holds me to her. One of her hands moves downward and slips into my jeans to grip my ass.
    A ll I want to do is love her long and hard until she’s