She grinned at him. "You heard all of that?"
"Every word."
"And?"
"I'd take you up against this wall if we were alone," he said, his lips landing on the hot skin of her throat. He skimmed them to her ear, biting the lobe, his cock hardening as she gasped.
"Let's go," she said, her voice a cross between a whimper and a sigh. "I don't care if it's rude. I want to go home. I want you."
Pulling her against his side, he escorted her back down the hallway to the dining room. "Neville, thanks so much for your hospitality tonight, but my wife has a bit of a headache. I think we should head home."
"Yes, of course," said Neville, standing up and offering his hand first to Tom, then to Eleanora. "Can I get you some aspirin for the ride home, my dear?"
"No, thank you. Nothing that a few hours in bed won't fix," she said, darting a quick glance to Charity before smiling warmly at her father. "Thank you for having us. Dinner was delicious, and the company was . . . interesting."
They said the rest of their good-byes quickly, and Tom retrieved their coats on the way out the door, holding her hand as they walked down the icy path to his car. But Alex Gordon's words circled in his head: He's old. He's dull. You're too young and too foxy to be tied down. He needed to be sure that her response to Alex wasn't just loyalty and bravado.
"I am older than you," he said, starting the engine.
"Yep."
"And though I don't like to think of myself as dull, I did drag you out to the middle of nowhere, Connecticut, to embark on an exciting career of teaching English."
"Tom."
"Yes?"
"Shut up," she said, giving him an annoyed look before turning back to the windshield.
"I think we should talk about it," he pushed. "I think-"
"I mean it, Tom. Shut up until we get home, or I might hit you and make you swerve off the road, killing us both, which would be a really bad start to the New Year."
Grumbling softly, he drove home the rest of the way in silence, pulling into the driveway in front of their house and cutting the engine. He looked over at her in the dim light provided by the moon and stars, but her expression was set in stone as she stared out the windshield.
Exiting the car, he rounded it and opened her door, helping her out.
As she stood up before him, she drew her palm back and let it crack across his cheek.
"What the . . . what the hell?"
"Do I have your attention?"
He winced. "Fuck. Yes. That hurt."
"Good. And if I allude to the New Year's I smacked your face, do you think you'll remember it fifty years from now?"
He rubbed his cheek, which burned despite the subzero temperature. "Uh, yeah, I think so."
"Great," she said, slipping her hand under his to cup his cheek with her bare palm, caressing it gently. "Then listen to me, husband." Her face was bright and serious as she searched his eyes, seeking collusion. Her other palm landed on his other cheek, and she cradled his face, forcing his gaze. "I don't care how long I've known you. I know your heart as well as my own. I don't care how much older you are than me. It's just a number and completely irrelevant. And I cannot imagine a day when I think you're dull. Aside from the fact that I want to be in your bed every minute . . ." She stepped closer, and Tom opened his cashmere coat, wrapping it around both of them and holding her tight. ". . . I think you're fucking brilliant and fascinating, and I will never, ever get tired of you." His heart pumped like crazy, his ears drinking in the paradise of her words. "I love you. And fifty years from now, if you ask me these questions again, I will give you the same answers I gave you on the night I smacked your face. Because I will feel exactly the same. Got it?"
He gripped her so tightly, it was a wonder she could draw breath, but she did. Her chest swelled with air, her breasts pushing into his chest as she rested her cheek on his shoulder.
"I'm an idiot," he sighed, resting his cheek on her hair.
"You're a newlywed," she countered gently.
"So are you."
"And the raw hamburger fiasco is still very fresh," she reminded him. "We're finding our way, but I just . . . I have this feeling, and it's so strong, Tom. So strong." She took a big, deep breath and sighed with contentment. "We're going to make it. I know it. We're going to be okay."
Tom kissed the top of her head and looked up at the sky. He couldn't ever remember a sky so clear-there were so many millions of stars, they almost blended, twinkling and resplendent, into a bright and hopeful eternity.
"I want to make love to you," he murmured close to her ear. "I want you whimpering beneath me. I want you crying out my name. I want to be . . . one."
She tipped her head back, looking up at him with dark, wide eyes. Then, without a word, she took his hand and led him into their little house, where she answered his every want with her own, and promised her love was his until the end of time.
Chapter 15
Weeks passed quickly once the boys returned to Kinsey, and Eleanora, who simply wasn't cut out to be a lady of leisure, convinced Tom how much happier she'd be with a part-time job. She found one at the village pharmacy in Cornwall, working as a clerk and cashier five days a week. She arrived at work at seven thirty after dropping off Tom at Kinsey, and left at two o'clock, two hours before she had to fetch him from school, which left time for keeping their house and running errands.
This morning, the first Friday of February, was one of those especially beautiful winter mornings when one could be tricked, just for a day, into thinking that spring is imminent. Despite the seven or eight inches of snow on the ground, the sun was shining and high when Eleanora woke up, and the weather forecast called for a high of fifty-seven degrees. She left her coat at home and opted for a turtleneck and sweater, delighting in the unseasonably warm day.
Tom kissed her passionately in the parking lot at Kinsey, and she accused him of having spring fever.
"You know the boys have their noses pressed up against the windows watching us," she said, feeling dizzy and breathless as she grinned at him.
"Where else are they going to learn how to kiss a woman?"
"Ah, I see. You're giving them a lesson?"
"On loving? No, baby. That's the lesson you're giving me."
"What's gotten into you? Spring fever?"
"It does feel like spring today," he said, threading his fingers through her hair and pulling her closer. "Kiss me again."
His lips touched down on hers, demanding and hungry, and she closed her eyes, letting herself be swept away by the strong pressure of his lips, his hand in her hair, his other hand holding her jaw. He stole her thoughts and her breath, leaving her befuddled and gasping when he finally pulled away with a satisfied grin.
"No flirting at the pharmacy," he said, winking at her.
"With whom? Old Mr. Jenkins? Not even."
"I love you tons," he said, picking up his briefcase from the floor.
"I love you back," she answered, waving at him as he left her.
And then it happened again.
Again, because it had been happening a lot lately, this sudden feeling that the world was spinning. It was almost how Eleanora felt when she'd had too much to drink and lay down on her bed. The world would spin and spin, leaving her slightly nauseous and a little worried. She closed her eyes and clutched the steering wheel, and after a moment, just like the other times, it passed. She shook her head and sighed. Tom had just kissed the life out of her.
Grinning at her reflection in the rearview mirror, she backed out of the Kinsey faculty parking lot and headed to the Cornwall Pharmacy.
As she got out of the car, her purse strap broke, and her bag landed in the muddy snow of the parking lot. Bending over to pick it up, she heard the unmistakable rrrrrrip sound of her pants splitting down the backside.
"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed, standing up quickly to be sure no one saw her underwear. She twisted to try to see the damage, but couldn't. Cradling her broken purse in her arms, she closed the car door and trudged into work.
Once inside, she put the contents of her purse in a shopping bag and took off her cardigan sweater, tying it around her waist. That would just have to do until she could change later, and clearly she needed to lay off the recipe books filled with rich foods. Lately, she'd been trying out all sorts of not-breakfast-for-dinner recipes on Tom, and though she wouldn't say she had a knack for making the dishes look good, they certainly tasted terrific.