out of the café. Then she allowed her trembles to surface as she inventoried the very familiar, relaxed, display of mature affection she spontaneously performed with Cole. Her first reaction was stark terror and embarrassment. She might as well have confessed to him all of her dreams and desires for him right there in the middle of the café! She liked those dreams and desires, and even believed in the possibility of them, but she also believed in the type of life she would have to live to achieve them. But she had not achieved them yet! To just act-as-if with them? In public?
"I have to get a grip," she chided herself. "Or by the time I get back to my apartment, I'm going to have three kids with the man and a fucking PTA meeting to get to."
It was too fast. It wasn't mature at all. It was wild, unpredictable, and would flip her if she let it. With him absent, she was thinking clearer. Thank God for whatever it was he was doing, because she needed a breath. She needed space.
Her passion to have him remained unaffected by her embarrassment or awe. She felt it was there, solid and passionate.
"All right, fine," she told herself, coming clean with her libido, "But not like this. Not just bam! I could ruin it this way,” she reasoned. I could cross a line, never seeing the warning signs. I could overwhelm him and scare him off. Any number of irretrievable moments could happen doing it like this. Seduction is not a thing to take lightly or treat as a defunct formality,” she recited to herself.
It was one of her points of her philosophy about sex. “So, I want three kids, and a PTA meeting. All right, good. Good to finally have a goal I can get behind. Perfect. But how about we start with some talk, maybe some shared values, so we have something to teach those three kids later on, right? Right. Okay."
She quietly sat down at a back table with her order, waiting for the man she was willing to own an SUV for to return. The man for whom she was willing to work herself senseless with aerobics to fight a losing battle against a fat ass -- that he gave her -- with three fucking kids.
She rubbed the side of her ass, missing its firm sexy cuteness already. "This is fucking insane," she hissed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cole found that he honestly wasn't shocked by her sudden, relaxed display of affection at the café. Part of him felt it was natural. That part of him even felt it was expected. That part of him was the thing Cole was shocked at. Where the fuck did he come from?
He suddenly submersed into a vision of being ten years married to Nicole and they were out taking advantage of a rare day for a ride. Their destination didn't matter to either of them, not in the slightest. Just riding was enough. They had everything else. Just sometimes, having it all was a little much and they needed to get away for a while. Just the two of them, together, to refocus, to tell each other, even though they knew, that this was still what they wanted. Everything was still exactly what they wanted.
Put into that scenario, Cole mused, her actions were perfectly within the bounds of expectation, including the "Shoo…" and the cute little hand gesture at the end. The only trouble, of course, was that this scenario was eight miles deep in bullshit and he had no idea where it was coming from.
In that daydream moment of illusion he was briefly but deeply immersed in, Nicole was older, her hips were wider, though her ass was still firm and her breasts were matured. Her hair was short, cut up off her neckline. He had studied her body so deeply that he knew every curve, every warm seducing inch, and remained bewitched.
Most of the flaws on her skin, which she frequently seemed to worry over in the mirror, he knew intimately. He accepted them, knowing they had no chance of blemishing her allure. In fact, some of those blemishes across her skin he was particularly fond of, frequently kissing their