Read Starting From Scratch Online
Authors: Georgia Beers
Tags: #Fiction, #Lesbian, #Romance, #Erotica
“Are you enticing me with the promise of sex?”
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“Damn right, I am. What do you think? Will you
come with us?”
“Only if you’ll come to my grandmother’s with me for
pot roast on Sunday.”
We stood looking at each other. Neither of us said it
in so many words, but this was a big moment. is was the
two of us telling one another that we thought we had a
future together, that we wanted a future together. It was
exhilarating and exciting and frightening and I could feel
my palms begin to sweat.
“Deal,” she said and we both breathed sighs of relief.
“What about Max?” I didn’t know how to ask if he
knew his mother was not only dating somebody who
wasn’t
his Cece, but somebody who
was
his tee-ball coach,
or even how much he understood about what “dating”
actually meant.
“We’ve been talking. A lot,” she said. “And we’ll talk
some more.” I must have grimaced or something because
she caressed my eyebrow with her thumb as if trying to
smooth away any apprehension I might have. “Don’t
worry,” she whispered. “It’ll be fine. I’ve got to get back.”
She kissed me sweetly once more and was out into the
night before my head had stopped whirling. “You look
fabulous, by the way,” she tossed over her shoulder as she
scooted quickly down the sidewalk. “I’ll call you later.”
Only then did I have a chance to even look at her
body, to appreciate the sway of her hips and the way the
calf-length yoga pants hugged her ass like a lover’s hands.
e breeze rustled her hair and I realized I could still smell
her coconut shampoo as it hung in the air of the foyer.
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As if she knew I was watching, she turned back when
she got to her own sidewalk and gave me a little wave, then
disappeared into her house six doors down.
I closed my door and leaned back against it with an
enormously satisfied sigh, thinking I’d just been hit by
Hurricane Elena. Bringing my fingers to my lips, I touched
them, closed my eyes, and could almost feel her mouth on
mine. I could still taste her, a little sweet, a little salty.
I was in love.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Having grown up in a very quiet, sparsely populated
household with one television set, my favorite escape had
been to find a peaceful corner and read a book. So it was
pretty easy to see how Elena’s family might overwhelm me.
ere seemed to be dozens of them—though in reality
there were probably only ten or so—and they all talked at
the same time. I was reasonably sure that nobody was
actually listening to what anybody else was saying. After
the initial onslaught, though, I found it sort of amusing
and sat back to observe.
e day was sunny and hot, a typical July afternoon in
Upstate New York. I sat at a picnic table in the shade next
to Elena’s sister-in-law Carrie, and watched the four kids
run around the yard as I sipped iced tea. Carrie and Elena’s
mother—whose name was Maria—were discussing fresh
herbs versus dried ones. I got the impression Carrie was
new at cooking and was picking Maria’s brain for all the
information she could get.
“What about you, Avery?” Maria asked, catching me
off-guard. “Do you cook?”
“I bake.”
“Yeah? What do you bake?”
I gave a half-shrug. “Mostly cookies. Cakes. Nothing
fancy.”
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“Don’t listen to her, Mama.” e bench sank slightly as
Elena took a seat next to me. e warmth of her hand
radiated through the skin of my knee and I smothered a
grin of delight. “She makes incredible cookies. Incredible.
Ask Max.”
Maria nodded. “Well, Max
is
a world renowned cookie
expert. Do you have children?”
“I don’t. I have a dog.” I wondered how much Elena
was catching, sitting right next to me, but chatting with
her sister-in-law. It was clear to me that Maria was feeling
me out, possibly trying to decide if I warranted her
approval as an acceptable match for her only daughter.
“Dogs are wonderful, but not quite the same as having
kids.”
Duh.
“No. No, they’re definitely not the same.”
“Do you want to have children of your own?” she
asked, and I almost choked on my sip of iced tea.
“It’s never really come up.” Even I was shocked by
how easily the fib slipped from my lips.
“Mama, will you stop interrogating her please?”
Elena’s voice was soft and gentle, but had a firmness to it.
So she
had
been listening.
“What? I’m not interrogating her, we’re just talking.”
Maria pouted and I saw a quick flash of Max that made
me smile. “Right, Avery?”
“Mama,” Elena warned her mother before I could
answer.
Maria snorted and waved a hand dismissively at her
daughter. I got the distinct impression they bickered like
this often, it was part of their life and hard feelings were
rarely, if ever, present. Elena went back to her conversation
with Carrie, but squeezed my knee, then stroked the back
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of it with her fingertips. e jolt that was sent straight to
my groin surprised even me. I cleared my throat and took a
large slug of my iced tea. I was pretty sure there was a
subtle, satisfied smirk on Elena’s face as she listened to
Carrie talking about her hair stylist.
Despite the noise and endless activity, I liked Elena’s
family a lot. Her parents seemed to be sweet, genuine
people who welcomed me into their midst. Her father, Ed,
was quiet compared to the rest of the gang and stayed
rooted to his spot at the grill most of the day, though he
shook my hand with sincere pleasure to “finally” meet me. I
threw Elena a look that said,
“Finally?”
, but she pretended
not to see it. Her brothers teased her mercilessly, but I also
got the impression they were extremely protective of her.
Her older brother Jason corralled me into a seemingly
endless conversation about my job and though he didn’t
come right out and ask me, I was pretty sure he wanted to
find out if I made a respectable salary. But he was nice and
funny and I didn’t mind spending the time bantering with
him.
e other thing that was endless was the food. Along
with constant cookies and chips and various nibbles, there
was the cookout itself. An interesting mix of traditional
American summer barbecue fare like hot dogs,
hamburgers, and potato salad, and some Greek dishes, such
as a feta-and-spinach couscous, bite-sized
spanikopita
, and
the sticky, sweet, crazy delicious baklava Maria made from
scratch. I tried hard not to make a pig of myself, but it was
heavenly and after my second piece of dessert, I made her
promise to one day teach me how to properly construct it,
having never been able to get it right on my own.
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We finally left Max around nine o’clock and he hardly
noticed. Two of his cousins were also staying overnight at
Ed and Maria’s, so he was much more interested in
catching fireflies than coming home with his mother.
Once shut safely in Elena’s car, we both heaved big
sighs of relief, then burst into laughter.
“Holy crap,” I said.
“It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Is your family ever quiet?”
She made a thinking face and pursed her lips. “Um…
no.” She started the car and pulled out onto the street,
heading us in the direction of home. “Really, though, was it
bad?”
e authenticity of her worry was adorable and I
patted her bare leg. “No, sweetie, I had a great time. I like
your family a lot.”
“Oh, good.” She seemed genuinely comforted by my
reassurance.
“ere was one thing that was bad, though.”
“ere was? What?”
“You.” I slid my hand slowly up her thigh, happily
watching her throat move as she swallowed. I’d been dying
to touch her for the past several hours—since she’d begun
her teasing of me, which she’d continued throughout the
day—and I couldn’t wait any longer.
“Me?”
“Yes. You.” I shifted so I was close enough to speak in
her ear as she drove. I kept my voice low, a little sexy.
“What were you trying to do to me, pawing at me under
the table with your mother right there? Give me a heart
attack? Make me slide off the picnic bench? Hmm?” I
pushed my hand between her legs, roughly clamping
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against her, feeling the heat radiating from her center right
through her shorts. “You’d better get us home quickly or
I’m going to have my way with you right here in this car
while you’re driving.” I punctuated my threat with a quick
flick of my tongue against her earlobe.
“Jesus Christ,” she said with a hiss and pushed down
on the gas pedal a little harder. “I hope I don’t drive us off a
cliff.”
“So do I. It would be a shame for you to die before I
can finish what I’ve started.”
We got back to my place in record time and I have no
idea how because I was too busy sucking on Elena’s neck
to keep track of our progress. She’d barely shifted the car
into park before I was around to her side and pulling her
out. e leftovers her mother had sent home with us would
just have to wait; I dragged her up the walk, fumbling with
my keys.
Once inside, I gestured up the stairs with my chin.
“Go. Now. I’ll let Steve out and be right up.” Her face
was flushed as she nodded, but no sooner had she reached
for the banister, than I said, “Wait.” Grabbing her face with
both hands, I kissed her. Hard, deep, and with purpose.
en, forcibly pulling away, I said, “Okay. Go. I’ll be right
up.”
Elena seemed to sway on her feet slightly before
turning and heading upstairs. I felt a twinge of satisfaction
in knowing I could undo her the same way she undid me.
A little surge of guilt hit me for not giving Steve a
little more attention, but I had pressing matters awaiting
me in my bedroom and I promised him I’d make it up to
him as I grabbed a couple treats from his jar and lured him
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upstairs with them, depositing them on his dog bed in the
corner of the room.
ere’s something indescribably breathtaking about
having a beautiful woman naked in your bed, waiting for
you. I stood at the foot, just looking at her and wondering
how the hell I got so lucky. e yellow of the comforter
and the sage green sheets were the perfect complement to
her skin tone and dark hair. Her cheeks were still flushed
and she gripped the sheet in her fingers, her deep plum
nail polish matching the bedding nicely.
“My God, you’re sexy,” I breathed.
Her expression shifted, telling me she’d liked the
comment. “Get over here.”
“Bossy little thing, aren’t you?” I peeled my clothes off,
my eyes never leaving hers.
“You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Our lovemaking that night was every bit as intense as
it had been the first time, but it was also something else,
something different. Something more. We caressed and
teased and groaned and arched, sweat-slicked skin against
sweat-slicked skin. We battled for the position of top,
making a mess of the bedding, Elena winning out most of
the time (not that I minded having that beautiful body
above me). I tried hard to focus, to be sure every detail…
each smell and taste and sound…was burned into my
memory, for I knew—
I knew
—this was a turning point in
my life. I don’t know how and it’s kind of a corny thing to
say, but I felt a shift in my world that night.
Elena on top was a sight to behold. Holy good God.
Her body was stunning as she straddled me, sleek and lean,
her breasts small, her hips rounded. I grasped her waist,
slid my hands down to her thighs, and as she straightened
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up, basically sitting above me, I couldn’t help thinking how
utterly, gloriously female she was. It took my breath away
—or so I thought until I dipped my hand between her legs
and she arched with a groan, tossing her head back—and
the rest of the air left my lungs.
Knowing I’d created the wet heat around my fingers
spurred me on and I picked up the pace, reaching for her
breast with my other hand, kneading it as I bent my own
legs and braced her back with my knees. She fell forward,
catching herself on her hands so she was on all fours over
me, and still I kept my rhythm. Our faces were only inches
apart, as she turned her head slightly and sucked in a
breath through her teeth, telling me how close she was.
“Come on,” I coaxed her. “Come on, sweetheart. I’ve
got you.” She rocked against my hand and I could hear her
fingers digging into the pillow on either side of my head.