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Michael pulled up in front of a small building about 2 miles from his flat. ‘Valerie told me about this,’ he said to no one in particular. Tera looked at the small building more closely, numerous oars hung from the buildings exterior walls, some intact, others halved, all with dates on them. Tera walked closer running her fingers over the smooth lacquered finish of one of the older looking oars noting the date as 1912 ‘Dartmouth Regatta’. ‘When you win a race you mount the winning oar on the boat house,’ Michael said. Tera started a bit at his voice, he was close, she could feel the heat from his body just behind her as he looked over her shoulder. ‘My friend Valerie told me about this place, I use to row in college and had hoped to find someplace to rent a scull,’ Michael said, his hand settling naturally on her shoulder as he looked closer at the oars. While Michael was not consciously aware of the simple gesture he made while looking at the Harvard oar, the same was not true for. The undeniable sexual tension between us had conjured up feelings of inexplicable and sumptuous heat. I slipped off the couch to retrieve the other bottle when I felt him wandering behind me. “ Nice kitchen.” He commented. “Yeah, I like it.” I was facing the fridge, my back was towards him. I could feel him standing over me and that is also when I felt his warm, callused hand smoothing down the nape of my exposed neck. I grew goose bumps instantly. I turned to look up at him. Ren’s jaw had grown slack and his breath seemed jagged. He cupped my face with his big hands and lowered his face closer to mine; his breath was warm and sweet. My lips parted and my eyes closed magnetically. I felt his plump and desirous mouth on mine, the tip of his tongue darting in and out softly. I moaned quietly, becoming weaker and weaker with each kiss. He pushed me up against the counter near the stove, his hands rubbing my denim clad thighs. He lowered his mouth down to my chin, then my neck; where.
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