Thank you for joining me this week as I dig deeper into Holding Cynthia, Romancing the Coast, book 2.
Antony and Cynthia are in her new house. Her worldly possessions are on a moving truck, somewhere between Montreal and the West Coast. Antony has bought a big old armchair at the local thrift store and it has just been delivered to the basement bedroom.
The painters have just started work upstairs.
Antony is about to go out of town and leave her for a week or so. Because they have recently established a deep intimacy, Cynthia is anxious about the looming separation:
Antony shepherded her into the room and closed the door behind them.
He sat down on the chair. “I will not have you doubting me. Now present yourself and be grateful for the loud music upstairs.”
She hesitated for a half a second before she pressed her lips into a firm line, undoing her jeans. As she moved across his lap awkwardly, he helped her arrange herself. The wide right arm of the chair supported her torso. The other supported her legs. Her bottom was situated in the center of Antony’s lap, served up like a proper rump, ready to be roasted.
“Now did I tell you I would come back next week?”
“Yes! You did.”
“Correct. Do you have any reason to think I am lying?”
“Ow. None. I’m just cautious.”
“It’s good to be cautious. But not where I’m concerned. When it comes to me, I expect you to trust me. If you were standing at the window of a burning building and I told you to jump with no more than my outstretched arms to save you, you can be sure I would catch you. I would never let you come to harm. You may get up now.”
She struggled to her feet, embarrassed but strangely comforted by the moment he’d taken to reassure her.
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