The Lake Cabin – Part 2: Thunder

"I'd like that very much," said James.

He kissed her on the porch with rain thundering on the roof and the lake hissing like a kettle. It was an old, familiar kiss, but she felt it in her chest and her knees. She slid her wet hands under his soaked shirt and he laughed. Lightning flickered over the pines.

"We should get out of these," she said.

"I was going to suggest that."

"Subtle."

"I'm a maths teacher. We're direct."

They stumbled into the cabin, dripping on the floorboards, shedding wet things on the way to the fire. James knelt at the hearth and lit it, tenderly feeding the kindling. Priya stood behind him wrapped in a tartan blanket, smiling down at the back of his neck. Light bloomed, warm and gold.

"Come here," she said.

He turned. They sat on the rug in front of the fire, and the blanket became big enough for two. Kisses were slow and unhurried, then less slow. Hands wandered, curious and confident, with eighteen years of knowledge and the pleasure of finding new things regardless. The storm shook the roof. The fire popped. Everything between them was warm, kind and playful, with plenty of laughter, as if the weekend had been invented solely for this.

Afterwards, they lay on the rug in the firelight, listening to the rain ease.

"We should do this more," said Priya.

"Every month."

"Every season."

"Every time the school allows."

She laughed. "I'll bring a thermos and a deck of cards."

On Sunday morning the sky was clean and washed. They paddled out onto the glassy lake, the canoe sliding through mist, and lay on their backs in the bottom of the boat, watching clouds drift.

"Priya," said James.

"Mm."

"Same cabin next summer?"

"Same cabin. Different frog."

More married couple romance: The Cruise · Couples Retreat · The Second Honeymoon