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Widower struggles with grief, and the future.

I knew he was different when he opened the car door for me. It was a nice gesture, but he refused to let me drive us in my car. He cited the fact that I didn't know where we were going, but guys that don't let me drive rub me the wrong way.

When he slid into the driver's seat with astounding grace, he made eye contact with me. Again, all I could do was smile. His eyes were almost scary to look at because they were such a pale blue, against his black, messy hair.

"So sexy," he cooed, "I want you to know that my intentions with you are strictly dishonorable." Apparently he saw a quick flash of fear come across my face. "Aww, sugar, I'm just teasing. Promise we won't do anything you don't want to." With that, he patted me on the knee. It wasn't in a sleazy old man way, but it was just a little reassuring pat.

I don't usually talk when I'm in a car, so I was prepared to lean my head against the door and listen to Derek talk about anything. He, however, wasn't prepared to let me take the easy way out. He kept asking me these really boring, predictable questions like what position I played on the basketball team and who was I planning to take to prom in the Spring.

Finally, he asked, "So what're you going to do to me?" It was the first time he had even hinted at what we talked about online regularly.

About that time we hit some construction. I tried to change the subject by making a cynical observation about the state road workers not really working, but he pinned the question on me again. "What do you plan to do with me?" he repeated with a grin. He knew he caught me.

Since we were in a long line of traffic, I reached across the console and timidly put my hand on the inside of his thigh. "I think I'll have some very ah-stimulating conversation with a side of intense interrogation." I punctuated the end of my sentence by inching my hand further and further up his thigh. "Oh look, we're moving again!" I said, happy to put my hands back in my own lap.

Derek turned his head and just stared at me with his mouth opened like a landed fish. It would have been a great moment to nibble and suck on his lip between deep kisses, but an impatient driver behind us kept honking his horn.

The rest of our drive was pretty unremarkable. Not much else was said because we were both thinking about what I'd done and what that meant I'd do when he wasn't driving. I had known from day one that I wanted him. Now he was in on my little secret unless he was a whole lot dumber than I thought.

"My lady, we have arrived. Stay right there," Derek announced to clear the air that was thick with our thoughts. He walked around the front of the car, hands in his pockets, and opened my door for me. As we approached the front door of a quaint house on top of a grassy hill, he reached out for my hand with his right hand, and jingled his keys in the left hand.

Just as he slid the house key into the lock, he turned around and looked at me-I mean really looked at me. It was like he could see straight through me to how nervous and excited I really was. I smiled and reached behind him to turn the key and push the door open.

As soon as we stepped through the door, we just lost control of ourselves. Derek pushed me up against door and kissed me deeper and with more emotion than I'd ever been kissed before. His hands rested on my hips as we raced to get his belt undone.

He took a few steps backward, and then turned me to go down a hall. He pressed me up against a wall again and pressed his body against mine while fumbling to get the doorknob. I was so scared at first because I thought he would feel how fast my heart was beating through the thin shirt I was wearing.

After the stupid door finally opened, he pulled me on top of him when he fell back on the bed. I unbuttoned his shirt while trying to never break contact with his mouth.

His hands naturally gravitated to my ass. He slid them right under my skirt, and then let one of his fingers slip inside my panties.

"Feel how wet you've made me?" I mumbled while pulling my shirt over my head.

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