Lois went to the coffee machine. It didn't require much of her attention, leaving her free to watch Clark as he moved between the table and the kitchen.
He looked as if he belonged here.
Perhaps he did.
He took the plate of chocolate kisses from the fridge and removed the plastic wrap.
Lois inhaled deeply, embracing the sweet scent of chocolate as one welcomes an old friend.
But this time, it wasn't enough.
Oh, she wanted kisses all right. But not chocolate ones.
Part 7
Clark's thoughts were buzzing as he finished clearing away the meal.
The evening had surpassed his most lofty hopes. Lois was the best of his dreams made real. Everything about her enchanted him. Her beauty. Her laugh. Her femininity. Her smile. Her intelligence. Her fire. Her enthusiasm.
The way her dark hair swung on her shoulders.
The way his heart trembled every time their eyes met.
The way she'd allowed him to see the little nub of vulnerability hidden under her smart, competent exterior.
And every time she'd teased him about the kisses …
The first time had been a shock. The second time, just as staggering. The third time, he'd been ready and had played along, promising she would sample his kisses.
He was trying to protect himself from crushing disappointment, but his mind kept drifting back to their words and then catapulting forward to imagine the moment when he might take her into his arms and seal their evening with a kiss.
But he couldn't think about that now. He had a more important mission to accomplish. He had to turn their earlier abstract speculation into the concrete promise of a date.
He took the plate of kisses to the coffee table near the sofa and turned to wait for Lois to finish preparing the coffee. From behind, she was stunning … long sleek legs, rising to perfectly rounded hips, a tiny waist, and exquisite shoulders, adorned with the sheet of her dark hair.
He wished their association were such that she would welcome him stepping up to her, placing his hands on her hips, and nuzzling kisses into her neck.
He pushed his hands into his pockets and casually said, "You think, maybe, you might want to cook again?"
"That depends," she said, turning from her coffee preparations.
"On what?"
"I don't think I'm ready to make a solo attempt," she said, "so I would need a culinary instructor."
"I'm available," he said quickly.
Lois giggled. "That's very kind of you, Clark, but I need to taste your chocolate kisses first." She left the coffee machine and came to him. "You haven't quite established your credentials as a cooking instructor yet."
"The chicken didn't do it for you?" Clark asked.
She brushed her hand down the sleeve of his jacket. "Not quite."
"So our entire future association rests on the chocolate kisses?"
She grinned, her eyes twinkling. "That's fair, isn't it? I mean, you came highly recommended by Mrs Spangher, so I'm sure your kisses won't disappoint."
That spurred him to action.
"Lois?" he said, hooking his smallest finger into hers where her hand hung by her side.
"Yes?"
"Would you go out with me? On a date?"
Her fingers closed around his. "Do I have a choice?"
"Of course you -"
"You said you were going to choose."
He chuckled with relief. "I have chosen you," he said. "But you are free to accept or reject my choice."
"What happens if I accept it?"
"We have a date," Clark said.
She smiled, soft like sun rays on a spring morning. "And if I don't accept?"
"I don't even want to think about that," he said, trying to match her lightly teasing tone.
She slid from his grasp and brought the cups of coffee to the table, setting them next to the plate of kisses. She didn't sit down, but turned to him. Seriousness had clouded her demeanour, dimming her smile and loading her eyes with questions. "Why do you want to go out with me?"
"Because I've already walked out of your apartment once, thinking it would be the last time. I never want to do that again."
"Never?"
"Never."
"That's a long time," she noted.
"It won't be long enough."
She gasped. She eyed him, her expression brimming with indecision. "We've spent one evening together, Clark. Just a few hours."
"Time is irrelevant," he said. "The moment you opened the door, I felt … something. The chain was still attached and I could only see about a third of you, but it was enough."
"Seriously?"
"Yes! I knew of Lois Lane before. I'd read your work and been really impressed. But this isn't about Lois Lane, the reporter. This is about Lois Lane, the woman."
She inched a little closer to him and looked up at him with eyes that melted his heart. "I'm scared, Clark," she said. "I've never felt like this before."
"Please don't have doubts, Lois," he said. "This … us … it's going to be different from all the others. I promise you that." He ran a light finger across the silky skin of her cheek. "I've never felt like this before, either. I know …"
"What?"
"I know I want to be with you - only you - for the rest of my life."
"That's how I feel," she said, causing his heart to leap. "But how can I know? How can I trust myself?" She laid her fingertips on the lapel of his jacket. "How can I trust you?"
"What worries you the most?"
"That what I'm feeling isn't real. That it won't last. That you're not really the person I think you are."
"I won't -"
"Clark." Her hand slid up to his shoulder. "I'm not saying you're unworthy of my trust. I'm just …" Her grip tightened. "… terrified that I'll make it more than it is and be disappointed when it's not."
"That's not -"
"That I'll create an image for Clark Kent based on my dreams and be shattered when I find out you're not that person."
"I've tried to be open with you about everything."
"Did you really leave the Star because of the Port Authority story?"
"Yes."
"Are you still hoping to work as a reporter in Metropolis?"
"Yes."
"At the Planet?"
"Of course, I would like to," Clark said. "It's the leading newspaper in the United States. But if you think we couldn’t work together and I have to choose between dating you and getting a job at the Daily Planet, I wouldn't accept a position even if Mr White offered me one."
"You'd give up your dream?"
"No. Never. Not the dream that is most important to me."
"Which is?"
"To marry a woman I will love forever. To make her happy. To be with her always, sharing everything."
"That's what you want?"
"More than anything."
A reluctant smile arose from the debris of her uneasiness. "You are very romantic, Mr Kent."
He placed a light hand on her hip. "More romantic than my butter chicken?"
"Definitely." She reached up and linked her hands behind his neck. "I have a feeling your chocolate kisses might pale in comparison with the real thing, too."
Her closeness infused him with scintillating boldness. "Want to find out?"
She inched closer, her mouth upturned in unequivocal invitation. Her eyes lingered in his and then slid shut. Clark rested his fingers on her neck, not quite able to believe what was about to happen.
Time stopped as the distance separating them slowly melted to nothing and his lips finally joined with hers.
--~--
Kissing Clark was like nothing Lois had ever experienced before. The light touch of his fingertips burned spots of fire on her neck. His lips massaged hers, tasting and exploring, his unique blend of reverence and fervour luring her to intoxicating abandonment.
In his arms, she felt safe.
In his kiss, she felt wondrously feminine.
She'd found him.
The man who completed her.
His mouth eased away, curving to a dreamy smile. "Your kisses are sweeter than chocolate," he murmured.
"Your kisses are more romantic than butter chicken."
He grinned. "I think you are being unfair to my butter chicken."
"My apologies," she said, through a chuckle. "You can make butter chicken for me whenever you want."
"Whenever?"
She nodded.
"Tomorrow night?"
"Don't you have a class?"
"No."
"I doubt I'll be finished until almost eight."
"That's fine," he said. "I can prepare the food at my apartment and bring it over when you're ready. Or you can come straight to my home as soon as you're free."
"Are you serious about making butter chicken again?"
"Not if you want something else. We can have anything you choose." He swept a few strands of her hair from her temple. "I'm sure you can think of something romantic."
"I can choose anything?"
"Of course. Just tell me -"
"I choose you." Lois reached up and took possession of his mouth again as, just a few yards away, the coffee grew cold, and the chocolate kisses waited, forgotten.
