Page 63 of Breaking All The Rules
“I want to—” She stopped, swallowed, her throat dry now, too, but absolutely prepared to say what was on her mind. “Take Annie’s pie, smear lemon meringue over your chest, and lick it all off.”
A slow smile spread over his face. “I do like the way you think.” And then his hands slipped away and he took two paces back, reaching for the buttons on his shirt, hastily undoing them, just as he’d done yesterday. “Get the pie,” he said as he pulled the shirttails out of his pants and peeled the shirt back.
Bea’s legs went weak, incapable of any movement at the sight of all his lovely bare flesh, and her stomach growled in anticipation.
“Beatriss,” he said with equal amounts affection and exasperation. “Pie.”
Bea got the pie.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Half an hour later, Austin lay on the bed about as physically sated as he’d ever been, considering Beatrice had made him a bona fide glutton. He never wanted to stop touching her and tasting her and being over her and beside her and inside her, but right now, with the tart aroma of lemons and the sweet smell of sugar mixing with a flood of endorphins, he was pretty damn tapped out.
For the moment, anyway.
She’d scared him when he’d first arrived. He’d known something was up from the moment she opened the door. After her boner-inducing titty flash—not a good thing when trying to tell Bob Downey his tire was illegal and that being the mayor forty years ago didn’t give him some special exemption from the road laws—and her promises to be dressed in nothing but her panties, Austin had been busting a gut to get to her place.
Slowest. Day. Of. His. Life.
Of course.
But then she’d been in her sweats and bunny slippers and there’d been a definite coolness to her welcome. Thank God for Annie’s pie or she might not have let him in at all.
He hadn’t known what happened, but he knew something sure as hell had, and a reckless kind of desperation had risen in his chest to find out. Maybe if he knew her better, he’d have known intuitively what was up, but he didn’t—yet—and he wasn’t too proud to just come out and ask.
Still, to hear her second-guessing what had happened between them and trying to box it into something had made him a little frustrated. If there was one thing he did know about Beatrice it was that, for all her bravado, she was skittish—about the age gap, about her uncertain future, about her place in the world. And trying to pin her down or fence her in with all that going on would be dumb with a capital D.
This wasn’t a standard relationship where he met someone in May and they fell into a pattern of dating and fucking and hanging out with each other’s friends and making plans for Thanksgiving together, only to have it fizzle out in August. It was different. He knew that already. Knew he had to get out of its way and let it become what it was destined to become.
Take it one day at a time.
Thankfully, she’d been prepared to listen to his arguments and be swayed. Because he really was fine with what was happening, and he didn’t need her making decisions for him like he was some fresh-off-the-farm hayseed with no agency. Corporate life had obviously made her cautious, and he got that—being a cop was hardly a cakewalk. But he could handle whatever this was.
More than that, he was prepared to be whatever she needed him to be right here, right now because she simply didn’t know what she wanted yet. And that was okay, too.
Beatrice’s hair tickled his nose as he nuzzled the crown of her head. Austin hadn’t ever given much thought to the joys of the post-coital state. The part where two people who’d just had orgasms got to bask in the aftermath and enjoy the flood of happy hormones, when every worry was obliterated, every ache was neutralized, every mental mountain was conquered. Even if only for a short while.
Yeah, he liked it and he’d never been the kind of guy who laid next to a woman plotting how quickly he could leave. But he’d never felt this content, either.
“I figured I’d need a shower after you were done licking that stuff offa me, but I can see”—his hand ran down his belly, surprised to find a distinct lack of stickiness—“you were very thorough.”
When she’d slathered that meringue lower and lower, then reached for his belt buckle, Austin’s knees had almost given out and, for a moment, he thought it was all going to end there with an embarrassing display of prematurity he hadn’t suffered since the night he’d lost his virginity. But he’d rallied, managing to hold on until she’d finished using him as a plate and all the pie was gone and she took him all the way to the end with her mouth, and then he’d flipped her onto her back, stripped off her sweats and those Thursday panties, and shown her how much he liked to eat.
He felt the upward turn of her lips against his chest as she smiled. “I wouldn’t dare disrespect Annie by leaving even the tiniest morsel.”
Austin laughed. “I’m impressed. I doubt a forensic crew with a black light could pick up any trace.”
It was her turn to laugh, and he snuggled her closer, content to lay quietly with her for several minutes. “So…” he said eventually, his fingers sifting through her hair. “You want to talk about this morning?”
“Nope.”
All righty then. “Not even about the job offer?”
Austin didn’t want to be the guy who let things slide for fear it would put them in the weeds. He didn’t want to be the guy who pushed, either. But it seemed like neglecting his boyfriend/lover/friend/interested-human-being duties to not ask.
Plus, he was curious.
A long sigh escaped her lips, spreading warm air over his pec. “Somebody I used to work with has started a greeting card company and wanted to know if I was interested in doing some design work for them.”
