Page 41 of Some Sort of Love (Happy Crazy Love 3)
“I was thinking the same earlier today,” he said, sliding the tray of steak bites into the oven. “I’d like to spend a night with you somewhere.”
I poured the whiskey into the glasses as my stomach flipped. “Like a sleepover?”
“Yes, a sleepover.” He shut the oven and turned around, laughing. “Although I have never called it that before.”
I handed him his drink. “I’d love that. Open invitation here, whenever you can work it out.”
“Thanks.” He took a sip and raised his eyebrows. “This is perfect. My God—she’s beautiful, smart, and mixes a proper cocktail?” He clapped a hand to his chest. “I’m in love.”
I knew he was teasing me, but my heart stopped just the same, and I nearly dropped my drink. “I’m glad you like it. I’ll admit, I had to look it up,” I said, hoping he couldn’t tell how flustered I was by his words. “Is that cheating?”
“Not at all.” He came closer and kissed my forehead. “You’re a very good student.”
“Especially when the subject is you. Guess what else I did?”
“What?” He took another drink and licked his lips.
“Rented The Shawshank Redemption so we could have our movie date.”
“Did you?” He set down his glass and opened up the bag of greens. “Hey, can you grab two dinner plates for me?”
“I think I have the movie for twenty-four hours,” I said, reaching for two plates in the cupboard. “But if we don’t get to it tonight, we can always rent it another time.”
“We might have to.” He took the plates from me and set them down. “Because it’s after seven already, I told my sitter I’d be home around eleven, and I want to give you at least two more orgasms before I go.”
I giggled. “You’re going to spoil me.”
He picked up his drink again, tapped it against mine, and took a sip. “As much as fucking possible.”
“I’ll help you with the dishes,” I said, bringing our plates and silverware over to the sink. There was hardly a crumb left—Jillian’s appetite at the dinner table was just as voracious as it was in the bedroom, which I found delightfully sexy. It was almost funny watching her devour everything on her plate, given how thin she was.
“Don’t you dare.” She poured the rest of the wine in our glasses. “You cooked the entire meal. The least I can do is the dishes.”
I laughed. “I’m used to doing both.”
“Too bad. I’ll get them done later. Come sit with me for our movie date.” She set our wine on the coffee table, turned off the lights, and got on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her.
I knew what was going to happen if we got on the couch in the dark, and it didn’t involve Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman. But she looked so excited about watching my favorite movie with me, I figured I’d humor her.
We lasted ten minutes.
At that point, my hand was up her shirt, her hand was down my pants, our tongues were tangled up, I was hard, she was wet, and the only prison we gave a fuck about was our clothing. We broke free of it a lot faster than Andy and Red, whipping off shirts and dragging down jeans and flinging underwear to the floor. I brought her to orgasm with my fingers first, even though she begged me to fuck her, because I couldn’t get enough of the sounds she made, the way she moved against my hand, the shape of her mouth when she came.
And it was something I could give her…there was so much I couldn’t.
When her climax was over, she pushed my hand away, panting and wild-eyed. I grabbed a condom from my pants and she took it from me, tearing open the packet and sliding it over my erection with quick hands.
Fuck, that was hot. Everything about her was hot—the way she straddled my lap and lowered herself on to me slowly, like she wanted to savor every inch. The way she took me in so deep, the expression on her face a mix of rapture and pain. The way she moved her hips over mine, in rhythmic, undulating motions that had me fighting the urge to come inside a minute.
The way she accepted me for who I was, didn’t judge me for my mistakes, and believed that I could make her happy.
I still didn’t know how we were going to do this, and the fear of disappointing her bit at the edges of my bliss. But I was going to try harder than I ever had to make it work.
“Oh God,” she whispered, her eyes locked on mine, her hands clutching my shoulders. I knew she was going to come from the way her breathing changed and the way she moved, tight and hard and fast against me, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. As soon as she cried out, her eyes closing, her pussy clenching around my cock, I came long and hard and deep, my fingers digging into her hips as I thrust up inside her, my breath escaping in ragged, primal sounds.
Afterward, I wrapped my arms around her and held her close, a shiver moving through my body. Burying my face in her neck, breathing her in, I spread my hands out on her back, feeling the bones and muscles beneath her satin skin. Somewhere underneath it all, her heart beat hard and fast against my chest, and I felt a powerful urge to possess and protect it, to offer her mine in return.
I wanted to say something to her, something to tell her how grateful I was, how swept away, how beautiful she felt in my arms. I wanted to stay here and hold her like this until that insatiable hunger burned in me again, and then I wanted to take her to bed and fill her body with mine, lose myself inside her. I wanted to make promises and keep them.
