Page 70 of Some Sort of Love (Happy Crazy Love 3)
The expression on her face was better than a million dollars. Making her happy felt so fucking good.
• • •
We shared the crisp pork belly appetizer, a plate of roasted vegetables, and the whiskey barbecue chicken, and we drank a little more whiskey than we probably should have. Every time she looked at my shirt, she burst out laughing, and I threatened to wear it the first time I met her parents—or better yet, buy the one about the dirty girl.
“I am dirty,” she whispered as we wandered through the parking lot, hand in hand. “I can’t believe I did that in the car. I’ve never done that before.”
“Good.” I walked her to the passenger side of my car and backed her into it. “A car virgin. I like it.” I kissed her, finally. It felt like I’d been waiting all day.
“A car virgin,” she said, her hands running up my chest inside my jacket. “But not a closet virgin.”
“Nope.” I kissed my way down her neck. “I took care of that when I had the chance.”
“Did you ever do it in a closet with anyone else?”
I picked my head up and tried to think.
“You don’t know?”
“I was not a well-behaved or responsible person for many years, Jillian. If you want the real answer, I have to think.”
She shook her head. “OK, forget it. I liked what you were doing before better.”
“Me too.” I put my lips and tongue on her throat again, tasting her sweetness—vanilla tonight. And something flowery. Lavender? “You smell so fucking good. I have to get my mouth on all of you.”
“No argument here. Where are we staying tonight?”
“A bed and breakfast. It’s not
far.”
“A bed and breakfast!” She took my face in her hands and kissed me. “You’re so mother trucking romantic, I can’t stand it. Let’s go.”
• • •
We pulled up at the bed and breakfast, a big nineteenth century Victorian home that was called A Night to Remember.
Jillian giggled at the sign hanging out front. “I like the name.”
“That’s why I chose it.”
She got out of the car and admired the house while I went to the back and unloaded our bags. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “When do you think it was built?”
I studied it for a moment. It was dark, but I could make out the lines and materials well enough. “Probably the eighteen seventies.” My knowledge of historical architecture wasn’t all that comprehensive, but because of the area where I lived and worked, I did have some familiarity with different Victorian styles. This one was French-inspired, with a mansard roof and shutters on the windows, its bricks painted a light yellow.
“I love it.” She threw her arms around me. “This is so nice, Levi. No one’s ever given me such a great birthday surprise.”
I kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go in.”
The owners of the house, Bob and Jenny, a couple in retirement age with matching pear-shaped bodies and welcoming smiles, greeted us at the door as if they’d been waiting for us. It was my first inclination that this might not be quite as private as I’d like. Here we were entering this lovely old home, the owners graciously giving us a tour, inviting us to sit on the antique furniture, sip cordials in the parlor, or drink tea off grandmother’s china, and all I could think of was taking Jillian upstairs and spanking ass her before fucking her senseless.
Clearly I hadn’t thought this all the way through.
We were shown our room, which was large with high ceilings, a fireplace, and an antique queen-size bed. Jillian spun around, a huge smile on her face, and I was happy I’d chosen this place. Hope you have earplugs, Bob and Jenny. Or you’re gonna be up all night.
I locked the bedroom door after they left and took off my jacket and the trucker t-shirt. Jillian took her bag, went into our private bathroom, and came out five minutes later wearing the sexiest fucking lingerie I’d ever seen. It was dark red and strappy and lacy and sheer and rendered me completely speechless.
“You like it?” she asked, hands behind her back.
