He pulled her close and let his fingers slide into her hair.
“Good question,” he said. He pushed her bra down and rubbed her hard brown nipple. “I want to finally take this fucking bra off of you, like I’ve been wanting to do for the past two hours. And then I want to suck on these incredible breasts of yours until I drive you wild, and then I want to slide my fingers into your wet pussy and find out how you like to be touched there, and then I want to fuck you until neither one of us has the energy or ability to ask another question. How does that sound?”
He could feel a shudder go through her body as he spoke. Still, though, he didn’t move as he waited for her answer.
“That sounds like exactly what I want,” she said.
He unhooked her bra in one smooth motion and threw it on the floor.
“Oh, thank God,” he said. And then neither of them said anything for a very long time.
Three
MARGOT WOKE UP AND blinked for a few seconds. It was still very early; she could tell from the dim light coming through the window. Scenes from the night before—and the early morning—ran through her brain. The first time—slow, at the start, and then hard and fast and very satisfying. And then, after they’d both recovered and she’d gotten up to go to the bathroom, she’d gotten back in bed and kissed him, in what she’d meant as a thanks-for-the-orgasm kiss, or maybe even an it’s-time-for-me-to-go kiss, depending on how he reacted. But the kiss escalated, and he slid down her body and gave her another great orgasm . . . and then a third. And then, they’d fallen asleep, but sometime in the middle of the night had both woken back up, and . . . damn, it had been an excellent night.
She opened her eyes all the way and saw Luke smiling at her. He looked very disheveled, very relaxed, and very attractive. He looked like he’d spent all night having a whole lot of sex. She smiled back at him.
“I thought I’d dreamed you,” he said.
She laughed out loud.
“I’m at least five years too old for that line to work on me,” she said, “but that’s adorable that you tried it.”
He grinned sheepishly at her.
“Thank you. I think,” he said.
He lifted himself up on one elbow and looked at her. She forced herself not to move, turn over, or cover her body with a sheet. She was nervous for him to really look at her in the daylight, now that it was morning and she was no longer drunk on his kisses and his touch and his gaze. She liked her body fine, most of the time, but now she was in bed with a guy who was probably used to perky boobs and small waists and no stretch marks. But she didn’t let herself flinch, and instead smiled up at him. That ship had already sailed, hadn’t it?
He gazed down at her and then moved his hand up to her breast.
“Mmm, I feel lucky to be here right now,” he said.
Good God, she liked the way he did that.
“Oh, you should feel very lucky,” she said.
He laughed, and bent down to kiss her.
Afterward, when she could breathe again, she suddenly remembered something.
“Yesterday was Sunday,” she said when he got back in bed from going to the bathroom. “That means today is Monday. What time is it?” Her phone was in her jacket pocket, which was wherever she’d abandoned it after he’d pushed it off her.
He pulled himself out of bed again and found his jeans on the floor.
“Seven thirty,” he said.
She sighed in relief. This had been fantastic, but if this interlude had caused her to be late to work this morning, she’d be pissed at herself.
“Oh good,” she said. “I have plenty of time.” She swung her legs out of the bed and looked around for her bra. He picked it up from the foot of the bed and handed it to her, and she put it on, then pulled her dress back on.
“Didn’t you just say you had plenty of time?” he asked her. “Why are you rushing to get dressed?”
She grabbed her underwear from the bed.
“I meant I have plenty of time if I leave now. I still have to walk home, and once I get back, I have to get ready for work.”
He shook his head and pulled his jeans on.
“No, you don’t,” he said. “I’ll drive you.”
She hadn’t expected him to offer that—he knew she lived nearby. Or maybe he didn’t remember?
“I can walk,” she said. “I’m only six blocks away.”
He grabbed his shirt off the floor and put it on.
“I know,” he said. “But my car’s right downstairs. I can drive you, it’s no problem. If too many people around here know you for you to kiss me outside a bar after dark, how much worse will it be for you to do the walk of shame at seven thirty a.m. on a Monday morning?”