“How do you feel about having dinner with them and me?” he asks softly, almost like he’s concerned about my response, and my body, which had been relaxed, tenses up.
“I don’t know.” I lift my glass, taking another sip of wine so I can keep my mouth occupied. Austin’s mom wasn’t always the nicest person in the world when we were dating. Don’t get me wrong; she loves her son and is a great mother, but she did not like me at all and made it known regularly. His hand comes under my chin, tilting my head back, forcing me to look at him.
“Some of the people around town have already filled her in on the status of our relationship,” he informs me.
“Great,” I grumble, making a smile twitch his lips.
“Just dinner,” he says quietly.
“Sure,” I agree, but promise myself I will go stand out in the cold in nothing but a towel, with wet hair, so by the time she gets here, I will have pneumonia and will be unable to have dinner with her.
“It’ll be fine.”
“I know. You’ll be there with me, so I’m not worried about it.” I try to smile, but I’m pretty sure it comes off as a grimace.
Snuggling back down, resting my head under his chin he mutters. “She hasn’t liked anyone.”
“Pardon?” I ask, tilting my head back to meet his eyes again.
“There hasn’t been one woman I’ve dated or been with that she’s liked. Honestly, she would bring you up in front of them, telling them our story, making it sound like some kind of romantic tragedy.”
“She hated me,” I remind him shaking my head.
“She hated all of them more, baby.”
“I’m totally not taking that as a compliment,” I mutter, making him chuckle.
Shaking my head I relax back under his chin watching as the sunsets completely, leaving a pinkish hue in the sky.
“Are you tired?” he licks against my neck, causing goose bumps to break out across my skin and my nipples to harden.
“No.” I smile, pressing my neck closer to his mouth.
“Hmm.” I feel his smile then we’re up and moving into the house, going through the empty living room, up the stairs, and to the bedroom, where he lies me on the bed.
“I need to change,” I tell him, trying to sit up, but his hands on either side of me and his body over mine cage me in, preventing me from moving.
“All you brought were panties and a toothbrush,” he reminds me, while his hands slide under the edge of my shirt, running over the skin of my stomach.
“I know.”
“You have nothing to change into.”
“Oh,” I whisper as his mouth lowers to mine, pulling my bottom lip between his before traveling it down my neck and pulling open my sweater, pushing it off my shoulders, leaving me in my loose-fitting spaghetti-strap tank. Then his hands are on the buttons of my jeans, opening them up so the small V of my cream lace panties is showing.
“Austin,” I whimper as his mouth lowers over my lower belly and he nips the skin there, sending a zing of arousal to my core. Gripping my jeans he drags them down over my ass and hips, his warmth leaving me only long enough to toss the jeans behind him to the floor. When his body is covering mine again, I put my hands in his shirt and pull up, thankful when his hands go behind his head and he removes his black thermal, adding it to the pile on the ground.
Before I have a chance to mourn their loss, his hands are back on me, traveling up my sides, taking my top with them as they move up over my breasts discarding that piece of clothing behind him as well. Standing back his eyes devour me from head to toe, rumbling something under his breath he runs his fingers along the edge of my bra, between the creamy lace material and my skin.
I lie there, entranced by his expression. My body feeling warm everywhere his eyes touch. When his fingers trail from my breasts, over my stomach, around my belly button, then along the lace of my panties, my back arches toward him, offering myself up to his touch, like some kind of pagan sacrifice.
“You tell me if you want to stop,” he says, and my gaze trains on his. I nod once, knowing there is no way I will ever ask him to stop touching me. His body comes to rest over mine and his lips touch my mouth, my chin, and then his fingers pull down the straps of my bra at my shoulders, placing open-mouth kisses across my skin. I sit up slightly as he reaches behind me, unhooking the garment, and when his eyes take in my breasts, my nipples pucker in anticipation. His fingers skim over the hard peeks, making me whimper again.
The first touch of his mouth on my skin has my body coming off the bed and my legs wrapping around his hips, anchoring him to me. His large, rough hand cups my other breast, making my body writhe under him. Running my fingers through his hair his mouth moves back to my other breast, sucking deep causing my core to tighten.
My head presses back into the pillow, and my body lights up as his hand travels down between my legs. He grunts again as his fingers slide over the lace still covering my core. I’m so wet that I know the delicate material is soaked.
My head lifts off the pillow watching as he kisses down my body before kneeling on the floor between my spread legs. Covering me through the lace with his mouth my eyes widen in surprise.
“Austin,” His eyes meet mine. I know it’s ridiculous, because I’m a thirty-three-year-old woman, but I have never had anyone do this to me, and even though my body is primed, the situation feels awkward. I watch his eyes heat further as understanding fills his features. How he knows what I’m feeling and thinking, I have no idea, but he does.