Page 155 of One Wrong Move

It’s not something I’ve thought about much. Being thirty-eight and single, I’ve put that thought at the back of my mind. There hasn’t been anyone else since I walked into that bar and saw her. In my despair, by moving to London, in trying to distract myself from her, I did consider the possibility of maybe, one day, being able to move on. Hoped for it, even. Freeing myself from the unrequited yearning.

But it never happened.

“And you’ve got time,” she says as if she read my mind. “You’re ten years older than me, but you’re a man. Nature is unfair like that.”

My right hand glides down her body. Pushes the remnant of the comforter away, until she’s fully exposed to me. “Yes, it is.”

I switch nipples and find the soft skin between her legs with my fingers. She sighs softly and runs her nails along my back.

“I love it when you do that,” she murmurs.

I don’t stop running my fingertips along the length of her pussy. Teasing, playing. Won’t ever tire of that, either. How soft and warm she is, against my fingers, my tongue, my cock.

“Do you want kids?” I ask. Draw her closer and bite her right nipple.

Her breath catches, and she spreads her thighs. “Oh. Um. Yes, I do. I’ve always wanted them.”

“You sure have,” I murmur.

“What?”

“You’re meant to be a mom.”

She moans softly when I press my thumb to her clit. “Mm-hmm. Well, I used to want that, soon. Originally… the plan—after the wedding. Like, next year. But now, I don’t know anymore. I might want kids in five years. I want to be… free first.”

“Of course,” I say, and kiss down to her stomach. “You want to complete your list.”

“Yes. Exactly… oh.” Her words are cut off when I settle between her thighs. She tastes good, and she’s warm, and gets wet easily under my tongue. This has been my favorite activity over the past week.

Hearing her moan while her thighs are around my head.

I don’t get far before she pulls me. Tells me, with a heated look in her eyes and a blush on her cheeks, that she wants to try something else, something different.

It’s a position we haven’t attempted yet. I want her to ride me later, in this glorious sunshine… but we’ll do this first.

When Harper stretches out flat on her stomach on top of the bedsheets, I reach into the drawer and find the vibrator she bought all those weeks ago. I asked her to bring it up last night, but we haven’t used it so far. Hadn’t gotten the chance.

Harper’s mouth makes an O when I hold it up. But then, she nods.

I grin. Slide it under her body, wedging it in place between her clit and the bed. The vibrations make a soft thudding sound on the mattress.

She looks over her shoulder at me, her eyes smoldering.

Fuck, I need to be inside her.

With my thighs on either side of hers, I position myself. Push in slowly. We’re both breathing hard at the tightness of the squeeze. With her legs straight and held together, it’s like sliding into a vise.

Harper moans when I’m finally, deliciously, fully seated. She’s so tight, it almost hurts, and I can’t move a molecule or I’ll come.

“On top of me,” she murmurs, and right. Right. I stretch on top of her so my body covers hers entirely. Use my elbows to brace myself and keep from crushing her. The fit is snug, and complete, and she’s mewling beneath me. Her face is turned to the side, and I brush my lips over her cheek.

“Like this?” I ask and start moving my hips. Use my knees against the bed for leverage.

Her eyelids flutter closed. “Yes. Just like that.”

I rest my forearms next to hers. Thrust again, slow and deep. Find her hands butted against the mattress and lock my fingers together with hers.

It doesn’t take long to understand why she likes this position. Our bodies are touching from head to foot, and I can easily rest my forehead against her neck. Reach her cheek. Kiss the soft skin of her shoulder.

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