Page 64 of Mistaken Impression

What does that mean? Is he talking about tonight, or forever? I might be in love with him, but that doesn’t mean he feels the same way, and I don’t want to read too much into a simple invitation. Even so, I need to know.

“The night?” I ask, not daring to raise my expectations too high.

“Yes.” He smiles and I smile back. It may not be ‘I love you’. It might not be ‘forever’, but the smile on his lips and the look in his eyes feel like the next best thing.

The Chinese food stood up remarkably well to being kept warm for just over an hour, and once we’ve eaten it – in bed – Mac clears away all the cartons, taking them downstairs, before he comes back up and climbs into bed beside me. He pulls me across, closer to him, and I lie in his arms, my head resting on his toned chest.

He feels so good, and although it’s only been an hour since he made me lose my mind, my body is humming with need again. I want him, but I don’t know how to ask, or what to say.

“Is everything okay?” He leans away from me just slightly, and I look up at his concerned face.

“Yes. I was just wondering…”

“Wondering what?” he asks.

I guess there’s no point in prevaricating. “When we can do that again?”

His face clears, and he smiles. “Eat Chinese food in bed?”

I slap him, just gently on his chest. “No… silly.”

“Ahh… you mean you want to know when we can make love again?”

I nod my head, smiling at the way he said that, and he throws back the covers, revealing his erection. I can’t help gasping. It’s even bigger than I’d thought, and I tear my eyes away from his masculine perfection and look up into his eyes.

“Did that really fit inside me?”

“It did.” He leans down and kisses me, cupping my chin with his hand as he whispers, “Like it was meant to be.”

Oh… God.

My lips tremble as he kisses me. Can it be that he feels the same way I do? Am I daring to hope too much?

He pulls back, gazing into my eyes. “I’ve got a question for you.”

“Oh?”

He nods his head. “Are you sore?”

“I don’t think so.”

He doesn’t say another word, but sits up slightly and turns away, reaching over to the nightstand. When he turns back, he’s holding a condom, and I lean up and watch avidly while he tears into the wrapper and then rolls it over his erection. I’m mesmerized by the way he touches himself, studying his fingers as they stroke his length, from base to bulbous tip. I’m so entranced, I yelp in surprise when he leans over and grabs me, moving me on top of him, although I instinctively part my legs and straddle him as he sets me down.

“I liked the way you kissed me downstairs,” he says, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Ikissedyou?”

“Okay… I started it, but I liked what you made of it.”

I can’t help smiling. “I liked it, too.”

He nods his head. “Care to make something of this?” He tilts his head toward his erection and I gaze on it for a moment or two, spellbound, until he says, “Need some help?”

I smile at him, and he places his hands on my ass, raising me up, then reaches between us, positioning the head of his erection right at my entrance. I don’t need to be told what to do next, and I lower myself down, sucking in a breath as he stretches me.

“Take it slowly,” he says, letting out a slight groan.

“I need to. You’re so big.”

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