Page 44 of Love In Translation

“But you’re being deceitful too,” Fletch pointed out. “And you’re being a little hypocritical too. Aren’t you?”

He expected her to argue, but she didn’t. “Because I haven’t told Paddy I’m living here and what happened at work? Of course I am.” Misery jumped in and out of Rheo’s eyes.

Points for being self-aware, Rheo.But, man, her family situation was complicated, dominated by strong characters, misunderstandings, and undercurrents. He wasn’t into drama, thanks. It was another bullet point to add to his don’t-get-involved-with-Rheo list.

He was only here for another few weeks and wasn’t sure how long Rheo would be around either. The link between them was great sex and enjoying each other’s company. So God knew why he was asking about her family and digging into her past and problems. He needed to stop that shit. Immediately.

To distract himself, he shifted his thoughts to the way she made him feel physically. Rheo seemed to love sex as much as he did, and there wasn’t a better form of distraction. And they needed to be distracted, needed to be yanked out of the emotional and into the sexual.

Fletch walked around the table and held out his hand to Rheo. He wrapped his arms around her body, thinking about how well she fit next to his, how they seemed to be made for each other. Her soft against his hard, her femininity a perfect complement to his brawn. He slid his hand under her shirt, needing her hot, soft, fragrant skin under his hand. He brushed his mouth across hers and lifted his head to look at her.

“We talk far too much,” he told her, wondering if she’d get the subtext behind his comment. The more they talked, the closer they got, and that was dangerous. For him. For her. They needed to dissolve the emotionally sticky web they’d run into.

Awareness flashed and her nod came quickly. “We should definitelydomore and talk less,” she told him, running the tips of her fingers along his jaw.

They were thinking alike, thank God. Relieved, Fletch covered her mouth with his, loving the way she responded, with no hesitation.

Rheo’s tongue tangled around his in a hot, slick slide, and her kiss annihilated thoughts of anything but the way she made him hum, then burn. Fletch swiped his thumb across her already hard nipple, waiting for her groan. Fletch sensed, no ego involved, he was the best lover she’d had. It was a title he was proud to own.

Fletch lifted her and sat her on the wooden kitchen table, shoving her skirt up her legs to bunch it across the top of her thighs. She spread her legs and he touched the wet spot on her plain white cotton panties. “I love how responsive you are,” Fletch said, his voice a growl.

“Lift your ass,” he told her.

Rheo lifted, and he pulled her panties down her legs, dropping them to the table next to her bare thigh. He looked down at her, open to his gaze, all pink and pretty and swollen and wet.

“Gorgeous. I can’t wait to be inside you.”

Rheo clasped the back of his head and pulled him down, feeding him hot, want-you, open-mouth kisses. He knew what she was trying to say:Take me away, make me stop thinking, get me out of my head...

She wanted his fingers, his mouth, and his cock in her, over her, taking and filling her.

He’d give her what she desired...eventually.

Fletch pushed her dress’s thin straps down her arms, and the top fell to join the skirt in a bunch around her hips. He unhooked her plain white bra and immediately fastened his mouth on her nipple, sucking it to the roof of his mouth. Her hand held his head in place, and he heard her soft pants, and her skin felt hotter. Her smell—the sexy, musky smell of perfume and a turned-on woman—hit his nose and his cock pushed against the fabric of his shorts, painfully hard. Needing more, he switched to her other breast, and teased her with his teeth before pulling her dress over her head and tossing it to the floor.

As long as he lived, he’d remember Rheo sitting on her grandmother’s table, the morning sun streaming into the room, painting her skin with a rose-gold sheen. He hooked a finger under the band holding up her hair and pulled it away. Her hair tumbled down her back, glinting in the sunlight.

Keeping his hands off her was nearly impossible, but he needed to burn this image in his mind. Her breasts were full and high, her nipples a delicious pink. Rheo placed her hands on the table behind her and looked at him, her gaze bold and confident. As his eyes moved down her body, over her rounded stomach, she spread her legs wide. Beneath the tidy patch of hair, her lips were pink and inviting. They glistened, and Fletch licked his lips, desperate to kiss her there.

This was what he needed, what he thought she needed too. After an argument, sex could be a reset, a way to push feelings, complications, and irritations away, to get back to the basics.

What did he know for sure? That they were just two consenting adults enjoying each other, cramming in as much good sex as they could before life pulled them apart and sent them in different directions.

Sex, this insane biological need to be together, made sense when not much else did.

“Let me look at you too, Fletch,” Rheo commanded him.

Unable to refuse her anything, he fumbled as he undid the button on his pants. Within seconds, less, he was naked. When her eyes hit his cock, he stroked his shaft from base to tip, imagining her lips around him, taking him deep. The wet warmth, her tongue rimming his head...

“That’s hot,” Rheo said, her voice breathy. “You’re hot.”

Rheo’s hand dipped between her legs, and she dragged her finger through her folds and swirled the tip around her clit. Thinking was bad, watching was good, but he preferred action...

Fletch dropped to his knees and, because he was tall, found his head was at the perfect height. He placed both his hands on the inside of her thighs, spread her wide, and covered her clit with his mouth. He licked. Then delved. Rheo moaned, then shuddered, but he didn’t stop. He sucked her clit onto his tongue, then lathed it gently, changing the pressure and intensity every few seconds.

Fletch looked up into her eyes, foggy with lust, and his heart did a one-two thump. It felt too full, on the brink of exploding in his chest, less sexual, more emotional. He yanked his eyes away, not wanting her to see how she undid him, that she made him weak, how he wanted to fall apart in her arms...how he could fit into her life.

She was unlike anyone he’d ever met. Could staying in one place for her be worth it?

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