Page 21 of Forget

She snorted and drained her glass. ‘So you’re staying around for six weeks rather than two. Big whoop.’

He bit back a laugh as she shot him a glare filled with fire, and damned if his cock didn’t rise to half-mast. ‘It’s only another month on top of the two weeks we’d already discussed.’

She threw her arms wide, pulling her dress taut across her magnificent breasts. ‘Everything in my life is topsy-turvy right now but after tonight, I want what sex with you provides.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Passion. Endorphins. Fireworks.’ Her eyes glittered with intent as her chest heaved, her conviction in what she wanted a massive turn-on.

Her boldness chased away the last of his residual fear. He could do this. Step out of his comfort zone, take a chance on more than a few nights with a woman, and have the time of his life in the process.

Not every relationship, no matter how long or short, had to end in nastiness and retribution.

‘I want that too.’ He thumped his chest for emphasis. ‘But my staying in Melbourne for longer than anticipated doesn’t have to change anything if two weeks is all you can handle—’

‘What about you? What can you handle?’ She flung back at him, her eyes wide, her shoulders squared. ‘You’re the king of minimal complications and the way I see it that’s exactly what will happen if we don’t put a definitive time frame on this thing between us.’

Her bluntness surprised him. Usually, people couldn’t handle his harsh brand of honesty and here she was dishing it back at him. She was some woman. But she was right. He didn’t do complications and if this thing between them developed into something more…

Fuck, no. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t let down his guard even for someone as remarkable as her.

‘We have a definitive timeframe, as you so eloquently put it. We agreed on two weeks, why change that now?’ He laid his hands out, palms up, as if he had nothing to hide. ‘In two weeks, the job I’m doing for you will be complete. In fact, it could take even less time. So let’s stick to the original plan?’

Emotions flitted across her face: hope, fear, anticipation, wariness. He recognised them all because he could empathise. Saying they’d walk away from this fling in two weeks was one thing, what if doing it proved to be more difficult than either of them anticipated?

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she nodded. ‘Okay.’

Relief filtered through him. ‘How do you propose we seal this deal?’

Mischief made her mouth curve into a wicked grin. ‘Well, I’ve always wanted to do it in a kitchen…’ She patted the island bench and shot him a glance that sizzled.

He lunged for her and she squealed, darting around the other side of the bench. When he changed direction, she did too, her laughter lightening his mood.

‘Sweetheart, if you want me to feast on you in this kitchen, I need to catch you.’

‘You’re going to feast on me?’

‘Yeah, until you’re incoherent.’ He grinned and shot her a look that made her blush. ‘I’m going to hoist you up onto this bench, spread your legs wide, ruck that dress up, rip off your panties, and tongue you until you scream.’

He took a step towards her and this time, she didn’t move.

‘Then I’m going to do it all over again,’ he murmured.

She whimpered and with a few more steps he was on her, pressing her against the island bench, his cock aching for release. He ground it against her clit, desperate to be buried deep inside her pussy.

But first, he had to make good on what he’d promised.

‘You make me wet with your words,’ she whispered, arching her pelvis into him. ‘I’ve never been so turned on in all my life.’

Her honesty slugged him again and before he blurted exactly how fucking great she made him feel just by being her, he rested his hands on her waist and picked her up.

He half expected her to make some crack about her weight again but this time she wisely remained mute as he placed her on the island bench, then slid his hands up her thighs, stopping short of where he wanted to be most. He could smell her, musky and sweet, and he couldn’t wait to get his mouth on her.

As if sensing his urgency, she shuffled her ass side to side, enabling him to push her dress up to her waist. She pushed her panties down and he did the rest, tugging them down her legs before flinging them away. They landed on the toaster and she giggled, an innocent sound of such joy that he questioned whether a fling, even short term, was a good idea.

Then she spread her legs wide, baring her glistening pussy to him, and his momentary doubt vanished.

‘Lean back on your arms,’ he said, not caring if she obeyed his command. Either way, she’d be watching him as he went down on her, the fluorescent lighting highlighting every erotic thing he intended on doing.

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