Page 80 of Gone With the Wine

“About what?”

“You told me not to worry about your sex skills. You were right. They’re phenomenal.”

I bark out a laugh at her unexpected humor. And I like the compliment.

“I agree that was phenomenal. But I can do even better in an actual bed.” I kiss her shoulder.

“Really?” She sounds dubious. But then says, “Prove it.”

I smile. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Give me a minute. I’m pretty sure I can’t walk.”

“I’ll carry you.” But I don’t move, because I’m pretty sure I can’t walk either.

When we finally recover enough to move, I help her dress, tugging her panties and shorts up her legs while she slides the T-shirt over her head. I make a quick trip to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and when I return she watches me with avid eyes, forgetting about her socks and boots. The heavy weight between my legs thickens again and I have to be careful with my fly when I pull up my jeans..

“My place,” I say.

She nods.

I turn off the fireplace and we lock up, then set out toward the house. I clasp her hand in mine as we cross the yard in the brisk darkness. “Are you hungry?”

“Oh yeah.”

“I mean for food.”

“That’s what I meant.” Her smile is sly.

We have to deal with Moose when we walk into the house. He’s ecstatic to see Bianca. She always makes a fuss over him. I fucking love it.

I flick on lights and move to the fridge. “I have leftover enchilasagna I made yesterday.” I pull it out and set it on the counter.

“Um, what?

“Enchilasagna. Like lasagna but made with enchilada sauce, also chicken and a lot of cheese.”

“Mmm. Sounds good.”

I step toward her and cup her face and kiss her. Her mouth fits to mine so perfectly. So sweetly. She wraps her arms around my neck and presses into me, and she has to feel my erection against her stomach. She makes a tiny whimper.

“How hungry are you?” I murmur.

“Starving. For you.”

Fuck, yeah. Once more, I take her hand and this time I lead her into my bedroom. The blinds are closed but there’s enough light to see each other in shadows. I stop beside the bed and kiss her again, finding that perfect angle, her tongue small and hot against mine as we open to each other. A groan rises in my chest.

She slides her fingers into my hair and sensation streams down my spine. My heart, already kicking, jolts harder.

“Fuck,” I mutter. “Why do you have to be so goddamn sweet.”

She moans against my mouth.

I push her down onto the bed, on her back, and kneel on the bed beside her. I study her, so fucking beautiful, her hair a mess, her lips swollen, her clothes wrinkled, then I move over her, and kiss her again. I want to kiss her like this forever. I never want to stop kissing her. We’re grinding against each other, both of us live wires, desperate, frantic for each other again. Already.

A whine comes from beside the bed.

I go still, closing my eyes. “Jesus Christ.” I rest my forehead against hers. “Go away, Moose.”

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