Page 36 of Full Mountie

“Your mom…?” Her eyebrows draw together. “Surely she…”

I shake my head. Surely nothing. “She’d rather not talk about it, either.”

And we haven’t needed to. It’s not like I’m a dating machine. But old wounds run deep. That’s not what I want to think about now, though.

“This is delicious.” I change the subject in a firm way. “That’s smart, to make the sauce up in advance. I’d eat way less takeout if I did that.”

“What do you cook?”

“I’ll make stew sometimes. I can fry a mean egg. Steak and salad.”

“Mmm.” Her eyes light up. “Make me a steak sometimes.”

“As soon as I get back.” I tell her about my back deck and the new barbeque I treated myself to at an end of summer sale last year.

When we finish eating, she stretches her arms above her head and rolls her neck. Her breasts bounce under her t-shirt and my blood starts to hum. I’m ready for dessert, definitely. I add more wine to her glass. “I’ll do the dishes.”

I don’t give her a chance to argue. I take our plates and quickly rinse them off, then fill the sink with soapy water. She doesn’t have a drying rack out, so I find a towel and dry them off.

She’s followed me into the kitchen, and now is watching from the doorway to her small galley. I like her watching me. I like being in her space and feeling at home. I take my time putting the plates and cutlery away, finding where the pots go. Then I grab a cloth and start to wipe the counters.

Her hand comes down on mine and she sets her wine glass on the counter. “Stop teasing me,” she whispers.

“Doing the dishes?” I grin as she slides her body between me and the counter. “That counts as foreplay?”

“And I think you know it.” She presses up onto her toes and I take her mouth. She tastes like wine and warm desire. It doesn’t take much for that heat to ratchet up, for her to lift her leg and urge me to pick her up.

I brought a condom with me, but over dinner I decided not to use it. Like Hugh did for me, I’m going to do for her—give her something to think about while I’m away.

“When I get back, we’re going to have an entire night together,” I tell her, my voice rough as I trace the curves of her body. “All night. My place. I’ll cook for you, and I want you to sleep over.”

Yes. I want that so much it hurts. Heat pulses deep inside me at the thought of her in my bed.

“That sounds amazing.” Her breath catches as I rub my thumbs under the waistband of her pants, and ease them down her hips. Underneath, she’s wearing pink cotton underwear, and those can go, too.

I don’t take her shirt off. I like the flower. Instead, I cup her breasts through the material, rubbing and tugging on her nipples until she’s squirming against me. Then I finally ease the fabric up, baring her flesh for my mouth. I lift her up and sit her on the counter. She gasps at the coolness of the granite beneath her.

“Shhh,” I say before kissing her.

She groans as I move my way down her neck, then to her nipples. I cover one peak with my mouth, then the other. She’s so soft, her tits overflow my hands. And she squirms perfectly when I roll my tongue across her skin. Here, and lower.

I ease her back, getting her to lean against her hands, and I lift her legs so her feet rest right on the edge of the counter.

So she’s wide open for me. On display.

“I’ve missed you,” I say.

“Me, or my…”

“Beautiful pussy? Shhh. I’m reacquainting myself with your perfection.” I wink at her before stepping back so I’ve got enough room to brace my forearms on either side of her hips. I lean in, kissing the smooth, sweet skin of her inner thighs.

Her legs fall away, revealing more of her perfect pinkness, and I breathe her in. Gorgeous. My first taste is light, encouraging her to swell for me, but I have no self-control, and at the first lick against her slick skin, I lose my mind a little.

She’s the perfect mix of sweetness and musk, and tasting her again is like coming home. A familiar hit of a private drug. Something to hold us both. And there’s another element to my desperate need to consume her.

I want her on me, in me, as I fly away from Ottawa.

She obliges, lifting her hips. Offering herself to me. I take. I gorge. I spear two fingers into her snug pussy and fuck her with my hand as she writhes under my tongue, because one way or another, I need to feel that clutch of her heat around me.

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