Page 34 of Trouble in Love
It’s just sexI reminded myself. Just the best sex of my life.
Deciding to take what I could, while I could, I allowed my fingers to resume their earlier work, tracing the swell of hercreamy thighs, “Your body is beyond beautiful, Princess. Soft, feminine, yet strong.”
“What about you?” she replied promptly, “You’re built like Hercules. Do you train, or were you just genetically blessed with perfection?”
“Not blessed. I have to work my ass off, or on. It came easy when I was a kid, but it’s getting harder to maintain every year.”
“Kid?” she scoffed, “Please, what are you, like twenty-five?”
“Spot on. You’re about that too, right? I mean, look at your skin.” My eyes followed my thumb sweeping across the flesh that tensed beneath me. “Wait, am I older? I’ve never been the older man. That’d be hot. Shit … is that bad?”
“No, it’s not bad,” she shifted, twisting her hair around her little finger. “And I’m sorry to ruin your fantasy, but you’re not the older man, either.”
“Oh, so, we’re the same age, then?”
“Umm. ... Yeah, sure. ‘Bout the same.”
Polly
Not just for me, but for many women over thirty—particularly those playing with a younger man—there comes a moment when she must decide what kind of woman she is. A liar. Or a teller of truths.
I knew which I was.
Oblivious to my fib, Luca yawned, stretched out his long, muscular legs, and drifted off. It was not cute. Not at all. And I had no intention of hanging around, watching his unfairly long lashes form shadows on his cheeks, but I did. The rhythmic sounds of his breathing soon sent me to sleep too.
I woke grinning but conflicted. The rightness of Luca’s presence. The comfort I found in his bulking arm slung over my waist, the warm tickle of his breath on my neck was unexpected. As was the guilt.
Revealing the true me was like snuggling—not my thing. Yet I was melting into his touch, wanting to bare my soul.
His slow and steady breaths quickened.Is he awake?The monster between his legs, pressing into the small of my back certainly was. Testing, I pushed my ass into the bay of his hips and was rewarded with a rumbling chuckle and groan as he thrust against me. It was a dangerous game I was playing. Cowboy should have ridden off into the sunset a beat after making me come. But he hadn’t. And I was far from inclined to analyze why. There were many more enjoyable things I’d rather be doing.
Before I could enact the filthy thoughts filling my mind, there was a hurried knock on the door.
“Sorry to interrupt.” Luna half whispered, “But I thought you might like to know your dad is here.”
“Shitballs!” In a flurry of movement, Luca cursed and flipped onto his feet. As I laughed, he hauled me up with one hand, grunting as he tugged my skirt over my ass with the other. “This is not funny, Princess.”
“No, it really is.”
When Dad burst through the door seconds later, he was eyeing Luna—whom he saw as a strange woman hovering by his office door—over his shoulder. He then got the fright of his life when he turned to find yet another stranger. This one was nodding at nothing, caressing a plant in a way not dissimilar to how his tongue had earlier done to my cunt, and standing stiff as a board. Beside him was me, his daughter, a sublime picture of innocence with my hands clasped before me, my head titled, and my smile sickly sweet.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Please don’t say that.” Luca groaned without averting his gaze.
Dad’s smile was warm and sincere but failed to conceal the squint of suspicion around his eyes. “Plop, what are you doing in here? Henry’s flat chat by himself. And who’s your friend?”
“This is Luca. He’s not my friend, just a patron and fellow fern lover. When I told him about your collection, he was positively busting to get in here and get his hands wet.”
Poor Luca choked on air, and I discovered the blushingwasinnocence. Dad’s smile grew exponentially. “Ahh, another genus Adiantum fan, eh?”
I nudged Luca into action.
“Oh, me. Oh, oh, yep. I love them. Can’t get enough,” he replied, his eyes wide, his smile toothy and sweet. It was annoyingly endearing. This guy was more dangerous than I could ever have expected.
Dad hobbled his way over, sizing Luca up on each step. “I began collecting them while studying Greek mythology to impress my then girlfriend, now wife. Did you know the name genus Adiantum is derived from the Greek for “unwetted” and was given to the maidenhair because of the way water rolls off the fronds, leaving them looking dry even when soaked? Also, another interesting tidbit: the pinnae, the leaves,” he said most seriously and an inch from Luca’s confused face, “Were thought to resemble the hair of the goddess Venus. She was born from the sea, fully formed, and emerged with dry hair, thus another link.”
“Wow, Thanks, Dad.” I groaned. “There are a few seconds of my life I’m never getting back.” He scoffed and started towards his desk. “And I’d hate to tell you, but Venus was Roman. Not Greek.”
