Page 14 of The Autumn We Fell in Love

But then the storm clears and, lips curving into a small, tremulous smile, she nods.

Our first contact is bashful, timid. We test each other’s lips with our own, tasting, discovering.

Then Hollis captures my lower lip in her teeth and, aiming a challenging gaze straight into my eyes, tugs.

Something breaks inside me. Maybe it’s my fear, maybe it’s my self-control.

I pounce on her. My fingers burrow into her hair while I claim her mouth with kiss after demanding kiss. I roll my tongue over hers, tasting the remnants of her coffee, exploring as deep into her mouth as I can.

She opens to me, rocking her head back to give me greater access, exposing her neck. I trace light fingers down her throat and she rewards me with a shiver.

“God, you’re perfect,” I groan breathlessly into her ear and she shivers again. “I don’t want to spend another day without you by my side.”

Hollis pulls back, the sudden distance between us an agony. The storm has descended again, clouding her eyes with doubt. I reach for her to reassure her — hell, to reassure myself that she’s here, that I really just ravaged her sweet mouth, that she’s not about to disappear — but before I can touch her, she speaks.

“Show me,” she says, voice rough.

I can’t stand to not be touching this woman. I take her hands in mine, smoothing my thumbs over her weathered knuckles, admiring the evidence of beautiful life she’s lived. “What do you mean?”

She stands, knocking the table as she does, making her coffee cup wobble in a precarious dance before it settles. “If you really want all this,” she gestures at the soft curves of her body, mouth tight, “come show me.”

I stand too, her hands still enveloped in mine. “How do you want me to show you?” I’ll do anything for this woman, go to any length to soothe her old hurts and show her how damn worthy she is of being loved and cherished.

Hollis steps closer so she can speak right into my ear without the other café-goers hearing. “Fuck me. Now.”

My blood flashes hot and my cock would be ready in an instant if I let it. I raise a single eyebrow. “Here?”

She blushes, and it’s so goddamn gorgeous. The stuff a man could write poems about for a lifetime. “No, of course not,” she says, exquisite in her embarrassment. “My place. Let me show you how the forty-somethings live — and what our bodies look and feel and fuck like — before you decide I’m the one for you.”

I shake my head. “It’s too late. I’ve already decided. And your body? I think it’s perfect, just like the rest of you. And,” I step so my pelvis brushes hers and she can feel the aroused heat rolling off my body, “you better believe that I won’t pass on an opportunity to see more of it.”

Her face flushes darker. When she begins gathering up her things, her hands are shaking — and her mouth is set in a grim, determined line.

She thinks she’s setting herself up for rejection. She doesn’t understand that the more I get of Hollis, the more I want.

Not yet.

But I’ll make her understand. Starting right now.

“I have to warn you, though,” I say as I follow her to her car. “I’m not going to fuck you.”

Hollis looks up at me, startled. She opens her mouth to question me, but I beat her to it.

“I’m going to make love to you,” I finish.

She clamps her mouth shut and keeps her eyes squarely on where we’re headed. I can’t tell if she’s embarrassed or surprised or in disbelief.

It doesn’t matter. Because my words are a promise. One that I intend to keep for the rest of my days.

I can’t wait to get started.

Hollis

The old Hollis would be shocked that I’ve taken my Intro to Poetry instructor back to my place for a nooner.

The new Hollis, the one who over the past months has been quietly growing in confidence and — yes, I’ll admit it, Amy’s right — love for Rowan Keating, is pretty damned pleased.

Pleased, and nervous.

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