Page 44 of Filthy Little Midlife Fling

“Okay. Yep. Good idea.” I drop my shorts, then lift my shirt off over my head.

I’ll have to thank Laurel later, if I can work up the nerve; I took her advice and wore a new pair of matching underwear I bought over the weekend. The look on Remy’s face when he sees the sheer black bra and matching boy shorts is worth every penny I paid.

“Bed, couch, or floor?”

The question makes me blink, and by the time I’ve processed it, Remy has his hands around me and he’s lifting me into his arms.

“Decide, Audrey, or I’m fucking you up against your front door.”

“Uh—couch,” I blurt, even though I wouldn’t mind the front door thing. “Down the hall in the living room.”

He stalks down the hall, unhurried and efficient. I cling to him, staring at the rumpled piles of clothing next to my front door. Then I’m turning the corner and a moment later, falling through the air and landing on the couch cushions.

He stares at me for a beat, then shakes his head. “You’re so beautiful, Audrey.”

My body has changed over the years, and some days I feel older than I should—but I could never feel self-conscious when he’s looking at me like that. Smiling, I spread my arms and invite him down to join me. His body presses me into the cushions as he kisses me, his beard rasping against my skin. His hands are everywhere. He tugs at my bra and shifts down to take the hard point of my nipple in his mouth.

“Don’t rip these undies,” I say, arching toward him. “They were expensive.”

“I’m not making any promises,” he says, sitting up on one elbow to get a better look at my bra. It’s clumped beneath one breast with that strap hanging off my arm. Remy looks like he’s about to come undone.

A woman could get used to being looked at like that. He makes me feel powerful and sexy and alive.

Then he lets out a harsh breath, kneels on the couch cushions, and tugs my panties down and off. His hands are on me a moment later, stroking, teasing, thrusting. I want him so much I’m shaking.

“What do you want me to do, Audrey?” he says, running his lips across my chest. He sucks my nipple into his mouth and tongues it. I’ve lost my mind. I should be working, and instead I’m getting ravished by a tattooed beast of a man on my living room couch.

“I want you inside me,” I pant. “Right now. Now—now.”

He lets out a harsh breath, and then I’m being manhandled again. He picks me up and turns me so I’m facing the couch, feet on the floor and knees pressed against the seat cushions. A broad hand pushes my chest down so my forearms are against the back of the sofa.

He swears. I feel exposed and so turned on I can’t think straight. I hear a condom, feel his hand slide over my hip—and then he thrusts all the way home.

I see stars. Actual stars, bright and white against my eyelids. I think I say his name. Maybe I scream it. I know at one point he reaches around to tease my clit, and I peak within moments.

I feel it when he reaches his own climax. I’m ragdoll-limp, clinging onto the sofa for dear life, and he thickens and pulses inside me. The feel of his orgasm makes warm honey spread through my body. I want more. I want it again. I want all of him.

And I know for a fact that I didn’t imagine a thing last night. This is every bit as good as I remembered.

Moments later, when we’ve caught our breath, Remy eases out of me and I wonder how I’ll ever recover from this. A month is an eternity. A month is long enough for my feelings to get involved—long enough for my heart to break.

But then Remy wraps his arms around me, turns me around, and brushes his lips against mine. For a moment, all my thoughts and worries flee and all I feel is the warmth and safety of Remy’s arms. He rests his forehead against mine and lets out a huff of a laugh.

“What?” I ask, letting my forearms rest on his shoulders.

“I thought I’d exaggerated it in my mind,” he says, voice rough. “I thought last night was a fluke.”

Warmth spreads through my chest. I pull back to look up into his dark-brown eyes, smiling shyly. “Same here.”

“It wasn’t a fluke. We fit, Audrey.” His hands coast down either side of my spine, stroking me like he can’t help but want to touch my skin.

Fear sparks, chasing away all that comfortable warmth. I should tell him I need to get back to work and ask him to be on his way. I should put some distance between us and protect myself.

“You want some lunch?” I ask instead.

His hands slide down to my ass, running up my sides, palming my curves. “Only if I get to have dessert after.”

I grin and swat at his beautiful bare chest. “Brute.”

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