“Sometimes I can be dirty, too,” she whispered.
He groaned. “I love dirty.”
“You didn’t get under my shirt at all on the mountain,” she said, sticking her lower lip out just enough for him to bite the pout right off her face.
He did just that, and she laughed. “My apologies for being a gentleman.”
“You should apologize.”
Instead, he slid his hand under her shirt and splayed his fingers wide across her warm skin, pulling her against him. She came willingly, soft and pliant. It took nothing at all to get her on the bed, one hand up her shirt and the other roaming wild and free across the outside of her shorts.
Endless kisses and teasing touches that felt good and made his head spin.
“It’s been thirty years since I did this last,” he murmured as his fingertips grazed the seam between her legs. “Discovered a woman’s body for the first time. You’ll have to tell me if I’m doing okay.”
“It’s been thirty days for me,” she gasped, rocking into his hand. “And you’re putting the other guys to shame.”
He squeezed her thigh, ignoring the way his heart beat thumped harder at that information. She’d slept with someone a month ago?
He hadn’t known her then. It didn’t matter.
But fuck, what was he doing? Could he compete with that?
“You stopped.” She wiggled out from beneath him and pushed up onto her knees. “Why? Because I said it’s been thirty days…” She jumped off the bed. “Seriously?”
His head was spinning. “No. I…”
Her eyes blazed at him as she propped her hands on her hips. “Well?”
“And I just said it’s been thirty years, so give me a God-damned minute.” He swallowed. Of course this wasn’t going to go smoothly. He swore again, this time under his breath, and pushed off the bed.
She stepped back, and he prowled after her. Yeah, he liked this better. The push-pull tension was better than the softness they’d slipped into on the bed.
“Don’t judge me,” she whispered.
“Jesus, I promise I’m not. I was just worried for a minute that I wasn’t going to make you feel good. That I’m out of practice compared to—”
She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in. “No comparison. I promise. But it’s hard to do when we’re not on a bed.”
He grinned, hard and feral. “Oh, my sweet wildflower, we don’t need to be in a bed for me to make you feel good.”
She bumped into the wall. “You aren’t serious. We’re too old for—”
He wasn’t too old for anything. He caged her in, one arm bracing against the wall, the other hand tracing the line of her jaw as she closed her eyes. “Frank…”
“I don’t care if you were with someone else yesterday. Right here, right now, it’s just the two of us. And this feels right. I don’t want to overthink it.”
She exhaled, a breathy little pulse. “I don’t want you to regret this.”
Regret her? Never. “I won’t. At all. I promise.” And there was an easy way to make sure he could stand behind his word on that front. This wasn’t going to be about him at all. He wanted to make her feel good—so good she’d want him to do it again. His pleasure could wait. “Kiss me, Grace. Kiss me and let me touch you.”
She closed her eyes and parted her lips.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against her mouth. “I can’t wait to feel you come on my fingers.”
He swallowed her gasp at the same moment he popped the button on her shorts. She arched into his touch and he let his lizard brain take over. Soft skin, sparse curls, and then slickness. He touched her lightly, working from the outside in. Gentle strokes until she spread her legs, then deeper exploration, dragging her wetness up to her clit and then back down again.
Not until she was begging him in panting, little breaths did he thrust a finger into her. But that quickly escalated to two, and then a teasing third as she rode his hand.
