I'm still getting used to the fact that my mother has returned from her years-long hiatus. "Two pulled pork sandwiches. Coleslaw. Fries. Thanks." I don't have a clue if Dom likes to eat the foods I rattled off, but that's what he's getting.
Dom pulls me in the direction of the gift shop attached to the front of the store. He leads me directly through it, and out the front door. We spill out onto the main street, where a hot pink and orange sunset streaks over the western sky.
Dom pulls me in close, running his fingers through my hair. "I have a plan."
"I don't have one, so I guess we're going with yours."
Dom walks me down the dirt street, to the parking lot beyond. I put on the brakes, shaking my head. "I don't think Bernice?—"
Dom tugs me harder, urging me to keep pace. "I have the keys to the motor home."
"Why in the world do you have the keys?"
"I have one of three."
I could ask how Dom ended up with a key, but I don't really care.
All that concerns me now is getting my hands on my husband. And his, on me.
CHAPTER 36
Dominic
The doorof the motor home opens, the automatic steps extending. In the distance is a low thrum of music, the melody pierced every few seconds by voices.
Cecily peers up at me. Her cheeks are flushed, like they were in the restaurant. I've seen her flushed before, from anger and from embarrassment. But this? This is different. A pink hue with eyes that soften, corners creasing. Vulnerable. Open.
For me.
My heart lurches. I like Cecily a lot more than I've allowed myself to realize. I can't have her all the way, not fully, not the way I truly want her. But I'll be damned if I won't make this her best experience.
Stepping closer, I grip the bottom curve of her ass and lift. She follows the movement, wrapping her arms and legs around me. She snuggles in close as I navigate the metal steps and doorframe of the motor home. Stopping once I'm inside, Cecily leans around and reaches for the door, slamming it closed. She slides the lock across.
Sitting up, arms casually draped over my shoulders, she licks her bottom lip and asks, "We're alone now. What are you going to do with me?"
In two strides, I have her on the counter of the kitchenette. There's a loaf of bread behind her, a box of powdered donuts.
Her chest, daintily covered by that yellow top, heaves with her heavy breath. Pressing my fists on either side of her thighs, I take a moment to look at her. Let my eyes wander. Her shoulders. Her collarbone. The top swell of her breasts. I'm dying to put my lips on every inch of this woman.
Using my hips, I urge her knees to part. The fabric of her pants swishes around us, and I step between her thighs, briefly meeting her eyes before I press a kiss to the pulse fluttering in her neck.
"My wife told me she needs my assistance." My tongue drags over her throat, and she whimpers. "I took a vow to care for her, and that's what I will do."
"Your wife is a lucky woman," Cecily says, and I feel the way she swallows.
My hand slides up her neck, gently gathering her hair. I pull, guiding her to look up. "My wife's pleasure is a priority."
Cecily breathes a tiny groan as my lips meet her jawline, feathering kisses over the delicate ridge. She reaches for me, wrapping her arms around my back. Her nails drag lazily over my shirt.
She turns her mouth, capturing mine. Once I'm there, it's electric. My whole body zings, the attraction something that doesn't feel like it's safe to exist. It should be contained somewhere, buried a mile underground. How are we supposed to successfully walk through daily life when there is this much chemistry between us?
Cecily arches into me, her head pressing into the cabinets. Her chest grazes mine as our tongues tangle, her flavor a fruityapple, mixing with the thick bitterness of the stout. She lets go of me, and when the kiss breaks, I see the thin straps of her top dangle off her shoulders. "More," I demand, and she eagerly complies, probably for the first time since I met her. She pushes down her top, no bra, and her breasts spill out. Full, heavy, and so fucking perfect.
My head dips, and I take a hardened peak in my mouth. Cecily's nails drag through my hair. "Dom," she says, drawing out them. The same sound she would make if she were eating something delicious.
I give her other nipple a pinch with my finger before dragging my touch down the center line of her body. Stepping back, I give myself room to work.
"We probably don't have time," Cecily protests throatily when she sees my fingers flip open the top button on her pants. "I'm sure my family is wondering where we went."
