I was not beautiful.
Except to Mo.
That was sweet, incredibly sweet, and he could say that, butafter my days of rest, it wasn’t like we hadn’t had sex in the five weeks sincesurgery.We did.A lot.Gentle at first.Then not so much.
From what I could see, I was fully healed.
I felt great.
And I was due to go back to work the Tuesday after next.
I was ready.
I was also not.
And the not part was mostly the fact that Mo and I madelove, but he never touched my tits.
He barely even looked at them.
“Mo, when we have sex, you don’t—” I began.
That was as far as I got because he cut off my words bytossing the bralette to the side, putting two big hands on my waist, lifting meup, planting my ass on the counter and then he put those two big hands to mybreasts.
He lifted one up.
He bent to it.
Then he sucked my nipple deep into his mouth.
Oh…
Nice.
My head fell back and my hands went to his scalp, glidingover, fingers linking at the back.
His head and my hands moved to the other nipple while herolled the one he’d left gently with his thumb.
I was breathing heavy when his mouth went away, his handscovered my breasts, and his lips came to mine.
“You were healing,” he whispered, looking into my eyes.
“I’m fine now,” I whispered back.
“Okay,” he said.
That was it.
Mo said it was okay.
And it was okay.
He ran his thumbs hard over my nipples before he slid hishands to my back, slanted his head and took my mouth.
It was getting serious.I was enjoying the feel of thatserious.Mo had moved one hand back to a breast and was kneading it, his otherhand shoving in at my back so I was arched into him, when a pounding came atthe door.
Mo lifted his head up.
“Mac, open this goddamned door!”
