Gibbo
Opening my front door, I try to remember the state I left my living room before heading into the Ridge to buy groceries for my birthday BLT. Tidy enough to turn the light on? I fucking hope so.
“Sorry about the mess,” I say with a sheepish grin as I flick the switch. Just in case. I want this woman to be impressed with what she sees. To like what she sees. To like me. To think a lot of me.
I’ve never given a rat’s arse what anyone thinks of me until now.
The warm glow of downlights fills my living room, and I bite back a relieved sigh. Tidy. Nothing out of place. Not even my morning coffee mug still sitting on the coffee table. Huh. Apparently, I’m not the slob Albie insists I sometimes am.
Turning, I extend my arm inside. “Mi casa es su casa.”
For fuck’s sake, Gibbo. Since when do you speak Spanish? Stop it. Take a breath. Relax.
Sami scans the interior of my home and then arches an eyebrow at me. “Thank you. Though to be fair, I’m not sure I can cope with the mess.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, okay. I was worried. I wasn’t planning on bringing a damsel home tonight. Didn’t know if I’d left my boxers swinging from the ceiling fan.”
Stop talking, you idiot!
Pivoting to a halt halfway into the room, she arches an eyebrow at me. “You make it a habit to hang your boxers from the ceiling fan?”
I grin. “Not really.”
A devilish light glints in her eyes. “Pity.”
I close the door behind me.
She holds my stare. She’s stunning and gorgeous, and the thought of her being in my home makes my head swim. She belongs here. Every fiber in my existence believes that.
“Thank you,” she says again, a huskiness to her voice. “Seriously. I really didn’t plan to crash your birthday.”
Shaking my head, I dump my firefighter’s jacket on the console table next to the door. Its bulky weight slides off and hits the floor with a thump. I don’t care. “Seriously,” I reply. “I very much like that you have.”
Skipping her gaze over my living room, she takes a few steps closer. “Did you get everything you wanted?” she asks. The question sinks straight into my groin.
I shake my head again, forcing myself to stay at the door. “I didn’t know what I wanted until?—”
Stop it. You’ll scare her. She’s already dealing with someone freaking her out. And here you are, behaving like a horny fucking teenager.
She studies me. “Until?”
The truth burns inside me. “Until I met you,” I confess.
“Is that so?” She closes the distance between us. “Better unwrap your present then.”
I draw in a slow, steadying breath. “Do you mean…”
Lips curling, she closes her fingers around my wrists and lifts my hands, bringing them to the top button at the V-neck of her flippy little yellow dress. “Yes. I do.”
Sucking in another breath, I pop the button.
A soft whimper falls from her, and she tilts her head back, her eyes fluttering closed and her lips parting.
I pop the following button, and the front of her dress falls open, revealing pink lace cupping gloriously full breasts. My cock spasms in my heavy firefighter trousers. A low growl rumbles deep in my throat, and I bend and press my mouth to the intoxicating curve of one of her breasts.
She tangles her hand in my hair, a soft sigh escaping her.
I smooth my hands over her hips and around to her exquisite arse. Reveling in the perfection of her warm flesh filling my palms, I chart a slow path up her throat to the little dip behind her ear with hungry kisses.
