He looked mischievous. “I looked up your skirt the night of the diner caper.”
I smiled. “I guess you must have liked what you saw.”
He motioned to me to sit on the bed. “Since that night, I’ve been fantasizing about how your naked arse would feel in my hands.” He deftly tugged my underwear off, then stepped out of his and pulled me up. “Yes.” He gave it a squeeze. “It has more than lived up to my expectations.”
I did the same to his and felt him pressing against my stomach. An electric pulse surged through my body. “Here’smyconfession. When I saw you at the lake with your shirt off, all I wanted to do was . . .” I placed my face against the hair on his chest, inhaling his scent—suntan lotion and musk.
He lifted me onto the bed as we kissed. Once I was naked in his arms, all my inhibitions were gone. We took our time licking, nibbling, and caressing. He brought out a passion and excitement in me that I’d never felt before. He rolled on top of me, and I officially became an extremely satisfied andseparatedwoman.
I lay on his chest while he ran his fingers through my hair. I wanted to tell him in detail how he made my body tremble and climax in a way I had never experienced. But he said this time together was just about us, in the moment, so instead I said, “That was worth waiting for.”
“Yes. Yes, it was.”
I was enjoying the afterglow when he asked, “Are you hungry?”
I rolled over and kissed him, slowly, tenderly. I could feel his excitement, which aroused me again. “For you.”
Half awake and somewhat disoriented, I had no idea where I was, but I was filled with a sense of serenity. Opening my eyes, I remembered: I was on a furlough from my life. I was naked in an enormous comfy bed. I hadn’t slept in the nude in years.
Smiling, I reached for him, but he wasn’t there. I heard noises coming from downstairs. I went to shower. As the water washed over me, I thought about what I’d experienced last night—passionate sex, several times, with a man who was not my husband. I couldn’t wait to do it again.
I toweled off in front of the mirror, trying to look at myself objectively. Farmer’s tan, tits still had some perk—thank you, yoga. I turned to look at my ass and blushed, thinking about how Teddy admired it, when I heard footsteps on the stairs.
Teddy walked in carrying a steaming mug in each hand. “Good morning, my love.”
Those four words were wonderful to hear, but even more so in his British accent.
I fluffed up the pillows, tossed the towel, and sat on the bed, my back against the headboard. “It is a good morning. Coffee in bed delivered by a handsome bare-chested man.”
He placed the cups on the night table and sat next to me, taking my face in his hands, and gently kissed me. “I have no idea how you take your coffee, so I guessed.” He had on his impish grin. “Hot and sweet.”
I burst out laughing and scooched over so he could slip in next to me. We were sipping when I asked, “Should we make a plan for today?”
He put his mug down and said, “Well, since we’re still in bed . . .”
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had sex first thing in the morning.
We were entangled in the sheets and each other when I said, “What a lovely way to start our day.”
He drew me in closer. “It is, isn’t it?”
My stomach growled. “You sent me to bed without any supper.”
He nibbled my ear. “Come to think of it, I’m famished. Let’s go raid the kitchen.”
I saw his button-down shirt crumpled on the floor—I picked it up and put it on. It was soft against my skin and smelled
like him.
He smiled. “That shirt never looked so good.”
We went downstairs and I turned on the faucet. “I’m thirsty. You must need a glass of water too. We have literally been sucking all the moisture out of each other.”
He smiled as I handed him a glass.
I was refilling our coffee cups when Teddy asked, “Why do you suppose they call these English muffins? There’s nothing English about them.”
I squeezed his butt. “The only English muffins I see are yours.”
