FLESH AND BLOOD
Sara
I wake up disconcerted for a second until I peer through my eyelids to see him. He’s still in his suit. His lashes rest against his cheekbones. His arm is around me as I spoon his side. This is really nice, I realize. I should go home, but I don’t want to. I want this guy, even though there’s a dull thudding in my head. I can’t believe a guy who’s real flesh and blood—not an image on a movie screen, or in a magazine or book—can make me want like this.
I hear him shift and turn his face to rest his chin on the top of my head. He inhales and exhales with a soft groan before easing his arm out from under me and stepping into the bathroom.
I hear the soft close of the bathroom door and the sound of the shower turn on.
I smile perversely knowing he’s probably taking care of himself in there, or at least turning the faucet to cold. He was hard against my stomach most of the night and I delighted in pushing closer to him. I love that he wants me like this.
I drift in and out of sleep, and the next time my eyes pop open he is standing before me, in all his damp glory, his chest glistening wet, his dark hair slicked back, and a towel around his hips. My perverse smile fades. Now the joke’s on me. I ache all over, from my breasts to way down between my legs. My heart a little bit, too.
He’s gorgeous, yes, but he’s more than that. He let me dance for him and appeared to love it. He took me on my dream date to a show. He is kind to his grandmother and her dog. He’s a hard worker. I even admire the fact that he’s not making false promises just to get me in bed. I respect that. I respect him.
I sit up in bed groggily and push my hair from my face. “I hope you made the shower water very cold, Ford.”
“I hope you will remember how many hours you tortured me with that pretty little bum when I adjust our accounts.”
I laugh and lower my gaze to admire the rest of him. God, he’s even got great feet. His calves are muscular and strong, dusted with fine hair. The muscles all over his body are chiseled and hard like a granite sculpture. His abs are at my eye level as he plays with his phone.
“I’m ordering us breakfast. What’ll you have?”
“Breakfast in bed? For me?” I grin. When he only smiles and drags his eyes along my form on his bed, I add, “Just coffee.”
“Two espressos,” he says, typing up the order.
“No. No espresso. I can’t take espresso in the morning. It makes my stomach hurt. Just a regular with almond milk and a stevia packet. Please.”
He smiles and clicks to complete the order, then heads to the closet to get dressed.
“Your head hurt?” He drops the towel and slides into his boxers and slacks, and I blink at the sight of his muscular ass before he covers it.
“No,” I answer, meeting his gaze as he turns. “Does yours?” I let my eyes linger down to where his dick is covered.
He tsks and shakes his head as he grabs a clean shirt from the closet and starts buttoning it up, his gaze once again greedy as he drinks me in. “Get your lovely ass out of bed. I’ll get you something for that hangover.”
When he steps out of the closet, I sigh and lie back. I slept pretty well considering he was my only sheet.
I force myself out of bed and head to his bathroom to freshen up before I meet him down in the kitchen.
“I used your toothbrush; is that okay?” I wince apologetically. “I don’t know if you’re the sort of guy who gets upset if…”
“I wasn’t sure either.” He frowns as he considers his response. “No. It doesn’t upset me.” We spot the deliveryman by the window. “My wife got upset if I shared hers,” he adds before opening the front door, grabbing the bag and the coffee carrier and bringing them back to the kitchen.
He hands me two Excedrin, grabs one of the coffees, and slides it down the counter toward me.
I take it and blow off the steam. “I had a good time last night. Thanks for being a gentleman. I’m on three senses now, so we can talk,” I say, guzzling down the two pills.
He chuckles and takes a sip of coffee as I boost myself up on the counter. He walks up to me and I instinctively part my legs to make room for him. He’s hotter than the scalding coffee.
Our eyes lock, hold. “So you think you’d like to do this again?” He sets his coffee aside and meets my gaze. “We can take things slowly.” He watches me as he speaks, and I smirk happily. “You turn me on, Sara. Get me going.”
“I know,” I whisper saucily, trying to hide my excitement.
He continues, somber, eyes intent. “I have no feelings for my ex-wife, but I do need to legally wrap things up. Let’s have a period of fun with no commitments. Just so you know, I’m not dating anyone else. I’m enjoying my time with you. Let’s see where this takes us. What do you think?”
I’m flustered, and impressed, but trying to hide it as I tease him sardonically. “Did you practice that?”
“Maybe.” He sasses me back, taking my coffee from my grip and setting it aside. He gentles his voice.
“I asked you a question, Sara.”
I meet his gaze. “I’ll think about it.” I speak softly. “I never planned to get involved with someone who’s in the middle of a divorce. I need to be sure about what I’m getting into.”
“We can keep it casual. It’s best for both of us.” He tips my face up to look at him.
I smile and reach out to set my hand on his shoulder, the muscle tight under my palm. His entire frame tightens. His eyes darken.
I’m chasing my breaths when we look at each other’s lips.
He moves me closer.
He tilts my face back and draws it to his, and when a gasp leaves my lips, he bends his head and takes it, that gasp, that moan, tasting his toothpaste on my mouth.
“Think about it fast. We’ve been waiting long enough to test this out. I don’t want to wait anymore.”
He looks intent as he eases back and I lick my lips. A sigh escapes me as I slide my hands behind his neck and raise my face for more. “Yummy motherfucker, what are you doing to me?” I breathe as he grabs the back of my head and takes the mouth I offer.