My dick hardens, and I should go. I should turn around and leave and give her privacy. But I’m rooted to the spot. She looks too good to back away from.
“I brought you breakfast.”
She pulls the towel tighter around her chest, causing it to ride up her thighs. If she’s surprised to see me in her room, she doesn’t show it.
I walk to the door, but I can’t leave. I came in here to tell her how I feel, and wrapped in a towel or not, I intend to do just that.
“Maggie, I’m not teasing you. I want you to believe that. I’m not pretending. I want you to be my woman, Maggie. I don’t want to pretend. I want you.”
Her eyes go wide, and pain flashes in them.
“I can’t get involved Arlo,” she says with finality.
“Why? What’s the problem?”
“I can’t get involved with anyone. I want this promotion when it comes up. I’ve worked too hard.”
Relief floods me. If that all she’s worried about, then I can solve that. She doesn’t have to give up her career, but I can tell there are no words that will convince her right now. But maybe my tongue can.
I stride towards her until I’m taking up her space, the flimsy towel all that separates us. Her eyes widen, and her lips part.
My hand runs over her bare shoulder.
“I don’t want you to give up your career. You make the best desserts I’ve ever tasted.”
She smiles shyly at the compliment.
“But let me taste you. Let me make you feel good, like you deserve.”
My arm wraps around her body, and I pull her toward me.
“Let me take care of you, Maggie, right here, right now. Give me the weekend. Let me show you what being with me can be like.”
She’s breathing hard as she pushes away from me, torn between what she wants and what she thinks she should do.
My hand grasps the top of the towel, and I yank it off her. Maggie gasps, and her arms cover her body. Her cheeks flush, but I don’t give her time to be embarrassed.
My hand slides between her legs, and she’s dripping wet.
“You’re beautiful, Maggie.”
Her head tilts back, and I kiss the skin of her throat as my fingers slide between her folds.
“Tell me you want me to stop.”
She whimpers in my arms and presses her hips so my palm rubs against her clit.
“Don’t stop, Arlo.”
I push her gently back on the bed and let my mouth travel down her body. My hand follows, running over every curve of her torso, feeling the texture of her skin against my rough hands. Her beautiful breasts, the softness of her stomach, the curve of her hips, and the soft downy triangle of hair between her legs. I feel the heat coming from her core as I press my palm between her legs.
“Let me take care of you, Maggie. I need to hear you say it.”
I look up at her, and she’s panting hard.
“Yes,” she whimpers. “For the weekend.”
I want forever with this woman, but if she’s only prepared to give me a weekend, then I’ll take it.
