In the soft glow of the nightlight to the right of the sink, I pull my wallet out and grab the newly stocked condom. Then I kiss her again.
“Flynn,” she rears her head back. “No. We’ll get caught.”
“Doubt it,” I say, unbuttoning her jeans and leaning in for another kiss.
She takes a few seconds. I can feel her stiff hesitation, but then she works the button and zipper to my jeans, and I can’t stop grinning as she kisses me back a little harder.
Whose life is this?
A beautiful, smart, funny, talented, mesmerizing woman wants me as much as I want her. If this is love, then I’ve been an idiot for years, running from all chances to experience this.
It’s quick and dirty, like bar bathroom sex, yet totally different because it’s June. I release one leg from her jeans, and she pushes mine halfway down my thighs, like we’ve done this dance a million times. We haven’t, but we should.
June rests one hand behind her, gripping the faucet, the other clenches my shirt. I hold her legs on either side of my hips. Our mouths seal in a passionate kiss with tiny moans. I’ve never felt so wanted.
Not as a child.
Not as a friend.
Not as a man.
Until her.
She breaks our kiss, lips sliding to my ear so all I hear are her tiny little gasps in rhythm with my thrusting into her.
If this is what Monroe feels with Naomi, I owe him an apology.
As we pull our jeans back on, June leans forward onto her toes and brushes her nose along my earlobe. “God, I love you.”
I don’t know if there’s enough light for her to see my shit-eating grin, but it’s beginning to feel like a permanent expression.
Sliding open the door, I listen for anyone, then I poke my head around the corner. The coast is clear, so I take her hand and pull her into the kitchen, jolting to a halt with June doing the same thing right behind me.
“Mr. Rawlings,” I say before clearing my throat.
He doesn’t look at us. He’s too busy stacking vanilla sandwich cookies in a big glass cookie jar. Just a guy in a suit, perched on a barstool, stacking cookies like blocks. He’s peculiar as fuck.
“Did you kids get your sexual tension worked out?”
“Oh, my god,” June whispers, hiding behind me.
Rupert chuckles, but he still doesn’t look at us. “It’s fine. Good for you. I remember mid-afternoon quickies. It feels like a lifetime ago.”
“Do you think Mrs. Rawlings would like to see June now?” I ask, ignoring everything he’s said.
“Probably. Send her up.” He finally looks at me while separating a cookie and licking the middle several times.
“Just her?”
He nods.
I turn toward June. “Top of the stairs. Go right. Her room is the one at the end of the hallway. I’ll be up soon.”
June nods half a dozen times, her face still red from either our quickie in the bathroom or the embarrassment of Rupert hearing us.
After she turns and exits the kitchen, I face him and steal a cookie from the carton. Then I open it and lick it like he’s doing.
“It’s good practice, isn't it?” he says, winking at me.
