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We head into the kitchen where I pull together a small salad while he gets bowls and plates for the rest. The food is delicious and we are quiet as we eat.
“Looks like you were really concentrating on whatever you were working on. Is it going well?” he asks.
I nod. “It really is going so well. The story has been percolating in my mind for a while, but I finally feel inspired to start it. You inspired me actually.”
“That’s nice to hear. You seem happier.”
“I am.”
After we finish eating, we clean up and sit on the couch since it was a moody and rainy day today so the deck furniture is wet. He hands me a beer and we clink them together.
“I made you something,” he says, seeming a little shy about it. He takes a small bag from his pocket and pulls a tiny charm on a chain out of the bag and hands it to me.
“Is that what I think it is?” I ask as I inspect the small but intricately carved charm.
“Do you think it’s a lifeguard buoy carved out of driftwood, attached to a chain?”
“Why yes I do!”
“You are so smart,” he says and we both chuckle at our silliness. “It matches your tattoo.”
“You made this for me?” I ask as a warm feeling fills me.
“I did, now turn around so I can put it on you.”
Instead of simply turning on the couch I get up, walk to him and plop down on his lap. He huffs out a laugh but leans in to put the necklace around my neck, resting his hand at my throat.
“You are still the most beautiful woman I know,” he says and I hop out of his lap and face him, getting some distance.
“You need to travel more,” I say. “The women in Portugal were stunning.”
“Why would I travel when what I want is here?” he says and I blush. Owen has always said the most blush-inducing things, tearing a girl’s insecurities limb from limb.
“You really know what to say to make me feel special.”
He shrugs. “I just know what I want.”
I lean in. “You want me?”
He lifts my hips and pulls me back over his lap, this time straddling him. “I want everything.”
I drape my arms over his shoulders lazily rolling my hips closer and closer to him. Both of his hands cup my breasts through the over-sized t-shirt I slept in. Crap, I’ve been in these clothes all day. He pinches my nipples and I no longer think about my clothes, except how I can get them off soon.
His hands lower to the hem of my shirt slowly sliding it up my thighs, tickling me there. I squirm as he keeps going, strumming his fingers over the thin sleep shorts that I’m not wearing anything under. I roll my hips again as he continues to lift my shirt up along my ribs, then up and over my head.
We sit there, me half-naked, him looking at me like I’m a slice of cake. I rest my cheek against his, feeling the sensation of his beard, listening to his breath.
“I need to be inside you again, Mollie.”
I nod and he picks me up and places me next to him on the sofa, then stands to take his shirt off in one smooth movement and undoes his shorts, dropping his boxer briefs with them. He stands before me and all I can do is stare. This man, who once was someone I held so dear. He’s so different, but so familiar.
When I reach out to touch him, he swats my hand away, kneels down and pulls my shorts off, leaving the fuzzy socks. He sits back down on the sofa and strokes his dick a few times as I stare at him. Taking my hand, he pulls me to straddle him once more, sliding my clit over his erection.
“Shit,” he says. “I can’t believe you’re here, with me and I don’t have a condom.”
My hips still as I hover over him, ready to take him inside me. “I was tested after Steven, and I haven’t been with anyone.”
“I was tested after Shannon,” he says gripping my hips, pulling me back to him. “We don’t need to worry about getting you knocked up either,” he says and I’m confused by his comment but he’s seen me take my birth control so that’s probably why.
