Jeans or boxers. Jeans or boxers.
He pulled his shirt off.
Jeans or boxers.
The only light in the room came from the TV.
He stepped out of his jeans.
* * *
If she’d asked herself about lying in bed with Johnny, watching TV, Tabitha might have figured it would be awkward. She might have been uncomfortable. In reality, she lay there wishing he’d look at her instead of the TV.
She gave him his glass of wine. Sipped from hers. Wondered when he’d get to the holding her part.
So she could reach that bridge she wanted to cross.
Ten minutes went by. Fifteen. And she’d had about as much as she could take. Putting her glass down on the table, she took his from him and looking him straight in the eye, but not saying a word, slid on top of him.
Strange, really, how easy it was. Her body on his, fitting against his, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Have we crossed it yet?” she asked him, driven by feelings in her groin, her breasts, her most private parts. Feelings that weren’t going to be told no.
“Crossed what?” His strangled-sounding words made her smile.
She’d never seen herself as a seductress. Or even as the aggressor in a physical situation. But she was pushed to her limit. And reaching the end of her time with Johnny.
“The bridge,” she said, sliding her pelvis against his completely, gloriously engorged penis. Might have been better for him if she’d been wearing silk instead of sweats.
“Oh, sweetheart, I think you crossed that the second you climbed into my bed,” he said, rolling her over and lying on top of her. “I can hold you all night if you want to go outside and sit by a tree.” He growled as he lowered his head to her lips.
Johnny didn’t start out slow. He didn’t ease her into the world of passion. He opened his mouth over hers and used his tongue to send signals all over her body.
Their clothes were gone almost immediately, but that felt natural, too, being naked with Johnny. She couldn’t see much with only the TV’s glow, not nearly enough, and still couldn’t stop looking at him.
She loved how he stared at her. Took moments to devour every part of her with his mouth as he removed her sweats and shirt, her panties and bra, piece by piece.
He touched her in places that shouldn’t make her wet down below, but did. He made love to every part of her, and let her make love to every part of him, too, when the urge became more than she could resist.
And when, after what seemed like hours of being on the verge of exploding right out of her body, he grabbed a condom from his wallet and finally spread her legs with his knee and slipped inside her, she cried out, feeling a pleasure she’d never even imagined.
She didn’t care that he was only on loan. Didn’t worry about losing him. She just gave him everything she had, took everything he wanted to give, thankful that, right now, Johnny was all hers.
Chapter Eighteen
Waking up alone Friday morning, Johnny went about his usual business. Tabitha always had coffee going in the suite by the time he got up and that morning was no different. Standing there in his boxers, he poured himself a cup, looking toward her closed bedroom door.
How long had she lain with him? He remembered waking up at some point with her snuggled against him. And then...nothing.
Her decision to leave his bed before they saw each other again had probably been a good one. No awkward moments.
Still, it might have been nice to wake up together.
If they were in another place and time. If their worlds coincided on a more permanent basis.
The closed door bothered him. He considered knocking on it, but didn’t. They had a truck to run. A business to tend to. A partnership still in effect.
Heading toward the shower, he thought about the truck. About the people he was going to contact to get the franchising in motion. Investors he knew he could count on. Angel would have been thrilled.