“We should toast to…something,” she said excitedly.
“How about we toast to an amazing summer?” I suggested.
Arya nodded, and we lifted our beers, tapping them gently. We both took a drink and, keeping on theme, I asked her about her favorite summers recently. She talked about trips to Nashville with friends, going to the beach in Charleston, South Carolina, and nights out in Louisville. She talked about these times fondly, but it surprised me that she had always stayed so close to home.
After we finished our food, we played darts and pool, and kept talking and talking. I told her all about how I fell in love with New York during medical school but how I was starting to grow tired of the city and the demands. It didn’t seem to be the right time to talk about Regina, so I left that out.
She moved gracefully, seemingly comfortable in her own body, and everyone at the bar seemed to notice her. She used this to her advantage, betting on a pool game with a few guys who looked to be in their mid twenties. I started to stop her, not wanting to get involved in any townie shit tonight, but before I knew it, the game had started and she kicked their asses and won some money. Somehow, she was even better with darts, beating me in every game.
Arya was so dynamic and deserved all the attention she received. How could you blame anyone who wanted to bask in her presence for a while? She had a way of making people feel…good. But I hoped she knew that she also deserved to feel good and happy, too.
On the drive home, she teased me more about my music. But I took it as a challenge to better educate her on the great music of the nineties. Her teasing made me love how comfortable she was with me. I loved seeing this playful side as she lightly slapped my arm and called me an old man.
We were pulling into the driveway way too soon. I wasn't at all ready for this night to end.
“Do you want to come in?” I asked as soon as I cut the engine. “I could continue the nineties music education or we could watch a movie? I bet you missed the cinematic masterpiece, ‘I Know What You Did Last Summer,’ didn’t you? Luckily, I have it on VHS in my grandparents' house.”
Shit, I was rambling now.
She rolled her eyes, but then smiled at me.
“Maybe I’ll pick the movie, but that sounds fun,” she said.
We were as quiet as possible walking into the house. It was almost midnight, and the house was silent, everybody tucked in their beds.
As we climbed the stairs, Arya missed a step in the dark.
I quickly caught her, and she silently regained her footing.
I put my finger to my lips to remind her to be quiet. But my hand was still on her arm. That one touch of smooth skin was making my brain short-circuit and the blood rush south. It had been a long time since touching a woman’s arm caused me to get half hard.
I closed my bedroom door behind us as she walked to the middle of the room, her back toward me. I took the moment to check out her round ass and send a quick thanks to the creators of denim that shaped it so perfectly. The way her hips flared from her stomach–that tiny flash of skin had been driving me crazy all night.
My fingers itched to reach out and touch it. So I slowly closed the distance between us. She turned and looked up at me. For a beat, we looked into each other’s eyes. Arya stepped closer, her breasts brushing my chest. Even through the layers of fabric, I could feel the warmth radiating from her.
Her eyes dipped down to my lips, and that was all the invitation I needed. I had to taste her. I lowered my face and brushed my lips over hers. That was all it took. The kiss deepened, by whom I couldn’t tell, but it was hungry, needy.
I plunged my hands into her hair and it was as soft and smooth as it looked. I wrapped my fist in it, pulling her closer to me. She smelled like a fresh garden after a rainy day and the scent surrounded me, imprinting in my memory.
Her fingers found their way to the hem of my t-shirt and slipped under to dance across my stomach and slip up to my chest. Without thinking, I pushed her onto the bed, following her down. I notched my thigh between her legs. She softly moaned at the friction.
I kissed her lips again as my thumb trailed down the delicate skin of her neck and moved further to skim her collarbone and tease the neckline of her shirt. Done teasing, I lifted her shirt up, exposing one breast covered in a sexy, lace and satin nude-colored bra. I ran my thumb over her bra and felt her shake beneath me. I slipped her strap off her shoulder and pulled the cup of her bra down, revealing her pretty, dusky pink nipple. My lips back on hers, I teased her nipple with my fingers as she grabbed at my shirt. I let her pull it up over my head and immediately replaced my fingers with my mouth on her nipple. My shirt still in her hand, she bunched it over her mouth to keep from crying out.
The scene was so erotic that I was painfully hard in my jeans, completely aware that I would likely always have a zipper pattern imprinted on my dick.
Wanting to taste her lips again, I freed her other nipple and worked that one with my fingers while kissing her. I painstakingly worked my way up her breast to her neck, then nuzzled in. I brushed my lips over her ear.
“What do you want?” I breathed into her ear.
Her hands were fisted into my hair and her hips kept thrusting into mine, sending stars through my blood at the feeling of the delicious friction. This woman was going to drive me crazy.
“I want you to fuck me,” she whispered.
It was all too much. This was Arya McKenna, using my shirt to muffle her cries, spread out on my bed, telling me to fuck her.
Fuck, she had no idea what she was doing to me.
“Don’t worry, darlin’,” I said, my fingers drifting to the waistband of her jeans. “I plan on doing just that.”