Chapter 5 #3
He closed the space between us and caught my hand. “Get in here.”
I let him tug me into his room. “It’s been a while.”
“How long?” he asked, eyebrows tugging together.
“Since you.”
“Bullshit. You were married!”
“To women, Bobby.”
“And what? You never heard of a strap-on before?”
I laughed despite myself. “Jesus Christ, Bobby.”
He smiled the way he always did when I couldn’t believe whatever had come out of his mouth, like he was proud of surprising me. I’d missed that. And then he kissed me again, and I pressed into him and wondered why I’d wasted twenty-five years of my life telling myself I couldn’t have this.
My hands found his waist, gripping the fabric of his ridiculous shirt. I pulled him backward, and we stumbled toward the bed. The back of my legs hit the frame, and I went down, tugging him with me.
“Graceful,” he said.
“Shut up.”
He kissed me, straddling me with his thighs bracketing my hips. He was a lot heavier than I remembered, and I didn’t hate it. Hadn’t I just been wondering how close I was to floating away, unanchored? Bobby was solid in more ways than one.
He pulled back and looked at me, his gaze both frank and familiar.
“What?” I asked.
“Just looking,” he said, mouth curling into a smile.
“Stop looking and start doing.”
He straightened up and pulled his shirt over his head. Then he helped me out of mine. He reached out and put his hand over my heart, a gesture I would have shrugged off twenty-five years ago. Now I just watched him watch me and felt the warmth from his calloused palm soak slowly into my skin.
“It’s a bit busted up, but it still works,” I said.
“Good.” Then he grinned. “We’re talking about your heart, right? Not your dick?”
“Jesus. Yes, we’re talking about my heart. Way to ruin the moment.”
He laughed, shifting back, and then leaned down and kissed my sternum. “Nah. Nothin’s ruining this moment, Granger.”
And when his hands started working on the button of my jeans and my dick hardened in anticipation, I had to agree. I lifted my hips and shimmied out of my pants, and Bobby did the same, and then there we were, naked. I couldn’t resist. I pressed my hand against Bobby’s belly.
“Little lower,” he deadpanned. “You keep poking me in the gut, and I’ll have to point out that you didn’t just go gray up top, huh?”
“I like it,” I said. “It suits you.”
“Well, lucky,” he said. “Because I’m not planning on changing. I own a damn bakery.”
“Is there anything in this town you don’t own?”
“Couple things,” he said. “But I’m working on it.”
“You want to work on something else right now?” I asked.
His grin turned a little feral. “Hell, yes.”
That grin might have been on the wild side, but his movements were almost reverent when he wrapped a hand around my dick and stroked it slowly. His grin widened when I bucked up into his touch, and he did it again before letting go and lowering himself over me and kissing me again.
Then he rolled off me and stood. He opened the drawer of his bedside table and rattled around in there for a while. “Goddamn motherfuck.”
“Problem?”
“Nope!” He held up condoms and lube. “Found ’em.”
“Then get back over here.”
“You’re an impatient son of a bitch.”
I flipped him the bird, but my heart ached a little. If I was impatient, it was only because I’d been waiting half a lifetime. Even when I hadn’t known it, I’d been waiting for this. And for him.
I obviously wasn’t the only one who was impatient, though, because once he was back in bed, Bobby didn’t mess around. He pressed one lubed finger inside me, and my breath hitched at the unfamiliar stretch. He paused, looking down from where he was settled between my thighs. “Okay?”
I nodded, lost for words, and he winked at me, the cocky shit, and slowly began to stretch me.
We’d never been slow when we were younger, too high on heat and hormones—too eager to avoid anything that might imply something as horrifying as gentleness and care—and for once I was glad we were older. I wanted to savor every moment of this.
When Bobby finally entered me, the stretch was just on the okay side of overwhelming. He stopped halfway and dropped his head onto my shoulder. I put my arms around him.
“Breathe,” he reminded me.
Until he said it, I hadn’t realized I’d forgotten. I pulled air into my lungs. “I’m good. Keep going.”
“Ain’t stopping for you,” he said, but it wasn’t long before he started moving again.
He pushed deeper and I gasped. I dug my fingers into his back.
Then he was inside me, all the way. We moved slowly at first, rocking against each other as we tried to find the best angle and fall into a rhythm.
It took us a while to get into sync—there was a metaphor there that I’d save for later—but our bodies remembered at last. Heat built between us, slow but inexorable, until it became urgent.
Bobby sped up his thrusts and I rocked against him. My grip on him tightened as he aimed just right, and the push and drag of his cock inside me had all my nerve endings lighting up like Fourth of July fireworks. Twenty-five years and he could still take me apart like it was nothing.
“Gonna come on my cock, Granger?” he asked, just as bossy as ever.
And yeah, I was.
And yeah, I did, with a suddenness and force that surprised the hell out of me. Bobby followed after me, his hips jerking, and then sagged forward like someone had let all his air out.
And this time when he kissed my cheek, I didn’t pull away.