Muffin Top (Page 48)

Oh God, that was the understatement of the eon. “Yes.”

“So?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that she felt as much as she heard. “What’s the harm in taking this back home?”

Oh, besides getting gutted by the broken heart that she’d eventually be nursing, because that’s the way life worked? “This isn’t fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war,” he said, running his hands down from her hips to her thighs as he sank down to his knees. “Come on, take a chance on us. Take a chance on me.”

She didn’t miss the way his breath paused on the last word as if he was as unsure but hopeful as she was.

“You really think we could make it work?” Was she crazy for even considering it? Maybe. But even for as much as her body was urging her to say whatever he wanted to hear so they could get on with it, that wasn’t what was pushing her forward. It was the strange, alien emotion that felt a lot like hope building up alongside her arousal.

He kissed the inside of her thigh, so close to her core that she nearly cried out. “Without a fucking doubt.”

This was crazy. She should say no. It was the smart plan. It was exactly what she was going to do. “Yes.”

It was the word that broke them both.

For as much as she wanted his mouth between her legs, it wasn’t enough for the need wracking her. She needed him, hard and deep, filling her until there was no her or him, only them.

“Get on the bed.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. He got up, wrapped an arm around her, and fell back onto the bed, taking her with him. She landed on top of him, but the impact didn’t faze him. He just cupped the back of her head and brought her face down onto his and plundered her mouth like a man starved for what only she could offer. And offer herself she did.

Swinging her leg over him, she brought herself up enough so she could reach in between them and wrap her hands around his thick cock. With a tight grip, she stroked her hand up and down his shaft, letting her thumb rub across the lip and spread the pre-come glistening there. Then, she positioned him just right and sank down onto him, the pleasure of it forcing her to break the kiss and groan out his name.

“Fuck me,” he ground out the words. “You feel so good, so wet and tight.”

Then she started to rock against him, and neither of them had words any more.

His hands cupped her breasts as she raised herself up and let herself slide down in one long, slow movement until he was buried deep inside her. Rotating and rocking, she lifted herself, inching upward as she clenched around his dick, trying to keep him in place but needing to feel him move. She wanted to make this last, to go slow, but she couldn’t. The need inside her was already building into a tight, electric ball of want. And she gave into it. Throwing all caution to the side, she fucked him—forcefully, relentlessly—as he met her every downward thrust and groaned at her every withdrawal. Then, lifting his hand that had been holding onto her hips and guiding her up and down on his cock, he reached up and strummed her clit. Again and again he circled that most sensitive spot until she couldn’t take it anymore, and she came hard and fast, sinking down onto him one final time as he came along with her.

That’s when the cheering and clapping started from the other side of the wall. Had they been that loud? She looked down at Frankie, who was wearing a satisfied, cocky grin. Oh yeah, they were very much that loud.

Oh my God.

She looked at Frankie. “Does this happen to you often?”

“Only with you.”

Collapsing with giggles and exhaustion, she was careful to make sure she didn’t land on him as she laid down, but he just grumbled something she couldn’t quite make out and pulled her close.

With her cheek pressed against his chest, she lay there and listened to the steady thrum-thrum of his heart beating. His springy chest hair tickled her nose, but she refused to give into the sneeze threatening to ruin the moment because it was a perfect moment. The kind of snapshot in time where absolutely everything seemed possible, where the idea of her and Frankie being together as a couple in Waterbury seemed plausible.

When they got back to Waterbury, they’d be out of the vacation bubble and their real lives would intrude. He’d have a bazillion women who wanted him, tall women with appropriate curves in the appropriate places, the kind who wore skinny jeans that still managed to droop, the kind who never got the wow-she-really-let-herself-go look from strangers. Would he still want her then? Would she be the one waiting, just like her dad had been? That’s the way these things worked, the opposites-attract newness wore off and when it did it would be too late for her. Hell, it was too late now. She’d fallen for him, like a lemming rushing off a cliff and into a big fluffy cloud of love.

All she could do now was prep for the inevitable ending and try to enjoy what time they had together while it lasted.

…

Frankie could hear her thinking, it was that loud in the totally silent room.

So he gave in to the urge to wrap her tighter in his arms, but managed to keep his mouth shut. Telling her everything he was feeling now would only freak her out even more than she was already. He’d keep the news to himself that she was completely right. Sex wasn’t just sex, not when it involved someone he loved. It was a dumb, cheesy thing to say, even in his head, but it didn’t change the fact that it was true.

But since he wasn’t planning on turning in his stubborn Irishman card today, he’d keep that to himself, instead he closed his eyes all he could picture was the future waiting for them both in Waterbury.

Chapter Eighteen

The next day, after saying goodbye to Tom and Gussie, they hit the road. For his part, Frankie had been hoping Scarlett’s fuel pump would go out again for the past million miles. The car gods, however, had other plans as the miles flew by one field of crops after another until they were almost back in the Eastern Time Zone.

And with every small town they passed and interstate gas station they stopped at, he could see the truth that they were leaving some sort of alternate reality sink into Lucy a little bit more. She’d gone all silent and contemplative a half hour ago—a fact made more apparent because this part of the country seemed to get exactly zero radio stations.

He had to do something, or she’d change her mind about giving them a chance back home. It wasn’t that Lucy wanted to sabotage them, but he could feel that big, bad something lingering in the air as apparent as the changing scent of a fire that warned of imminent danger. It had him drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and grasping at mental straws of ideas that could pull her back from the edge.

That’s when it hit him.

“What’s your biggest fantasy?”

Lucy pivoted in her seat, her beautiful face totally neutral as if she didn’t know exactly what kind of fantasy he was asking about—which she totally did. “Having Wonder Woman’s invisible plane.”

He turned his attention back to the road and passed a tractor on the back-country highway shortcut with ease, and they were again the only ones on the lonely stretch of road. “I thought you hated flying.”

“No, I hate the teeny-tiny seats,” she said. “There’s a difference.”

“So you mean I could actually stretch my legs out and not turn into the human pretzel in Wonder Woman’s plane?” Diana was an Amazonian princess, after all. Leg room had to matter to her.