Page 12 of Nothing to No One

“I’m trying to see what I’ve got,” he said, scrolling, swiping. “Something date worthy.”

“No chick flicks,” she said, reaching over him. “Can I have some more liquor, please?”

He got the bottle and handed it over while still looking on his phone. “Only if you promise not to take advantage of me.”

She left the mattress to wander across the room. “I’m not that easy, Mr. Lowe.”

He glanced from the screen. “Where are you going, Fawn?”

“I want to know what’s in the boxes,” she said, tiptoeing toward them. “There could be a steak dinner in there for all we know.”

Doubtful, but she was still curious. She swigged from the bottle and slid open the flap of the one on top.

“What’s in them?” he asked when she peered inside without enlightening him.

Pulling one out, she showed him. “Wine glasses.”

“That’s an anticlimax.”

“Glasses could mean wine.”

“Whisky and wine? You said no more kissing, right?” he asked with a smile.

She maintained her search. Each one held a surprise. “I thought you were looking for a movie.” Opening another box, she grabbed out the package on top. “Blankets!” Snagging a couple, she removed the plastic and opened them over him on the bed. “Will they get mad at us for opening them?”

“Not if you come lie down with me.”

Scurrying underneath, she lay on her side with him behind her. “Cozy.” Thick, luscious, these were good quality fabrics. “We could get up to anything under here.”

“You said it, baby. No take backs now.” He switched his focus to his phone. “Unfortunately, no horror.”

“Why would I want to watch horror while locked in a scary red room?”

“Some people are into that.”

“How about something with a little action?”

“And maybe we’ll get a little of that ourselves?” he asked, selecting something and leaning over her to prop the phone up in front of her. He kissed the side of her neck and gathered her closer. “You drive, baby.”

With him, she’d ventured into brazen. By her standards anyway. If he gave her the keys, she might just be tempted to use them.

FIVE

MOST OF THE MOVIE was a blur. Basically all of it. Could she even remember the title? Who cared? Oh, God, who cared?

On swaying away, he’d given her space to lie on her back. From there, hands and mouths went with instinct and the movie was forgotten. Something about being concealed under the blankets, even with him on top of her, carried a tease and a certainty.

Exploring the connection, learning his body, she didn’t object when he unzipped her dress, or when his mouth traced to her breasts. Though his own arousal was obvious in its insistence, he diverted her persistence every time her hands got too close.

“Let me touch you,” she panted in the humidity clouding their cavern beneath the blankets. “Please, beau.” In response, his fingers crossed the threshold of her panties. “Mm.”

Didn’t matter what he did, those thick, sure fingers aroused her just with their proximity. Sliding one digit down her clit, he joined it with a second, massaging her slow.

“You’re wet.” The bass of those words reeked of approval. “Good girl.”

Raising her hips, she moved as he toyed with her, changing pressure, angle, pace, pushing her higher, closer to venting the pressure of want building within her.

He circled her opening with a fingertip, tested her response, dipping one inside to the first knuckle, the second, then another finger.

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