Page 82 of Flirting with Forever

Regret threatened to tidal wave him that he’d contributed to that insecurity with his stupid-ass comments about her age and their stages of life. But he swerved the feeling. He didn’t want to get bogged down in regret. Right now, he wanted to match her mood.

“There’s a hairy chest that goes with the hairy legs,” he told her.

Her eyes widened and she leaned forward, tugging the collar of his shirt a few inches and trying to peer down his spine. “And a hairy back as well?”

He laughed harder. “Not yet. But maybe someday. I can only aspire.”

She laughed too, cuddling into him. She was warm and smooth, and John fully succumbed to that humming zing that happened when two people touched with intention.

He glanced at the clock over his stove. It was 6:00 a.m. Could all this have possibly happened before an even remotely reasonable hour this morning? He had to be at work in an hour. Two hours at the latest, if he really pushed it, and he was willing to scramble for the rest of the day. Which he obviously was. Mary had to open her shop by nine.

They didn’t exactly have endless time to luxuriate with one another. But was he going to reject this moment for something as trivial as not quite enough time? He most certainly was not. He didn’t need this to be a sweeping, dizzy, sexy twirl off the dance floor of a Friday night. He didn’t need a weekend to sprawl out in front of them in order to enjoy Mary. He didn’t care that they both had work today. Or that it was just any old Thursday. To him, that was perfect. Because he didn’t want Mary to exist in the sexiest, most relaxed parts of his life. He wanted Mary in every part of his life. Including Thursday mornings before work.

She was sprawled in his lap, one of his arms holding up her back and the other looped under her knees. She had one hand flat on his chest and one arm around his neck. She used her nose to draw a line from his forehead down between his eyebrows.

“Do you still have a headache?” she asked in a whisper.

“How did you know I had one?”

“You always press your fingers against your forehead when your head aches.”

He pushed his face forward, pressing his nose against hers, nuzzling into her neck. “No. It went away right around the time I realized you weren’t leaving.”

“I’m not leaving,” she confirmed, tipping her head to one side to give him clearer access to her throat. He didn’t kiss her exactly, just sort of walked his mouth up the long, smooth column to her ear.

“Mary.”

“Hmm?” She leaned back into his arm, giving him her weight and the impression that he’d just turned her into liquid caramel in his arms. He liked liquid-caramel Mary, loose and warm and open.

“I have a very important question to ask you.” His voice was even more shredded than usual. It didn’t surprise him.

She used her nose again to draw a line, this time up a tendon in his neck and all the way to the corner of his jaw. “What’s that?”

“Were you wearing a bra last night? Under your dress?”

She smiled and pulled back from him. Her eyes were dozy and heavy but still alert. “Why?”

“Because I spent the entire time at the bar trying to figure out where the hell your bra strap was.”

She laughed. “It was a strapless bra. Nothing too fancy, to be honest.”

He grunted. “Doesn’t have to be fancy to get the job done.”

“And what job is that?”

“Driving me out of my mind, apparently.”

She laughed again. “I take it you were a fan of the dress?”

He grunted. “I have a major crush on that dress.”

“Confession—I have a major crush on your bed. I think it’s the greatest bed of all time.”

He blinked at her for a moment, confusion settling in when he realized how sincere she was being. “My bed?” He glanced over her shoulder at the piece of furniture in question. It was so ordinary in comparison to the extravagant five-star ordeal she slept in at her house. “Really?”

She nodded. “It’s safe and warm and smells like your aftershave.”

He leaned forward and took a quick sip from her lips. “I’m safe.” Another sip. “I’m warm.” Another longer, more lingering sip. “I smell like my aftershave.”

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