Page 94 of Gone With the Wine

His belief in me pulls at my heart and warmth spreads through my chest. “Thank you.”

Chapter20

Jansen

We drink a bottle of wine. We talk about lots of things. We get into the creek and splash around in the water until I slip on the rocks and fall in. Bianca finds this hilarious and helps me out of the water, laughing so hard she almost falls in herself. And I’m laughing, too, even though my right shoulder is now throbbing.

We take Moose in the water, too. I don’t know if he can swim, but Bianca assures me all dogs know instinctively. We crack up when I lower him closer to the water and his little legs start paddling in the air.

“I think he knows what he’s doing,” I say, letting him go in the water.

He paddles straight to the bank of the creek, climbs out, and shakes himself.

Since there’s still nobody else here, I take off my shorts and shirt and hang them on a bush in the sun to dry. And without any pants on, it’s hard to hide my dick (yeah pun intended) when it eagerly thickens at Bianca’s heated gaze.

So we have more outdoor rolling in the hay. Grass. Whatever.

This time it’s different. We’re both a little drunk and laughing and it’s messy and hot and the most fun I’ve had in…well, forever, I think.

When we’re sweaty and wasted from wine and orgasms, lying slack on the blanket again, Bianca says, “What’s wrong with your shoulder?”

Ugh. A reminder of how old I am. “Arthritis.”

She lifts her head to peer at me. “Really?”

“Yeah. Both shoulders. The right is worse. They get sore sometimes.”

Instead of being repelled, she leans down and presses her mouth to my shoulder in a long, warm kiss. “I’m sorry. I think you worked your body hard playing hockey.”

“Yeah.”

She snuggles in beside me. “What’s your favorite sex position?”

The questions are killing me. Killing me with amusement. I don’t know what to say most of the time. But this one’s easy. “Missionary. And don’t tell me I’m boring.”

“Wow, you didn’t even have to think about that one.”

“Nope. I like being face to face.” I roll my head to look at her. “Especially with you. I like watching you. Your cheeks get pink and your eyes get hazy.” I touch her bottom lip. “Your lips open and you look like you’re dying for it.”

“I am.” Her voice is a trace of sound. “For you.”

Oh yeah. “And I like watching you when you come.”

“Oh God. My O face is probably terrible.”

“It’s not. It’s real.” I pause, searching for words. “It’s open and unguarded. I love it.”

She nibbles her bottom lip, gazing back at me. “That’s the best answer.”

“What’syourfavorite position?”

“The butter churner.”

I give her side-eye.

I can tell she’s trying not to laugh. “I think some people call it the pile driver. I call it the butter churner. So I’m on my back, with my legs in the air and you stand over me?—”

“Stop.” Now I’m laughing. “I am not doing that.”

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