Page 97 of First Date: Divorce
“Good.I thought I missed something.But if there’s nothing to miss…” His hands on her shoulders turned her so her back was against the side wall and he was against her front.
“We have to get out of here.”
He kissed her temple.Then the corner of her eye.“Let me know when you figure out how.In the meantime, there are no cameras in here.”His mouth found her cheek.Lower.The corner of her top lip.Her mouth.“Ah, there you are,” he said against her lips.
Their mouths opened to each other like they knew what they wanted.
Her tongue stroked against his, picking up a rhythm they were making together.
At last, and far, far too soon, the kiss ended.
For oxygen and sanity, she pulled back a fraction.
“We have to…”
One of his hands cradled the side of her head.The other spread at the base of her throat.
“…get out of here.”
“Someday.”
His hand slowly drew down her body, the robe opening before it, even the tie giving way as if it had been greased.
She was glad she’d kept her underwear on.Or maybe not.
He stepped in, one leg between hers.His robe was gone.Hers tangled her arms as she wrapped them around him.
His lips were on her throat, dropping lower.
“Eric.”Warning or begging?
“There is no frigid personality.There are only frigid circumstances,” he quoted between kisses.“And these aren’t frigid circumstances.”
No, they weren’t.They definitely weren’t.More like melting circumstances.
Melting the skin where his lips touched just above the line of her bra.Melting her spine.Melting her knees…
Until all that held her up was him.Her arms around his neck.His arms around her shoulders.Her breasts molding to his chest.His hips pressed against her.
Oh, yes, his hips.They definitely held her up.Because if she melted to the floor, she’d lose that contact.So no melting.
A sound.
What was that?
Buzzing.Not like a bug.Mechanical.Distant.
Ignore it.Because Eric kissed lower.Over the fabric of her bra.Over her nipple.In another breath he would—
The buzzing sounded familiar.
But so far away.Inconsequential.Easily ignored against the dazzling, melting sensations.
“Oh, dear, Orion.They’re buzzing us.”
“Think we should open it?”
These voices came clearly — not whispering — from outside the closet.
