Page 82 of Loverboy
Yup. Sometimes my job takes many forms. “Sure, pal.” I don’t mind the little guy’s company. He’s awfully cute. “But I have to clean up the kitchen first.”
“I’ll clean up,” Posy says. “You cooked.”
“I guess that's a yes, kid.”
Aaron slides off his chair and runs to get his book. “I hope the men never finish painting your apartment,” he says. “I like it when you're here.”
Ginny rolls her eyes. “They'll finish all right,” she says. “Men always do.”
Yeah, I’m not touching that one. It’s obvious that Ginny has some baggage. Her boy’s father is in prison for passing bad checks. That can’t be easy.
I feel like a heel for lying to the child about my presence, but the truth isn't a good option. I don't want to explain why we're taking extra precautions with building security. And Ireallydon't want to explain that I never actually use that blanket and pillow we've left each night on Posy’s sofa.
Thank goodness the kid’s room is a floor below, and Posy’s bed doesn't creak. I'd hate to try to think of a passable explanation for all the noises Posy makes when the grown-ups have their bedtime.
Aaron returns with a book and beckons me over to the sofa. And I listen to him read a pointless story about a snail, while Posy smiles at me over the rim of her wine glass.
And Ginny glares.
* * *
Two hours later, I’ve got Posy mostly naked and whimpering into my mouth as I kiss her senseless. When I break off the kiss, she looks up at me with trusting eyes. Her cheeks are pink and her lips are swollen from my kisses. “Why aren’t you naked yet?” she asks, reaching for my fly.
“Because I like to torture you a little bit,” I say, leaning down to kiss her neck.
She shoves at my zipper, then tries to push down my trousers. “Off,” she says impatiently.
“And people say you aren’t fun in bed,” I tease her.
“Don’t mentionhim,” she grumbles. “That’s not a turn-on.”
“I rest my case,” I say, kicking off the pants. “You’re always fun, Posy. If a little impatient.” I lean down and drag my tongue across her collar bone.
She squirms beneath me, her legs wrapping around mine. She’s begging me with her eyes to hurry up.
Naturally, that means I plan to go even slower.
I kiss my way across her chest at a languorous pace. She’s still wearing a bra, though, along with some little red panties. So she reaches back to unclasp her bra.
“Hey now,” I say, gasping her hands and stopping their business. “We’re doing this my way.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because my way is fun.”
She groans. “I’m beginning to wonder whether men and women have the same idea of fun. Your way takes too long.”
“Says you.” I remove my T-shirt and toss it off the bed. “Let’s play a game to work on your patience. Do you have a couple of silk scarves?”
Her eyes widen. “What for?”
“I’d like to restrain you, if you’re game.”
“Why? Is that…” She licks her lips. “…Fun?”
I hesitate for a moment, because fun is completely subjective. “It is for some people.”
She swallows hard. “There are scarves in the top drawer. Get them.”
