“You gotta love IKEA.”
“I do. My apartment shouts ‘decorated by IKEA.’” She looked around at his. “Seems we have similar tastes.”
He sat beside her, poured the wine into the coffee mugs, and handed her one. “To beautiful women in chains.” He tapped his mug on hers and smiled.
She patted the sofa next to her. “Careful there. I thought your apartment was Switzerland—neutral territory.”
“It is. Just letting you know I have a thing for chains and locks. Watch out.”
She raised her hands in a who-knew, questioning kind of way. “It appears I have a thing for bolt-cutter-wielding big-city boys.”
He put his wine on the table in front of them and pulled her feet from their tucked position before laying them on his lap. Earlier, she’d said her feet hurt. It was time to treat her to one of his world-famous foot massages. Or that’s what his mother claimed them to be. She always told him if construction didn’t work out, he could make a living rubbing feet. Sadness tried to invade the moment, but he didn’t let it in. This wasn’t one of the times he calmed his mother while her body trembled relentlessly, waiting for the alcohol to leave her system. No, this was something far different.
The minute the pads of his thumbs pressed into Bobbie’s soles, she leaned against the arm of the sofa and stretched her legs over his lap. He loved the sound that slipped past her lips—a low, sexy groan that ribboned through him.
As far as he was concerned, he took that as a green light to continue. She had changed after her shower, but she’d put on another pair of shorts, leaving her legs bare for his touch. While one hand massaged each of her pretty little toes, his other skimmed the soft skin of her calves. Her legs seemed to go on for days despite being a little thing. Maybe that was because he was taking his time to feel every inch of her soft skin.
“Don’t stop.” She stretched out her foot and wiggled her toes, then planted the foot that had been neglected into his palm.
“I’m not stopping until you say stop.” He might have been talking about her feet, but he wasn’t drawing a line in the sand with anything. Green lights meant go, and he would keep exploring until she threw up a stop sign. With the unpredictability of life, he was jumping on board the fast train. He’d watched too many lives go unfulfilled, which wouldn’t happen to him.
“You don’t hear me shouting a safe word.” Her feet pressed into his thigh. There was no way she couldn’t feel what she was doing to him. He strained against his jeans. Bobbie pulled her feet back and rose to her knees, straddling his lap and laying her hands on his chest. He shifted his body, and she fell forward, her lips almost touching his.
“Kiss me.” He needed to feel her lips against his, but he wanted her to want it as much as he did.
She stared at him for several seconds before she crushed his lips with a passionate kiss. They grappled with where to put their hands. She threaded her fingers through his hair while he palmed her bottom. She squirmed against his hardness, pulling a groan from deep inside his chest.
He hadn’t felt this aroused or clumsy since high school when Didi Pasternak let him slip his hand up her dress before prom.
“More?” He wanted to devour her, but she was running this show.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly.
He pulled at her T-shirt, trying to separate the cotton from her skin. They parted just long enough for him to pull her shirt over her head. No bra—heaven.
“More,” she cried as he pressed his mouth to her small breasts.
“You got it.” She was half-naked, and more required her fully nude in the center of his new bed. He wrapped her legs around his waist and rose from the couch. He couldn’t get her to bed fast enough. They were moving at breakneck speed, but it seemed to go in slow motion. He was happy that she was as desperate to feel something good as he was. Her life was about fighting and struggling, just like his, but tonight they would let it all go and simply find pleasure in each other’s company.
He laid her on his bed before stepping back and pulling his shirt over his head.
Her eyes ate him up. “Are you sure about this?” They’d skipped the wine and the cheese plate and were heading quickly for dessert. “We can slow it down.”
She rose on her elbows and shook her head. “I’m all in.”
“Me too.”
“One rule, though.”
His hand dropped from the button of his jeans. If she had rules, he needed to listen.
“No regrets, okay? Tomorrow, we still have to do what we do, but tonight let’s just love each other, okay? I need to feel love.” She collapsed back on his bed and held out her arms. “Deal?”
“Deal.”
Looking at the beautiful woman in front of him made his heart bang like a bass drum. He knew he’d already fallen a little in love with her. He didn’t know when it happened. Maybe it was when she chained herself to the door or picketed on the sidewalk. It was probably the day she stole a tater tot and gave him a piece of pie. She was creative and complicated and cute as a button, and tonight she was his. He thought it was adorable how she tried to make the rules, but he knew better. She was protecting her heart, and he probably should do the same, but something about her made him want to be vulnerable. He had let no one in for decades. Maybe it was time?
Behind Bobbie’s confident exterior was a woman who needed to be held, kissed, and loved, and he was uniquely qualified for the job because he understood her. He was like her.