my lip curls, and I’m hoping to give her that smirk she claims works at charming her.
“Putting in my claim on the couch.”
“Not unless I get there first,” I tease.
“Maybe I’ll save you a seat,” she sheepishly offers. I stare at her as she brushes a section of her light brown hair behind her ear. Gray streaks fill those strands, and I love how she unabashedly shows her age. Her face is still young-looking, and the twinkle in her eyes displays wisdom along with wit. The whole package is a gift.
“I’ll be there,” I admit, fighting the victory smile that wants to dance across my lips.
Rita Kaplan just asked me to join her for coffee—on the plush peach couch. I just want her to invite me to love her next.
When I get to the Bean later that afternoon, Rita is indeed sitting on the couch, right smack in the middle. I place my order for a dark roast and turn in her direction. The energy between us sizzles to near crackling. I want to spread her out on that couch and let her bare body feel the velvety fabric underneath. I might need to invest in one of these sofas and convince Rita to live with me; however, I curb my thoughts, knowing I’m five steps ahead of a simple coffee date. Not that this is a date, but I don’t know what else you’d call an invitation from a woman to join her for this drink.
“Is this seat taken?” I tease because Rita lounges backward, spreading her arms wide to hog the entire piece of furniture.
“I don’t know. Is it?” Her head tilts to the side, and I place myself in the space between her hip and the armrest.
“Yes. She’s taken,” I say, holding her gaze. Rita slowly grins and lowers her arms from the back of the couch. Leaning toward her, I cup her cheek and press my lips to hers, keeping it quick and chaste since we’re in public.
“We have some things to discuss,” she whispers. “But I hate to waste a good cup of coffee.”
“Drink fast,” I warn her, wiggling my brows before reaching for my own mug and taking a sip of the hot heaven. Rita giggles as I burn my tongue. “Think that’s funny, do you? I’ll need you to suck on it to make it better.”
Her eyes widen. The color matches the bright day outside, and that prophetic sensation returns.
Rita and I will be alright.
Half an hour later, my ears ring with her sweet moans.
“Is this the talking you wanted to do?”
“God, I’ve missed you,” she grunts as I slam into her while she balances on her kitchen island. Her legs wrap around me with her dress at her hips. My hands clutch at her backside, holding her against me while I surge into her over and over again.
“I hated being away from you,” I admit before Rita’s mouth comes to mine, kissing me hard until our rapid rhythm interrupts. Her hands cup the back of my head as my hips flex to fill her with a hard-on that’s been aching for her warmth.
“I’m sorry,” she stutters.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” I don’t want to talk while we’re in this position, so I cover her mouth again with mine, swallowing her gasps as I thrust into her, fighting the release clenching at my balls. Sometimes, I hate how quickly my body responds to her and eagerly wants release because of her, but at the same time, I love it. She does this to me.
“Sweet,” I warn because the rush is coming whether I want it to or not. My hand moves between us, rubbing at the spot that sets her off. Her fingers dig into my shoulders as her head tips back, and her legs tug me tighter to her center.
“Yes,” she cries out as her body stills. Her head lolls forward, and she covers my lips as I break. I cup the back of her neck and thrust my tongue into her mouth as I go off inside her heat.
As the crest subsides but our hearts still race, I pull back from the kiss and press my forehead to hers.
“Please don’t lose faith in me, sweet.” My voice remains ragged, breaths coming unsteadily as I close my eyes and will her to trust me.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she tells me, and I want to feel that assurance in my bones. I want to believe I won’t lose her, but only