Page 44 of Craving Silence

This is probably the point where I should open up a little, give her a little of my background, but I don’t want to spoil the mood. Instead, I give my eyes a moment to take in her beautiful, upturned face, before I lean in and take her lips. There’s no tentative exploration, my hunger for her obvious in the way my tongue claims while my hand examines every inch of bare skin it can reach under her clothes.

I take the, “Oh yeah,” she breathes into my mouth, when I slip the tips of my fingers down her jeans, as an invitation.

She’s hot and slick, slightly opening her legs to give me more room to play.

Christ, what I wouldn’t give to bury myself balls deep into this woman, but I can be patient.

Right now this is about her. Tonight is about learning her body, earning her trust, and keeping her safe.

Besides, then I would miss the expression of bliss on her face in the dancing firelight, as I make her come with my fingers.

Dana

* * *

Oh, my God.

It looks like a family of squirrels has taken up residence in the tangled mess on my head. The curse of my coarse, kinky mane which needs daily taming.

I yank a brush through my hair as I hear the telltale gurgling of my coffeepot from downstairs, and catch a glimpse of my smiling self in the mirror.

Hussy. First night in my new house and already had an overnight guest, even if he did sleep on the couch. That was his choice. I would’ve invited him into my bed—especially after that hot little make-out session by the fire—but when I started yawning, he suggested it might be better if I rest up and get a good night’s sleep before he joins me there.

I did, however, manage to convince him to take the couch, pointing out it was already late and since he brought me dinner, the least thing I could do was make him a decent breakfast in the morning.

Given the state of my person this morning, I’m grateful I have a chance to clean myself up a little before I face him. Wouldn’t do to scare off the first man in more years than I care to count to wake up beside me.

With my appearance made somewhat passable, I exit the bathroom and am immediately drawn to the window. The early morning sun is bathing my bedroom in a golden glow, and the view of it peeking out from behind the mountain ridge is absolutely stunning.

Cranking open my window, I take in a deep breath of the crisp morning air, full of promise.

“Thank you, Mom,” I whisper under my breath.

My first target is the coffeepot downstairs, which I find blissfully full. Then, with my favorite mug in hand, I go in search of Rick, who I find on the porch, talking on his phone.

“Yes, I’ll meet you there,” I hear him say before he hangs up and turns to me.

“Morning,” has barely left my lips when he pulls me in for a kiss.