Restless now, he drove around for a while, speeding on deserted roads. Up and down streets, on the expressway until he decided to head home. His condo complex provided attached garages so he pulled into the driveway and pressed the door opener. It was then he saw Anabelle standing under the light on the side of his garage. He stopped the car, turned off the engine then bolted out of the car and stalked out and over to her.
* * *
Anabelle stared at him. He was dressed in a beautiful beige summer suit with a dark brown collared shirt. And there was a big scowl on his face.
“What are you doing here?” His words were clipped, his tone curt. She didn’t blame him. She felt like punching something.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I-I gave in to my feelings and came here.”
He stepped back and raked a hand through his hair. “This isn’t fair, Anabelle. I understand why you made the decision you did. But I’m not made of stone.”
She reached up and looped her arms around his neck, moved closer. She inhaled his woodsy scent. “I’m glad. Me, neither.”
“What do you mean?”
Instead of answering, she plastered her body to his, stood on tiptoes and pressed her mouth against his. He didn’t respond, so she teased open his lips, as if she knew what she was doing to him. Still nothing…then a tidal wave of lust seemed to shoot through him. He grabbed her around the waist and fisted his hand in her hair.
The kiss was explosive. They both moaned, clasped onto each other, moaned some more. Then he scooped her up into a carry and walked into the garage. “Open the door,” he murmured against her mouth.
Once inside, she nestled into his chest as he strode into the kitchen, then passed a big living space, then down a hallway. In his bedroom, he set her on the bed. Tipped her chin. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I’m sure.” She stood, kicked off her shoes and pushed her blue dress to the floor. She helped him take off his coat and unbuttoned his shirt. While he shrugged out of it, she unclasped her bra. If fell to the floor with his clothes in a romantic pile.
He fumbled with her panties. She fumbled with his belt. “Hurry.” His voice was gravelly. “I have to have you.”
Soon they were naked and she stretched out on the bed. He covered her with his body, matching every curve and indentation to his muscular form. The kiss got even wilder as he bit her lip, soothed it with his tongue. He was better at this than she was. So she let herself go. He moved lower, suckled her breast and she startled. “Hurt?” he asked.
“A little.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t get enough of you.”
“I feel the same way.”
He soothed her nipples with his tongue then kissed her skin down to her navel. She was disappointed when he worked his way back. She wanted him to go further but she couldn’t tell him.
Again, he threaded his hands through her hair, gentler this time. He stared down at her. She quivered with arousal. “Now,” she said. “Please.”
Rolling to his side, he took her with him. Scissored her legs then plunged into her.
Again she startled.
“Sweetheart?”
“No worries. It’s just been a while.” But she felt wonderful. Possessed. Loved.
“We should slow down.”
“No. I don’t want to.”
Oliver tried to be gentle. But he struggled with it. He slid out a bit, then pushed back into her.
“Harder.” The word was ragged.
Hell! This time, he plunged in. Twice more.