“I’m flattered, but I’m really not that guy. So—since you’re here, wanna come inside?”

    “Yes,” she said. “Can Molly come, too?”

    “All your family is welcome,” he said.

           If I loved you less,

I might be able to talk about it more.

    —Jane Austen

    Chapter 11

    CONNIE SCOOPED HER up, called to Molly, and carried Sierra over the threshold and into his house. He stopped just inside the closed door. “I guess you can tell, I wasn’t expecting company.”

    His clean laundry was dumped on the couch for folding, two pairs of running shoes and a pair of boots sat on the floor where they’d been kicked off. There was a small dinette in the breakfast nook and each one of the four chairs held up a jacket or down vest. Molly was off, nosing around the place, probably looking for something to chew on.

    “It has that lived-in look,” she said.

    “I don’t spend much time here,” he said. “Especially lately.”

    He leaned toward her until their lips were almost touching and with a gentle tongue, outlined her lips. Her arms around his neck tightened just slightly. “I wanted you in my house,” he said softly. “I want you in my bed.”

    “I don’t know if I can,” she said. “My last time was—” She didn’t finish but she did cast her eyes downward.

    Connie kissed her, softly at first, then with more pressure, yet tenderly. He pulled her lower lip between his, sucking it into his mouth. “I have an idea,” he said. “Why don’t you not think about the last time? In fact, don’t think about any other time, ever. And we’ll go very slow. Very, very slow, so slow you’ll ask me to go a little faster. But I won’t. I’m just going to take my sweet time and you’re going to be in charge. I have a feeling it’s going to be good. I mean, epic.” Then he buried his lips in her neck, kissing and sucking.

    “Oh God,” she whispered.

    “It’s bound to happen one of these days,” he said. “If it doesn’t happen now, let’s at least play around a little.”

    She couldn’t help herself. She giggled.

    “Seriously, I have to touch you,” he said. “I’m not going to rush you.”

    “Okay,” she said weakly. “I’m a little nervous.”

    He gave her lips a little peck. “Me, too.”

    He carried her into the bedroom where the bed was made. “Amazing,” she said. “A bomb went off in your living room, but you made the bed?”

    “I like it that way.”

    “Have you been planning this?” she asked as he put her down.

    “Every day,” he said. He toed off his shoes and got on the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms.

    “Oh-oh,” Sierra said just as Molly jumped onto the bed.

    “Not this time, Molly,” he said. “Down.”

    The silly dog did exactly as Conrad instructed.

    “You’re going to have to show me how you did that,” Sierra said.

    “Later,” he said, covering her lips with his. His hands moved from her back to her butt to her hips to her thighs and back again. He untucked her shirt and slid his big hands underneath, moaning into her mouth as he massaged her back, her belly, her breasts. Her body immediately strained against his in a movement so natural it almost took her by surprise. He lifted her shirt over her head, got rid of her bra and immediately transferred his kisses to her breasts, favoring one then the other, gently taking a nipple into his mouth.

    “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay, good idea...”

    “Told you,” he said, unzipping her shorts. He took so long in starting to slide them over her hips that she got in his way and did it herself, bringing a throaty laugh from him. He filled his big hands with her round butt, pulling her against him. He was hard as a rock and ready. And very big.

    “Oh boy,” she whispered.

    She felt him through his pants and then almost in a panic, had to get her hand on him just to be sure he was human. She unbuttoned his pants and, not taking nearly the time or care he had, shoved them out of the way. He kicked them off and rolled away just enough to get rid of his shirt. Then he pulled her against his chest and hummed.

    And here we are, she thought. Right where I want to be, pressed up against the most beautiful man, his large hands both stimulating and comforting. She was safe. She was protected. She lifted a leg onto his hip.

    “I need a condom,” he said.

    “Please.”

    “I don’t want to let go,” he said. “They’re in the drawer. Your side.”

    “I don’t want to let go, either,” she said.

    He rose over her and looked into her eyes. He smoothed back her hair. “You’re making it very hard to go slow,” he said.

    “I’m having a hard time with that myself,” she said. “Please. Suit up.”

    He leaned over her, reached for the drawer and located the condoms. He got one out of the wrapper as quickly as possible and rolled it on. Pushing her onto her back, he touched her from her shoulder to her thighs, slowly, in even strokes. Then he let his fingers slide gently between her legs, first giving that small erogenous knob a little attention, then deeper, finding her more than ready. Then he was looking into her eyes again. “Sierra, I think you want more.”

    “Oh boy, do I...”