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Loving Again(82)

By:Peggy Bird


                “Please, Sam. Be careful.”

                His hand froze in place. “Did something happen to your breast?”

                “Not my breast. Your incision.”

                “My incision’s fine. The doctor said if I was careful, I could begin to do normal things.”

                “And you thought immediately of sex.”

                “Well, that’s normal, isn’t it? And I asked him about it. I have to keep my weight off my arms but that’s okay.” He grinned at her. “You can do most of the work. All I have to do is relax and enjoy myself.”

                “I asked him, too.” He didn’t try to hide his surprise — his delight — that she’d asked. “I knew you’d ask and I wanted to make sure we heard the same answer.”

                “Did we?”

                “Yes, but … ”

                “So, while I’m on vacation we can make up for lost time. I thought we’d start now.”

                Now she was startled. “Vacation? Recuperating from a gunshot wound is a vacation?”

                “Well, I’m not working so it must be a vacation.”

                “And your idea of how to spend your time on this vacation-slash-recuperation is, what, sex and a little light reading?”

                He pushed up the rest of her sweater with his good hand and began to massage the other breast. “Yup. Maybe just sex without the reading.” He pulled at the button on her jeans and managed with one hand to get the zipper down. “Have I ever told you that I love it that you don’t wear a bra?”

                She smiled. “Yes, usually when we’re half-undressed and headed for bed.”

                He kissed her neck and ran his hand up her bare back.

                “Sam, what am I going to do with you?”

                “I thought that was obvious. But if you want me to be specific, I thought we’d … ”

                She drew his mouth to hers, her lips parting, making a foray with the tip of her tongue, teasing, tasting, as the kiss deepened.

                Without breaking contact with any part of her, he moved back toward the couch.

                “What’re you doing? I thought we were going to bed,” she whispered against his lips.

                “Here’s closer.”

                Two pairs of jeans hit the floor. He was about to lower himself onto the couch when he stopped. “Oh, hell. We have to go upstairs. I don’t have any protection.”

                “Look in your back jeans pocket.”

                He picked up the jeans and found the condom tucked there. “How’d that get there?”

                “I put it there. It was sort of a welcome home thing. But you didn’t notice it. Guess I should have been more obvious about where I put it.”

                “Wish I’d found it earlier. I wouldn’t have worried so much about that suggestion I sleep in another room.” He shed his boxer briefs, then stooped to inch her scrap-of-lace thong off her. She helped by trying to wiggle out of it, making her breasts bounce close to his mouth, which went dry at the thought of suckling them.