Suzanne was dressed again. Oliver sat at the
kitchen table to eat, but he couldn't take his eyes from her breasts.
They were just right, hanging and swelling under her T-shirt; they were
perfect for his mouth, like pears, but so much better. "God!" He shook
his head. "You are too much."
Suzanne flushed. "Is that going to hold you?"
"Terrific," he said. He ate quickly and stood. "I've got to go."
"Hold on." She came close and picked a blonde hair from his shirt.
"Don't want you getting caught."
"No," Oliver said.
"Will you come back?" she asked softly.
"Are you kidding? As soon as I can."
She hugged him as though he were breakable. "I'll be waiting." It was
almost an apology.
He ran one hand down her hair and the compound curve of her back. "Save
that kiss for next time," he said.
"That one and a couple more."
He left with difficulty and drove home. Jennifer was on a day trip to
see her mother; she wouldn't be back with Emma until six or so. Woof
met him at the door, sniffing at his clothes with extra interest. "Just
between us," Oliver said, rubbing her ears. He changed clothes
immediately. By the time Jennifer and Emma got home, he had baked an
acorn squash, started a fire, done two loads of laundry, and split more
wood.
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