The Lunchtime Special

Chapter 22 - Giggles, Gates and Confessions

Mia, I discover, is just as sassy when tipsy as she is sober. She's also, much to my amusement and delight, rather handsy.

We outstay all the other patrons at O'Donogue's – a definite perk of family connections – and party until 3 am, at which point I feel it prudent to get my future brother-in-law home while he can still stand. In the car my concentration is sorely tested by a soft yet determined hand rubbing and squeezing me from knee to thigh and even, at a red light, groping fleetingly between my legs. I let out a moan and she giggles then looks at me from under those amazing lashes, and only the presence of Will more than half out of it in the back seat stops me from pulling onto a dark side road somewhere and kissing the hell out of her and more. When she does it a second time my foot slips on the brake and we lurch toward the van in front before I regain control and slam down hard on the pedal.

"Stop it," I whisper - heck, almost plead - shaking my head. "Do you want me to crash the car?" This woman will be the death of me yet. She giggles again and it's the sexiest damn sound; I grip the steering wheel hard, hanging on to control by a thread. Fuck!

We take Will home, seeing him safely into bed, and I feel sorry for the hangover he's bound to have later. Still, that's what a bachelor party is all about I guess, and at least he had the sense to hold it a week before the wedding so he won't be a wreck on the big day.

The fun and games continue once we get to Mia's place. "The key won't fit," she pouts so adorably I swoop for a quick taste of those delectable lips.

"Want me to try?" I smile, knowing the problem is more her alcohol-impaired hand-eye co-ordination than a locksmith deficiency.

"Sure, big boy," she taunts, changing from annoyed to cheeky on a heartbeat. I take the key from her fingers and she steps behind me, her arms winding around my middle. Before I can even fit the key in the lock her hands are sliding up under my shirt, caressing my stomach and making my muscles clench, while she kisses the back of my neck.

"Mia, honey, let's get inside first, hmm?"

"You're so sexy." If I'm honest, I can't help feeling a certain amount of pride at her compliment. "I want to eat you all up."

Yup, got no problem with that, I think, my mouth suddenly dry. We do a kind of crab-crawl into her house as she's still attached around my middle; I shut and lock the door then put her keys where she'll find them easily. With surprising agility, she swoops around to my front and before I know it my torso's bare and my shirt and jumper are stuck at my head as I haven't raised my arms. "Sweetheart..."

"Off!" she says with a mixture of agitation and sensuality and I'm already getting whiplash from her mood swings. I put my arms up for her.

"God, this tat is so hot." I've had that reaction from women before but no fingertips tracing the whorls and curves of fangs, tail, claws and wings have ever caused the delicious tingling that Mia's do. Then she winds a hand to the back of my neck and presses her mouth to mine, nipping at my bottom lip before sucking it into her mouth, tracing it with her tongue until I'm utterly lost. I wrap an arm around her, bringing her so close her scent is all around me and I inhale, allowing the fragrance of gardenias and this woman to permeate my consciousness. Trailing my fingers down her sides, I reach that small portion of bare skin at the top of her jeans and skim across the silky-soft canvas of her stomach, hearing her faint gasp and feeling her tremble. I slide under the waistband, gliding over smoothly rounded hips to her lower back, committing to memory every pore, every texture, every detail. The room is quiet, the only sounds the soft panting of our breathing. Mia pulls back, takes my hand and leads me unresisting towards her bedroom, neither of us saying a word.

When she reaches up to her head I step behind her, murmuring, "Let me," gently lowering her arms and taking over the job of removing the pins holding up her hair. Once released, I run my fingers through the waves and over her scalp, loosening and massaging at the same time. "Mmm, so good," she moans, a sound that shoots straight to my groin. My lips find the curve of her neck, the tender spot behind her ear, the pulse at her throat, while she makes sweet, erotic noises that drive me almost insane with need. I pull urgently at her jumper, lifting it over her head as she turns to me, tugging at the button of my jeans then undoing her own and sliding them down her long legs as I discard the remainder of my clothes, remembering to take a condom from my jeans pocket and placing it on the bed. Once we're both naked we stand looking at each other for a moment and, just as I am every time I see her, I'm struck by how beautiful and how perfect she is. Is this what love does? Makes a perfectly ordinary person seem extraordinarily perfect? I can't tell for sure; Mia has seemed perfect to me since the second I laid eyes on her.