All In Good Time - A Time Travel Beatles Fanfiction

Track 19 - If You're Mine

Lainey's first waking thoughts were of Paul. The way he'd looked at her last night when they were in bed. His hands and lips exploring every inch of her flesh, the way his body responded to her every touch. The words he'd whispered into her ear...she nearly shivered with the memory of it all.

With a smile on her lips she rolled over...and found herself alone in the rumpled sheets of the double bed. She sat up, checked the alarm clock on the night table, and listened for any sounds coming from the bathroom. Nothing. Paul was already gone, and it was barely nine in the morning. Sighing, she rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in his pillow, comforting herself with the smell of him.

Last night had been the sweetest, most romantic date of her life, followed by a marathon session of lovemaking and ending with Lainey's legs thrown over Paul's, her feet tucked behind his thighs, his body curled around hers, his lips pressed to her neck, as if she were sitting in his lap while they were both lying down. "We fit," Paul had whispered, and Lainey had marveled at the truth of it, a blissful smile on her face.

Then she awoke to find him gone. She groaned into the pillow. Where was he?

The rain had brought cooler weather, and Lainey roused herself to stumble to the window and shove it closed. She gathered bits of clothes from the floor on her way to the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Wild hair, chapped lips, reddened cheeks and neck from beard burn, and the sleepy, contented look of someone who had been well and thoroughly loved.

Waking up together would have been nice, but apparently Lover Boy had something more important to do this morning. Blowing out a sigh, she dug in her backpack for her toothbrush and toothpaste and the small bottle of bubble bath she'd bought in Weston Super Mare.

Twenty minutes later, Lainey opened the door of the rose-scented, humid bathroom to see Paul struggling with two paper cups full of a steaming beverage, a paper sack and an acoustic guitar strapped to his back. "I brought brekky," he said. "And I've written a little ditty, rhyming Lainey with love. Do you fancy a bit of..."

His words trailed off when he looked up and saw her, flushed and damp from her bath, knotting a towel over her breasts. He groaned. "Fook me sideways. The more I see of you the more I want."

"Hi. I missed you." Her unused morning voice came out in a croak. The way he was looking at her, as if he wanted to devour her, sent a rush of heat coursing through her.

Breakfast was left on the nightstand, the guitar abandoned, and Paul was standing in front of her, staring directly into her eyes, one corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile. "So. What's under the towel?"

She looked down, her hands still clutching the knot at her chest. "Nothing."

A brow lifted. "Nothing? A sexy little thing like you has got to have more than 'nothing' under her towel."

She looked back at him silently, waiting. He leaned toward her. "Let's see this 'nothing'."

She watched his hand wordlessly, her heart pounding, as he reached for the knot that held the towel in place, twisting it loose.

A low whistle of approval as his eyes wandered all over her. The towel fell unnoticed to the floor.

"That doesn't look like nothing to me. I wonder. Do you taste as good as you look?"

"Only one way to find out," Lainey whispered, her heart hammering as she leaned into a kiss. His lips slotted against hers perfectly. They were experts at this now, this kissing game, having spent hours nibbling, biting, licking, discovering. She opened her mouth, letting his tongue play with hers.