Free Six Naughty Nights: Love in Reverse, Book 2 by Serenity Woods Page A

Naughty Nights . Even the name gave her goose bumps. How exciting it would be to play that game with him. But it had been a long, long time since she’d had sex. Would she remember how to do it if she ever got back in the saddle?
    “What are you smiling about?” he asked.
    The beer was starting to have an effect, and some of her reservations died away. This man was the father of her child. He was hardly a stranger. She leaned her head on her hand and sighed. “I was thinking that the last time anyone touched me intimately was to put stitches in.”
    He winched. “Ouch!”
    “Yeah. It would be nice to have a memory of being touched down there that didn’t include rubber gloves and forceps.”
    He chuckled. “Well, if I can help, you only have to say.”
    She took another swallow of the beer and studied him dreamily. He’d been so good in bed. Considerate and gentle, and yet also a delicious mixture of commanding and the right amount of forceful. The memory made her shiver.
    One night in Fiji, a few nights after their almost-exhibitionism on the beach, they’d had a drink on the balcony and got talking about women’s rights. He’d purposefully adopted a misogynistic attitude to wind her up, which had worked to the extent that she’d eventually thrown her wine in his face and risen to leave. In reply, he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, ignoring her complaints. He threw her onto the bed, pinned her there and kissed her, refusing to let her go, and eventually he took her with a luscious roughness, in spite of the fact that she’d already given in.
    His gaze fell to her lips, and she couldn’t stop herself moistening them with her tongue. He noticed, and his eyes grew a few degrees hotter.
    “Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered.
    He said nothing, but his lips curved.
    Her heart thumped wildly. “You’d be disappointed in me. I’ve had a baby—I’m all stretch marks and saggy boobs and belly.”
    His gaze dipped to her breasts. “They still look pretty good to me.”
    Warmth flooded her cheeks. “Toby!”
    “What?” he asked innocently.
    “I’m an old mother now. I should be knitting and making flans.”
    He gave a short laugh. “You don’t look bad for a pensioner.”
    “I mean it. You’re all young and…vibrant. I’m—”
    “Twenty-three?”
    “-four,” she said lamely. “But I feel seventy most days.” She sighed and studied the beer. “I’ve grown so weak. One bottle and I’m practically comatose.”
    “Cheap date,” he said.
    “I guess.” Self-pity washed over her. “I don’t want to feel old. I mean, I don’t regret having Charlie at all, he’s the best thing that ever happened to me, but my whole world revolves around him and daycare and feeding times and what’s on TV, and sometimes I just wish…”
    He leaned closer to her. “What do you wish?”
    She moistened her lips again. “When we were in Fiji, you made me feel so…”
    “So…?”
    “Alive. You’re like the sun.” She was almost asleep.
    He reached out a hand and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “And you’re like the moon.”
    “Cold and distant?”
    “Breathtakingly beautiful.” He slipped his hand into her hair and cupped the back of her head as if he was afraid she might pull away, but the warmth of his compliment spread through her, and as he lowered his lips to hers she gladly moved the last inch to meet him.
    He tasted of chocolate and beer, summer and happiness. She let him kiss her slowly, closing her eyes, and enjoyed the movement of his lips across hers, the stroke of his tongue into her mouth. What are you doing? yelled her brain, but he was such a good kisser that her body refused to move.
    “Kissing’s yuck,” said Charlie.
    She pulled back, wondering if Toby would look exasperated, but he only seemed amused. He turned to face his son, who stood before them, Thomas Tank in his hand. “Hey, buster.” Toby lifted him up and sat him on the breakfast bar,