Past Imperfect by Alison G. Bailey Page A

movement.
    “Sweetness, we’re not doing that right now,” he says, his voice ragged from being aroused.
    “We’re not?” I whisper with disappointment, as I look down.
    Brad places his index finger under my chin, tilting my head up, and says, “You just told me you love me. We’re not going to have a quick fuck against a tile wall after that. I need you in my bed, so I can take my time and make love to you slow and easy.”
    “Oh my.”

    Several hours later, I’m lying naked on my stomach in Brad’s bed. We’ve spent most of the day making love. I feel so relaxed and light, as if I’m floating above the mattress. I have never had so much sex in one day. I never wanted to until I met Brad. His lips glide down my back, placing a path of feather light kisses as they move. There’s so much reverence in his movements. He’s not just touching my skin. He’s touching my soul. I’ve never felt cherished like this before. He lingers for a moment on the dimple at my lower back.
    “I love every curve of your body,” he says against me.
    I feel the tip of his tongue slide across my skin and dip into the dimple. “Heyyy!” I say, laughing, as I turn over.
    Brad’s hand grabs my hip, stopping my movement. “Stay put. I’m not done worshiping your ass yet.”
    “But you’re tickling me.”
    “I’m going to be spanking you, if you don’t stay still.”
    “I think I’d like that.” I wiggle my ass a little.
    Brad lets out a loud growl. Vibrations run through my body and I feel the weight of his head as he plants his face on my lower back.
    “Are you okay?” I ask.
    “Yeah, just give me a minute. My head is swimming with visions of you being a very bad girl.”
    “I’m very good at being very bad, you know,” I say in a low deep voice.
    “This is so much better than a picnic,” he says before resuming his trail of kisses.
    “Mmmhmm,” I purr.
    Shifting to the other side, he moves up my body, his lips landing at the spot just below my ear.
    “Turn over,” he whispers into my ear. His warm breath flows over my neck as his hand slides up my back, causing wave after wave of shivers to run through me.
    I flip over onto my back, looking up into his beautiful eyes. Raising my hand to his jaw, I run my fingers over his stubble. Holding my gaze, I feel his hand travel across my stomach and run up my torso. He brings his face to mine, placing the same feather-light kiss on my lips. I playfully nip at his upper lip before he slides his tongue in, meeting mine. Pulling back, he studies my face for several seconds.
    “Why is there so much sadness in your eyes?”
    His question catches me off guard. “Wow, you’re not one for easing into a conversation, are you?”
    “Subtlety has never been one of my strong suits.”
    “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I’m happy. You make me happy.”
    “You don’t have to answer me right now, but you will answer me soon. I need to know, so I can fix it.”
    “I love you,” I say, in part because of his patience with me, but also to try to change the subject. I know I’ll need to tell Brad about my past soon. I’m scared of his reaction. I have no way of knowing if even the possibility of inheriting my mother’s illness will send him running or not.
    He picks up my hand, kissing the tips of my fingers, and says, “Every time you say that, it takes my breath away.”
    We shift our position, so that we’re lying on our sides, face-to-face. “What were you like as a kid?” I ask.
    “I was a handsome, charming, and intelligent young lad. Pretty much a mini-version of what you see before you now.” His trademark smile appears across his face.
    “You forgot modest and humble.” My voice full of sarcasm.
    “Yeah, that too.” His smile fades and his expression turns vulnerable. “And lonely.”
    “Lonely? How could Mr. Charming ever be lonely?”
    “I had friends I hung out with, but you know how kids are. A lot of times they want to be your friend