your pants.”
Her mind reeled with images of what he could possibly do to her through her pants and how this would “take care of her”. Orgasms were something beyond her realm of sexual comprehension, a lofty image of things to come, later, when she was no longer a virgin and was proficient at sex play.
His hand, which had stopped as he explained himself to her, ran its way down the outside of her thigh, right along the grain of the corduroy, smooth ing as he went down to her knee, then turned to the inside and slowly made its way back up.
The soft cotton of her Levi’s rubbed the inside of her legs. His hips moved faster, nearly bucking against Lizzie and her mind swirled at the vibration it caused coupled with the pulling of her tender nipples by his mouth. “ Finn . Finn ,” she moaned. Her head rolled from side to side on the arm of the couch. She was just about to throw her damn rules out the window when she heard a noise, suspiciously like a door opening and closing, coming from the kitchen. “ Finn . Finn ,” she repeated his name, but this time she took his shoulders in her hands and shook him.
“I know, Liz, I’ll get you there .” He was panting hard. Lizzie couldn’t imagine where he planned on taking her, but they were going nowhere now because whoever was in the house was hastily making their way across the kitchen.
“No. Finn . Someone’s here.” When her words didn’t permeate his one-track mind, she shook him again . “Someone is here, in the kitchen. I need to get my blouse on. You need to...stop.”
As the words began to make sense to Finn , the overhead light snapped on. His head shot up, over the arm of the couch to see who was there. Whoever was in the doorway would be able to see the lower half of their bodies, but the arm of the couch restricted viewing of their heads or chests, which Lizzie profusely thanked God for as she stumbled to right her bra and button her shirt.
Finn stayed on top of her and monitored her progress, apparently willing to shield her body with his until the task was done, which she was grateful for.
“Gran. I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“Apparently not.” There was no censure in the voice, Lizzie thought. Maybe even mild amusement. Certainly a different tone than would have come from her parents should they walk in on the same scene. Was it the difference between her parents and this woman, or the fact that Finn was a boy to her girl, or that he was twenty? Regardless, she said a silent thank you that this woman apparently was understanding of the situation.
She peeked under Finn ’s arm, over her own shoulder, around the side of the couch to see a slight woman who didn’t look old enough to possibly be Finn ’s grandmother. She was dressed in jeans (unheard of in grandmother-wear to Lizzie), a western-style shirt with snap buttons and boots...cowboy boots.
Just as their gazes met, the older woman’s warm and friendly, Lizzie’s huge and terrified, a movement came from behind the woman that caught her eye.
A girl of about nine or ten stepped out from behind the grandmother and gawked at Finn and Lizzie, automatically processing what the naughty two had been doing. She was a towhead blonde, with cherubic, full cheeks and a mischievous mouth that curved into an “I caught you - I caught you” smile.
“Shit,” Finn said softly. He looked down to see that Lizzie was covered. “Liz Hampton, this is my grandmother, Clea Robbins. And the little imp to the right is my sister, Phoebe.”
Chapter Eight
√ Get pedicure
√ Call Sybil
“Looks like you’re doing some pretty deep thinking there, Liz,” Finn said, jarring her back from wherever she’d gone. He had a pretty good guess where that was. To the only other time she had been in this room, the night of their first date. That night held special memories for him too, but he seldom let himself indulge in them.
She stood in the middle of the room, an untouched wine
Her mind reeled with images of what he could possibly do to her through her pants and how this would “take care of her”. Orgasms were something beyond her realm of sexual comprehension, a lofty image of things to come, later, when she was no longer a virgin and was proficient at sex play.
His hand, which had stopped as he explained himself to her, ran its way down the outside of her thigh, right along the grain of the corduroy, smooth ing as he went down to her knee, then turned to the inside and slowly made its way back up.
The soft cotton of her Levi’s rubbed the inside of her legs. His hips moved faster, nearly bucking against Lizzie and her mind swirled at the vibration it caused coupled with the pulling of her tender nipples by his mouth. “ Finn . Finn ,” she moaned. Her head rolled from side to side on the arm of the couch. She was just about to throw her damn rules out the window when she heard a noise, suspiciously like a door opening and closing, coming from the kitchen. “ Finn . Finn ,” she repeated his name, but this time she took his shoulders in her hands and shook him.
“I know, Liz, I’ll get you there .” He was panting hard. Lizzie couldn’t imagine where he planned on taking her, but they were going nowhere now because whoever was in the house was hastily making their way across the kitchen.
“No. Finn . Someone’s here.” When her words didn’t permeate his one-track mind, she shook him again . “Someone is here, in the kitchen. I need to get my blouse on. You need to...stop.”
As the words began to make sense to Finn , the overhead light snapped on. His head shot up, over the arm of the couch to see who was there. Whoever was in the doorway would be able to see the lower half of their bodies, but the arm of the couch restricted viewing of their heads or chests, which Lizzie profusely thanked God for as she stumbled to right her bra and button her shirt.
Finn stayed on top of her and monitored her progress, apparently willing to shield her body with his until the task was done, which she was grateful for.
“Gran. I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“Apparently not.” There was no censure in the voice, Lizzie thought. Maybe even mild amusement. Certainly a different tone than would have come from her parents should they walk in on the same scene. Was it the difference between her parents and this woman, or the fact that Finn was a boy to her girl, or that he was twenty? Regardless, she said a silent thank you that this woman apparently was understanding of the situation.
She peeked under Finn ’s arm, over her own shoulder, around the side of the couch to see a slight woman who didn’t look old enough to possibly be Finn ’s grandmother. She was dressed in jeans (unheard of in grandmother-wear to Lizzie), a western-style shirt with snap buttons and boots...cowboy boots.
Just as their gazes met, the older woman’s warm and friendly, Lizzie’s huge and terrified, a movement came from behind the woman that caught her eye.
A girl of about nine or ten stepped out from behind the grandmother and gawked at Finn and Lizzie, automatically processing what the naughty two had been doing. She was a towhead blonde, with cherubic, full cheeks and a mischievous mouth that curved into an “I caught you - I caught you” smile.
“Shit,” Finn said softly. He looked down to see that Lizzie was covered. “Liz Hampton, this is my grandmother, Clea Robbins. And the little imp to the right is my sister, Phoebe.”
Chapter Eight
√ Get pedicure
√ Call Sybil
“Looks like you’re doing some pretty deep thinking there, Liz,” Finn said, jarring her back from wherever she’d gone. He had a pretty good guess where that was. To the only other time she had been in this room, the night of their first date. That night held special memories for him too, but he seldom let himself indulge in them.
She stood in the middle of the room, an untouched wine
Similar Books
