Belly whoosh.

“Mitch –”

“Also, you gotta know, we’re eatin’ it in bed.”

Belly whoosh part two!

Shit.

“Mitch!”

He slid away, rolled me to my back and then slid right back in, smiling down at me.

God, he was beautiful.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m not easy,” I declared, his smile faded a little and he blinked.

Then he repeated, “What?”

“I’m not easy,” I also repeated. “I know it seems that way since we had our first date last night and we, uh…did it just now but I’m not easy. I’ve had two lovers. The first, we dated for three months before, um…you know…and with Destry, since the other guy was kind of, um…a jerk, we dated for four and a half. I don’t know what happened with us but you need to know, I’m not easy.”

Mitch was up on a forearm and his other arm was across me, hand resting on the bed and he didn’t move nor did his eyes move from me even after I stopped talking.

So I kept talking and to show I was sincere, I lifted a hand, placed it on his chest and got up on the other elbow before I whispered, “I need you to know that.”

He said nothing and didn’t move.

“It’s important you know that,” I kept going.

Not a move, not a noise. His eyes were on me and he looked like he was thinking. About what, I had no clue since he was doing it without speaking but whatever it was, it was important.

But so was what I was saying so my hand slid up to his neck and my fingers curled around and, still whispering, I semi-repeated, “It’s important.”

Finally, he spoke and when he did it was to say, “Sweetheart, shut up.”

I blinked.

Then I asked, “What?”

“Shut up.”

“Shut up?”

“Yeah.”

I felt my brows draw together. “I’m telling you something important to me and you’re telling me to shut up?”

“Yeah.”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out because Mitch finally moved. And how he moved was both his arms locked around me, he rolled to his back, me going with him then sat up so I was again forced to straddle him. His arms unlocked only for one to clamp low on my h*ps and the other one to glide up so his fingers were wrapped around the back of my neck with three of them up in my hair and he tilted my face down to his.

Then he spoke.

“Okay, I gotta get this right so it penetrates without you twisting it like somehow you managed to twist it in your head that I’d think for one f**kin’ second you’re easy, so here we go.”

Uh-oh.

Now I knew what he was thinking that looked so important.

Before I could commit to my burgeoning freak out, Mitch kept talking.

“Taking out the time I watched you with that moron but still wanted you, we’re talkin’ two years, Mara, two…fuckin’…years it took me to get you na**d on your back in my bed. Sweetheart, I think you can rest assured that’s pretty much the definition of ‘not easy’.”

I stared at him thinking this was true.

Kind of.

“But, we –”

He shook his head and his arm squeezed as did his fingers so I stopped talking.

“You ran away from me on our first date. You stood me up our second. You gave me attitude the first time your ass was in my truck. You gave me my marching orders in the breezeway before I even got close to getting in there. Billie interrupted me the first time I got to second base. I slept in my bed with you and a six year old twice before I even got you out on a date. And I had to promise my sister she could decorate your apartment when you got your insurance check to get her to babysit so I could actually finally f**kin’ take you out on that date,” he recounted then finished with, “Honey, trust me, that is not easy.”

I blinked.

Then I asked, “You promised Penny she could decorate my apartment?”

“Yeah, and don’t fight her. She’ll listen to you and she’s good but mostly she’s determined. Do yourself and me a favor and just let her do it.”

“But, Mitch, her stuff costs –”

He pulled my face even closer and grinned before he said, “Baby, the markup is outrageous. Wholesale, her stuff costs the same as normal furniture.”

Wow.

That meant I could afford Design Fusion stuff in my apartment.

That was cool!

“Mara,” Mitch called into my thoughts which were right then centered on how I wanted the sofa I saw in Penny’s shop window in my living room and I focused on him to see he was no longer grinning but looked very serious.

Therefore, I braced.

This was good because the second I did, in a low voice heavy with meaning and his fingers at my neck tensing to drive his point home, he stated firmly, “You are not Melbamae Hanover. You are not a skank. You are not easy. You are so far from trailer trash it isn’t funny. You are not what those kids and parents and your mother’s f**k buddies took you to be. You’re Mara, you’re sweet, you’re beautiful and I will not forget until the day I die how beautiful it felt to slide inside you with you wrapped around me, see your eyes get wet and know straight in my gut that you felt how beautiful it was too.”

My eyes got wet right then listening to his words and my arms slid around his shoulders as those words seeped into me, deep into me, straight and true in a way even I, who had a special talent with doing it, could not twist them even if I tried.

But I wasn’t going to try.

“Mitch,” I whispered then said no more because I couldn’t since my throat was closing but also because I didn’t know what to say.

He wasn’t done and I knew this when he pulled me close, dropped back and rolled so he was on top of me, his h*ps between my legs and his face close when he whispered, “You’re hair was softer than I expected it to be, more beautiful when it’s down than I expected it to be. You’re sweeter than I expected you to be, funnier, more loyal and I expected all that to be phenomenal so, I gotta tell you, baby, it pleases me no f**kin’ end to learn the reality is off-the-charts. Better than that, when you get pissed, I gotta fight against goin’ hard. When you smile, I gotta fight against goin’ hard. And when you look deep into my eyes and see whatever the f**k you see and I know how much you like it because it’s written all over your face, I gotta fight against goin’ hard. But even with the promise of that, finally havin’ you is another reality that’s off-the-charts. My guess?” he asked then didn’t wait for me to answer. “Your mother hated you because she knew you were better than her and every day you were a reminder that you would be exactly what you are. So she tried to undermine it. Bring you down by bein’ a serious, f**kin’ bitch and, honest to God, I’ve seen a lot, heard even more but she’s in contention for the worst f**kin’ Mom in history. And still, you beat her because you are all that is you. And, sweetheart, there is a lot that is you and it isn’t only me who sees that all of it is good. It’s just now only me who gets all of it and, after waitin’ years for you, to say that, too, pleases me no f**kin’ end is one serious f**kin’ understatement.”