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Taking advantage of the moment, I sat up, while straddling his lower body, and stared down at him, slightly biting my bottom lip. I covered my chest with my arms. I'm sure he noticed my abnormal breathing caused by the way he kept rubbing his hands up and down the sides of my upper legs. I knew I needed him, and he knew I needed him, but I didn’t know if he needed me. Maybe a heartbeat isn’t always the best way to determine a person’s intentions. Oh fuck it, I thought, and I let myself fall forward, connecting my lips with the salty skin that covered his chest. I pushed down, drawing figure eights into the bulge in his pants with my hips, while muttering something even I, myself, couldn't understand. He groaned and gripped my hips with so much force I could already feel bruises forming. “Not here,” he said airily, ceasing my actions long enough to carry me to the downstairs guest bedroom. He probably found it while I was cooking. He gently lied me on the bed, giving me a quick. Susan talked about this grandmother as though she was some kind of fantastic woman. The only bright spot in this situation was that Susan looked just as uncomfortable as he felt. He took a sip of his tea and waited for someone to say something. As the silence drew on, he gave up, "So to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"The old woman nodded at him, pleased at the directness with which he broached the subject. She answered, "The two of you came here to tell me that you are getting married."Susan nodded at her statement of the obvious. She said, "Yes, we told you that last night." That's right, you did," acknowledged the old woman. She looked at the couple sitting in front of her and shook her head. She added, "Well, I came here to talk about your marriage." Well, we are planning on having a small wedding. Of course, you are invited." Charles replied. He was entertaining second thoughts about inviting the crazy women, but was smart enough not to say anything."I didn't say I.
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