“Well, that’s better. I would hate to think that nothing in this room interested you in the slightest.” She cooed as she sauntered over to him. “Put those away, Doc,” she whispered and motioned toward the box of Trojans.

“No,” Vin returned wanting them and the contents of the drawer within easy reach for the rest of the night. Did she flinch? It was hard to tell. The condoms, there was something about them, something she didn’t like. Something, maybe, dark and ugly.

Still coming toward him she drew in a deep breath and looked away from the black box with its contents of various condoms. “Been looking for me, Doc? Waiting for me?”

Vin pulled the t-shirt over his head and then patted the empty space of bed next to him. “Not anymore.”

The Doc was very striking especially for an older man. She’d never had much interest in older men until he caught her eye, those she usually left with from the bar were her age—which was 38—or younger. He had a flat stomach and tight chest whereas most men of his age had rather large spare tires, back hair, and man-boobs those things were altogether unappealing as far as she was concerned. Not the Doc. Even with that bum leg of his, he was in fine shape. She liked his gray/silver hair as it went very well with those striking blue eyes.

Sitting there on the bed watching her wind her way over to him, Vincent fully appreciated the way her hips rocked from side to side and the way her lips glistened after her tongue lapped along them. Slowly reaching behind her back, Rose unhooked the bra and let it fall to the floor. The nipples on those pert little breasts were still pink and they were very hard as her hand ran along their curves making his rock hard.

She appreciated the tent he was pitching in those faded blue jeans. Her eyes sparkled and she bit down ever so coyly upon her bottom lip as she reached out for it. “Been thinking about me?”

Long graceful fingertips ran over her body from her breasts, down the curve of her waist, past her hips and then reached out to the hard part of him. The merest whisper of a touch and the hard-on that had been beginning to rage now roared. “Incessantly.” Vin admitted without feeling as though he should hold back. He reached up to touch her and run his hands along the smooth alabaster skin that had replaced he golden tan of summer he’d seen last. The woman was in his head and now she was finally back in his bed—or he in hers—out of his dreams and into reality. He wasn’t going to let any of it slip by him. She leaned into him and he took one pert pink nipple into his mouth as he breathed deeply of her scent. Vin was slightly disappointed not to have the sweet scent of honeysuckle greet him he remembered it so well in his dreams. Disappointment turned to arousal as the heady aroma of cinnamon settled into his brain. With his lips and tongue sucking at her, his head buried against her chest he heard her heartbeat pick up the pace.