Love in Bloom (an erotic short story) Read Online Free

don’t mind you mentioning it at all. And if that’s where you think this might go, then we should. Go slow, that is. But can we do that after you take me back to bed? Because you can’t just say something like that and get me all turned on and not do anything about it.” She stopped to take a breath and her shoulders slumped. “I’m babbling again.”
    His shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I don’t mind. I kinda like that I can shake you up that easily.”
    He held out his hand, and Mandy slipped from her chair and settled into his lap. They held each other for a while, listening to each other’s heart beats, thinking of the future and all the wonderful possibilities.
    “I do remember your eyes,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You used to stare at me over the top of those ugly glasses.”
    “I thought you were dreamy.”
    “You helped me get a B. I would have flunked if you hadn’t been my partner. Did I ever thank you?”
    Mandy leaned away and grinned. “I think you just did. Three times.”

Excerpt from Wet Down
    S herry stood so near the closed blinds, she could feel the heat trapped between the white wooden slats and the double-paned glass. Dust motes floated in the gilded light slipping between the blades. All she could do was stare.
    She finally had what she wanted. So, why wasn’t she happier about it? Perhaps because now that the election was over, the whirlwind pace of her life had slowed. And little things became as glaringly clear as the floating specks.
    Being mayor of a small West Texas town didn’t pay squat, meant she couldn’t step out of the house in sweats, a holey tee and no makeup, and pretty much guaranteed she’d have to run into her soon-to-be-ex-husband on occasion.
    The only upside was if she kept super-busy, maybe she would barely even think about him.
    “It’s a wet down ceremony. We have to make a speech,” her assistant said, her gaze fixed on the tablet she always held filled with hen-scratched “notes to self.”
    Only the notes weren’t to herself, they were to Sherry, the mayor. A strange quirk Sherry tried to find endearing. But Martha had made it very clear, by the way she’d commandeered Sherry’s schedule and made executive decisions about the appointments she ought to keep, that she didn’t consider Sherry mayoral material. Martha likely thought Sherry was too young and flighty. Caldera’s last mayor had retired from public service after twenty-five years sitting in this office. And in the past few, he’d allowed Martha free rein, something Sherry would have to deal with, but was reluctant to approach.
    Sometimes, her EA creeped her out with her bifocaled, unblinking stare and constant use of the royal we . Sherry was the mayor, not the queen bee.
    Although she had been a member of Caldera’s royal court for homecoming. Back in the day when she and Blake had been inseparable. High school football star, homecoming princess. They’d both been so beautiful. So freaking stupid. And there she was thinking about him again.
    She flipped the blinds and stared across the street at the fire engine parked on the concrete drive, already looking cleaner than her kitchen counter—and they were giving it another bath? Why? Soon, they’d be retiring the truck because it was too old. She snorted. A fireman would have an obscene name for a ceremony that retired one loyal, trusty engine and introduced a prettier, sleeker new model.
    Sherry drew in a deep breath. She wasn’t going there. Wasn’t going to imagine what a firefighter’s personal wet down ceremony might entail. Again, she gripped the cord, ready to flip back the blinds. As a force of habit, she kept them permanently turned to prevent even an accidental view of the station across the street. The open bays faced City Hall, and on any given day, she could look out and see the firefighters on shift in their torso-hugging t-shirts and dark pants, looking sexy as hell as they crawled all over their big