I erupt in a plethora of emotions and sensations, moaning his name, my fingers and toes tingling, my legs shaking, and my pussy throbbing. His hips jerk, then he slows his movements, lets my leg fall back to the ground, and wraps his arms around me, pulling me down until there is no space between us. He holds me close as he pulses inside of me.
My head falls to his shoulder as our chests rise and fall between us, our hearts pounding so hard you’d think they were trying to reach each other. Exhausted, I wrap my arms around his shoulders as his forehead rests in the crook of my neck. His breath causes goose bumps to spread across my damp skin and a chill to slide down my spine.
“When I think my legs can move, I’ll find a way to get us off the floor,” he says, sounding relaxed, and I laugh, turning my head his way. He leans back to look at me, and the soft look in his eyes makes my heart flutter and anxiousness fill the pit of my stomach. I shouldn’t be in so deep with him, especially when I don’t know him or really anything about him. “Don’t, not when I’m inside you.” He lifts his hand and smooths my hair back away from my face.
“Don’t what?” I smile to hide how freaked out it makes me that he can read me. Then I carefully get my shaky legs under me and stand up, holding out my hand.
He looks at it for a long moment, then sighs and gets up without my help. I don’t wrap my arms around my middle like I want; I don’t want to admit I feel vulnerable. Instead, I head to the bathroom like nothing is amiss and walk right into the shower, since the water has been on. Leaning my head back, I let the warm water soak my hair, then a moment later, he gets in with me.
Without a word said between us, we both wash up, then get out and dry off. Dressed in a sleep tank and a pair of panties, I turn out the lights, then crawl into bed with him. As soon as I’m under the covers, I hold my breath and wait for him to wrap his arms around me and hold me like he’s done since the night we saw each other for the first time since I was sixteen, only it doesn’t happen.
Something ugly curls up in the pit of my stomach—disappointment in myself, maybe? I don’t know how long I lie there awake, but I see light coming in around the edges of my blackout curtains long before I fall asleep.
Hearing my name and feeling a hand heavy on my shoulder, I wake with a start and sit up, almost bopping Maxim in the nose with my forehead. “Stop scaring me.” I fall back to the bed and rest my hand over my pounding heart, cursing tequila when my head pounds.
“Sorry,” he says, and I focus on him—or try to, but it’s difficult with how dark my room is, even with a little light coming in from around the windows. Feeling the strange vibe in the room, I sit up and turn on the lamp on my side of my bed and see he is fully dressed, wearing slacks and a button-down shirt. His shoes are off, probably downstairs near the front door, his hair styled messily and his fancy watch on his wrist. The watch he only puts on when he’s leaving the house.
“You’re leaving.” It’s a statement not a question, and a sinking feeling settles inside me.
“Got a call about an hour ago that I’m needed back in Vegas. I didn’t want to wake you but didn’t like the idea of leaving without you knowing I was going.”
“Oh.” My nose stings, and I curse my stupid voice, because I sound as upset as I feel. I knew this would happen, knew he would leave. I thought I did a good job of protecting myself from the inevitable, but I obviously didn’t. I drag my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around my shins as I try to come up with something to say.
“I should only be gone a couple of days,” he says softly, resting his hand on my knee before moving it to my cheek. “You going to be okay?”
“Absolutely.” The lie slides off my tongue with ease.
“We’ll talk when I get back.” I want to ask about what; I want to ask why, but I don’t. I tuck those questions away, swallow them down, even though it feels like glass cutting me open.
“Have a safe trip, and I’ll let you know when I find out what your closing date is on your house,” I say, because I need the reminder that even if I wanted this to be more, it’s not. He’s a client. Nothing more than a client and a few days of really, really amazing sex.
He stares at me for a long moment, then curses under his breath, slides his hand still on my cheek back into my hair, forces my head back, then covers my mouth with his. The kiss is not sweet; it’s punishing and claiming. A reminder.
When he rips his mouth away, his face is an inch from mine when he growls, “We’ll talk when I get back.”
I don’t say anything. I can’t. I’m too stunned.
“Nod if you understand.”
I swallow and nod, and then without another word, he lets me go and prowls from my room. I stare at the open door for a long time, trying to figure out what just happened, but my mind is completely blank of everything but the fact that my lips are tingling.
Chapter 8
April
I GLANCE AT the photo of a beautiful charcuterie board on my phone, then down at the one I put together and sigh. Even with all the same items as the picture, mine looks nothing like it. The meat rose I made actually looks like a pile of meatballs, all my cheese is cut wonky, and the nuts and crackers have decided to do their own thing.
“Well, all that really matters is how it tastes,” I mutter when the doorbell rings. After quickly washing my hands, I head downstairs and smile when I open the door to my sisters July and May, my friend Matt, and his husband Kirk, who are both realtors.
“I love you. I hate the drive out here,” July greets, giving me a one-arm hug before walking past and kicking off her shoes.
“I had to listen to that the whole way.” May rolls her eyes, making me laugh while following July inside.
“The traffic is atrocious,” Kirk agrees before smiling at me and kissing my cheek. “Hey, pretty girl.”
“Hey.” I give his shoulder a squeeze, then look at Matt and laugh when he picks me up off the ground.
“I’ve missed you.” He drops me to my feet, then kisses my cheek.
“Me too.” I shut the door once he clears it, then we all head up to my kitchen.
“Oh, look how pretty,” Kirk, ever the nice guy, says as he stops at the board I made, snagging a piece of cheese and tossing it into his mouth.
“It looks nothing like the photo I tried to copy,” I inform him as Matt goes to the fridge to pull out a bottle of white wine I had chilling, then to the drawer where I keep my wine bottle opener.
“Who cares how it looks,” July says as she takes a seat at the island next to May, who reaches around her for some of the grapes on the board.
“Exactly my thoughts.” Matt comes to stand next to me and opens the bottle, then begins filling the glasses I set out for each of us.
“So where is the guy Mom told us about?” May asks, obviously not remembering him, and although I’m thankful for that small reprieve, I inwardly groan, wishing it were actually possible for my mom to keep things to herself.
“He’s in Vegas,” I state simply, hoping that will end the conversation before it can begin.
“What guy is this? You never told me about a guy,” Matt says, and I sigh.
“He’s just a client.”