It jerked happily into my palm in greeting.
Hello to you, too, handsome.
“Only if you come and help me,” Cruz challenged.
“I plan to come, all right.”
But weirdly, when I thought about those clothes, I wasn’t full of stubborn, defiant dread. I happened to quite like those ridiculously expensive garments and some of the memories created in them.
Especially the floaty bohemian style ones that made me look like one of the Olsen twins taking her trash out. I missed them (the dresses, not the Olsens. I mean, they were great in Full House, but I never got into their newer stuff).
A minute later, I was on my back in my bed, watching him slap a condom on. He rolled his hips, sliding into me in one, achingly slow movement, grinning down at me.
He rotated his hips, gathering my hair in his fist and tugging it to extend my neck and make me look at him. The planes of his face, his heartbreakingly stunning cheekbones, were too much for me.
I moaned loudly, with no regard to the fact there was someone else under this roof.
“I missed this.” My breathing was choppy, my voice strained.
“I missed you.”
In that moment, I hated to admit it, but Trinity did not chart in my universe. Neither did Wyatt, Gabriella, Catherine Costello, my parents, nor the entire state of North Carolina.
Only Cruz, and the way he made me feel.
“I think you just found my G-spot.” I caught his face in my hands.
“You mean, here?” He pulled up and thrusted deep inside me again, a husky rumble coming from his chest.
“Y—y-y-es.”
“Just to make it clear, that spot over there?” He withdrew and sank into me once more.
“Ohhhhh.”
“This one, right?”
I was so close to the edge, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Luckily, I didn’t have to know. Cruz did all the work for me.
He entered me fast and hard, his cock gliding into me again and again, creating delicious friction. My climax spiraled up like climbing ivy, encircling and chaining every organ in my body.
It was so intense. So delicious, I couldn’t stop panting. My body begged for release.
“Cruz. Cruz.”
He kissed me roughly, stuffing his tongue down my throat to shut me up.
“Shhh. You’ll wake the kid up and then I’m never going to visit Tennessee again.”
Laughter bloomed inside my chest, a weird mix of happiness and horniness taking over me. A minute later, I was riding the most intense wave of chain-orgasms I’d ever had in my entire life.
Period. Full stop. Exclamation point.
As soon as Cruz felt my release, he flipped me on my stomach, like I was light as a feather, and entered me from behind.
Spreading my thighs for him and coming up to my knees, I felt him pushing me back down, a little more roughly than your trusted MD should.
“Legs closed and ass down, sweetheart. More friction.”
“You have a dirty side. I like it.”
“Good, because there are a lot of filthy things I want to do with you.”
He was right. This was so much hotter than the classic doggy style I’d watched in porn (okay, let’s just get it out of the way—I’d watched a lot of porn prior to having sex with Cruz).
It was exquisite, and rough, and full of passion. I felt like he was setting me on fire. Another orgasm rippled through me in no time.
Cruz came, too.
This time inside me.
When he rolled off of me, he kissed my temple and said, “And no, you’re not pregnant.”
I shuddered. “You know me nauseatingly well.”
He placed his lips on my hairline, mulling it over. “I do, don’t I?”
“Since kindergarten.”
“Nursery,” he corrected me.
“Ugh,” I groaned. “We’re old.”
“Better than staying young forever. The implications are not so great.”
“What really happened today?” I asked into his hard chest, my fingers once again tangled in his chest hair. “Has Bear really broken his skateboard?”
Because I was going to have to break a few piggy banks to buy him a new one. It was his favorite form of transportation.
“Yes.”
There was a brief silence.
“With my encouragement, I suppose.” He propped himself on one elbow, studying me with his confident, quiet gaze that made me feel like a seed blossoming into a flower in the sun.
“You tricked me.”
His chest rumbled with a chuckle that quaked against my ear.
“We needed a good excuse.”
“You could’ve found a cheaper excuse,” I protested.
“It’s just a small chip. He said his grandpa can superglue it back together. If not, I’ll give him my old skateboard that I have lying around in my basement. I’m in no risk of ever using it again. Kids are into vintage stuff like that these days.”
“Leave some room for Rob to try to win his son’s affections.” I giggled, marveling at how good Cruz and Bear were together.
That made Cruz tense.
My nose twitched, and I tried hard not to look embarrassed. What kind of weird thing to say to the man you’d sworn off (to your sister) who was currently inside your bed.
I truly was a piece of work.
“I’ll tread carefully,” Cruz said, finally.
I knew he meant with Rob, but I so very wished he’d take mercy on me, too.
“There he is, the man of the hour, the town’s beloved.” Mrs. Underwood, who was approximately a thousand years old, wobbled her way toward me outside the clinic after I closed shop.
I stilled, inwardly punching my own face for forgetting to check the windows before I got out of work. There was always someone wandering past wanting a favor. A ride, a quick medical diagnosis, some life advice.
“Heard you’re treating Beau Duggar’s pregnant wife under the table ’cause she’s got no insurance. That’s kind of you.” She waved her walking cane in my direction, flashing her blindingly white dentures at me.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
And then, because it was still ingrained in me, because I was so deeply and acutely attached to the role this place designated to me, I forced myself to add, “Can I take you anywhere, Mrs. Underwood? Home, maybe?”
“Oh!” She put her hand to her chest. “Are you sure?”
No.
“Absolutely.”
“How nice of you to offer. I was actually on my way to your mother’s, if you can believe it. We’re working on the next luncheon.”
“It’d be my pleasure.”
It would also be my hell.
Mom lived on the other side of town, which meant a longer drive in the opposite direction of my destination, in the presence of the town’s biggest gossip. But I couldn’t backtrack, could I?
“Lovely. She’s telling me you are going to help her with the seating arrangements at the rehearsal dinner next week. You must be excited to see Wyatt getting married again.”
“Bursting at the seams.”
“You next?”
“Unfortunately for the future Mrs. Costello,” I jested mildly.
“Ah, c’mon. Anyone would love to have you, Cruzy.”
Not the town’s most infamous and gloriously scandalous waitress, so it seemed.