Say You Will(35)

“Foolish is one word that comes to mind.” Idiotic was another, he thought as his hard-on nestled against her soft abdomen.

It was the perfect place. He nuzzled the crook of her neck, inhaling her, feeling her squirm under him as though she wasn’t close enough yet.

All her wriggling was going to make him lose it. To distract himself, he reached for a condom, tucked between the mattress and the floor.

“Clever hiding place,” she said, licking the base of his neck and kissing her way to his chin. “You should hurry up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He suited up, tossing the wrapper aside. Using his fingers, he felt her, felt her desire—the silky skin, bare of anything but wetness for him.

“Yes.” She sighed, opening her legs wider. “Touch me.”

He looked between them, saw the small triangle, his finger sliding between her swollen folds, and felt himself grow harder.

“I need you,” she whispered. “Next time I promise I’ll last longer and make it fun, but I need you now.”

He chuckled mirthless, taking himself in hand. “You can’t possibly think this isn’t fun.”

“I—”

He positioned himself and slipped inside, groaning at the snug, warm feel of her around him. He surged inside her once, twice, and then again until she writhed under him.

She bucked up, and they rolled, her left leg dangling from the edge of the bed as she propped herself up with her hands on his chest. “You’re right. This is fun.”

Holding her hips, he looked up at her, her hair flowing over her shoulders and the wild, sexy smile on her face. As worked up as he was, as close to the edge, something in his heart melted. He lifted up to kiss her. “This is better than fun,” he murmured against her lips.

“Isn’t it?” She closed her eyes and rolled her hips. “I want to do it again. I know we haven’t finished this time, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong to looking forward to the next.”

He chuckled, and then he moaned as she swiveled in a particularly delicious way.

Her head fell back, eyes closed. “I’m so close,” she said, almost to herself.

Wanting to push her over the edge, he held firm onto her hips and let her ride him. He loved the ecstasy on her face, the flush that rose up her chest to her cheeks.

“Yes,” she whispered. Then louder, her fingers raking his chest, “Yes.”

He watched her come, like a glorious wild thing. Inflamed with her passion, he rolled them over—

Right off the bed.

Neither one of them cared. She was still coming, her leg hitched behind his knee. He drove himself into her, over and over, wanting to join her.

Needing to join her.

He felt it build, and then it exploded, spreading out through his whole body. He cried out as she did again, stiffening with pleasure.

Then he slumped on top of her, sated.

After a long moment, he started to slide to the side so he wouldn’t crush her.

“Stay.” She held him tight, right where he was. She burrowed her head into his neck. “Thank you for not backing out. I know our situation isn’t ideal, and that’s given you pause, but sometimes I think …”

When she didn’t finish her thought, he prompted her. “What do you think?”

Opening her eyes, she cupped his face. “I just think if we wanted, we could make it work.”

He nodded slowly, feeling his heart beat harder in a tempo that was forever altered—in the rhythm of love. He touched her lips, traced the line of her neck, and cupped her face. “When it gets difficult, promise me you’ll remember this moment. This is true. This is what we are.”

Her expression sobered, but she nodded somberly. “I will, Nick.”

He heard the vow, but he wished he could trust her to keep it. Because when she found out about Summer, all bets were off.





Chapter Sixteen



“Bloody weed,” Em muttered, trying to wrestle the lettuce from the pot. She poked at the base with the spade, trying to dislodge it so she could put it in the bigger pot. It wasn’t cooperating, and she was worried that she’d leave part of the root in the dirt—a big no-no according to Ben.

“Uh, Em?” Ben squatted down next to her, brow furrowed in concern. “That’s chard.”

“It’s bloody stubborn chard.” She grunted as she felt it loosen in the dirt. “Almost.”

“No, Em, you’re supposed to replant the baby lettuce.”

She frowned at it. “Isn’t that what this is?”

“No, this is chard.”

“So you don’t eat it?”

“Well, yes, you do.”

She looked down at it. It was leafy, and you could eat it, but it wasn’t lettuce? How did that make sense?