Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
They fell into bed together, but Danny got up a moment later with a groan and went to take care of the protection. He returned in a short few seconds—to fall facedown on the bed next to her.
“Dead,” he huffed out. “You killed me dead, River.”
She patted his back lightly, the angle awkward since she was lying on her back. “Mutual.” No point in attempting to hide it when her thighs were still quivering.
They lay there for several minutes, just trying to learn to breathe again.
When Danny finally pushed himself up onto his elbows, he shoved his hair out of his eyes and said, “I thought I knew sex, but I feel like a debauched virgin.”
Catie scanned his expression to see if he was flexing a bit of the famous Daniel Esera charm. He never did with her—she knew him too well—but this was a strange situation. But no, he looked normal, not as he did when he was doing his smooth-operator thing. “Well,” she admitted begrudgingly, “I can’t say I was expecting that degree of fireworks.”
“Fireworks, hell.” He scowled. “That was nuclear.” Leaning in, he pressed his nose to hers. “Admit it or I’ll have to bring out the big guns.”
“You dare tickle me, Danny, and I’ll go into your place, mix all your sugar with salt and all your spices with each other.”
“Way to hit below the belt,” he said but flopped over onto his back. “So we’re doing this again.” Not a question, because of course it wasn’t a question.
“Yep.” She stared up at the ceiling. “How long do you think it’ll take to burn out?”
* * *
Danny shrugged, though the word Never was starting to blare like a neon sign in his brain. He couldn’t face it just now—thinking this unexpected thing between them might not burn out and knowing that were two different things, and the knowledge held the power to alter the axis of his universe. “I accidentally read a women’s magazine in a doctor’s office once—”
Catie fake-coughed. “Accidentally.”
“Shut up.” He turned to look at her, and his gaze threatened to get caught on the way one damp tendril of hair stuck to her cheek in a perfect curl. Why had he never noticed how pretty she was? He could just look at her like a goof.
“Anyway,” he said after clearing his throat, “there was this advice-column thing, and a woman had written in to ask for advice because she was torn between two guys. One was a friend who made her feel good when she was with him, and they had heaps in common.
“The other was a new fling who made her ‘orgasm like a fountain’—I remember those exact words, because da-yum—and they had the odd thing in common, but the main connection was the heat between them.”
“Let me guess, the columnist told her to go for the friend.”
“Nah, she did this whole pros and cons list, and one of the cons was that the hotter a flame, the faster it burns out.” Danny really didn’t like the thought of that.
“Oh.” Catie said nothing after that.
Neither did he.
When their bodies began to cool from the sweat, he reached down and pulled up the hand-knitted blanket at the foot of the bed. “Charlie make this?” His brother’s wife had learned to knit from his mother.
“Yeah.” Catie yawned. “Why are you doing that? It’s lunchtime.”
“I need a nap. You wrung me out.”
Another yawn. “Okay, you win. I want to take off my legs first though.”
“Hmm.” His eyes were already closing.
But when he felt the bed depress on her side after she lay back down, he curled himself around her and nuzzled his face into her neck. Her hand came to lie over his forearm. They fell asleep that way while the sun poured in through the gauzy white curtains.
* * *
Catie woke, feeling lazy-limbed and content—and warm. The sun was no longer on her, but there was a burning heater in the bed. She definitely wouldn’t need her electric blanket when Danny was in bed with her.
Not going to last, she reminded herself as she looked toward the window. They were still spooning loosely, but he was now sleeping with this face buried in the curve of her upper spine. She didn’t know why, but she found that cute.
Rolling her eyes at herself, she looked down at the arm around her waist and knew she’d wake him if she tried to move, so she stayed still. It struck her that at some point during her first time taking off or putting on her legs in the presence of a lover, she’d have felt a moment of awkwardness.
She wasn’t awkward about it; it was her life and she was at home in it. But most guys were. Weirdly, even Ward had been that way even though he was also a user of prosthetics, having had his left leg amputated below the knee as a child. His discomfort should’ve been her first clue, but hey, her dickhead radar wasn’t foolproof; at least she’d only made that particular mistake once in all her years on this planet.