Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” he groaned, pressing impossibly deep, his body jerking hard as he came.
His weight came fully onto me afterward. And instead of feeling suffocated and trapped like I normally would, I felt oddly, I don’t know, safe. So much so that my legs and arms went around him, holding him against me, not wanting to lose the feeling as we both slowly came down from our orgasms, our breathing and heartbeats slowing, the sweat drying.
Eventually, as he pushed up, I had to let him go as he rolled off of me onto the other side of the bed. Then slowly got up, then toward the bathroom.
Did I turn to watch his ass as he walked, the muscles tensing with each step? You bet I did.
In fact, it wasn’t until he was fully out of the room, out of view, that I seemed to come back to my damn senses all at once.
“Shit,” I hissed, shooting up in the bed, then jumping out, completely oblivious to the windows lacking curtains, and the possibility of being seen as I shot across the room, gathering and clumsily dragging on clothes as I went.
By the time Anthony came back out from the bathroom, I had my shirt and panties on, and was holding my jeans against my chest.
He, on the other hand, was still gloriously naked.
Damn him.
“Done in there?” I asked, gesturing toward the bathroom as I grabbed my suitcase.
“Yeah, but—“ he started.
I didn’t have time for buts.
I had to get some space.
Some perspective.
Some time to put some walls back up again.
Because, fine, that happened.
We were both adults. We were both attractive and attracted. Shit happens. It didn’t have to be a whole thing.
But it absolutely could not happen again.
Not because it wasn’t good.
God, it was good.
I could practically still feel him slamming inside of me as I turned on the water in the shower and climbed inside.
But because it was a terrible idea.
We needed to be focusing, concentrating on the job at hand. Both of our careers were riding on it. We couldn’t fuck this up because we were too busy fucking each other to make moves when the opportunity struck.
If we wanted to fuck after my guns were back in my possession and the threat of this crew was neutralized, then we were free to.
Or, you know, not.
Not was fine too.
Smart, even.
I scrubbed viciously at my skin, rubbing it into an angry red shade in an effort to get the scent and feel of him off of me.
Because I wanted the scent of him on me, because I wanted to walk around thinking of his hands and lips on me.
And I couldn’t want shit like that.
Not because there was anything wrong with the desire in its purest form. But because I had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t just desire. That it wasn’t just sex and pleasure.
It was him.
And his stupidly gorgeous face.
His determination to make something of himself.
His good manners.
His easy smile.
His ability to get under my walls, to bring out a softer side of me I almost forgot existed.
All of that was sending up red flags.
So I needed to put a stop to this before things got any further.
Whether he liked it or not.
Whether I liked it or not.
It was for the best.
Case closed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Anthony
I felt the change in the air as soon as I walked back out of the bathroom. Before my gaze even landed on Saylor, already half-dressed and clutching her pants to her chest like a shield.
I’d expected it, I guess.
But it was still a disappointment how quickly she wanted to get away from me, wash the feel of me off of her skin.
With a sigh, I fell into the bed that smelled like her, listening to the shower running, and wondering how she could go from so soft and sweet and clinging to hard, detached, and cold so quickly.
And how to get the other part of her back.
The shower cut off, but it was another half an hour before she finally made her way out. Maybe she thought that if she waited long enough, I might pass out, saving her from actually having to talk to me about what had happened.
I was wide awake on the bed when she came out, gaze focused on the windows, and making a beeline for the couch where she picked up the binoculars, acting like watching the house required her utmost attention. Even though it had been quite literally since we’d moved in a few hours ago.
I figured that Saylor was not the kind of woman who was going to respond well to being pushed—especially emotionally—so I let her have her space for the night, deciding to catch a few hours of sleep, then wake up to take over at the window.
__
I woke up sometime before dawn, the sky still dark, but there were streaks of pink and purple in the distance.