Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
I welcome him into me in all ways, this time taking the time to memorize the weight of his body on mine, the way his tongue twists with mine in a slow, calculated dance that has me humming in response. But it’s his fingers dipping between my legs, the way he takes control of my orgasm, bringing me to the edge and then slipping on a condom to finish the job inside me that makes me miss him before he’s even left the bed, much less Peachtree Pass.
I let go of my thoughts and the tension that uncoils from my body, releasing the worries I usually carry and embracing the release. He finishes just as I land back in reality. I hold him, needing to feel the erratic movements, the groan, the satisfaction as it rips through him like it did me. I need this to hold me when he’s gone.
He exhales as he falls to his back on the mattress beside me. His hand takes mine with him as he holds it to his chest. “I think we should keep us under wraps at lunch.”
I hadn’t been thinking about lunch or that I was probably on the same page as Baylor when it comes to outing us. But hearing him say it as if I weren’t . . . as if I’m now a lovesick teenager drooling over him changes things, and offense sets in.
Pushing up on my arm, I rest my weight on my hand and stare down at him. “Did you think I was going to waltz onto the ranch and announce we’re sleeping together?”
He rubs my waist like he’s trying to coax me back into his arms. “No, that’s not what I thought. I just wanted us on the same page.”
“That page being a dirty secret we’re keeping?” I turn away, slipping off the bed.
“Come on, don’t take it the wrong way.”
“Is there another way to take it?” I snap.
“Yeah, how it’s meant. It’s too soon—”
“Please don’t.” I throw my hand up between us, hoping to stop him from saying more because if I let him continue, I’ll feel the need to say something I might regret. So it’s best to stop this conversation before it gets us both in trouble.
I grab a previously tossed shirt only to realize it’s cropped as soon as I slip it over my head. With the lower part of my body fully exposed, I should probably be more concerned by how ridiculous I must look. Anger fuels a different energy, so I don’t care one iota about my bare ass as I walk into the bathroom and shut the door.
I'm not sure what to do other than pace the tiny space, but taking two steps in one direction and three in the other isn’t enough to burn off steam.
A soft knock on the door has me standing still. “Don’t hide from me, Lauralee. Let’s talk about this.”
I hate miscommunication, but this doesn’t feel like something that will work itself out through words. His words cut like a knife after what we just did. I move closer to the door. “Baylor, I don’t want to argue—”
“Neither do I. Come back out here. We’ll get some rest and see how things are in the morning.”
I can be mad all I want, but he’s being reasonable. I’m sure he’s right. It’s the late hour, a lack of sleep, but it was also expectations that had no right to grow into something of substance. I open the door to see him dressed in his boxer briefs, a small smile weighing on his cheeks that leans more toward sympathy than charming, but when I look in his eyes, I’m not sure how to read the emotions inside.
Taking me by the upper arms, he holds me with care as if I’m on the verge of breaking. “We’re tired. Messages get mixed in the late hours. It doesn’t have to be like that, though.”
I slide my fingers across my forehead, wondering how I got here with him. It’s not like me to invest in something not real, but I did with him. Embarrassment slips through my veins. With few options to get out of this unscathed, I say, “I haven’t slept much.”
With the minutest nod, he says, “Let’s change that.”
I’m better than the weakness I feel. I lean against him, hoping to hide what’s on my mind and deal with this in the daylight. “Yeah, we should sleep.”
When he walks to the bed, I detour to grab my pajama shorts and pull them on. His eyes are on me as he gets in bed, watching every move I make as if I’ll escape before he can capture me in his arms again.
It’s rational to recognize I might not be thinking clearly right now. It’s also reasonable to realize that sleeping with him wasn’t one of my best ideas, especially if we’re to move on in life pretending it was casual sex.