That grin, good Lord, as if he needed the added sex appeal. “You’ll need to work on not smiling in public, babe. Otherwise, you’ll need to hire some of Macgregor’s guards back. Women will be throwing themselves at you.”
He kissed her in between pulling his shirt over her head. They spent an hour soaking in the tub, talking and touching, discussing what their lives might look like going forward together. Hugh made the transition sound as easy as breathing. She would move her things from Matilda’s and bring them to his place. His home on the Muskogee compound was now their home. His Dublin flat was now their flat. Easy-peasy.
She had wondered aloud that they didn’t have to rush things. They could, in fact, try dating.
“We’ve sort of been dating for over a year,” he countered.
“Is that what you’d call that? Dysfunctional dating, maybe,” she snorted in humor.
“You were always mine. In my head. Youaremine now,” he argued, “and I want you with me always.”
“Fine. We’ll do it your way…Daddy,” she added, grinning when he looked at her sharply. He really hated her calling him that, even in jest.
She screamed when he stood suddenly and grabbed her out of the tub. He threw a fluffy white towel on the bathroom counter and set her down on it, ripping a condom packet open that he had forethought to grab earlier and rolled it down his length.
He’d taken her on the counter. The mirrors everywhere had given them both several erotic angles with which to watch themselves. When she’d thrown her head back as a climax ripped through her body, Hugh palmed the back of her head as he brought his mouth crashing down to hers. He plundered her mouth as wildly as his sex thrust in and out of her body.
After they caught their breath and dressed, they ordered a late dinner and snuggled on the couch. Hugh showed her the initial plans for the distillery in Ireland. They each added notes, and he asked her to add some of her drawings to the margins for the architect and Tim.
Before they went to bed, she texted Matilda goodnight and let her know she was staying at her son’s. Matilda texted back a wink emoji, which made her laugh.
In the early morning hours, snuggly-spooned by Hugh’s body, she woke to him palming her breast and stroking his erection against her ass and lower back. She pushed her body back into the cradle of his thighs, eliciting a moan. He moved his hand from her breast and ran it down the length of her body, grasping her top leg and pulling it over his hips, opening her thighs to his fingers and shaft.
They made love soft and slow, a gradual burn building until they’d both burst into flames. Neither spoke a word, both drifting back to sleep, connected physically and mentally.
It wasn’t until she’d slipped out of bed and tiptoed into the bathroom to dress that she felt the stickiness between her legs. She froze, her mirrored reflection looking like a deer in headlights. No condom. Christ, have mercy.
She took a deep breath, shaking her head and sluffing off her freakout. It was one time. She was going to the doctor soon. She would talk to Hugh about it. He would probably have his own freakout, and then they would come up with a plan. Nothing to do about it now. She grabbed a bar of soap and did a quick washup in the cold bathwater that neither of them had bothered to drain last night. It was freezing, but her lady parts felt better for it.
She went through the process of putting on last night’s dress, braiding her hair, and splashing water on her face. She’d take a shower at Matilda’s after her run. All her things were there. She needed to check in with Angela after that, and then she planned on honoring the “Where I live, you live” edict by moving her stuff into Hugh’s place. Before she left, she found paper and a pen behind the bar and left a note for when the sleeping giant rolled out of bed.
So here she was, practically bouncing on her toes as she entered the hotel’s lobby. Ready for her run, her day, and life with Hugh. Her perma-grin was beginning to hurt her cheeks. Stepping off the elevator, she hit send, sending the message she’d written to her sisters in their group text.
We did it! For hours and in a million different ways. How in the hell did I ever live without Hugh’s D in my life? I just snuck out of his suite—he deserves to sleep in. ?? I’m going to change at Tillys and go for a run. Soremuscles. I’ll call you both after. PS. I hate condoms. PPS. We decided on Forever.
Exiting the hotel, she held on to the brick façade to finish stretching before taking off down the sidewalk. At this time of morning there were quite a few people out running or power walking in groups. It was already hot and sunny. Oklahoma summers were brutal, but she didn’t feel the humidity or the sweat already making a trail down her spine and between her breasts—she felt Hugh, felt his touch, his breath, his mouth.
She stopped at a light only a quarter mile into her run. She was getting closer to the River Park trails, where, hopefully, the tree-lined paths would provide shade and drop the temperature by a few degrees. She was preparing to walk as the signal turned when she caught a glimpse of someone. She would swear it was the same man she’d seen outside the hotel when she was stretching. He quickly looked away when she made eye contact.
A zing of fear wound through her body, but she shook off the unease, knowing she was being paranoid. Delton was dead. For the love of God, how many times would she have to keep reminding herself? Stalkers weren’t a buy-one-get-one half-off deal. Delton was dead, and she refused to allow adeadpsycho to make her see bad guys on every street corner.
One more stoplight later, Rowan jogged through the River Park parking lot and finally entered one of the many shaded trails. Her muscles already felt loose, so she veered off into a less traveled, rockier path. She smiled as Wheatus’Teenage Dirtbadstarted rocking through her earbuds.
She felt her phone buzz in the side pocket of her joggers. Normally, she wouldn’t look at her phone until after her run, but it might be Hugh. Stopping by a decent sized boulder she took her phone out and used the big rock to stretch her calves while she opened her texts.
Why aren’t you in my bed?
I went for a run. I left you a note.
Why aren’t you in my bed?
“Stubborn man,” she said out loud, grinning at his grumpy antics.
I’ll work on that.
Do that. I finished cardio. About to start weights.
You’re up. So you did see my note.
