And I’m so swollen and wet. My insides tense tight in the sweetest way. There’s no way this is stopping now. “If we’re only spending an hour and a half together per week, something has gone wrong.”
“I agree.” His hot mouth sucks at the side of my neck. Then his teeth nip at the delicate skin, making sensation race up my spine. My whole body from top to toe is focused on him. On what we’re doing to each other.
“Though we’re going to have to fight it out over the AC controls.” And I don’t say it so much as pant it.
He grips my hips tight and grinds me against him. So damn good. “If we don’t stop I’m going to come,” he says.
“I would certainly hope so.”
How he groans as I press down with my hips. The feel of him so hard and right the fuck there. This pressure is exquisite. Every nerve in me awake and alive and ready. And only I get to do this to him. And only his hands are allowed to touch me this way. Money and contracts and the outside world don’t matter.
I swear my sex is throbbing, bloody beating hard behind my ears. The sound so loud it can probably be heard for miles. Wouldn’t surprise me if there were noise complaints. We might both still be dressed, however, raucous outdoor sexual activity of this nature has to be against the law. And meanwhile the ridge of his zipper and hard material of his denim jeans is making it all so much more.
Pressure and pleasure surge through me with a strangled gasp. And he’s pressing up brutally hard against me with his hips. All I can do is wrap my arms around his neck and hold on tight.
It takes a minute for us to catch our breath. Then bugs and frogs and birds are the only noises I can hear.
“So,” I say, making conversation. As you do.
And he’s laughing quietly, his face pressed against the side of my neck. “Your next plan involves the shower, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. That’s good,” he says. “Dry humping, huh?”
“I just thought, why not?”
He holds my face in his hand and smile. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You make me happy. It’s been a while since I felt that way, you know?”
“I know,” I say, and he presses his mouth against mine.
“You and me…our life here…this is going to work, Junebug.”
And I hold him tight and wish so hard.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The river is something special in the morning light. How the sun’s rays shine through the boughs of hemlock, cedar, and fir. Nash is hanging at the table on the back deck with a cup of coffee in hand. Another sits waiting for me beside him. The man takes his caffeine duties seriously. Ordinary life was never this beautiful before. And being here with him is like living in a dream.
“What do you think of llamas?” he asks as I take a seat.
“I don’t think of them very often. Why are you asking?”
“Just thought it might be nice to have a pet.”
“Aren’t they large?” I take a sip of coffee. “And don’t they spit?”
“Surely not without good reason.”
“Maybe a cat or a dog would be better. Give us a chance to prove ourselves as parents with something smaller and more domesticated.”
“You’re probably right.” He picks up an envelope on the table and hands it to me. “This is for you.”
Whatever it is isn’t large enough to be the sixty-something-page cohabitation agreement. I put down my coffee and open it to find a black credit card inside. One with my name printed on the front.
