Page 70 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice strained. “Is this hard enough?”

“Yes,” I gasped, meeting him thrust for thrust. “God, yes, don’t stop.”

I could feel another orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly. Cooper seemed to sense it because he reached between us, his thumb finding my clit and circling it with perfect pressure.

“Come with me,” he commanded, his rhythm becoming erratic. “I want to feel you come around me.”

His words sent me flying over the edge again, my body clenching around him as pleasure exploded through me. Cooper followed seconds later, burying his face in my neck as he spilled inside me with a groan.

We lay there afterward, both breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat. Cooper pulled me against his side. I curled into his warmth, feeling more satisfied and complete than I had in years.

I traced lazy patterns on his chest, marveling at how right this felt. How natural it was to be here with him like this.

“Stay,” he said quietly. I could hear the vulnerability in his voice. “Stay the night.”

I looked up at him, seeing something in his expression that made my heart skip. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, his arms tightening around me. “I don’t want you to leave.”

His heartbeat was finally slowing to normal beneath my ear, the rapid rhythm that had matched my own gradually settling into something steady and reassuring.

His arm tightened around me, pulling me closer against his side. I felt him press a soft kiss to the top of my head. The gesture was so tender, so unconsciously affectionate, that it made my chest tight with something I wasn’t quite ready to name.

“I’m glad you came back to town,” he said quietly, his voice still rough around the edges. “Even if you were kind of forced home under less than happy circumstances.”

“I’m glad too,” I murmured against his chest.

“Yeah?” There was something hesitant in his voice, as if he wasn’t entirely sure he believed me.

I tilted my head up to look at him, taking in the uncertainty in his brown eyes. “Yeah. Not just because this is nice. Really nice. But also because it’s giving me a chance to take a step back from my life. To figure out what I really want.”

His fingers found their way into my hair, combing through the strands with gentle strokes that made me want to purr like a cat. “And what is that? What do you really want?”

The question hung in the air between us. I wasn’t sure either of us was ready to explore the question I’d been asking myself. “I’m not sure yet,” I admitted. “For the longest time, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted. Career success, financial independence, a life in the city where I could be anonymous and ambitious and completely self-reliant. But being back here…” I paused, trying to find the right words. “It’s making me question whether what I thought I wanted is actually what would make me happy.”

Cooper was quiet for a long moment, processing this. His fingers continued their gentle movement through my hair. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his analytical mind.

“What about you?” I asked. “Do you think you’ll ever fall in love again? Really fall in love, not just settle for something comfortable?”

The question seemed to surprise him. His hand stilled in my hair. I felt the subtle tension that ran through his body before he forced himself to relax again.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “For a long time after Lynn left, I thought it was impossible. Thought maybe I just wasn’t built for that kind of life. Or like, some people just end up alone, and I thought I was one of those people.”

We lay in the quiet.

“But lately?” He shook his head. “I can see myself settling down again. Someday. Maybe building something real with someone who actually wants the same things I want.”

“And what do you want?” I asked, echoing his earlier question back to him.

His arm tightened around me almost unconsciously. “I want someone who makes me laugh and challenges me to be better. Someone who doesn’t try to change the fundamental parts of who I am.”

I forced myself to stay quiet, to let him finish painting his picture of an uncertain future.

“I want someone who wants to build a life here, in this town with these people,” he continued. “Someone who understands that small-town living isn’t settling for less—it’s choosing something different. Something quieter, maybe, but not smaller.”

“That sounds like you do know what you want,” I observed gently.

He huffed out a quiet laugh. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just good at outlining the dream and terrible at actually taking the steps to get there.”