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Pleasure rips through me and I throw my head back and let go. The world spins, my head filled with her pleasure-charged moans as I call out her name again and again. And then my head falls forward, my eyes take in my cock buried so deep within her, and I take a sucker punch straight to the heart. I know it.
I fear it, but I know it.
I may be arse-deep in Caitlin, but I’m the one who’s well and truly fucked.
I bend over and ease her up against me as I move us forward and slide her hands up the post. She’s all breathless and warm, her soft little noises doing a merry dance over my writhing gut.
Silently, I untie her wrists and scoop her up. She looks up at me, but I can’t meet her gaze. I’m too exposed, too fucking vulnerable. I fucked her like I promised—we had sex, just sex. So why the hell do I feel like I’ve just used the most important person in my life and ruined her in one fell swoop? Worse, why do I want to keep her in my arms and never let her go?
I swore this would never happen again. That I would never want to keep a woman in my life. Ever. I fuck and go.
&n
bsp; I use like I was once used, always with full consent.
But Cait...fuck, Cait.
She rubs her head into my shoulder, snuggles down, and my heart clenches in my chest. I flick away the covers on the bed and lie her down before drawing them back up to her chin.
She blinks up at me and pats the space next to her, her eyes sleepy, her smile sultry and warm and everything I could ever want is looking at me right now.
No.
I look away. Drag in air.
‘Come to bed?’
I force my eyes back to her. And when I do my chest swells fit to burst. She’s all soft and inviting, big eyes and wild hair, and I swallow. Hell, I can hardly leave now. We’ve already made a pact: a holiday fling.
But getting into bed is almost as bad as vanilla sex. Vanilla sex while looking into Cait’s captivating blues. I shake my head to clear the dangerous vision so strong in its possibility, its near reality, and swallow down the swell of emotion it sparks.
Never going to happen.
But to fuck and run would make me a callous chicken shit, and I’m neither.
Or so I thought.
CHAPTER SIX
Four months later
‘SLOW DOWN, CAIT, you’re making me dizzy!’
I spin around and practically dance backwards on the pavement as I grin at Coco, my arms laden with shopping bags. ‘I want to do Hamleys before closing; I love it there this time of year, with their cute little window displays and the excitement of the kids.’
‘Seriously, I’d rather be doing Harrods.’
‘Well, I need to get Jake something and Harrods ain’t going to work.’
‘Jake—your nephew?’
‘Yup, and the twins, Annie and Alice. I can also see if they have anything for Joe’s kids, although they’re older and a royal pain in the whatsit to buy for, and it needs to be something cool. I am the young, funky aunt after all.’
She laughs. ‘Oh, there’s no risk of you losing that crown.’
‘There really is.’ I cringe at her as I continue to bounce backwards. ‘I have no idea what to get them, and my brother is about as helpful as a chocolate fireguard—ah, now there’s an idea!’ I press a finger to my lips, crushing half my shopping bags to my chest. ‘Chocolate, lots of! Can’t go wrong, hey? Still, that’s more of an add-on gift...not the main deal.’
‘You don’t need to do all your Christmas shopping in one day, you know. You have another two weekends before the big day, and you know Hamleys has late night shopping like every other store.’ She leans to the left as a woman almost takes her out with a heavily laden backpack and smooths her blonde hair back into place. ‘And then there’s the internet, that thing where we don’t have to trample through the masses to find the perfect gift.’
