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She was close.
And so was he.
But he needed to get her there first. Would die a happy man if he could just feel her come around him.
“Grant . . . ,” she whispered. It was the last thing his ears registered, because blood rushed to his face as his release took over. Sinking deep into her, shot after shot of pleasure erupted, and the table creaked under his grip.
That’s when he felt it.
Hannah’s release.
Her sheath spasmed and sucked him deeper, taking his own orgasm to another level. The feel of her milking him made his body shudder and sensitized his skin. Every inch of her against his body was like a jolt of electricity.
“I love you,” he said against her ear. He just didn’t know if he said it out loud or only in his lust-wasted mind.
Hannah lay in bed, her head on Grant’s chest while he played with her hair. They were both staring at the TV across the room, the low hum of the show wafting around them.
“I never would have guessed you liked Roseanne,” Grant said.
Hannah shrugged against him. “I like the dad in it.”
She hadn’t meant to say that—it was just the first honest thing that came to mind. She would watch this show when she was young. Back when her father was passed out or busy not noticing her. The dad in the show was funny and had two daughters he clearly cared about. The kind of dad who would hate all boyfriends and fix up an old car for her sixteenth birthday.
Hannah adjusted her position and let out a breath.
“What about your dad?” Grant asked.
“What about him?”
“You haven’t said much about him since the grocery store the other day.”
She was glad Grant couldn’t see her glance away. She didn’t know if it was the afterglow of sex or the way Grant was playing with her hair that made her feel warm and safe. But she did one thing she never did . . . she started to talk about her dad.
“He lives around here, and I see him from time to time. Only when he wants something, though.”
“What does he want?”
“Money, booze, money for booze.” She focused on a freckle on Grant’s chest and slowly drew a circle around it with her fingertip. “Or a ride from jail.”
Grant’s hold on her tightened just enough for Hannah to feel his support.
“Sounds like you’ve a rough time taking care of him.”
“I don’t take care of him,” she said instantly. “I just try to make sure he doesn’t accidentally kill himself or others.”
She shook her head against his chest then blew out a breath. “Tell me more about your dad. Or your mom.”
Grant let out a small laugh that didn’t sound amused at all. “I’ll stick with talking about my dad,” he said. “He was a romantic. Cared a lot about others. Believed that everyone had a soul mate. Just wish he could have found his.”
Hannah glanced up at him. “He didn’t find a soul mate in your mom.”
“No,” Grant said coldly and continued to stare at the TV.
She looked back at his chest, tracing the same freckle. She was getting to know Grant at the same pace as she was letting him get to know her. Parents were a tricky topic for her, and it seemed that Grant could relate. So she’d tread lightly.
“Do you believe in soul mates?” she asked, then instantly hated herself for asking. Because she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. At the same time, she really did want to know.
“Yes,” he said. “I do.”
