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He traced his tongue along her throat. “I can’t get enough of you.”
Her nails scored his chest where his shirt had come open. “You have all of me.”
He thrust and the table wobbled. Their coffee cups rolled and shattered onto the floor. Neither of them cared enough to stop. They couldn’t.
She was right. Nothing else existed when they were together like this. Just them.
He feared the morning. Feared the days to come. He didn’t want a painful goodbye, but he’d eventually have to leave. His life was in New York, and her life was here. It was too much to think about.
“Where’d you go?” Her brow pressed to his as she rocked over him with unhurried strokes. “Stay here with me, Harrison. Don’t leave me. Not yet.”
He pressed his lips tight to hers, sealing away any promises that might slip from this moment of passion and pleasure. He never wanted to mislead her or hurt her, but he understood he’d never be able to fully avoid both.
CHAPTER 9
“Who are you?” Mariella stared in the mirror at her swollen lips and tousled hair, unable to recognize the woman in the reflection.
This wasn’t her, not a side of her she’d met before. Sure, she and Harrison had always shared off-the-charts chemistry, but they had been horny kids back then. Emotions were always heightened for teens.
Now they were older. She got winded climbing a flight of stairs. Harrison, the grown man, was a completely different animal, and she had no explanation for the unparalleled, wild, totally uninhibited sort of monkey sex they just had.
He unleashed something inside of her she hadn’t known existed. Something untamed and unapologetic. He turned her into a woman who shamelessly took exactly what she wanted, consequences be damned.
And, oh, there would be consequences.
She didn’t want to think about that now, their inevitable end. But, damn it, she should.
Harrison was temporary.
“Where can I find a dustpan and broom?” he called from the storeroom and she flinched, quickly turning on the faucet and washing her hands.
“Hanging on the wall by the back door.”
She needed to pull herself together. Too many emotions boiled under the surface, and if she didn’t keep her cool, she might confess something she’d regret or get all sappy and start to cry. This was casual. Casual sex didn’t involve sappy emotions or confessions of love.
“Keep it surface,” she whispered to her reflection. “Don’t be psycho. It’s just a side squeeze. Nothing serious.”
On her way back to the front, she checked on the croissants, which looked ready to bake. It was getting late and they had to get moving if they didn’t want a run in with her mother or aunts, who usually got to the café just after five each morning.
Harrison finished sweeping up the mess from the broken coffee mugs and dumped the scraps in the trash. When they saw each other, they stilled, and laughed.
“You’re wearing my lipstick.”
“You’re wearing my whisker burn.” He arched a brow. “It smells like coffee and sex in here.”
“Don’t worry. I put the croissants in. That’ll cover up the scent of sin.” She leaned her elbows onto the counter, simply admiring the undone view of him in his open, untucked dress shirt, wrinkled slacks, and that dark golden, five o’clock shadow.
He paused from tidying up when he sensed her staring. “What?”
“Just admiring the view.”
He gave his bicep a little flex for her benefit. “How long until the croissants are done?”
“A few minutes.”
“That soon?”
She pushed off the counter and grabbed a rag to wipe down the surface. “Soon is never a word I’d use to describe baking croissants. I started making them two days ago.”
“Good things take time.” He tossed the wet rag he used to wipe the floor into the sink and pulled her to him. “I’m not sure what was in that coffee you made, but I’m not even remotely tired.”
She traced her tongue across his lower lip. “Hmm, should we go again?”
He backed away, and she frowned.
“Harrison?”
“We, uh, were a little hasty.”
She frowned at his change in tone, then understanding dawned. “We forgot a condom.”
“I’m sorry. I should have—”
“Hey, you weren’t acting alone. We were both there.”
“Are you…”
“On the pill? No.” Why would she be when she hadn’t been with anyone since Bran?
“Shit.”
“I’m sure we’re fine. It’s not the right time.”
“You’re sure?”
Well, she wasn’t going to bust out a calendar and calculator, but the app on her phone was fairly accurate and warned her when she was fertile. “Pretty sure.”
He relaxed. “It won’t happen again.”
Because pregnancy led to long term commitments and that wasn’t what he wanted. The energy shifted with an awkward silence. A little too much reality for both of them at the moment.
“I should check the oven.”
“I’ll finish straightening up.”
She passed the next several minutes carefully moving the croissants to the cooling racks—a nice surprise for her mom. Unlike Harrison, she was getting sleepy but considered making an espresso just to stay awake with him.
