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“It’s the coffee.”
“No, ma’am.” He slid his hand under the hem of the shirt and trailed his fingers up my thigh. “I think it’s this right here.” He flipped the shirt up, and an empty condom wrapper landed on the floor.
“You came prepared.”
“Wouldn’t be a good cowboy if I wasn’t ready for a good time.”
“Is that what this is?” I bit my lip. Damn, I hadn’t meant it to sound like that.
His hands pulsed against my hips, those long fingers branding my skin. “I don’t know what it is, Emma, but I don’t want it to end.”
“Me, either. And that’s good enough for me.”
He bent me over the counter and thrust inside me without any preparation, like he knew I didn’t need it. I’d been ready for him as soon as I’d heard the shower click off. It was why I wore only his shirt.
“Fuck, Emma. Do you know how good you feel?” He bucked inside of me.
I shook my head and braced my legs. “How good?”
“I almost jacked off in the shower, I couldn’t wait to get inside you again.” He leaned over my back and snaked an arm around me. He undid a button and slipped his hand inside to fondle my breasts. “So fucking good.”
I didn’t think I could come so many times. He’d proven that I didn’t need the warm-up time I thought I did when I was with the right partner. And when my body was tired and sluggish to orgasm, he’d been patient, coaxing one out of me. If I needed an hour to come, he’d be with me every minute. We were hot together, erotic, but also comfortable. I didn’t think I’d find that again.
He would be leaving. I cried out, not as much from the physical sensation of being filled with him, nor the way his talented fingers found my sensitive clit. From pure frustration. Why did he have to be the perfect guy? Why didn’t I realize it before he had to go?
Heat coiled in my center, ready to explode. He stroked me to a peak, and I funneled all of my lust and ache into crying out his name.
He went rigid behind me, thrusting with short pumps through his release, and growled, “Fuck, Emma.”
We were both sagging against the counter, panting, for several moments. He was still inside of me when he spread a hand on my hip. “Want to tell me what that was all about?”
I inhaled a long breath. Did I brush it off? Pretend like nothing was wrong after a perfect ending to last night and an amazing start to this morning?
I couldn’t. “You’re leaving.”
“Yes. I am.” He rested his forehead on my shoulder blades. “I wish it could be different, but this has been my plan for my adult life.”
“I know. It’s just… it sucks.”
He eased out of me almost tenderly.
“You need your shirt.” I shrugged out of it just as he produced a robe he’d set on the table behind us like he knew we’d need it. I wrapped it around me. “You really do come prepared.”
He smiled at the joke, but it died quickly. “Do you want to see me again?”
He was asking me on a date. The irony of everything we’d done together, and we’d only had one pretend date. Yet I’d known him for years. “And then what?” I asked. “We go out, and what would happen?”
His smile was sad. “Then you fall madly in love with me, quit the job you’ve had for years, and are damn good at to live out in the boondocks, away from your family and friends.”
My chuckle was empty. “You really sell it, Kiernan.”
“I know.” He kissed my temple. “Maybe this should be it. I’m not too manly to admit that you could break me.”
The loss on his face had to mirror my own. “Same,” I said wistfully. I rubbed a hand on his bare shoulder. He’d already tucked himself into his jeans, and his shirt hung unbuttoned. “Maybe you’d get tired of the way I grind my teeth at night and my shitty coffee.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “There are mouth guards and coffee shops. But you could get upset at muddy boots and crap hours.”
“At least the body fluids you get on you aren’t human.”
