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“What’s wrong?” he asked huskily.
“Why’d you stop? I told you not to stop.”
“Thought I’d let you set the pace, that way I wouldn’t get it wrong,” he was breathless and struggling to talk but his meaning was clear.
“Oh.”
“Come on, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his other hand creeping around to her butt and squeezing. “Show me what you want.”
She moved, slowly at first, her spine arched, head back as her hips rolled against his. Her internal muscles rhythmically stroked that proud column of hard flesh and her clitoris bounced against his thumb. His muscles were taut beneath her hands, the cords in his neck stood out in stark relief, and his teeth were clenched. Miles was starting to huff, great, gulping breaths sawing in and out of his chest, bringing to mind a thoroughbred stallion halfway through a bracing sprint.
She found the rhythm she liked; fast and hard. She controlled the depth of his thrusts so that every second stroke hit her right where she most needed it until her internal pleasure and pressure were equal to the external, where his thumb still teased and tormented her.
She couldn’t last much longer at this pace, and when his left hand strayed from her bottom and found one of her straining nipples, she careened off the tracks and slammed straight into a massive orgasm.
Her nails dug into his chest, her thrusts lost coordination, and she clenched around his penis, spasming frantically as she milked him to intensify her own pleasure. Charity was vaguely aware of him jerking beneath her, his hands were on her hips, as he tried to control her movements, but she was a living flame…burning out of control.
Untamable, unstoppable, and uncontrollable.
Her movements finally slowed down, her inner muscles relaxed and relinquished their fierce grip on his rigid cock. Where before she had been flame, she was now liquid, and she melted onto his chest with a happy sigh. Her unbound hair blanketed them, and her cheek found a home right beside his frantically thumping heart.
She was only peripherally aware of him removing the condom and setting it aside. He did so without shifting her from his chest, and once he had completed the task, he wrapped his arms around her relaxed body and held her close.
They lay like that for a long while, and Charity was on the verge of dozing off, when a soft rumbling chuckle jerked her out of her somnolence.
“Whaz funny?” she asked, too lazy to bother lifting her head.
“When you came…you cried out and Stormy h-howled,” he explained, his voice wobbling at the recollection. “I was too preoccupied in that moment to pay much attention to it. But I just remembered.”
She lifted her head to stare at Stormy’s crate. The dog had settled down again and was snuggled around her heated bean bag fast asleep.
“We must have frightened her,” she whispered, not wanting to disturb the pup.
“I think she was just confused,” Miles said, one hand idly stroking her hair, while the other played with the fingers of her hand on his chest beside her face.
His index finger traced the band she had on her ring finger. She sensed his curiosity but waited for him to ask.
She didn’t have to wait long. “Why do you wear this?”
“It’s not Blaine’s,” she told him, hooking her own index finger around his and holding it captive. He didn’t seem to mind and left his hand where it was. “I donated everything Blaine ever gave me, wedding ring included, to a shelter for abused women. I tossed in the car for good measure. I did keep most of the money from the estate, in case of emergency, but I haven’t had reason to use it yet.
“I wear this ring because I thought it would keep questions at bay. I knew people would correctly assume I was widowed—divorcees rarely continue wearing their wedding bands—and be reluctant to ask me about what happened to my husband.”
“How much longer do you think you’ll stay here?” The question was unexpected but valid. They both knew she couldn’t, wouldn’t…shouldn’t stay here for much longer. This place had been her escape for much too long, and she needed to find her way back to home and family.
“I think…” she paused, her index finger idly picking and playing with his. “This will probably be your last Garden Route break with Mrs. Cole running your holiday household.”
“I’m going to miss her. She is extremely efficient.”
“I took what he taught me and used it to my advantage,” she explained.
“What do you mean?”
“I had to be the perfect housewife, well organized, everything in its place, everything on a schedule. Any deviation from what he wanted would result in a lesson.” He tensed beneath her, but she wasn’t going to let Blaine ruin this moment and she tugged his index finger to her mouth and dropped a playful kiss on its tip. “Anyway, when the opportunity to work here presented itself, I knew enough about efficient household management to fake it till I made it. But, it’s time to go back to my real life. To pick up the threads that I dropped or lost along the way. I was twenty-four when I married Blaine. I’d just finished my Masters of Technology in Chiropractic and…”
