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I definitely didn’t want a spouse.
I couldn’t think of anything I’d want less, in fact.
I shook off those thoughts, looking back at the man himself. Surprised by the surge of relief that moved through me.
And, damn, did the man look good in the daylight. I got to see all that stupid good-looking-ness.
“So, it’s Rynn, is it?”
Ugh.
My name had no right to sound that good coming out of his mouth.
“Names don’t matter,” I said, lying.
“No?” he asked, head cocked to the side. “Mattered to me when you were moaning my name last night.”
“But you had no need to know my name,” I said. “Things were working fine without that.”
“Were they?” he asked, brows pinched.
“For me, yes,” I said, shrugging. Only partially lying. Not exchanging name and numbers complicated things. It meant that, at first, we had to rely on fate to bring us together. Then, my own desperation to drive out to Golden Glades for a little sex session. Life would be easier if I could just text him to come over for a little stress relief.
“What’s the matter, Rynn?” he asked, taking slow steps toward me. A predator stalking his prey. “Worried you’ll get attached if we know names and numbers?”
“Oh, please,” I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest, pretending a little shiver didn’t move through me as he got closer.
“Sure ran off like you were scared of something last night,” he said, stopping right in front of me, standing close enough to force me to crane my head up to keep eye contact.
“What the hell could I possibly be scared of?” I shot back.
“Catching feelings.”
I let out a mocking laugh at that, rolling my eyes for good measure. “Get over yourself, Cato,” I said.
“Rather have you over me,” he said with a sexy smirk before he was bending down, snagging me behind the knees, and yanking up. A little squeal escaped me as my arms grabbed for him instinctively as he lifted me off my feet, holding me against him, then walking me backward toward the couch.
There was none of the exploration of the night before.
Hands roamed, gripped, slapped.
My lips pressed, his tongue teased, and his teeth nipped.
I was pushed damn near to the edge before his hands even slid up under my skirt, toying with my clit in an unhurried pace, before two fingers slid inside of me. My hips rocked against his touch, needing more, needing the feel of him.
Pulling away, I kicked out of my shoes, reached under my skirt, and pulled down my panties, watching as Cato pulled out his cock, stroking it a few times, then sliding on a condom as he watched me.
I was about to climb over him again when I suddenly thought better of it.
Because as much as I scoffed at the very idea, some part of me was actually worried about catching feelings.
It wasn’t something I’d ever needed to worry about before, but there was a real potential of it now.
Enough that I was worried about forming an attachment through sex, something I was usually able to disconnect emotions from.
So instead of moving over him, I turned, then moved to straddle him, but facing away, suddenly needing that disconnect.
Cato said nothing, likely just excited that I was the experimental sort, and started to rub his cock up my pussy, teasing across my clit until I was whimpering and writhing again, finally getting lost in the moment and out of my own head.
