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Each thrust is like a promise, a reassurance, a vow that we’ll always be here for each other.
I feel her body tighten around mine, telling me she’s close, so damn close.
I keep up the rhythm, pushing her over the edge and then following right after her.
We both let out strangled cries, our bodies convulsing together in the throws of pleasure.
Slowly, we come down from the high. The world sways gently around us, our hearts pounding in sync.
I leave a trail of kisses down her neck and shoulders as she plays with my hair, her fingers gently untangling the sweaty curls.
I hold her closer, feeling her heart beating against my chest. She’s panting lightly onto my skin, a light sheen of sweat making her glow under the faint moonlight.
“We good?” I ask quietly, looking into those beautiful eyes that hold a whole universe within them.
She takes a moment before answering, her gaze roving over my face as if memorizing every inch. “Yeah, Bama. We’re good. We’re always good, even if we’re fighting.”
She closes in the distance and presses a passionate kiss to my lips.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jordyn
“Next!” I call out, trying to keep my voice steady despite the absolute craziness going on in Tart right now.
The smell of sugar and freshly baked goods mixes with the scent of sweat.
My hands are sticky from icing I’ve wiped away hastily on my apron.
“Yeah, I’ll take two dozen of those red, white, and blue cupcakes,” says a woman in a patriotic T-shirt, her kids bouncing around her legs like ping-pong balls.
“Coming right up.” I force a smile, punching in the order and grabbing a box from beneath the counter.
The clock ticks closer to closing, but there’s no end in sight.
Memorial Day weekend always brings out the masses in Billings, Montana.
I know damn well everyone is going to be barbecuing, getting their alcohol, sweets, and laying poolside.
“Hey, Jordyn, you got any more of those star-spangled donuts?” someone yells from the back of the line.
“Just a sec!” I shout back, trying not to snap.
My caramel-highlighted hair sticks to the back of my neck, damp with sweat.
I glance at the display case—nearly empty. Damn it. We’re running low on everything and I don’t have any extras in the back.
“Ma’am, can you hurry it up? I have to get my kids from their dad in ten minutes.” another customer grumbles.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m doing my best,” I mutter under my breath, shoving cupcakes into the box and slapping a lid on it.
“That’ll be $24.50,” I say, handing over the box and taking the woman’s cash. Her kids start squabbling, and I suppress an eye roll.
“Thanks,” she says, giving me a sympathetic look before wrangling her herd out the door.
“Next!”
Within the next twenty minutes I get everyone taken care of and out of the bakery. Once it slows down I decide to make myself a latte.
