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He removed his hand from my hair and grabbed my hip, pounding into me, my moans and cries only challenging him to bruise me further. Momentarily, the hand on my hip was gone, followed by a hard, bruising slap on my ass. I cried out in pain, a jolt shooting straight through me and taking my building tension from a low thrum to an avalanche.
“Fuck, Eric!” I screamed. He jerked into me with a grunt and my pussy quivered around him, flooding around his pulsing cock and milking him. I hurt. I was satisfied and somehow, I only wanted more.
His forehead dropped to my shoulder, pressing a small kiss in appreciation. “Fuck me, Cassidy,” he said with a somewhat shaky breath. “You’re my fucking undoing.”
As he pulled out, I turned around to face him, jeans still at my knees as I curled my arms around his shoulders. He pushed back part of my hair, staring at me like it was the last time he might be able to memorize my face. Behind him, the mountains continued to roll as the deep blue of the lake silhouetted him.
I tipped onto my toes as I gently brushed my lips to his. He cupped my face, all libido and harshness of the man who’d just impaled me against a tree trunk gone as he kissed me gently and endearingly. Every time we’d fucked, he’d made up for it in the same way. Tender and sweet. Like having to go through the storm to get to the peace and quiet within. And yet I liked both of these sides of Eric.
“Thank you,” I whispered. For showing me all of you. Even if he’d never admit or was even aware. He might’ve claimed I’d been the transparent one. But as he brushed his nose against mine, pressing a small kiss to the corner of my lips, I hadn’t seen any truer form of Eric. He was complicated and grumpy. But he was also sweet. And temporary.
Chapter 29
Eric
Cassidy was my undoing. I’d meant it when I said it. There was no denying how easily she’d crumbled away my secrets and insecurities that I didn’t even let those who I worked with closest know about me. But she was young… too young for me, but she held a maturity I doubted she’d given herself much credit for. And on top of that the woman drove me fucking crazy in the sack.
It’d been a long time since I’d mentioned Katia. But in its wake, it left something raw and vulnerable.
We were back in the cabin with the fireplace crackling. We’d fucked in the truck on the drive back, on the kitchen bench, and in the shower already. Now that we’d crossed that line, we just couldn’t keep our hands off one another. I was certain it’d get to the point where we just wouldn’t bother wearing clothes anymore.
I sat on the sofa as she lay across, her head propped up on my lap and her legs suspended over the armchair. Her curly blonde hair was damp and loose. This little ray of sunshine randomly appearing in town had begun to shift something inside of me. And I was conscious of what it might’ve been and was conflicted by its realization. It went beyond just being physically attracted to her. Cassidy was so unconventional to my daily routine, and yet I now found myself looking forward to what bizarre notion or activity she’d be sending me on next. In those few short weeks, I’d become accustomed to her and wanted to spend every waking hour with her.
She was reading out loud some romance novel a friend called Sotiny had given her an advanced copy of. Cassidy had told me of her friend’s great love with a playboy called Alex and worked with her friend Clover and her partner, Damon. She preached about their relationships and the progress made in recent months like it was some grand fairy tale retelling. I had to keep up with how everyone was connected but what I purposefully engrained was Clover and Issobelle were her best friends, and yet I hadn’t seen her text or call them once since being here.
“This book’s good,” Cassidy said only one chapter in. She flicked to the cover again where a man’s chest was splayed across the cover. “You could do this you know?”
I furrowed my eyebrows. “Write a romance novel?”
She laughed. “No be a cover model with your body.”
I scoffed. “In your wildest dreams.”
She purred. “Oooh but you already show up there. Then again, I don’t know if I like the idea of sharing you with millions of other women.”
I chuckled. “Keep reading. You were up to the part where she’d spilled the coffee on the new handsome stranger in town.”
She chuckled and flicked back to the page reading out loud. I played with her hair, content and soothed as I brushed it out, strand by strand, mesmerized by her voice and the crackling fireplace in the background. What she was reading was irrelevant, but her voice and drama filled expressions in telling the story had me chuckling and staring at her endearingly.
I felt like an utter jerk telling her on the mountains this couldn’t be any more. I knew it hurt her and I knew she understood. But I did this for both our sakes, and yet I couldn’t help noticing my comfort and ease with her. I couldn’t even imagine what returning to Chicago would feel like without her. And that terrified me.
“Eric?” she asked, looking up at me with those big blue eyes inquisitively.
“What is it, snowflake?” Snowflake, I’d started the nickname on a whim. She’d been so fragile looking and out of place when she’d first arrived to town but her beauty was immeasurable like the snow.
“How do you think it’ll end?”
“You’ve only read ten pages.”
“But these things can be predictable. Come on, we’ll have a bet.”
I rolled my tongue around in my mouth thoughtfully. “I think it’ll end on a happily ever after.”
She chuckled and shook her head as she looked back at the book. “That’s so vague.”
“Does it matter how it ends?”
She seemed affronted. “Of course it matters how it ends. Have you no heart?”
