Page 161 of Wait for Him

She's clenching around me in waves and I'm making sounds I should probably be embarrassed about. I laugh, which feels like bad timing, and she leans down with her mouth coming for mine.

I turn my head. She kisses down my neck instead.

Why'd I do that? Dunno. Body says no. Body must know things.

“Hell,” I grumble and start moving my hips, lightly pumping into her. I hold onto her hips as she meets my slow ruts with some of her own, pulsing with each thrust.

“Christ. I’m not going to last long. Please tell me you’re right there with me.”

I flip her over and bury my face in her neck. Her body feels so different now. Curvy in places I don’t remember her being curvy. Longer even.

Since when is she longer? People don't get longer. Taller? She's been gone for months. Months of... stretching her limbs longer?

Sure. Fine. Don't care.

I thrust into her. Grip her leg. Hold down her hip. “Holy fuck, you feel so good. Different, but so fucking good.”

“Right there,” she gasps as her pussy contracts around my cock, throbbing and squeezing me tight. My pace picks up, pumping harder and harder, hitting her in that perfect spot every time, making her cry out my name.

The wrong name. Don't care.

Her arms wrap around my neck and her mouth finds my shoulder. Then she bites down. YES. There she is. Wait. That was too soft. A polite bite?

It's not nearly as hard as she's bitten before, but it works to push me over the edge.

My hips still. My grunt is guttural as my orgasm takes over, white-hot pleasure tearing through both of us as we ride out the moment with tiny little thrusts until there is nothing left. We lie there afterward, Rose underneath me, both of us trying to catch our breath, all the buildup of our relationship finally coming to a crescendo.

I lift my head.

"Jesus, that was... shit, that was amazing, Ro—"

Blonde hair is spread across the pillow. Green eyes stare up at me.

No.

No. Fuck.

Not Rose.

The room stops spinning. Funny how fast it stops when the truth walks in. I screw my eyes shut and roll onto my back, laying my forearm across my face.

Rian fucking Fields takes the move as an invitation. She curls into my side and lays her head on my chest, right over the heart still going like a hammer for somebody else.

"That was everything I imagined it would be."

I stare into the dark behind my arm.

I fucking hate Crown Royal.

Rose

Marcus Jackson set to wed real estate legacy tycoon Rian Fields in a pairing sure to make them the power couple of the year.

He's getting married.

That's the last thing I expected to find with my daily dose of social media this morning. She's gorgeous. Taller, blonder, curvier. Nothing like me, which I guess could be the entire point. The pictures of her on his lap outside her hotel are worse. His hands on her hips, her arms around his neck, his tongue in her mouth. Clearly enjoying himself.

I lost him to a marriage once before, and here we fucking are again.