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Torture. Absolute torture.
His lips went to my neck and his hand moved between us. His thumb swirled and then pressed right where I needed it. My inner muscles spasmed, which made his dick twitch in response.
“Oh god oh god oh god,” I chanted.
That made him smile but he didn’t let up. One hand kept hold of my hip, not letting me move, while the other continued to swirl against my clit.
That was all I needed. Pleasure crashed over me and I dug my nails into his shoulders, needing something to keep me tethered. I was still riding the wave of my orgasm when he flipped me onto my back and pounded into me. I held on tight, wrapping my arms and legs around his back. Half a dozen frantic strokes, then he planted himself deep to the root and groaned against my neck.
He gave me all his weight before he recovered and shifted onto his side. “Dammit, woman,” he said, nuzzling against my throat. “One of these days, we’re going to go slow.”
I made a sound between a laugh and a snort. “Promises, promises.”
He located a dry shirt—he really was prepared for anything, and I found that ridiculously attractive—and we pulled on our clothes. I snuggled into him, wrapping my arms around his stomach. He rested his cheek against my head. His heart pounded a quiet rhythm, strong and steady. For a moment, I could pretend that it would always be this way, that Rebecca and bunkhouses didn’t exist.
Outside, the rain kept falling.
Chapter 26
Nora
Itwasoneofthose gorgeous autumn mornings that made me so grateful to live in Hart’s Ridge. The air was crisp but not quite cold and I could smell the apples ripening in the nearby orchards. It would be a shame to waste such a day stuck in an office, but luckily I didn’t have to. Today I was conducting in-home interviews for those who weren’t well enough to visit the Social Security office.
But first—because I had some time to kill before my first visit at ten—I decided to swing by Michael’s with coffee and bagels. He would definitely be awake by now, since he never slept in past six. I sent him a quick text to let him know he could forgo his Lucky Charms and set out after taking Brandon on his morning walk.
By the time I parked behind Michael’s building, my grin was obnoxiously large. There was a legit spring in my step as I headed for the door. Seriously, I was actually bouncing up the stairs. I couldn’t help it. Everything felt soright. The mellow autumn sunshine, the smell of coffee, the promise of Michael.
And then, while I was rounding the corner, everything flipped from right to wrong because the blue door to the stairwell opened and out stepped Alison.
I froze.
Alison shoved a pair of sunglasses up on her head and turned back to the door. Michael appeared. She touched his shoulder. He leaned closer and they hugged.
This must be an alternate universe and somehow I got pulled here through some portal. That was the only explanation. In no sane world could I be standing on Michael’s street, bringing him bagels, and be faced with the image of my boyfriend embracing his ex-wife at eight o’clock in the morning. It wasn’t possible.
And yet it was happening.
The hug ended and I slowly drew in air that I hadn’t realized I needed.
Alison was turning to go when Michael raised his head and looked right at me. His eyebrows pushed together.
“Nora?” he called.
It occurred to me he hadn’t gotten my text message.
Alison’s head jerked in surprise but she continued down the brick sidewalk, heading straight toward me.
I didn’t move a muscle.
“Good morning!” Alison said brightly. She looked good. Minimal makeup. Blonde hair swept up in a bouncy ponytail. Jeans that showed off her curves.
I didn’t answer, having lost the power of speech. Alison kept moving, like she didn’t really expect me to, anyway. She smiled at me as she passed. I smiled back automatically, but it felt more like a baring of teeth.
Michael jogged down the sidewalk. He got in my space, taking the coffee and leaving me holding the bag of bagels, and lowered his mouth to mine.
My body locked up tight.
He felt it instantly. He pulled back, searching my face, and then his gaze cut to Alison. By this time she was across the street, pulling a pink slip of paper from her windshield. A ticket, her punishment for parking in this zone without proper registration. She waved to us and then slid into the front seat. I wondered how long her car had been there. Did they ticket her twenty minutes ago? An hour? Last night?
