Page 87 of Stuck with Me

Fire reflects in his eyes as I know we’re sharing the same thought. The memories of the night before flooding our minds.

“If you’re not swollen, then I didn’t do my job,” he says, his voice breathy.

“Trust me, job well done.”

A cocky grin appears on his lips.

I clear my throat. “Okay, I should get up and check myself out in the bathroom. I’m sure I look like a fucking disaster.”

“Kit-Kat, you look rode hard and put up wet,” he growls, pride rumbling in his tone.

My cheeks burn. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” I admit, biting my lower lip.

He lays flat on his back and rolls me on top of him so I’m straddling him once again, exactly like I was last night. Except this time, our clothes are an unfortunate barrier. And even though I’m sore in the most delicious way, an ache deep between my thighs pulses. I’m ready to take him in again. Ready to say screw it if everyone in this cabin knows exactly what we’re doing and hears us doing it.

“It’s the best compliment in the world. You’re stunning. Just like this. Hair messy, lips swollen, mascara under your eyes?—”

“Oh Go—” my words die as I groan into my hands.

He tugs them free and lays my palms flat against his chest. My fingers curl around the hard muscle underneath them. It distracts me from thinking about how I never washed the makeup off my face.

“And traces of me,” he finishes as he unbuttons my pajama shirt. His large, warm hands go to my breasts, cupping, and massaging.

My eyes flutter shut as my head lulls back and all my insecurities of how I look in the morning disappear. His solid length prods against my center and I thrust my hips, rolling myself against him only once. But the need for friction thrums through my entire body.

“Look at me,” he demands.

My eyes fly open at his request and I still above him.

“My mark is here.” He runs his finger over my heart, and I glance down to investigate.

Sure enough, there’s a small, blotchy red bruise fanned across the skin near my heart. I haven’t had a hickey since I was a teenager, but this, this feels like more. It’s a mark of passion. It’s a trace of him, on me.

“It’s evidence I was here. A reminder that for at least one night, you were mine.”

The tender moment seems to explode into tiny particles of heartbreak with those last few words he speaks. Because it’s true. We can only have last night. We made a boundary for a reason. And last night, we jumped right over it and left it in the dust.

In a few short days we will decide the cabin’s fate. And then we’ll separate. He will return to Texas, and I’ll stay here. We’ll say goodbye.

The pathetic small, very small part of the romantic in me wants to argue with him. Tell him we can have our cake and eat it too. But the rational part of me—that, let’s face it, always wins—says this is for the best. Ending things between us before they’re too intense and before this thing becomes a relationship is the most logical decision.

But it doesn’t stop me from saying in a pitiful whisper, “This mark won’t disappear for a few more days.”

“Good,” he grunts. His hands slip down my stomach, fingers dragging across my heated skin until they land on my hips, and he gives them a squeeze.

It feels like his way of insinuating that we’re done here and so, I regretfully clamber off him and button back up my shirt. I adjust my pants and fork my fingers through my hair a few times and hurry to the bedroom door.

“Hey, save me some coffee this morning, will ya?”

With my hand on the knob, I glance over my shoulder. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless and a large bulge in his tight briefs, a wobbly smile on his face. It’s cruel how the image resembles the same one as when I entered this room last night. Only this time, there’s no anticipation of what’s to come. Because I already know.

We are over.

Despite the burn in the back of my throat, I force a smile. “You bet.”

I slip out of the bedroom and scurry across the hall into the bathroom. When I look at my reflection in the mirror, I push away the heartache, because I see what Nico saw. I am stunning. I breathe out a laugh. I am a woman who was rode hard and put up wet. And I am euphoric.

CHAPTER25

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