Page 75 of Karma's Kiss

I can’t suppress a giggle. “Nowwho’s anxious to get to the bedroom? Don’t cheat me out of the full tour. I think you should show me the garage. And the backyard and the…”

His head falls so his mouth aligns with my ear. In a low voice, he groans. “Madison. Don’t test me.”

I smile like a deviant just as we reach his bedroom. “Oh, this is nice,” I joke. “There’s a real headboard—check. A coordinating bedding set—check. Side tables and an antique dresser—check check. And most importantly, no dirty clothes littering the ground.” I squint at him discerningly. “Be honest, did you shove them all in the closet earlier?”

Sawyer’s wearing a sly smile when he spins me around to face him. That look I caught in the bathroom earlier is back. His feelings for me are so plain to see.

“Have I passed your test?” he asks, gathering me closer until we’re hip to hip.

My hands slide up over his chest, and I take note of the hard muscles beneath the soft fabric of his shirt. “Well, I didn’t see the garage yet…”

He laughs at my uncertain tone, and then before I can continue my silly charade, he leans down to kiss me. All jokes aside,thisis why I’m here. Lightning sparks between us, eviscerating the last of my ridiculous demands to see his entire house. Nothing else exists as my hands venture up around his neck, my fingers slipping into his hair. Our kiss deepens, our mouths opening in sync.

Step by step, Sawyer backs us up to his bed, but before we tumble down onto it, he unzips the back of my dress. It’s a slow,teasing movement, and it sends shivers across every one of my limbs. He peels me out of the tight fabric and then steps back, dragging his gaze from the top of my head, down over my chest—which is rising and falling with shallow breaths—along my quivering stomach, my thighs, knees, calves, wiggling toes.

Fire burns in his gaze when we lock eyes again, and I feel completely at his mercy as he takes a predatory step toward me. Then another. We kiss again, deeper, longer. I think he’ll continue undressing me,undress himself, but we linger in the shallows so long that I’m left panting by the time he finally tips me back onto his bed and peels my panties down my legs. I feel vulnerable as I lie nearly naked before him, but I don’t resist. I slip my bra straps off my shoulders and let him do the rest, peeling off the lacy fabric and setting it reverently aside, never taking his eyes off me.

There’s no discussion, no confirmation that we’re both willing. There’s no need. Our longing fills the air we breathe. It’s in the way my fingers dig into his biceps as he climbs up and over me. His mouth claims my neck, my chest, my breasts. I arch up for him and his emotions bleed into me. I feel tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I keep them at bay as Sawyer slips down my body, kissing his way along my torso and stomach, my navel, taking his time, working me to a fever pitch before he sinks between my parted thighs, and held-back tears finally slip down my cheeks as I tilt my head back and inhale a sharp breath.

It’s already too late…I’ve fallen. Please let him fall too.

My eyes ping open with the realization that I haven’t begged in this desperate way since I was a little girl wanting a birthday party to go on forever, a carousel ride to loop endlessly, a conversation with my dad to not be the last. My emotions overwhelm me. I don’t mean to let the tears continue to fall, but they do, and Sawyer notices.

“Madison?” he asks quietly.

I tug him against me, crushing our bodies together so his weight falls heavy over me in the best, most comforting way.

“It’s good. It feelssogood,” I assure him, my throat feeling too tight to get anything else out. I kiss him as proof that these tears aren’t sad, or if they are, it’s a cathartic sadness. A relief that I can still want something this much and feel it so intensely.

I don’t know if it’s appropriate to realize in this moment, but I never shared this passion with Matthew. I didn’t even know how far off I was from the real thing. I don’t say this to Sawyer. I don’t want him worried that I’m thinking of my ex-fiancé in a moment like this. There’s no way he won’t interpret it the wrong way.

So I kiss him.

I let my hands wander over his body, and eventually, the heaviness becomes lighter, the passion easier to bear. We’re just as frenzied as we were in Sawyer’s truck, only now there’s no police officer knocking on the window interrupting us as Sawyer spreads my legs and presses inside me, rocking his hips until I gasp.

The first time ends quickly. The second time we linger. The third time happens in the kitchen when we’re both desperate for a snack.

“Think we could get Queenie to send over some cookies?” Sawyer teases.

“At three AM?!”

“Fine, I’ll just eat you instead.”

“SAWYER!”

CHAPTER 17

In case you were wondering,the staff bathroom at Wildflower Weddings is decked out—floor to ceiling—with decor left over from the travel agency era. No scrap of wall escaped Luellen’s touch, and if possible, in here, she upped her game even more. The wall decals are practically layered one on top of another.Go anywhere! Be anything! Dream big!They feel satirical for someone sitting on a toilet.

Today though, the encouraging phrases are just what I need. I’ve already opened up a pregnancy test and I’ve read the instructions twice, but I’m doing it a third time because I want to be sure I have it right. I’ve never taken a pregnancy test before, and though it seems simple, the results are potentially life-changing, so if I want to read through the instructions forty-five times, I will!

I know I could wait and take the test later, at Queenie’s, but I’m too antsy to wait. I purchased three tests on my way to work and my period was supposed to start this morning but it hasn’t, so here goes nothing.

I have three tests out and ready to go. I pee, count to five (three times), then set the sticks flat on the counter and wash myhands before I start my phone’s timer. The first thirty seconds of waiting is agony. Every second is a year. I prop my hands on the sink and keep my focus anywhere but the tests; it feels like I’ll jinx it if I look at them. Instead, I study the distressed black letters nailed into the sheetrock above the vanity sink. D E S T N Y. The I is either missing or was never there to begin with. Destiny. Maybe Luellen hammered those Hobby Lobby letters in here years ago knowing one day I’d need to read them. Everything in life happens for a reason, those letters assure me.

Thanks, Luellen.

I’ve waited close to a minute when I hear a car pull up out front.Crap.Queenie and Marge can’t be back from lunch already! They said they were headed over to Cactus Cafe. I figured Waylon and Lucinda would keep them occupied for atleastan hour.

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