Page 82 of Love to Hate You

“You got my towel all wet,” she accused with no heat.

“Sorry about that. Let me dry you off with my tongue.”

His other arm came around her and he pulled her against him so that his erection slid between her ass cheeks. He was rock hard.

“Impressive,” she said, turning her head so she could give him a kiss.

“I’ll show you impressive.” He walked her under the hot spray of water and then placed her hands on the wall. Using his foot he spread her legs apart like she was being frisked, but in the sexiest way possible. With one arm still around her waist, he pushed her over so that she was bent at the waist.

“Damn, love, you’re a walking wet dream.”

“A wet dream who needs to be a dry reality so she can load up the car and make it back to Ridgefield on time.”

“Five more minutes won’t hurt,” he said and her heart beat until her head was spinning. What happened to the all-work-no-play tyrant who would have been up at five a.m. to drive back to Ridgefield to give his board hell?

“You said that thirty minutes ago.”

“What can I say. A job worth doing is a job worth doing well.”

His hand slid down her slick stomach to her go-button and began making lazy circles with his thumb. His other hand cupped her right breast, which was still tender from his love mark. And teeth marks.

“Weston,” she sighed. “You’re not playing fair.”

“There is no fair in love and war.”

She knew he hadn’t meant to say that four-letter word in reference to her, but hearing it fall from his lips made her heart do stupid, dangerous things—like want things that weren’t possible.

Brain scrambled with pleasure and confusion, she tried to reverse into his embrace. He stopped her—not that she gave up much of a fight.

“At least let me make you come,” he said with determination in his voice. “With my mouth. I want you to be the first thing I taste in the morning.”

How many mornings was he talking? Six? Sixty? And she didn’t want to ask because she was afraid of the answer. He’d been clear about what he could offer and she’d been clear in her agreement. Then she’d woken up with his arms wrapped around her, like a protective bubble, his lips delivering gentle open-mouthed kisses down her neck, and all that clarity and common sense went out the window.

Which was the only reason she could think of why, when he turned her around and dropped to his knees, instead of letting him part her legs, she straddled him, taking him in one long, luxurious slide home.

He growled and grabbed her hips, moving her up and then back down. He was on the third pump when she stopped. “Condom!”

He froze and went white as a sheet.

“I’m so sorry. I was just so caught up in you and this that I didn’t think.” How many women had tried this same ruse with him to trap him for his money? Had she just expired their already expiration-dated relationship? “I swear it was a mistake. But if it helps I’m clean and have an IUD.”

She went to slide off of him but he held her firmly in place, with him all the way inside her. “Love, I believe you. And I’m clean too. And you feel so fucking good I’m good just going bareback. But only if you are.”

“I am,” she whispered against his lips.

“Good, because I’m starting to like having nothing between us. No walls or barriers. Just open”—he thrust inside her—“honest”—another thrust—“us.”

She knew he was talking about this moment, but her heart wanted it to be about more. Her throat tightened and her eyes began to sting, so, embarrassed, she buried her face in the curve of his shoulder. The last thing she needed was for him to see her crying while they had sex.

But as always he sensed the shift in energy. “You okay?” he whispered into her hair.

“I was just thinking that five more minutes won’t hurt.”

Summer strolled down the stairs with a goofy smile on her face. She couldn’t help it. A sex-a-thon with a sex god could do that to a girl.

She was packed and ready to say her goodbyes and head out. Goodbyes were hard for her, especially now that she was going home alone. Normally, she’d be heartbroken and in near tears, but she couldn’t seem to muster up even a one. Because she wasn’t alone. She was riding back to Ridgefield with Wes.

Last night had been life-changing. And it wasn’t a one-night stand—a romance trope she was more than happy to skip. So it wouldn’t last forever? It was a happily-for-now, and if that meant more time with Wes, she could handle it. She’d have to handle it. Wes was right when he said long-distance was hard. And between their responsibilities she just didn’t see how it would work. Not without someone getting hurt in the end. Because it would eventually end.

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