Page 47 of My Hotshot

We kissed like we didn’t know where we ended and the other began. Like if we stopped, everything might fall apart again.

“Lainey,” I whispered, kissing just below her ear.

“Duane,” she breathed as her eyes were heavy and her voice trembled.

Her hands slid up my back, pulling me closer. I held her hips, kept her steady, keptussteady. The way she looked at me—like she still sawmeunderneath everything—I didn’t know how to carry that. So I kissed her again instead.

It was desperate. Emotional. Every grind of our bodies, every press of skin, built toward something that felt way bigger than lust. This wasn’t just need. It waslonging. A decade and a half of it, all pouring out right here on a kitchen island in a quiet house in Mt. Pleasant.

She moaned my name again, and I buried my face in her neck, losing myself in the way she held me, the way she opened up to me like I belonged there.

And I did.

Because being with her felt like coming home.

Lainey gasped my name as I sank into her, slow and deep, like my body had been waiting sixteen years to feel this again. And maybe it had.

She was warm and wet and perfect—like her body had been made for mine.

I paused once I was fully inside her. Just held still andfelt her. Her legs tightened around my waist, her hands gripped my back, and her breath ghosted hot across my neck.

This wasn’t the first time. We’d fumbled our way through high school, learning each other in the back seat of my old truck, under the bleachers, in my bedroom while the house was quiet. But this? Now?

Now weknewwhat we were doing. Now it wasn’t just about urgency—it was about savoring every damn second.

“Move,” she gasped and rocked her hips into mine.

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I pulled out slowly, then pushed back in with purpose. Her nails dug into my shoulders, and her head fell back with a moan that nearly undid me.

“God damn, Lainey,” I groaned and kissed the base of her throat, tasting the salt on her skin. “You feel so damn good.”

Her hands roamed over my back, my chest, and down to my hips as I moved inside her and built a rhythm that made her moan every time our bodies met. She kissed me hard. Her tongue tangled with mine. Desperate and sweet all at once.

Every thrust, every slide of skin on skin, felt like coming home.

She had always been the one. Even when I tried to convince myself otherwise. Even when I ran, I knew it now with painful clarity—Lainey was alwaysit.

“Duane,” she moaned and clung to me tighter. “I’m gonna come.”

“Then come for me, babe,” I whispered into her ear. “I’ve got you.”

“Faster,” she begged.

I slammed into her, over and over. Every thrust brought us closer. Every gasp from her lips drove me wild. Her body arched, and then she shattered. Loud, breathless, and called out my name like a prayer.

That was all it took.

The second she came apart in my arms, my own release crashed through me. I held her tight, buried deep, and panted her name against her lips. I felt her tremble as I pressed kisses to her shoulder, jaw, and mouth.

She melted into me as her arms loosened around my neck, and her forehead rested against mine. We stayed like that—entwined, shaking, and catching our breath.

“So much for watching tow truck drivers tonight,” she laughed weakly into my neck.

I grinned. “This was a hundred times better than watching jackknifed semis,” I murmured. I pressed a slow kiss to her skin. “You good?”

She nodded and pulled back just enough to look at me. Her face was flushed, her hair wild, and she was wearing the biggest, goofiest smile I’d ever seen on her.

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