Page 49 of My Hotshot

My legs trembled, and my mouth fell open as the climax tore through me like a wave breaking against rocks. I gasped his name—Duane—like it was the only thing keeping me standing. My whole body clenched around him as pleasure rolled through me, hot and all-consuming.

He followed right after and buried himself deep with a groan that reverberated through my spine. His grip on metightened as his movements slowed as he spilled into me. Our bodies were locked together in a haze of heat and satisfaction.

We stayed there without breathing heavily and let the water wash over us as we came down from it together.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me upright against his chest. His mouth pressed lazy kisses to the back of my neck.

“How does it just get better every time?” I wondered out loud, my voice still breathless, and my eyes closed as I leaned into him.

“Because it’s you and me,” Duane murmured against my skin.

I couldn’t argue with that. Whatever this was between us, it had always been more. Even back in high school, when we were too young and dumb to know what to do with it.

We stayed wrapped up in each other for a few more moments. Soft touches replaced the urgency from before. Eventually, Duane reached for the soap and turned me toward him. We took turns washing each other. Slowly, fingers traced over familiar curves and new lines like we had all the time in the world. Every glance, every touch carried that same quiet intimacy.

The water turned cooler before we were finally ready to get out.

Duane shut off the water, and we stepped out together. We dried each other off lazily. The world outside the bathroom felt far away.

But eventually, reality caught up.

“It’s almost five,” I said as I dug through my dresser for something to wear.

“I know, babe. I’m heading out as soon as I find my jeans,” he muttered and glanced around like they’d grown legs.

I laughed. “Um, I think those are still in the kitchen.”

He grinned and raked a hand through his damp hair. “Right.”

Duane and I had spent the entire day wrapped up in each other. Discovering each other again. Relearning. Rediscovering. Loving. We’d only broken for quick snacks and the occasional nap.

But now it was time for him to go.

I wanted him to meet Lottie, but not like this—not without easing her into it. She didn’t even know of Duane. I couldn’t just drop her on him out of thin air. Not yet.

I tugged on a black T-shirt and a pair of soft cotton shorts and padded into the kitchen.

He was there, standing in the early evening light that streamed through the window, pulling on his jeans.

Anddamnif he didn’t look good.

His body was all muscle and tattoos, a couple of scars and sex appeal. After spending the last twenty-four hours exploring every inch of it, I still wasn’t ready to stop looking.

“You’re drooling, babe,” he said with a crooked smirk.

I rolled my eyes and leaned against the kitchen island. “Just enjoying the show.”

Even if I wished he was taking his clothes off instead of putting them on, there was something about watching him dress—like I was seeing behind the curtain. Not just the biker, not just the man I’d known in high school—but Duane.

My Duane.

He moved to the couch and sat to pull on his boots. His cut lay across the armrest. When he shrugged it on, something in my chest tightened. There was just something about a man in a leather vest—thatvest,hisvest—that felt like a line being drawn.

It reminded me this wasn’t just any man.

He was part of something bigger. A life I didn’t quite know but was starting to get a glimpse of.

Still, I didn’t hesitate when I crossed the room and moved straight into his arms.

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