Page 57 of Letting Go

“You feel, fuck,so tight, so fucking good,” he groans against my lips.

“Don’t stop,” I gasp. “Please.”

“Not planning to.”

His fingers grip my hip, then slip around to press between my thighs, deliberate, practiced. I splinter around him, coming hard with a sob that feels like grief and hope and need all tangled together. He follows with a rough groan, body shaking againstmine, and we both collapse against the door like it’s holding us up.

Silence, except for our ragged breathing.

I turn around, still pressed to the door, and he leans his forehead to mine.

“That-” I start.

He kisses me again, softer this time. “Yeah.”

We slide down to the floor, tangled, skin still damp, both of us too wrecked to move.

“Next time,” I whisper, eyes closing, “we try the damn bed.”

He laughs, husky and low as I lean in to kiss him again.

Round three, here we come.

Chapter 21

The morning light filters in through the guest room curtains, soft and golden, catching on dust motes and the tangled mess of our discarded clothes. I blink awake slowly, brain sticky from sleep, limbs deliciously sore in that “I definitely had sex last night” way.

There’s a man in my bed. Not just any man, ahotone, that made my ovaries clap and self-control disintegrate. His back is to me at first, muscles rippling even as he stretches, all lean strength and sleepy grace. And tattoos. Because ofcoursethere are tattoos.

I don’t even realize I’m staring until he speaks, voice gravel-scraped and amused. “You’re watching me.”

I blink. “I am absolutely not.”

He rolls over to face me, hair mussed, eyes heavy-lidded and still a little smug. He looks like sex and satisfaction and trouble, and I really hate how much I like all of it.

“Do you regret last night?” he asks.

It’s not casual. He’s not teasing. He’s looking at me like he actually wants to know the answer.

I inhale, slow and steady, and say the only honest thing I can. “The only thing I regret is that it didn’t happen sooner.” I pause. “But… you should know my divorce isn’t final yet.”

Caden’s expression doesn’t shift much. Just his brows, the tiniest flick. “But it’s over, right? The marriage?”

I nod. Then, because I can’tnotsay it, “If he’d murdered someone, I’d be more likely to forgive that than cheating on me with mysister.”

His eyes go wide and he lets out a laugh, one hand dragging down his face. “That’s nice to know for the future.”

“So, we have a future.” I can’t tell if I’m teasing.

He’s definitely not, when he says, “We most definitely have a future.”

He’s still grinning when he asks, “You still ignoring your family?”

I exhale, that guilty little balloon inflating in my chest. “Yeah.”

He’s quiet for a moment, tracing a finger along my bare shoulder. “That pit in your stomach, every time they call or you think about them?”

I nod; throat tight.

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