Page 90 of The Woman in the Hollow
The words, our movements, sent her soaring over, slamming down, crashing, shattering.
But I wasn’t done.
Not yet.
She was still panting, still shaking, when I grabbed a handful of the collar of my shirt, using it to drag her back against my chest.
She melted against me, her head lolling to the side to let my lips land there.
My hand moved under her shirt, squeezing, circling, twisting until she was rocking restlessly again, until she was circling, moaning.
My fingers glided down her belly, slipping between her legs to tease her clit as I let her keep riding me, allowing her to take what she needed, bringing me slowly along with her.
Until we were both tensing, both gasping, both coming hard.
I turned us, leaning back against the island myself as my damn legs felt shaky.
My arm anchored around Hazel, holding her to me as the aftershocks racked her system.
I couldn’t say how long we stayed like that, but by the time we both stood again, my fucking thighs hurt from holding both of us up.
I went off into the bathroom, coming back to find Hazel exactly where I left her, cheeks pink, eyes fixed out the window, but it was clear from their faraway look that she wasn’t seeing the trees she was looking at.
“You okay?”
“Hm?” she asked, shaking her head. “Yeah. Yes. I’m fine. Do you think I have time for a quick shower before the food is ready?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” I said, not loving how she didn’t make eye contact before rushing out of the room.
I tried not to overthink it.
This was new.
If she was having the same kind of feelings I was, it was understandable if she wanted a little privacy to think them through without someone staring at her and asking if she was all right.
It was especially understandable considering she’d been attacked and had just learned about my career.
I didn’t care if it took her a while to be as comfortable as I already felt about things between us.
I was happy to be along for the ride.
I took my time starting the omelets, giving her the time she needed to shower and get her head on right.
When she came back down, she was dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a zip-up that Smush had bought for her.
Whatever uncertainty had been in her before seemed gone as she got plates and groaned at the smell of her food.
We ate while discussing the safest topic I could think of—the plans for our winter wonderland at the garden center.
After I loaded the dishwasher, I told her I was going to hit the treadmill and home gym for a bit.
“You’re a far better person than me,” she said, shaking her head at me. “Do you want me to keep you company so you don’t worry about me up here… snooping through your medicine cabinets?”
“Oh, please. I’m sure you already did that,” I said, hooking an arm around her shoulders and pulling her toward the basement stairs with me. “But I’ll take you up on the offer anyway.”
It was one of the best days of my life.
Followed by one of the worst nights.
