Page 31 of Haunted Hearts
Lydia reaches around to grab my hand and bring it to her chest. Her breasts are soft and full beneath my fingers, and I desperately need them both in my hands. Still pumping in and out of her, I reach around so that my chest is flush with the curve of her back, so that I’m cradling her tits in my two hands. I roll her nipples between my fingers, and she shudders.
“Will,” she starts, her voice choked. “You feel so fucking good.”
“Perfect,” I whisper in her ear.
And I’m about to make her feel better. Because I want to see Lydia Chandler come.
I want to see her comehard.
Still fondling her tit in my left hand, I move my right hand to her clit and begin the circles that drove her so nuts the other day in the library.
In, out.
In, out.
All the while, circling, circling.
Never breaking rhythm.
A low whine starts in Lydia’s throat. My balls are getting fucking tight now, and I don’t know how much longer I can hang on without blowing my load. But I don’t want to do it inside her. Even with the condom, it feels too intimate. Like something I can take back even less than whatever it is we’re doing now.
But then I feel Lydia shuddering in my arms as she loses control of her hips. Her pussy spasms around my cock, and I slide out of her just in time to come while gripping the smoothskin of her ass. For a moment, the only sound is our heavy breathing, muffled by the crash of the waves on the shore. Then Lydia twists around and kisses me, and against my better judgment, I let her.
Because now, with our naked selves wrapped around each other, she feels closer than before. Like some kind of screen has gone down and she can actually see me—which is fucking scary. But for this moment, I’m choosing not to care.
As I slip the condom off and toss it into the fire, my heart rate’s finally starting to settle. By the time I pull up my boxers and jeans, Lydia’s already got her bra and panties back on, and she’s sitting hugging herself, her skin all prickled with goosebumps.
“Hey,” I say, sitting down and pulling her onto my lap.
She seems tense for a minute, like she’s considering something—leaving, probably. I know I’m good at fucking, but I also know I’m shit at the rest of this stuff. Especially with her. Because no matter how good the sex is, we’re still at odds. I still have to do something she’ll never forgive me for—and I know something she doesn’t.
Ethan called me yesterday to say the board had voted to approve the finalized plans, that they’re opening things up for bids this week. He has no clue that I’ve ever so much as spoken to Lydia Chandler outside of the library, but even so, he made sure to mention that the board is keeping things quiet so as not to “put undue stress on employees.” It doesn’t take a genius to know what that means.
So when Lydia stays, nestling herself on my lap next to the fire, I’m feeling a little unsettled. If she knew the secret I was keeping, she’d be out of here in two seconds—and probably slap me in the face to boot. But I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. I’ll figure out what to do.
Lydia drops her head back against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, blocking out the wind that sweeps in off the sea. I clear my throat. There’s something else I want to say to her, something a little easier. Something that, no matter how wound up it got me tonight thinking about it, I want her to know.
“I’m sorry.”
Lydia cocks her head to look at me, intrigued. “For?”
“For reading that text on your phone.”
She laughs softly. “That wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who dropped it.”
“Yeah, but I could’ve looked away. I saw a glimpse and I read the rest.”
“Mm.”
“Was it the guy from the Farmers Market?”
Lydia looks up at me. She blinks. “How’d you know?”
My arms tighten around her. “You were pretty upset to see him with somebody else—even if you tried to hide it.”
“Oh.” Lydia lets her head drop back on me again. Her hair smells like vanilla, sweet and somehow familiar. “Yeah. He’s my ex. He started texting me again—the kind of stuff you saw. Trying to hook up, saying he wants me back. It’s all bullshit, though. He’s got pictures of himself with that woman on Instagram, plastered all over each other.”
“Wow. Sounds like a gem.”
