Still kids.”
“But I loved you so much back then.”
He squeezed her tighter. “It was a tough time, yeah. But you had college and I had a dream. Our parents were against getting together. I was reckless, and as my grandfather liked to say, full of piss and vinegar, and when it all came to a head and you told me it was over, my heart shattered like glass. But you know, I learned a lot and grew up and now I’m back and we want each other as much now as we did then. Hell, even more. I want you more.”
“Your heart shattered?”
“Like a windshield hitting a wall at ninety miles an hour.”
“Aren’t you afraid that I’ll break it again?”
“Absolutely, but you gotta risk failure to reap the rewards.”
“So you keep saying.”
“You think too much,” he said, and burned a kiss along her jaw. “Always have.”
“But I want to do this right. I don’t want to screw it up this time. I want to be—”
“If you say perfect, I’m calling the whole thing off,” he threatened.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Seconds ticked by, but he never loosened his grip on her.
“You’re not going to say it?” he asked.
She shook her head, even though she knew he couldn’t see her.
“Do you want to do this? Here? Now? You’ve got to say it.”
“I want you,” she whispered, “but we don’t have any protection. And that’s one part of perfect I can’t let go of.”
“Honey,” he said, “there’s a condom in my wallet in my back pocket. Sex is one place where you should leave the perfection to me.”
“That sounds kind of braggy.”
“Just stating the facts.” He was touching her in places that instantly set her ablaze. His fingertips were hot as bottled lightning. Lust fired between her legs and she surrendered. Gave up perfection. Let go of control. Let him take the wheel.
When his hands slipped between her thighs, she parted her legs and allowed him in. Their joining was sweet reunion, a fierce homecoming, vibrant sex more wonderful than ever the second time around.
He whispered her name. Once. Twice. A dozen times.
They melted into each other, their vision lost. But they didn’t need to see. They knew each other so well, by touch and taste, smell and sound.
He rocked into her and she made a soft noise of pleasure, clung tightly to his neck. His fingers knotted in her hair, his energy blazing as ferociously as her own.
While this joining might be imperfect. No freshly showered bodies. No soft bed. No candles. No music besides the drumming of rain on the cellar door.
It was indeed the perfect anti–Valentine’s Day.
Chapter Eight
“ W OW.” J OSH BREAT HED into the darkness, Sesty tucked beside him as they lay on their backs on the hard plastic bench seating. “That was . . . Wow.”
“Did I . . . was it . . . okay?” she asked, sounding so nervous that he almost laughed out loud instead of just grinning like a fool in the darkness.
“Okay? Okay? Hell no, it wasn’t okay.”
“I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” he said, and hauled her onto this bare chest. “It was the best sex of my life, bar none.”
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel good?”
“Woman, are you that blind?” he growled.
“Well, it is kind of dark in here.”
Her anxiety about her performance was endearing, but then a panicked thought occurred to him. What if it had been bad for her ? “You had a good time, right?”
“You blew my mind.”
He hugged her tight, kissed the tip of her nose. She felt so warm and real. This. This right here was what had been missing from his life. A dream come true. She lowered her head, rested her cheek against his heart. The world felt full of possibilities.
But Miley had done a number on his heart and he wasn’t sure he could trust his feelings. Maybe sex with Sesty had been so great simply because she was so familiar, part of his past, the comforts of coming home. Could she also be part of his future?
He
“But I loved you so much back then.”
He squeezed her tighter. “It was a tough time, yeah. But you had college and I had a dream. Our parents were against getting together. I was reckless, and as my grandfather liked to say, full of piss and vinegar, and when it all came to a head and you told me it was over, my heart shattered like glass. But you know, I learned a lot and grew up and now I’m back and we want each other as much now as we did then. Hell, even more. I want you more.”
“Your heart shattered?”
“Like a windshield hitting a wall at ninety miles an hour.”
“Aren’t you afraid that I’ll break it again?”
“Absolutely, but you gotta risk failure to reap the rewards.”
“So you keep saying.”
“You think too much,” he said, and burned a kiss along her jaw. “Always have.”
“But I want to do this right. I don’t want to screw it up this time. I want to be—”
“If you say perfect, I’m calling the whole thing off,” he threatened.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Seconds ticked by, but he never loosened his grip on her.
“You’re not going to say it?” he asked.
She shook her head, even though she knew he couldn’t see her.
“Do you want to do this? Here? Now? You’ve got to say it.”
“I want you,” she whispered, “but we don’t have any protection. And that’s one part of perfect I can’t let go of.”
“Honey,” he said, “there’s a condom in my wallet in my back pocket. Sex is one place where you should leave the perfection to me.”
“That sounds kind of braggy.”
“Just stating the facts.” He was touching her in places that instantly set her ablaze. His fingertips were hot as bottled lightning. Lust fired between her legs and she surrendered. Gave up perfection. Let go of control. Let him take the wheel.
When his hands slipped between her thighs, she parted her legs and allowed him in. Their joining was sweet reunion, a fierce homecoming, vibrant sex more wonderful than ever the second time around.
He whispered her name. Once. Twice. A dozen times.
They melted into each other, their vision lost. But they didn’t need to see. They knew each other so well, by touch and taste, smell and sound.
He rocked into her and she made a soft noise of pleasure, clung tightly to his neck. His fingers knotted in her hair, his energy blazing as ferociously as her own.
While this joining might be imperfect. No freshly showered bodies. No soft bed. No candles. No music besides the drumming of rain on the cellar door.
It was indeed the perfect anti–Valentine’s Day.
Chapter Eight
“ W OW.” J OSH BREAT HED into the darkness, Sesty tucked beside him as they lay on their backs on the hard plastic bench seating. “That was . . . Wow.”
“Did I . . . was it . . . okay?” she asked, sounding so nervous that he almost laughed out loud instead of just grinning like a fool in the darkness.
“Okay? Okay? Hell no, it wasn’t okay.”
“I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” he said, and hauled her onto this bare chest. “It was the best sex of my life, bar none.”
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel good?”
“Woman, are you that blind?” he growled.
“Well, it is kind of dark in here.”
Her anxiety about her performance was endearing, but then a panicked thought occurred to him. What if it had been bad for her ? “You had a good time, right?”
“You blew my mind.”
He hugged her tight, kissed the tip of her nose. She felt so warm and real. This. This right here was what had been missing from his life. A dream come true. She lowered her head, rested her cheek against his heart. The world felt full of possibilities.
But Miley had done a number on his heart and he wasn’t sure he could trust his feelings. Maybe sex with Sesty had been so great simply because she was so familiar, part of his past, the comforts of coming home. Could she also be part of his future?
He
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