One to Leave (One to Hold 5)

“Getting dirty while getting clean. I like that.”

In a flash, I was up against the wall. His legs bent as he lowered me onto his straining cock. So big. “Oh, god!” I gasped as he stretched and filled me, rocking into me hard.

He was thrusting fast, not waiting for me to come. It didn’t matter. The way his shaft rubbed my clit, I was coming anyway. We’d been here, doing this only minutes ago, but we were insatiable. Neither of us could get enough. Strong fingers bit into the sides of my ass as he came with a loud groan. The pain of his grip mixed with the pleasure of the orgasm rocketing through my legs was the most intense feeling. I tightened over his thighs, trying to push myself higher on him.

His mouth made its way behind my ear, sending a charge straight to my core. “Oh, god!” I shrieked, gripping his broad shoulders as I finished, throbbing around him inside me.

The water continued to run over us. I held him against my chest for a moment, feeling the movement of his lips as he kissed me. After several more breaths, I felt myself drifting back to this planet.

“Bonus,” I panted, and his mouth curved against my skin.

He lowered me, melting me again with that sexy smile. “You can’t expect to be naked, wet, and touching me like that and nothing happen.”

That made me giggle, and I snatched up the washcloth to quickly clean up once more and step out. He followed suit, wrapping a towel around his waist and heading for the small dresser near the bed.

I used a fluffy white towel to scrub the damp from my hair, and I scooped up his discarded flannel shirt to wear. It smelled just like him, and I wanted to bury my nose in it. I’d tossed a pair of long, grey thermal leggings in my suitcase, so I pulled them on along with some thick, wool socks.

It wasn’t as cold as it might be for a November evening, but it was still chilly. By the time I joined him in the living room, Stuart had dressed in a dark grey Henley and jeans, and had a fire going in the small fireplace. Two plates were on the coffee table holding the food Winona had sent.

Sitting cross-legged on a cushion, I took the small container of dressing and shook it over the salad on my plate. We also had pork and sweet potatoes. “Winona is such a great cook,” I said, stabbing a forkful of dark greens. “Has she always worked for your uncle?”

Glancing up, I noticed he was smiling as he watched me from the couch. Feeling the heat in my cheeks, I placed my fork on the napkin beside my plate.

“Don’t stop.” Stuart’s voice was warm.

“You have to eat dinner, too.”

He nodded and picked up his knife to slice a bite of pork. “I went for a long time without much of an appetite. I’m still getting used to its return.”

“Why?”

His brow lined as he chewed, and I watched as he decided how to answer me. “Bad choices.”

Thinking about the day he appeared at the gym, I couldn’t help wondering. “Is that why you stopped in at the gym that day?”

Another slice of meat. “Partly.”

Picking up my fork, I stirred the sweet potatoes on my plate. “I would love to have someone cook like this for me.”

That broke his frown. “Don’t you cook?”

“Yes, but it’s not my favorite thing.”

“What’s your favorite thing?” His fork was down, and he leaned back with a tumbler of whiskey.

“Kenny and I met at art school. I’m more of a painter, I guess.”

Interest lit his eyes, and they moved to my hands. “I’d like to see one of your pieces.”

“Maybe I’ll show you one.”

We were quiet again, and the fire hissed and popped behind me. I cut a sweet potato slice in half and popped it in my mouth. Stuart leaned forward again and did the same.

“So you didn’t tell me about Winona.”

Clearing his throat, he nodded. “She came with the ranch. Just like this cabin.”

“Do you always spend Thanksgiving here?”