My own orgasm wrung me inside out, and I emptied inside of him, pumping all there was, everything, and my mind turned off, oblivion washing over me as I collapsed across his back, sated, replete, and aware of only his silky skin covered in sweat.
I had to catch my breath, and he was trembling beneath me.
“Sorry,” I rumbled out, lifting, trying to move. “I’m heavy and I’m—”
“No,” he whispered, taking hold of my right hand and dragging it across his chest, his fingers sliding through mine so our fingers were splayed together over his heart. “Stay. Please. I’m not ready yet.”
I wasn’t either, so I let him be my anchor just as I was his, and we breathed together until we could breathe apart.
I got to the kitchen first, and it took me a moment to realize the living room was empty. Checking the guest bedroom that was now Huck’s, I didn’t find him, and both girls’ bedrooms yielded no kid in either. Even the dog was gone. I was about to call Huck when I saw the note on the back of the front door. It said they were all hungry, and that shakes had sounded awesome. And they were taking Winston too.
I growled to myself because the man was already starting to horn in on things that the girls and I did together. I was growling when I went in to complain about it to Emery.
He just leaned out of the shower, cupped my neck, and pulled me into a kiss.
“Don’t kiss me. I’m mad,” I told him before I kissed him back, feeling the now familiar bloom of yearning in my chest, the desperate need for him. Again.
“We should probably go stay at a hotel for, like, a week.” He sighed as he eased back, me leaning with him, only his hand on my chest stopping me from joining him under the water. “I don’t see this dying down… ever.”
“That’s good,” I said, chuckling, palming his semi-erect cock. “I like you all hot for me.”
“It’s not hard,” he admitted, smiling at me. “The whole town’s hot for you. Do you have any idea how jealous I’ve been of everyone?”
“I’m jealous of Huck,” I confessed. “I don’t want you to think about trading me in.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You saw him.”
He snorted out a laugh. “I promise you that you’re the only one I see, the only one I want. You’re perfect for me in every way, utterly made for me.”
It was stupid on my part, but I needed the words. It was necessary. “Same. You, for me.”
“Again. I’m sorry it took me so long. I’ll make it up to you.”
“No. I’m perfect right here, right now. I want to go forward with you, no looking back.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding fast, his voice deserting him.
I kissed him again, and that time I got eased under the water, jeans, t-shirt, and all. We both laughed over socks in the shower.
Emery was out first the second time, and because it had started to rain—the icy, stinging kind—and Huck and the kids had walked, he said he’d drive over to the restaurant, order us some food too and then bring everyone home with him. It was a good plan.
I was washing dishes, cleaning up the popcorn and bowl and the glasses that had been left for the maid, when there was a knock on the door. Bolting to the door, thinking maybe Emery forgot his wallet, I threw it open only to find David Reed there, holding a gun.
“What the hell are you doing, Deputy?”
“Get in the house,” he ordered, and when I took several steps back, he came in, followed quickly by Anne Stratton, Mr. Duvall, and Grant Cahill.
“What’s going on?” I asked sharply.
“You,” Cahill said through gritted teeth at the same time shoving Anne toward me.
I realized she was unsteady and off-balance because her hands were tied, but I caught her easily before lifting her chin, checking her over, having noticed instantly that her normally elegant appearance was marred by a split lip, a bloody nose, and what would soon be a black eye along with some bruising on her throat.
“Are you all right?” I asked her.
“Oh, Brann, I’m so sorry,” she said shakily. “This is all my fault.”
“Yeah, I’m betting not,” I assured her. “Stay behind me,” I ordered, stepping in front of her, shielding her with my body. I faced Duvall then, who had a gun as well, much bigger than the deputy’s Glock 17. He was holding a Beretta M9 on Anne and me, as Cahill began pacing back-and-forth behind the couch.
“Aren’t you going to check the rest of the house?” I asked Cahill.
“No,” Duvall answered me. “We waited until we saw Emery go out.”
Of course they had.
I heard my phone ring in the other room, which was probably the man I loved checking to see what I wanted for dinner since he’d forgotten to ask before he left.