Southern Sinner (North Carolina Highlands 3)
Page 14
Oh, God. This guy is good.
“Deal,” I say.
I let Hank take my hand and lead me to the bathroom.
Chapter Five
Hank
The next morning—or maybe it’s afternoon, who knows—Stevie stirs. She lets out a soft, unguarded sigh, and my chest twists.
She’s on her side, turned away from me. I wrap my body around hers, silently cursing when I find her skin cold to the touch. I put my arm around her middle and pull her to me, determined to warm her up.
Her naked body is soft.
My dick is not.
“Can I?” I murmur in her ear. “If you’re sore—”
“Yes.” Her hand finds my dick underneath the covers. “I mean no. No, I’m not too sore. Please.”
I put on a condom, and we fuck slowly and quietly on our sides. I keep her wrapped in my warmth while I play with her nipples. Then I reach between her legs and play with her clit. She’s soaking wet, and she comes with a breathless moan, pussy clenching around my cock. Milking me to my own orgasm, which rockets through my sleepy limbs like a jolt of caffeine.
Speaking of caffeine.
“Hot or cold?” I say, trailing my lips over the slope of her shoulder. She’s still clinging to me, riding out the last of her orgasm, her fingers curled into my side like she’s holding on for dear life. Same as she did last night.
Not gonna lie. I’m as drawn to her vulnerability as I am to her badass-ness. Maybe because I’ve forgotten what vulnerability looks like. It’s been a while since someone opened up to me this way.
It’s been a while since I opened up myself.
Stevie laughs, her grip loosening. “Hot or cold what?”
“How do you like your coffee?”
Stevie hesitates. “You know I’m only here to fuck an athlete, right?”
I laugh and nick her jaw with my teeth, making her breath catch. “Yeah. And how was that?”
“As good as I’d hoped it would be. But seriously.” She rolls onto her back and turns her head on the pillow to face me. “I should go.”
“My morning breath really that bad?” I brush her mussed hair out of her face.
She looks at me, lips twitching. “You don’t have morning breath. You brushed your teeth. I can taste it.”
“I did.” I kiss her mouth. “Stay for coffee. All the restaurants downstairs are gonna be mobbed anyway. You’ll wait in line forever at that Starbucks you’re thinking about.”
“How do you know I’m thinking about Starbucks?”
“Lucky guess. Stay. Please.”
She’s still looking at me with warmth written all over her features. She’s still hesitating too, and I’m not quite sure what else to say. She wants fun and fun only. How do I prove to her that’s all I want too? Fun, only the extended version that includes coffee and brunch and coming again on the couch in the living room?
“I fell for my brother’s girlfriend,” I blurt, “and I think I may still have feelings for her.”
The words come out of my mouth too easily. Or maybe too . . . painlessly. The reality behind them is excruciating, yet they float between Stevie and me, weightless as a feather.
Her expression softens, and it hits me where the weightlessness comes from: Stevie doesn’t judge me. Doesn’t pity me either.
She just listens.
And yeah, maybe I’m also questioning if I should still feel this way about Emma. If I actually do feel this way. It’s a thought that’s been popping up lately.
“And you came here to get over those feelings.”
“Something like that.”
“So you’ve got it bad for someone else. And I’m determined not to get it bad—”
“Because of divorce and . . . stuff.”
“Something like that.” She grins, trailing her fingertips over my chest. “All right, all right, you’ve proved your point.”
I’m hoping my blunt confession will inspire her to tell me more about this divorce. But she’s quiet, the only sound between us the whisper of her fingers on my skin, and I know better than to push her when I agreed to fun, and fun only.
I imagine talking about divorce and stuff is definitely not fun.
“When do you leave?” I ask, tucking my hand behind my head.
“First thing tomorrow.” She sighs, fingers going still. “Vegas is great for seventy-two hours, max. Then your body just starts to shut down on you.”
“Try me. I’ve been here for three weeks.”
She looks up at me, eyes wide. “How the hell is your liver still functioning?”
“There but for the grace of God go I.” With my other hand, I reach under the covers and cup her breast. Thumb her nipple because I like the way her eyes flash, dark and hot when I do. “Hear me out. We have, what, eighteen hours, maybe less, to make this the most fun Vegas hookup we’ve ever had. Stay with me. Just for today. And for tonight too. You can teach me more blackjack strategies. We’ll get dinner somewhere great. Then I’ll go down on you until your flight leaves. Sound good?”