Southern Heartbreaker (Charleston Heat 4)

I think Eva and I could work. But again, it’s not my place to change her mind about what she wants or who she is.

I can just be good to her. The way she’s been good to me.

Speaking of being good—I’ve wanted to talk to her a little more about our breakup. Explain myself. Maybe I can do that tomorrow over breakfast.

Goddamn, we get to have breakfast together. I can’t wait.

I collapse on top of her with a groan and kiss her long and slow. We’re sticky and sweaty, but I could care less. I got my girl in my bed and nowhere to be. Nothing to do for the next twelve hours except fuck and sleep and laugh.

It’s like the adult version of Christmas morning.

I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her to me, rolling us onto our sides so I can look at her face. Her eyes are closed. I tuck her hair behind her ear, and she smiles, curling her fingers into the smattering of hair on my chest.

Reaching down with the other hand, I smear my cum across the underside of her breast. Her breath hitches.

“Let’s wash this off you,” I say. “How do you feel about a shower?”

She blinks her eyes open, lazy and sated. My heart swells.

I did that.

Me. The tirelessly responsible parent. Practical, profit-focused business owner. I satisfied this woman so well and so thoroughly she’s boneless.

Still got it, y’all.

“You came all over me just for that, didn’t you? Just for the shower sex that would inevitably ensue?”

I give her ass a playful slap. “Yep. If memory serves we were pretty damn good at shower sex.”

“You sure you’re up for another round so soon?” She arches a brow.

“Told you I make health a priority.” I climb out of bed and reach for her hand. She laughs when I pull her to her feet. Pull her against me, nicking her throat with my teeth. “I’d like to think I’ve got as much—if not more—stamina than I did back in college.”

Eva reaches around to pinch my butt. The head of my dick twitches against her belly.

“Cocky.”

“Nah. Just honest.”

Eva’s smile grows wistful. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s true.”

“So let me be honest about how glad I am you stayed.” I cup her ass cheeks in my hands and press her against my growing half-chub. “’Cause I’m real glad, honey.”

“Please tell me you have a removable shower head.”

I grin, feeling suddenly wolfish. “I do. It’s got several settings, depending on how intense you like your…water pressure.”

“Pressure sounds fun.” Eva’s full on smiling now, eyes lit up. Happy. She grabs one of my hands and twines our fingers together. “I’m glad, too, Ford. That I stayed.”

I give her palm a squeeze. Imploring her—imploring myself—to live in the now. To not think about whether or not we’ll be glad we did what we’re doing in the morning.

It’s just difficult not to skip five steps ahead when it comes to Eva. I’m old enough to know you can’t have Saturday nights like this every weekend.

But how sweet would it be to make this a regular thing?

How sweet would it be if she stayed every night?Chapter Twenty-TwoEvaFord is still asleep when I wake up the next morning.

Judging by the light, strong and bright, coming through the windows, it’s got to be late. For me, anyway. Nine or ten if I had to guess.

I lost the ability to sleep in like this somewhere in my twenties. But when you stay up way past your bedtime having shower sex, and against the wall sex, and delicious 2 a.m. sex, it makes sense you’d sleep later than usual.

I start to stretch but immediately recoil with a small hiss. I’m sore. In places I didn’t even know existed. Tiny muscles in my hips and along the sides of my spine. Ford and I ran a sexual marathon last night, and I am feeling it today.

But if I’m being honest? I could go for more. The sex—it’s so good it’s existential.

For several beats I just look at the man snoozing peacefully beside me. He’s on his stomach, head turned toward me. Arm curled under the pillow. Cheek smushed against it. His enormous bicep—the thick vein that punctures the bulbous muscles there—and his smattering of tattoos make him look every inch the adult entertainment star he proved himself to be last night.

But the smushed cheek, and the way his hair falls carelessly across his forehead, makes him look boyish. Sweet.

Poor guy was absolutely beat yesterday. I’m glad he’s getting some rest. He needs it.

I’m glad I was able to take care of him. The way he’s been taking care of me.

My heart twists at the same moment flutters erupt in my belly.

Yeah. Yeah, I think it’s safe to say I’m falling for this guy. Hard. Fast.

I climb out of bed with a wince. I tiptoe to the bathroom before ducking into Ford’s neatly organized closet. I can’t resist walking my fingers down the rows of gorgeous suit jackets and pressed collared shirts.