Southern Sinner (North Carolina Highlands 3)

I glance up at his crotch. “Speaking of balls.”

Hank cups his balls in a quick, lewd gesture that’s insanely hot. “I got ’em, honey.”

My pussy clenches. He wants to fuck, that much is obvious, but he’s also looking at me with serious eyes. Like he’s listening to what I say. Soaking it up because it matters.

Because I matter.

“I got smart,” I say. “I hired help. Starting with my assistant, who took a lot off my plate. I forced myself to keep regular hours—nine to five, Monday through Friday—and made a point to plan stuff outside of work. Weekly tennis with my girlfriends. Blocks of reading time. Travel. It’s absolutely a privilege to live and work the way I do. And I don’t think I’ll ever have ‘balance’ mastered—it’s constantly a work in progress. But I can say with absolute certainty I’m fuller and more content than I’ve ever been. Having boundaries and being easier on myself has actually made me a better worker too.”

His eyes—they’re gleaming with admiration now.

Desire. The sexual kind, yes, but another kind too.

“You have a life,” he says. “A real, grown-up life.”

“You digging at my age now?”

He smirks again. “Never. You know I think forty is sexy.”

“Good thing.”

“Speaking of sex.” He holds up a gold foil packet between his first and second fingers. “Do I need to use this?”

As promised, he emailed me his clean bill of health early this morning.

I emailed him mine right after.

I give my head a little shake, and he tosses the condom onto his vanity.

Then he makes for me. I have the presence of mind to move my hot curling iron to the far side of my countertop, unplugging it for good measure.

“I always use condoms,” I say when he spins me around and lifts me onto the vanity, parting my legs and brushing the robe aside.

His eyes flick to meet mine. “No panties?”

“Not tonight, no.”

He steps between my legs and lines himself up at my entrance. I feel pressure. I smell sweat. Salt and earth, and it’s so weirdly hot I want to scream.

“I always use condoms too,” he says, and shoves inside me with a grunt. “But you—I wanna fuck you raw, honey.”

The pinprick in my chest is overwhelmed by the tide of arousal that floods my body.

He does fuck me, raw and hard and quick. No kissing. We lock eyes and go for it. The kind of gritty sex that has me grabbing for the towel ring and Hank biting the corner of his mouth. It feels so good this way. Nothing separating us. We pant, possessed, shit spilling off the vanity as our movements become more crazed. The soap dish. Hair clips. The vial of moisturizer I’d been using, which lands on the marble floor with a crack.

Neither of us stops or says a word.

He reaches between my legs to roll his thumb over my clit. A surge of feeling moves through me, the beginning of the day’s third orgasm. I close my eyes and lean back, overwhelmed.

But Hank curls an arm around my waist and tugs me roughly to him, pistoning his hips so he’s buried to the root after every thrust.

There’s that flutter again. But I’m in too deep to stop now, so I bury my head in Hank’s shoulder and pray like hell Kate was right.

“Just so you know.” Hank grunts. Presses his thumb to my clit. “I haven’t been with anyone since you. Since Vegas.”

I sink my teeth into his shoulder. Don’t go there. Because I haven’t been with anyone either.

But then I come, and I forget why that should scare me.

“Tell me now,” he growls.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me I can’t come inside you, or it’s gonna be too late in two fucking seconds.”

Don’t don’t don’t.

I want him to, but I shouldn’t. Not because I’m worried about getting pregnant. I have an IUD.

I’m worried what it would mean.

How it would make me feel.

I don’t give Hank my answer in time. He suddenly jerks out of me, covering himself with his hand. Teeth gritted, he closes his eyes and comes in his hand, clutching my thigh in the other.

His grip hurts, and I like it.

I like how he’s considerate, thoughtful, even in the throes of what appears to be the kind of orgasm that just rocked me to my core. And then he seals it—seals me—with a gentle kiss to my forehead.

Hank cleans us up. Then he bends down and grabs the moisturizer, examining it before placing it back on the counter. “Looks okay. If you need another, let me know and I’ll get one delivered. You okay to get down? I should grab a shower so we’re not late.”

I shake my head and gingerly lower myself to the ground. “I’m okay.”

But my hands shake as I finish curling my hair.

When Hank gets out of the shower, I can only stare as he towels himself off. He lifts his arms to dry his hair, wet strands falling in his face.