Taming the Storm (The Storm 3)

A part of me—the part that is with her right now, inside her, feeling her all around me—is exhilarated and light in a way that I never have before.

But the other part of me, the part that knows I have to let this go—let her go—well, that part feels very fucking dark indeed.

The Next Morning—Tom’s Suite, Fairmont Hotel, Pittsburgh

I awake with a heavy arm resting over my stomach, hairy long legs tangled up in mine, and that sated feeling a woman can only get from having amazing sex.

Oh my God. I had sex with Tom.

Lots and lots of mind-blowing hot sex and some serious out-of-body orgasms.

So, I guess, bang goes my sex ban…with an actual bang.

Having a total girl moment, I slap my hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle.

Tom and I had sex four times. I’ve never had so much sex in such a short amount of time. Our last sex session was only three hours ago.

And I say session because sex with Tom is not a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am affair. No, siree. He’s the kind of guy who believes in oral and more oral, and sex and more sex, until I think I might die from orgasming too much.

I wonder if you can die from too many orgasms.

If you can, then…what a way to go. I’d definitely want to die from a Tom Carter orgasm.

The things that man can do with his tongue and fingers…magic.

Turning my head, I look at him sleeping beside me.

Hair falling softly across his forehead, long dark lashes fanning his cheekbones, lips slightly apart with his warm breath brushing my own.

He looks so much younger in slumber. Softer. Not the badass I know he is.

The man is a machine in bed. I didn’t know a guy could go so much and so hard and come so many times in one night.

Tom proved to me that it’s possible.

The guys I’ve slept with have all been one-timers and then lights out.

But not Tom. He just goes and goes, like the Energizer Bunny. Except, Tom is no bunny.

He’s pure primal male. The man is a beast. A very hot beast.

I should feel totally exhausted, but I don’t. My body feels worn but in the best kind of way.

I feel alive.

I haven’t felt alive in a really long time. And now, I do…because of him.

Because of him.

Oh God.

Shit! No!

I can’t have these sort of feelings for anyone, especially not Tom. Definitely not Tom.

I can’t feel anything but horny because of him.

What am I thinking? Saying I feel alive because of Tom is not good. It’s so far from good that it crossed the finish line to bad, and it’s heading for fucking insanity.

Feeling anything for him, attaching emotions to the sex we just had, is a slippery slope to a path I don’t want to end up on.

Panic grips me. I feel suffocated. I can’t breathe.

I have to get out of here.

Carefully, I lift his arm and slide out of bed.

I tiptoe around the bed, collecting my dress, panties, and boots on the way.

Heart pounding, I dress quickly in the living room and smooth my just-fucked hair down with my hand.

Turning back, I look through the open doorway and see the Angry Birds T-shirt on the dresser by the bed. I feel a pang in my chest. I can’t believe he bought me such a sweet gift.

Not wanting to leave it behind, I tiptoe back into the bedroom and pick it up. Holding it to my chest, I inhale and smell Tom on it. I can smell him all over me.

It makes me want to stay, yet I want to run away all at the same time.

I stare down at Tom, confusion raging in my head and heart. The feelings in my heart are way too heavy and happening way too quickly.

I need distance. Maybe I’m confused because we slept together after sex. It’s not very fuck buddyish.

Yeah, it’s the sleeping together. That’s the reason. I’m sure of it.

I do feel like crap, leaving before he wakes, but this is Tom. It won’t matter to him whether I’m here or not when he wakes up. He’ll probably be relieved at not having the awkward morning-after moment with me.

Holding the T-shirt, I grab my purse from the coffee table where I left it last night, and I slip out the door quietly.

I make my way to the elevator and press the button. It quickly arrives. I step inside and press the button for my floor, watching as the doors close, ending the night I just had with Tom.

As I exit the elevator, I pray that no one is around. Doing the walk of shame is bad enough without people bearing witness to it. The worst would be if one of the guys caught me. There would be no explaining that away. It would be catastrophic.

I quickly walk to my door and manage to make it inside without seeing another soul. I fall onto my bed with a sigh of relief.

Freshly showered and dressed, I’m seated in the hotel restaurant, having breakfast. Bacon, eggs, pancakes, and toast—I’m having a fatty-food-and-carb fest. I need to bring my energy levels up after last night’s sex marathon.

Cale comes wandering in just as the waitress has finished refilling my coffee cup.

“Mornin’, gorgeous.” He leans over and kisses my forehead before taking the seat across from me.

“Mornin’.” I beam at him.

He gives me a curious look and signals for the waitress to come over.

“God, it was so good to sleep in a proper bed last night.”

I try to direct my thoughts away from beds and Tom.

“Yeah, it was. But I didn’t think you’d be getting much sleep last night.” I give him a sly grin.

Then, I’m hit with a memory of Tom thrusting inside me. My whole body shivers in remembrance.