Page 31 of Wild Hearts

My breath tickles her ear, the new position putting more pressure on my hold on her neck. Not enough to hurt her—I’d never hurt my girl—but just enough to send another shiver of arousal down her gorgeous body to soak my cock.

Despite the layers of sweatpants between us, Grace is so hot, so wet, I can see the damp spot her cunt’s made. See it spreading with each forceful rock of my hips as I grind my cock over her clit.

“Wes…” She claws at my back, and I relish the pain, continuing to dirty talk my girl over the edge until her cries of pleasure ring in my ears.

Along with something else.

A knock.

A fucking knock to burst our bubble.

Someone persistently bangs on the front door as if they’re an escaped convict searching for asylum.

I ignore it at first, refusing to cut Grace’s orgasm short, but the nuisance won't go away. Cursing under my breath, I cover Grace with the blanket then stomp across the living room to answer the door.

Alex stands on the doorstep, fist raised to knock again.

“What the fuck do you want?” I shut the door behind me as I step onto the porch. There’s no way in hell I’m giving him a chance of seeing my girl so soft and sated. So vulnerable. Especially not after catching him flirting with her that first day she came into Dusty’s.

“Sorry, man. I accidentally lost my key to the garage, and I’m supposed to open it tomorrow. Do you have a spare I can use?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” This isn’t the first time Alex has misplaced something important or fucked up on the job.

This is why I shouldn’t have hired him.

As his friend, I knew what he was like, but I felt bad for the guy and thought I’d give him a shot.

It’s bitten me in the ass more times than I can count.

And enough is enough.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

GRACE

“Hey, how was your weekend?” Susie waits for the Keurig to fill her mug with coffee while I toss my empty creamer bottle in the recycling bin.

“Good. Yours?”

After Wes stepped outside to deal with Alex, I quickly got dressed to go home. I didn’t regret what we did, but my poor head and heart had reached their limits.

An evening of being sick followed by a cozy morning and afternoon with Wes—one that ended with a mind-blowing orgasm—had wiped the last of my reserves, and I needed some alone time to process everything.

“Same. Ran errands and squeezed in some time at the gym,” she says, dumping a packet of sugar into the finished brew.

It’s difficult to avoid small talk when we work together, so we’ve chatted a few times since the Apple Fest incident. She even apologized for what happened, explaining how her original plans fell through then Kayla invited her out.

It hadn’t occurred to her to ask if I was still available until she saw me with Wes at the carnival.

I’d accepted her apology but kept a professional distance—distrust a hard thing to shake when combined with my past friendship trauma.

Besides, Elsie and Avery reminded me that it’s probably smarter to keep our relationship restricted to work, anyway. No need to create an awkward situation at the place I’ll be frequenting eight hours a day.

I have enough of that with Kayla stopping by every so often to visit Brandon.

On the way back to my desk, the door to Casey & Sons opens to reveal Wes striding inside the lobby. My feet automatically redirect towards him like a carrier pigeon heading home to roost.

“Morning, sweetheart.” A somewhat shy grin flashes my way, and I’m taken aback by the sweetness of it.

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