Page 42 of One More Time

Only moments earlier, we had an entire conversation about how this was just essentially friends with benefits. Yet I could feel something else shimmying to life between us, a deeply intimate feeling I had never experienced with anyone.

We looked down together again as I slid my hips back, watching until I was seated fully inside her. I slid an arm around her waist, cupping her cheek with my other palm as I began to fuck her slow and deep.

Chapter Twenty-Four

McKenna

I felt surrounded, encompassed—by Jack. He rocked into me in slow nudges. My legs hung down with my feet hooked loosely around his thighs. The angle created an intense friction right where we were joined. Every time he filled me, sharp little bursts of pleasure radiated outward through my body. The intense orgasm he’d brought me to with his mouth was rolling into another.

My body felt liquid, melting with need and pleasure twining together. All the while, he fucked me, each thrust a little deeper than the last. The pressure building inside was almost unbearable. I toed the edge of release until everything drew tight and then broke apart, shattering me with its force. I cried out into our kiss. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting on mine as he said, “Let go, sweetheart.”

He held me tight while I spun wild. I felt him following me into the storm when he cried out sharply, and I could feel the warmth of his release filling me. We shuddered together. I tucked my head into the curve of his neck, curling close as he held me. I felt cherished.

For all of my internal tough talk, that I never wanted anything serious, that I couldn’t trust anyone enough to be vulnerable, I felt the hard shell around my heart softening and the cracks spreading.

As we disentangled ourselves, I gave myself a little lecture.

Just put on your clothes and tell him good night. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’s nothing more than amazing sex.

My mouth was ahead of my brain. “Do you want to stay?”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Jack

Six weeks later

“You outdid yourself,” my brother said.

I glanced over from where I stood at the kitchen counter in our new house. I cracked a grin, calling over my shoulder, “You know I like to overachieve.”

Derek’s chuckle carried over to me as I finished pouring my cup of coffee. “Did you want some?” I held up another mug.

“Absolutely. One of the best parts about having terminal cancer is I literally don’t give a fuck what I eat or drink.”

I laughed in response as I filled another mug with coffee. His comment was funny, but it hurt. A moment later, I set his coffee on the table beside the couch where he was seated. He was so thin that worry hit me hard every time I looked at him.

I sat across from him in a chair, kicking my feet up on the giant ottoman between the couch and my chair. I let my eyes arc about the space. When I discovered it was available within a month, I didn’t hesitate to make an offer. Thanks to the sale of the house Derek and I had shared together a few years ago, I'd been able to pay in full without taking out a loan. That was before I started hotshot firefighting.

This house was set on a bluff near downtown Fireweed Harbor. It offered a nice view of the harbor. The backyard was fenced. That had been important because my brother’s dog came with him. Charlotte, his sweet mutt, was currently out in the yard jumping around in the snow. The doggie door was convenient, so I didn’t have to worry about her freezing her butt off if she needed to come in. As if Charlotte read my thoughts, she came bolting through it, stopping to shake snow all over the floor before she trotted to the couch and jumped up beside Derek. She plopped down with a satisfied sigh.

He looked over at me. “She loves it here too.”

“This is a good place for a dog.”

I looked from Charlotte to him, taking a slow breath before I took a gulp of coffee. The home was new, and I liked it. With clean lines, high ceilings, stainless steel appliances, and a combination of tile and light-colored wood flooring, it had an open, airy feel. It was a unique build with a tall, angled roof in the front so all the snow slid off the back. The house was nestled into a hillside to take advantage of the geothermal heat. There were plenty of windows and no stairs. This was key because walking was exhausting for Derek.

He had arrived two weeks ago. I was relieved he was here and disconcerted that I missed McKenna. I still saw her, but we had fallen into a pattern of spending every few nights together when I lived three doors down from her. We had never spoken about it again beyond our initial discussion. We had settled into a silent agreement that it couldn’t be every night because that might mean something. Ever since I’d moved, we didn’t even have those nights, and I missed her. A lot.

Derek wouldn’t care if I wasn’t here every night, but trying to explain this to him felt odd.

“You can still make a good cup of coffee.” He lifted his mug, nodding before taking a healthy swallow. “That said, it’s not as good as what we can get at Spill the Beans.”

I chuckled. “I would agree that their coffee is better.”

Derek had already settled into a routine. When I wasn’t at home, he usually made his way downtown. He’d insisted on bringing his car up here so he could get around on his own. He brushed me off when I expressed any concern about whether it was a good idea for him to be driving, as weak as he was.

“That’s what my handicap tag is for. I get the best parking,” he’d said. “That’s new for me. I’m gonna suck every benefit out of this shitty situation that I can. There are some perks to being this sick.”

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