Page 52 of Just This Once

With a satisfied smile, Whip sat back on his heels. He cupped a hand by his ear. “I’m sorry. What was that? I didn’t catch that last part.”

I propped myself up on my elbows but didn’t move away. My hips pressed against him, and my thighs draped over his. We were both breathless and laughing. “I said, ‘I love your dick.’ Happy?”

Whip’s grin was wide and white. “Very.” He pulled my hips impossibly closer as his hands slipped up my top and settled on my ribs. “I think everything about you is perfect.”

His eyes roamed over me. Tingling flooded my system. How many times had I been told by Craig that I didn’t quite measure up? How many times did I nearly break to be the best student, the best teacher, the besteverythingjust to feel good enough?

After a lifetime of not belonging, Whip had an effortless way of making me feelseen. It was unnerving. Addicting. He was the kind of man I was certain could destroy me, but there was something about him that I couldn’t stay away from.

The rational, overachieving part of my brain couldn’t out-logic the hope that bloomed inside me whenever we locked eyes. I was always the woman who got shit done—the good girl who followed the rules. But for once I wanted to break every rule I’d ever put into place. The only good girl I wanted to be washis.

Emotions rolled through me, but I tried to play it off as casually as I could. “Let’s just keep this between us, okay?”

A wicked grin spread across Whip’s face. “I can do that.”

I planted my hands on his shoulders. “We can’t tell anyone—and I mean,no one.”

Dark desire swirled in his eyes. “I’m good with that. Besides, a public spectacle isn’t really my thing.”

I cocked an eyebrow, hoping to hammer home my point. “So you agree, then? Friends?”

“I’d say friends is a stretch after what I just did to you but... yeah. Something like that.” His words washed over me, sending tingles from my toes to my scalp. Then he growled as he hiked my hip higher and pinned me to the bed of his truck with a kiss.

NINETEEN

WHIP

I didn’t deservea woman like Emily Ward. That was a fact. But when she looked up at me with a mixture of hope and desire in her eyes, I was a fucking goner.

It didn’t matter that she was the sexiest woman I’d ever known. She was rigid and stubborn, but I was the lucky son of a bitch who got to see her unravel. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever witnessed.

After we’d fucked—again—in the back of my truck, I tucked her into my side as we watched the rain clouds start to dissipate. I wasn’t typically a cuddler, and it was unnerving how perfectly she fit into the nook of my arm.

I glanced at the clock in the garage, and Emily noticed where my attention landed. I looked down at her. “It’s getting late.”

The dreamy, half-asleep look on her face snapped to a hard frown as she stiffened. “Oh. Right. I guess I should go.” She barely looked up at me as she shifted from my embrace. “I need to get my car.”

I squeezed her shoulder, willing her to relax. “It’s late. Abel will have closed the brewery already. Your car will be fine in the parking lot until morning.”

She toyed with her lip and met my eyes. “It’s just... if someone sees it, they might tell my dad. He’ll worry and likely send out the cavalry.”

I considered her logic for a moment. In Outtatowner, gossip spread faster than butter on hot toast. Still, I wasn’t ready for our night to be over. Emily was someone who appreciated directness, so I figured it was time to quit fucking around.

I frowned down at her. “I want you to stay.”

“Oh.” The tiny smile at the corner of her mouth gave her away. “Okay, sure.”

With a nod, I carefully stood and hopped from the truck bed. I stretched my back, and despite the padding of the blanket, I could tell my back and knees were going to feel like shit in the morning.

I held out a hand for Emily. She slipped hers in mine and gracefully hopped out of the back of the truck. “What’s wrong, old man? Can’t keep up?”

My face twisted. “Old man? I’m not that old.” Her brows crept up her forehead as she stared at me. I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. I am not old.”

Her chuckle danced over my shoulder as I headed toward the main house. It was the prettiest sound in the world, even if it was making fun of me.

Emily trotted to keep up. “Well, how old are you, anyway?”

“Does it matter?” I looked down at her, fishing my keys out of my pocket.

---