Page 79 of Wasted On You

The house was in darkness. He frowned when he spied Lafferty’s rental. Why was he still here? Just knowing the man occupied the same space as Ivy riled him up, and Mike Paul slid from the truck. Snow crunched underfoot as he carefully made his way up the steps. He tried the door, but it was locked.

Shit. Did he bang on it? He glanced around, suddenly unsure, but then spied the cast iron dog that sat in the corner of the porch. Millie Sue always kept a spare key hidden under the right paw. Was it still there? He lifted it and smiled when he spied the key. Exactly ten seconds later, he was inside the house.

It took a bit for his eyes to adjust, and when they did, he saw someone sleeping on the sofa. It was too big to be Ivy, and he assumed it was Lafferty. There was an empty bottle of JD on the table next to it, and Mike Paul figured he was sleeping off a bad night.

Carefully, he removed his boots and then headed for the bedroom at the end of the hall, where he paused. Maybe this was a bad idea, creeping around Ivy’s place in the middle of the night. He glanced around, more than a little unsure of himself, but then realized that there was no way he was leaving until he saw her. Today had been strange.

He opened the door and let himself inside her bedroom. She was asleep on her side, her hands curled up underneath her cheek. One of her legs poked out from underneath the covers, that dainty ankle taunting him as he moved closer.

She was beautiful. Her nose. Her dimple. The long lashes that feathered her cheeks as she slept.

Mike Paul couldn’t help himself. He reached down and gently swept a lock of hair off of her forehead. When her eyes opened, he froze. For a moment, she was confused, but then a slow smile spread across her face, and his heart did that weird, jumping thing again. It knocked around inside him, pounding so damn hard he was sure she heard it.

“Hey,” she said softly, sitting up. Her eyes were sleep-heavy, which somehow made her look sexier than ever. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’tnotsee you after last night.” He exhaled and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m going crazy, here, Wilkens. You’ve been avoiding me, and I want to know why. Are you second-guessing what we did? Do you regret it?”

She grabbed his hand. “I’m not,” she replied breathlessly. “Second-guessing anything. I just…I’ve got some stuff to deal with, and I’ll tell you about it, but…” Her voice trailed off, and he moved closer.

“But we’re good?” Her mouth was inches from his.

“Yes,” she whispered. “More than good.”

It was too much for Mike Paul. He dipped his head and claimed her lips. Lightly, at first, but then she opened for him, and he deepened the kiss, that animal part of him roaring to life as he pressed her backward. He sank his hands into Ivy’s hair and held her in place while he ravaged her mouth until, breathless, he pulled away and then licked his way down her neck.

She moaned beneath him, her fingers tugging on his clothes as she began to squirm and pant.

“We can stop,” he said roughly, pulling back so he could see her properly. “I didn’t come here for a booty call.”

“I don’t believe you.” She licked her bottom lip suggestively. “I think this is exactly what you pictured when you walked into my house.”

She wasn’t entirely wrong. “We can talk if that’s what you want. Just tell me.”

“Talking is overrated.” Her voice was so low he barely heard her.

There were no words for what he felt. At least not the right ones, so Mike Paul said nothing. He tossed his coat and the rest of his clothes onto the floor while she ripped off her camisole and panties.

He kissed his woman until she moaned his name and arched her hips against him suggestively. When she rolled over and got onto all fours, he was nearly done for. The sight of her perfect, round ass and her swollen sex all but made him come on the spot. He had to take a step back and get his shit together.

“I didn’t bring anything.” Shit. Fuck. Damn.

“Top draw. Nightstand,” she whispered hoarsely as she gyrated her hips and arched her butt higher.

Mike Paul dove for the nightstand. He found the foil wrapper and then rolled the condom down his dick. He grabbed her hip with one hand and ran his other up along the curve of her back until he took hold of her shoulder.

He sank into her. Let her take every inch that he had and then held her still, smiling when she made those mewing sounds that drove him crazy.

“Don’t make me wait,” she purred.

He leaned forward and bit into her shoulder. A light touch, but one that made her hiss. And moan. And swear.

“Ask nicely,” he growled, close to her ear. “And I’ll make last night seem like second best.”

“Please,” she gasped. “Now.”

It was all he needed. Mike Paul slowly withdrew and then eased inside once more. She was so wet and ready, and every time she moaned, his cock twitched, shooting pleasure up his body until he thrummed with it. He began to thrust, slowly at first, and then as she moved with him, harder and faster. Their bodies, slick with sweat, were in sync in a way he’d never experienced with anyone else.

Mike Paul was done. There would never be another woman for him. Not ever. As they raced toward the finish line, he held on, eyes glued to the small pink mark on her shoulder. A mark he’d put there. Like an animal. She was his, and he was never letting go.

---