Page 38 of When We Burn

“Breathe,” he says, and I do, making him smile. “Jesus, you’re so incredible. So fucking amazing, sweetheart.”

And then this man starts to move.

He groans as he lowers his forehead to mine again, twines his fingers with my fingers, and holds my hands above my head, moving in and out of me in long, intense movements that are pushing me right back up that glorious hill to a climax that I already know will be unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced in my life.

He looks down at where we’re joined, and I follow his gaze and feel my breath catch.

He’s sobig, and he’s glistening with my wetness as he moves in and out, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Holy fuck,” he growls and starts to move faster, and I know he’s almost ready to let go, and I’m right there with him. “Go over, baby.”

“Go with me.”

He groans, and then he pushes hard, buried balls deep, and we’re shuddering together as wave after wave of the tsunami pulls us farther out to sea.

After we’ve had a minute to catch our breath, I’m the first to roll away. “Bathroom?”

Bridger can’t breathe yet, so he points to the door, making me grin, and I snag up my dress before I wobble my way into the en suite and close the door behind me.

Wow.

First, I look at myself in the mirror, and my hair is a tangled mess. My lips are swollen, and the skin around them is a little pink from his scruff. My eyes are glassy.

I look … sexed.

I grin at myself and then do my business and clean upthe best that I can before I wrap my dress around me and button it up. I can’t walk home naked.

When I walk out of the bathroom, Bridger’s returning from the hallway, where I assume he was using the other bathroom, and his eyes narrow when he sees that I’m dressed.

“You have a tub big enough to swim in. Anyway, this was fun.” I smile and retrieve my bra, but leave the panties because he said he wants to keep them. “Thanks for dinner.”

He’s standing there, impressively naked, and crosses his arms over his chest, frowning at me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I frown back. “Home?”

“Why?”

Now I cross my own arms overmychest, mirroring him. “Because I live there? And I have a cat.”

He abruptly turns away, steps into a pair of gray sweatpants, and then turns back to me. “Can I have your keys?”

“Why?”

“Because I asked for them.”

I blink at him. “It’s a keypad. The code is one-one-four-six.”

He nods, and then he’s gone. The front door opens and closes, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing, so I walk out to the living room and watch through the window as he slips into my house. Five minutes later, he walks out of my house with my cat in one arm and her bed in another.

I open the door for him, and he passes me Pickles, drops the bed on the floor, then kisses me hard and backs away.

“I’ll be right back.”

I cover my lips with my fingers as he takes off again, still barefoot and only in those sweats, and disappears inside my house, but just a few minutes later, he comes back out again. He locks my door behind him, and then he crosses the street and walks into his own house with a litter pan and her food dish, full of food.

“There. She’s here. If you need to go home because of your cat, I just solved that problem. Birdie’s gone until Sunday afternoon, and I’m not wasting a minute of this weekend without you.”

Well then.

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