Page 13 of 5 Golden Flings

“I came in first. You left it open.”

“I should be shot.”

She gave a little laugh and let her forehead drop onto his chest. “You need to go to wherever you park your boots at night, and get some sleep.”

“I have work tomorrow, but I don’t want you to leave. I want to see you again tomorrow night.”

“All right.” She could give him that; heck, she’dplannedto stay, though he didn’t need to know that. She’d intended to take a short, scenic drive, see some of the country, let her spirit and body rejuvenate. She’d think about him, of course, but not with the intention of making any hard decision about anything. Things were happening between them and she was content to let events unfold at their own pace.

“When do you have to go back?”

“I blocked out two weeks of time. I’ve never done that this close to the holidays.” She turned her head against his chest topeek up at him. “There’ll be a lot of work and turmoil waiting for me.”

“Let other people handle it,” he said roughly. “I’d like the entire two weeks with you.”

“Can you take off for two weeks?”

“No, damn it.”

“Then there’s no point in talking about it. I may cut my vacation short, anyway, depending on what’s going on at home.”

“Don’t leave without telling me.”

She sighed. “I won’t.” Reluctantly she stepped back from him, her body mourning the loss of warmth and touch but stepping back anyway, because they both needed to process what they were feeling and what could or couldn’t happen. She indicated the door and he walked out without kissing her again, though the scorching look he gave her was enough to make her feel too hot all over. She closed the door and he stood outside until she had the bolt turned and the chain in place, then she heard his footsteps as he walked back to where he’d left his truck outside the motel office.

She always carried a small door wedge and she slipped it under the bottom edge of the door as added security, then she stripped and stood under the decently hot shower for a long time, washing away travel grime, fatigue, letting herself finally relax. She felt as if she’d been walking a tight rope and fighting a forest fire at the same time, from the moment Hatch had walked through the door at the bar. Exhilaration was exhausting. What happened tomorrow . . . well, she’d see.

That’s what this trip had been for: Seeing what might happen, what could be, what was possible. Taking a risk.

She fell into bed and slept like a rock, waking only when she heard the housekeepers rolling their big trolleys over the concrete walks. She quickly jumped up and hung the “Do NotDisturb” sign on the outside of her door, then took another quick shower to wake herself up and wash her hair.

After blow-drying her hair she pulled on casual clothes and sneakers, her coat, and took her laptop and notebook with her when she left the room for the day. She had some exploring and life enjoyment to do, things to check out. She ventured close to Las Vegas but decided not to stress herself out with the traffic, instead exploring the communities to the north and west of the city. She had a late lunch, stopped at a store to pick up some snacks and more bottled water, thought about getting some beer for Hatch but decided not to because he needed to be courtingher, rather than the other way around. She’d get beer for him some other day, but not today.

He probably thought tonight was a sure thing and he was right. She could barely wait.

She returned to her motel room to fresh towels in the bathroom and a neatly made bed, and pods of coffee for the in-room coffeemaker which she had no intention of using because only the good Lord knew when that thing had last been cleaned. She had bottled water and that was sufficient.

She called her mom, texted her employees, called Granita. There was an uproar in the background that made conversation difficult but she didn’t ask questions, because with Granita you never knew what the answer might be. All of her duty contacts made, she ate a snack, brushed her teeth, and as the sun set she took another shower. She’d done her flirting the day before, made some decisions, and she wasn’t playing games now. A quick check of her phone showed that he’d turned on her notifications and “Find My Friends” showed his location, on the road moving toward her. If he’d checked her location — and she knew he had — he knew she was at the motel waiting for him.

Her heartbeat settled into a strong, heavy rhythm. He was coming to her, for her, and he was the man she’d always waited for.

She didn’t let herself check his location again, but when headlights shone brightly against the window, even with the curtains drawn she knew he was there. If there was such a thing as skin magnetism, she felt it, and there was no point in acting coy.

She jumped off the bed, unlocked the door, and his forceful entry took her off her feet as he swept her inside, his arms around her as he kicked the door closed. He did stop to turn the deadbolt, but his gaze was almost feral with need and that was the only delay he could tolerate. He took her down to the bed, letting his heavy weight down on her as he held her head between both of his hard hands and kissed her roughly, deeply.

Both of her hands were free and she pulled at his clothing, tugging his heavy thermal knit shirt up so she could slide her palms over the thick muscles in his back, then more frantically pulling at his belt, his zipper. He released her head to join in her quest to get their clothing out of the way,now.Her pajama top came off over her head and was tossed aside, his hot, rough palms covering both her breasts for a moment before he rolled to the side and shucked her out of her pajama bottoms.

He jerked his shirt off, pushed his pants down, and rolled back on top of her. Now it was her turn to grab his head. “Don’t wait,” she said urgently. “Now.” She had spent the day waiting for him, thinking about him, needing him. She was ready.

He didn’t wait. He pulled her legs apart and settled between them as she coiled them around his waist. His erection was rock hard, semen glistening on the tip as he pushed into her. She felt his need, then felt his iron will as he slowed to prevent himself from jamming inside too hard and fast. His care melted her. As soon as he was in to the hilt, the thickness of him dragging onher clitoris and his pubic bone pressing down on her, she began climaxing. The waves rolled through her, lifting her against him, clenching her around him. She knew she was making sounds deep in her throat, knew her legs had wrapped higher around him. She was still climaxing when he began moving in the fast, deep motions of his own climax and triggered her own to linger inside her.

She was limp, breathless, clinging to him as if she could never get enough of him and that was how she felt. This was her man and she would never let him go. He was so heavy on top of her, a wonderful, soul-satisfying weight, his chest heaving as he fought to regain his breath. She slept, or maybe she was just in a deep daze, and was pulled from it when he began thrusting.

“More?” she gasped.

“More.”

This time took longer. He paid attention to her breasts, spent a lot of time kissing her and murmuring things that didn’t make a lot of sense but made her happy anyway. She got to stroke him, explore the strength of his muscled body, reach down to cup his testicles and rub around them. When he finally settled down to business she was all but screaming and she bit his shoulder to stifle her own sounds.

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