Page 49 of Hold You Close
He shrugs. “So did I. So there you go. Two consenting adults had some sex, and it was a good time. No one died. The end.”
It’s so easy for him to dismiss it that way. I have to remember that next time he comes at me with those hands and that mouth and the big, stupid, magical dick. Because it’s not easy for me, and if I’m not careful, those feelings I’ve worked so hard to keep buried all these years will come rushing to the surface.
“You’re right,” I say. “And now that it’s out of our system, we can move on. See you Saturday. If the kids need anything before then, let me know.”
I congratulate myself on not eyeballing his junk as I walk by him and head down the hall. See? I can be strong. I can get past this. I can totally be the kind of woman who enjoys sex with a guy she hates because dammit, the chemistry is good. I grab my purse off the kitchen table and let myself out the back door.
Once, I clarify to myself as I hurry across Ian’s yard and into mine. I can enjoy it once. Moving forward, it’s out of the question.
I let myself in the back door of my house, and immediately my cat comes looking for attention, meowing and curling around my legs. Bending down, I give him some love before I head upstairs to my bathroom. It’s only five-thirty, and I normally don’t get up for another hour, but something tells me I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.
Instead, I get into my shower and stand beneath the spray, picturing Ian doing the same.
Asshole.
The water drips down, washing away what just happened. I feel dirty, used, and yet I keep hearing myself begging him to go further, deeper, harder. There was no denying how much I wanted him. The feel of his hands on my body was everything I remembered and more.
But I’m a total idiot if I think there won’t be any fallout after what just happened.
God, I could use a phone call with Sabrina right now.
Once I’m all clean, I get dressed and head out to the deck with my coffee. I look at his house, wondering what he’s doing and if he feels half as conflicted as I do.
I curl up on the outdoor couch, pulling the blanket snugly around me, and lean my head back.
Next thing I know, I hear screaming and jolt off the couch.
“Chris! Give it back!” Morgan screams.
Shit. I fell asleep.
“Say you’re sorry!” Christopher yells back at her, holding her backpack over the pool.
“No!”
“I’ll drop it!”
Morgan tries to grab at it.
“Christopher!” I yell his name, but before he can respond, Ian exits the house.
Ruby is on his hip, and he marches right towards his nephew. Ian rips the backpack out of Christopher’s hands, tosses it to Morgan, and then shoves Chris in the pool.
“Ian!” I call out without thinking.
Our eyes meet across the yard and my stomach drops. He looks angry. Really fucking angry. He also doesn’t have a shirt on and looks ridiculously hot.
Great. I need this like a hole in the head.
I lift my hand tentatively, not wanting to be un-neighborly after fucking each other’s brains out.
Does the bastard wave back?
Nope.
He flips me off like the immature jackass he is.
“Real nice, Ian.” I lift my mug instead of the finger I’d like to send his way. “I’m glad to see you have the morning routine down pat! You’re doing great there, huh?”
