Page 112 of Stormswept Colorado

I cried out when his cock pushed inside me. My hands braced against the counter. He grabbed my hips and held on as he thrust.

It had been weeks since I’d felt him inside me, and I’dsoneeded this.

It didn’t matter where we were. Nothing else mattered but the two of us. This intense connection that had somehow only been increased by the time apart.

This was where I belonged. With Teller kissing me, treasuring me while we gave each other pleasure.

When we both came, Teller hunched over me with his forehead pressed into mine. Then he kissed me again as he caressed my face and we panted to catch our breaths.

“How did I get this lucky?” he whispered against my lips.

“I’m asking myself the same thing.”

Now that Teller had seen my home, I wanted to show him more of my life here. “Would you be up for meeting some of my friends?” I asked.

“Absolutely. I can’t wait.”

We’d cleaned up and were upstairs now, cuddling on my living room couch with books surrounding us. “You might want to brace yourself for Hayleigh, though.”

“Your neighbor? You said she’s enthusiastic, but I’m sure I can handle it. I’ve got Piper for a sister.”

“We’ll see. Hayleigh’s sweet, but she can be a lot.” Ayla spoke with pure affection. “She’s one of a kind.”

Within five minutes of receiving my text, Hayleigh barged in through the front door. “Where are you, Maxi-pad?”

Teller snorted.

“We’re in the kitchen making snacks,” I called out.

Hayleigh swept in wearing a zebra-print caftan and waving a giant bottle of white wine. It was only half full. “Like, goodsnacks? Or healthy crap we have to pretend to like?Oh.” She stopped in her tracks when she spotted Teller. “Hello there. So this is Mr. Bookstore. We finally meet.” Turning to me, her eyebrows pumped, and she mouthed,Hot.

I know, I mouthed back.

Teller’s face flushed. But he smiled and greeted Hayleigh warmly. “Nice to meet you.”

“Sauvignon Blanc?” She held up the wine bottle. “It’s good. I’ve sampled it thoroughly.”

I wondered if Teller would ask for beer or whiskey instead. Except for a few sips of champagne at the wedding, I’d never seen him drinking wine. But he didn’t. “Sure. I’ll have a glass. Why not?”

Within thirty minutes, Ricky and some others had arrived. They exclaimed over the bookstore explosion in my living room and insisted on helping organize. I couldn’t wait to order some new shelves to house my collection, so it wouldreallyfeel like a bookshop in here.

The afternoon went by in a blur of laughter, and our happy hour turned to dinner. Roasting a chicken, sipping white wine, and telling stories about life in LA. We invited the security guys too, and they took turns grabbing plates of food while the other manned the gate. No alcohol, since they were on duty.

Teller hadn’t left my side for more than a few minutes at a time. His fingers trailed down my arm, or he dropped a kiss at my temple, or slid his hand over the back of my neck. Small touches that gave me chills every time.

My friends had noticed, too. They kept giving me pointed looks. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

They grilled him with questions about Silver Ridge and police work, while Teller asked about their lives and listened attentively to their answers. He laughed off the predictable jokes about him being older than me and gave them hell right back.

I couldn’t believe how easily he fit in with them.Like the hard edges of the man I’d met in Silver Ridge, the grumpy police chief, had smoothed out and softened.

Yet he was still Teller. He went quiet at times, all broody and intense. He stood with his back ramrod straight and hid his sense of humor beneath a deadpan tone. He chivalrously topped up wine glasses and carried heavy pans. And his butt looked great in those jeans while he did it.

How was I supposed to survive without him again at the end of this weekend?

Partway through dinner, I noticed the time. “Hold on, everyone. I need to take ten.”

“For what?” Teller asked.

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