Page 28 of Summer Showdown
Her second climax was even more intense than the first, her back arching as she cried out my name. The pulsing of her inner walls around me was too much to resist, and I followed her over the edge, release crashing through me in waves of pleasure more intense than anything I'd experienced before.
For several moments we remained locked together, breathing heavily, bodies slick with sweat. I rested my forehead against hers, unwilling to break the connection just yet.
"That was..." she began, trailing off as words failed her again.
"Yeah," I agreed, understanding perfectly what she couldn't quite articulate.
Eventually I withdrew, feeling the loss of connection immediately. I helped her down from the workbench, her legs a bit unsteady beneath her. We cleaned up with shop towels, exchanging shy smiles and occasional touches that felt both new and familiar at the same time.
We ended up on the old leather couch I kept in the corner of the workshop, her body curled against mine, her head resting on my chest.
"I think we've officially crossed a line in our arrangement," she said after a while, her finger tracing idle patterns on my skin.
"Several lines," I agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "No going back now."
She was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if she was already regretting what we'd done. But when she looked up at me, her expression was open, vulnerable.
"I don't want to go back," she admitted softly. "I just don't know where we go from here."
"Forward," I suggested, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "One day at a time."
As we lay there, the setting sun casting golden light through the workshop windows, I knew that whatever happened next, I was already in deeper than I'd intended. Lark Hayes had somehow slipped past my defenses, awakening feelings I'd thought safely dormant.
She nestled closer, her breath warm against my skin. "I didn't expect any of this when I came to Wintervale."
"Me neither," I admitted, running my fingers through her silky blonde hair. "But I'm not complaining."
Later, as darkness fell completely, we moved to my bedroom, unwilling to part for the night. We showered together, soap-slick bodies leading to yet another round of lovemaking against the tiled wall, water cascading over us as we lost ourselves in each other again.
When we finally collapsed into my bed, exhaustion overtaking us both, she curled against me naturally, as if we'd been sleeping together for years instead of hours. I pulled the blankets over us, my arm around her waist, her back pressed to my chest.
"Stay," I whispered, not specifying whether I meant for the night or forever.
"I'm not going anywhere," she murmured sleepily, her fingers intertwining with mine.
As her breathing evened out in sleep, I allowed myself to hope that maybe she meant beyond tonight. That perhaps what had started as something fake and temporary might become something real and lasting.
I didn't even care what happened next—I was in the moment, the moment was now, and this woman was in my arms, and it was perfect. I'd hang on as long as she'd let me.
Chapter Seven
Lark
Morning light spilled through Wade's navy curtains, painting golden stripes across the bed as I gradually woke. My body felt languid, muscles pleasantly sore from the night before. The weight of Wade's arm across my waist anchored me to this moment—this unexpected sanctuary I'd stumbled into.
I turned carefully to face him, not wanting to wake him just yet. Sleep had erased the laugh lines around his eyes, revealing a childlike vulnerability his waking self rarely showed. Last night replayed in vivid flashes—his hands confident on my skin in his workshop, water cascading over us in the shower, the way our bodies had fit together as though they were made for each other.
What had begun as a calculated charade for the town's benefit—and a welcome distraction from my troubles—had transformed into something genuine. Something even more terrifying.
"Good morning beautiful," Wade murmured, his eyes still closed but a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I can practically hear you thinking."
A flush warmed my cheeks. "I wasn't—"
"Sure you weren't." One eye opened, blue and bright with mischief. His hand slid to my hip, drawing me closer. "Sleep okay?"
"Better than I have in years," I admitted, the truth slipping out before I could filter it.
"Hmm. Me too." He pressed a kiss to my forehead, then rolled from the bed with a stretch that rippled through the muscles of his back and shoulders. The sight made my mouth go dry. "How do you feel about pancakes?"
