Page 46 of The 7 Rules of Moving On
“You’re there,” he whispered, not even sounding winded. “Come for me, Kiss. Come for me.”
That was it. His voice was the final nudge pushing her over the edge.
“Trig!” she cried out, clamping down around him as he slid all the way into her, no longer holding back, fucking her hard and without mercy.
White light blew through her vision, heat and pleasure sparking into her fingers and toes. But it kept going. The harder he thrust, the faster he moved, the more pleasure he drew out of her. “Shit, it’s still—”
“I know,” he purred against her ear as he hooked his hand behind her knee, hoisting her leg up over his hip. “G-spot orgasms can last longer.”
It didn’t just last longer. It went on forever, pleasure surging and retreating, only to surge again every time he angled his hips.
Already digging her fingernails into his neck, she had to bite his pillow simply because she had to bite something, and she didn’t want to accidentally bite him along with scratching him. Eventually, after a length of time she couldn’t track, hours, maybe days, she found her way back into her body, her breaths sinking deeper into her lungs, sensation ebbing from a lightning storm to a slow, exquisite buzz.
Releasing her grip on him, spitting out his pillow, she opened her eyes and found his staring back at her as a smile turned his lips.
“There you are,” he said, still thrusting into her but slowing a bit. “I thought I might need to buy a new pillow.”
Her laughter was a muted breath, her body heavy, muscles slack.
When her eyes closed again, she felt his hand brush away the hair that had fallen over her forehead.
“Don’t go away,” he said. “Stay with me.”
“I’m here,” she replied, even though she wasn’t. She wasn’t even on this planet.
“Open your eyes, Kiss. I want to see you when I come.”
It was a struggle, but she forced her eyes open again. Taking his face in her hands, she pulled his mouth down to hers and kissed him.
After a moment, he broke away from her lips, touching his forehead to hers as a series of low, delicious moans rose from somewhere deep in his throat. Even though he’d said he wanted to see her when he came, when it finally happened, his breath shuddering, his cock pulsing inside her with every last thrust, he did it with his eyes closed.
“Stay with me,” he repeated after a long, languid moment, his body limp and heavy over hers. “Don’t go away.”
Trailing her fingertips up and down over the muscles along his back, she said, “It’s okay, Trig. I’m right here.”
She could have fallen asleep like that, with him on top of her, as substantial and comforting as a weighted blanket, their bodies still joined.
But then he said, “I mean it, Kissie. I don’t want you to leave.”
“What?” she asked, confused.
“Don’t go home. Don’t go back to Missoula. Stay here with me. Give us a chance.”
The weight of his body was suddenly smothering. Pushing at his shoulder, rolling him off her, she asked again, “What?”
It was all she could think to ask, because he couldn’t possibly be saying what she thought he was saying. Because he wouldn’t do that to her. He wouldn’t ask her to do something she couldn’t do.
“Don’t freak out,” he said, the earnestness in his eyes making her freak out even more. “But I can’t hold it in anymore. I want to be with you. I want to try. I think I’m in lov—”
She slammed her hand over his mouth. “No.”
Pain sliced across his eyes as he pulled her hand away. “No?”
Sitting up, looking around for her dress, she pushed her panic down and repeated, “No.”
“You won’t even consider it?”
“Of course I won’t consider it. And you shouldn’t be considering it either. No strings, Trig. I think I was pretty damn clear on that.”
