Page 64 of Quietly Falling
“I’m not usually like this,” she pleads. “I don’tneedsex and I give myself plenty of orgasms, but when you touch me it’s…ah!”
She throws her head back and cries out when I slip a finger inside her, grinding the heel of my palm against her clit hard and fast, her orgasm barreling down on her with a fury that has her knees buckling with the intensity.
My arm tightens around her back as she sags into me, a bone-deep satisfaction coursing through me thatIhave this effect on her.
“Think that’ll tide you over?”
“Yeah,” she sighs dreamily as she fixes her leggings before popping up on her tiptoes and kissing me, her lips turned up in a flirty smile. “Now what about you?”
“Get in the car, baby; if you don’t, we’ll never leave.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s never bad, not when I’m with you.”
* * *
ELLA
Sayinggoodbye to my family always makes me sad, but something about getting in the truck with Bodhi eases the pain, making it bearable.
It solidified the feeling in my gut that I’d been waiting forhimall this time—that he’s been the reason I felt tied to Tennessee outside my love for the Poppy Seed.
“What do you think things will look like when we get home?”
Bodhi’s gaze slides to me, his posture relaxed except for the slight flex in his forearm as he grips the steering wheel, “Story of My Life” by Social Distortion playing softly from the speakers.
“What specifically are you asking?” he says evenly.
“We both work a lot, and I don’t want to just fit time in with you whenever we get a chance. This trip has been a luxury—just having this uninterrupted time together has been amazing and it’s going to change when we get home.”
“Are you saying you don’t think we’ll make it?”
“No, I’m just saying that, in this case, the problem is me.”
“I’m gonna need more than that.”
Blowing out a breath, I stare out the window and watch the landscape change as we head back across the state line into Tennessee.
“I’m saying that whileyesI take vacations and go for a week or two, I don’t know how to balance a life at home because I’ve never really had to. I like working, and it doesn’t feel like work so I don’t mind the long hours. But if we’re going to be together, I’m going to have to see you.”
He snorts. “I think this is one of those things where people say if you want it to work, you’ll make it happen.”
“And I’m telling you that there’s gonna be a learning curve.”
“I don’t think that’s a bad thing. People don’t generally just fall into something and have it be perfect. It’s work, but it should also be something that makes your life better,happier.” Taking my hand, he squeezes it. “I want,”—he swallows hard—“to make your life better. Happier.”
“You already do.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
“I’m worried that I’m going to be so absorbed with work that I’m going to forget that this,”—I hold up and shake our joined hands for emphasis—“is more deserving of my time and conscious effort than what I’m doing at the Poppy Seed.”
“I’m pretty sure overanalyzing and preparing for all possible worst-case scenarios is my department.” He grins and it’s both self-deprecating and incredibly charming.
“So, you’re not worried?”
“I’m less worried than I was at the possibility of meeting your entire extended family.”
