Page 15 of Carbon

That was easier than I thought, and I gave him one final stroke when I’d finished. “Okay.”

No more words were necessary as he moved my knickers to the side, arched his hips, and slowly pushed inside. Finally.

“You fit me like a fucking glove,” he murmured.

“I’m waiting for the fucking part.”

“Your books don’t reflect your filthy mouth, Miss Duvall.”

“You’ve read more than one?”

“All of them, but I prefer the reality. This is gonna be fast and hard, Gus. I don’t think I’ll be able to help myself.”

I clenched my muscles around him, and it was his turn to groan. “Do your worst, Midnight.”

He wasn’t kidding about either part, but my orgasm built as quickly as his. Thank goodness for the cool air, because by the time I shattered around him, I was a hot mess. One final thrust and he followed me into oblivion and leaned into me, holding us both up against the wall. I nuzzled into his neck, inhaling the scent of male and something else. Lime? Did he use lime shower gel?

A minute passed, maybe two, before either of us spoke.

“I need to reunite you with your shoes,mon cœur.”

“I’m not sure I can walk.”

Another chuckle. “I wish I could carry you home, but that wouldn’t work.”

Feeling brave, I cupped his face with my hands. A hint of stubble scratched my palms. “Why?”

“Because I’m not the sort of man you take to meet your mother.”

I’d kind of worked that part out—after all, I wouldn’t wish my mother on anyone. But my heart still ached at the thought of going home alone.

“Can we do this again?”

Soft lips brushed my temple. “Yes.”

He freed my shoes, then held my hand until we emerged from behind the cottage. Before our fingertips parted, he lifted my hand to his mouth and pressed one last kiss to the back of it.

“Until midnight.”

Then he melted into the darkness.

5

The next morning, I soaked my blisters in a hot bubble bath as I relived Midnight’s visit with equal parts pleasure and embarrassment. Confessing I had no idea how to put on a condom? He must have thought I was a complete moron, but even then, he’d been so damn nice about it. And the sex? Honestly, I had no words. My thoughts were best summed up in a series of moans, grunts, and incoherent ramblings.

“Taking the day off?” Angie asked when I perched on a stool at the breakfast bar.

“I need to do one final read-through of the manuscript before it goes for editing.” That was always the part I hated most—by that point, I’d read the damn words so many times I hated them, and I was racked with enough self-doubt I wanted to delete the entire book.

“I’ve got a video conference with the merchandise people at eleven. Did I tell you we got offered a deal for our own line of condoms? They want to print ‘Meet me at midnight’ on them with space for a phone number.”

I spat my orange juice across the table. “No, you most certainly did not.”

She threw me a roll of paper towel, and I blotted up the mess.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

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